A/N This is NOT a translation, I do not own Twilight or MCU this is purely for entertainment purposes. I use AI as a tool on my text after I have completed the writing of the chapter it helps out with wording, grammar and pacing. So the ideas the direction of the story the dialogue all me.
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-_-
Bella's mood stayed stormy for an entire week.
Just like he was supposed to.
Edward left Forks — unable, or unwilling, to stay close to my sister's scent. Or, more truthfully… her blood.
Like an addict forcing himself to go clean, he was always going to relapse.
And he did.
Seven days later, Edward Cullen walked back into Forks like he'd never left.
Bella didn't bounce back with him. Not right away.
Her mood stayed dim, like the sun was shining everywhere except directly over her. Even showing her the food fight video from Phoenix only got me a quiet snort — gone almost as soon as it happened.
This fate-driven love thing really was a disaster waiting to happen.
Hopefully I never got tangled in anything like that.
I didn't want to lose the real, steady thing I had with Jen over some cosmic soulmate nonsense. I'd seen how "destiny" could chew people up and spit them out.
Sam and Leah were proof enough of that.
Then, like flipping a switch, Edward started talking to Bella again.
And just like that—
She was glowing.
Like the past week had never happened.
Like pain and confusion were just… erased.
And right then, I made a decision.
I wouldn't interfere.
Not my romance. Not my business.
She never stuck her nose into things with me and Jen back in Arizona. I owed her the same respect.
Plus — it would save me the headache.
And her the embarrassment of having a meddling brother.
-_-
The next day, I was walking away from the truck, eyes on my phone, thumbs moving in a steady back and forth with Jen.
Then—
Tires screamed.
My stomach dropped.
Fuck. It was today, wasn't it?
I turned.
The black van was sliding across the lot — straight toward Bella.
She'd hung back a couple steps behind me. Standing near the orange Chevy. Frozen.
My brain didn't even finish the thought before my body moved.
I ran.
Two steps. Maybe three.
My eyes locked with Bella's — wide, panicked, terrified.
Then impact.
The van slammed into the back of the truck.
Edward moved — fast — yanking Bella down, tucking her between the vehicles.
The van spun.
For a split second, everything slowed.
The van swung toward me. I could see Tyler's horror stricken face through the windshield, eyes wide, mouth open yelling something I couldn't hear.
It was coming straight at me.
Too fast.
Too close.
No time.
The front corner of the van slammed into my right side.
A clean hit.
The force lifted me off my feet like I weighed nothing, my right arm and ribs taking the worst of it as the world snapped sideways.
For half a second I was airborne.
Then the ground rushed up and slammed into me hard enough to rattle my skull and punch every bit of air out of my lungs.
The sky flashed white. Then blue. Then white again.
Sound turned into a high ringing whine, like someone had shoved cotton and sirens inside my ears at the same time.
Everything felt… wrong. Tilted. Disconnected.
Didn't matter.
Bella.
I tried to push myself up, panic burning hotter than the pain.
My palm hit asphalt.
And folded.
Wrong.
Not sore. Not strained.
Wrong.
My wrist bent in a direction it absolutely should not bend, my hand useless under me as my arm collapsed and dumped me back onto the ground.
For a second my brain refused to process it.
Then the adrenaline started to leave my body.
The pain finally slammed in.
Sharp. Like lightning had gotten trapped inside my arm and ribs and decided to live there.
My vision blurred at the edges, dark spots pulsing in and out.
I could hear my heart in my ears.
Breathing burned — like I'd just run miles without stopping.
A strangled shout tore out of me before I could stop it as I grabbed at my ribs and twisted arm with my good hand, fingers shaking, trying to hold everything still — like that would help. Like that would make it stop.
Something warm spread across my fingers and onto the asphalt.
Tears blurred my vision.
Was I going to die?
As my strength started to drain out of me, pale blonde hair fell into my vision.
Someone was kneeling beside me.
Hands — cold, steady, unshaking — pressed hard against my side.
"Keep pressure here."
The voice was female. Calm. Precise. Not soft. Not panicked. Just… controlled. Too controlled.
Perfectly even. Like nothing about this situation touched her at all.
I tried to focus on her face, but my vision kept swimming, light and shadow blurring together.
"Stay awake," she said, sharper now. "Look at me."
I tried. God, I tried.
But my eyes kept sliding shut.
-_-
I woke up a day later to the steady beep of hospital equipment.
In the chair next to me, my dad was slumped, his police coat still draped around him. He'd probably rushed in the second he heard. He looked ten years older than the last time I saw him—haggard, worn.
I felt the sting of tears, blinked them away, and croaked, "Hey, Dad."
He stirred immediately at the sound, hand moving slowly, almost unsure, to rest over mine. Warm. Solid. Familiar.
"You had me worried sick," he muttered, voice rough. "How are you feeling?"
"Bella?" I asked, scanning the room but seeing no sign of her.
"She's fine," he said quickly. "Resting back home. Edward drove her."
I tried to sit up. Pain flared across my ribs and arm, sharp and unrelenting. I hissed, and my dad jumped to steady me.
"Don't try to move yet," he ordered, his voice tight. "Let me get a doctor in here."
He stepped into the hallway and shouted over his shoulder, "Is there a doctor around?"
Minutes later, Dr. Carlisle Cullen entered, calm and collected, every movement precise.
"Ah, Carlisle," Dad said, relief leaking into his voice. "Good to see you."
"You should've gone home, Charlie," the doctor said in that smooth, soothing tone. "He's completely stable now."
"You know I can't do that," Dad shot back, a sharp edge beneath the relief.
"So, how are we feeling, Beaufort?" Dr. Cullen asked, eyes on me.
"Not great," I admitted, voice hoarse, "but I'll live." My ribs protested every shift, and my arm throbbed inside its cast. "How bad was it?"
The doctor didn't mince words. "Could have been a disaster. But Rosalie managed to stabilize you before the medics arrived, preventing most of the blood loss. The rest was just a couple of broken bones. Nothing permanent."
"Rosalie?" I muttered voice was sharp with surprise.
-_-
I stayed in the hospital for three more days before being discharged. Most of that time was spent with Dad sitting beside me, barely moving from his chair, and Bella stopping by to make sure I was comfortable and had everything I needed. I made a few quick calls to calm my panicking mother, and Jennifer's crying over the phone.
By the third morning, I could swing my legs over the bed. I tested a step, then another, ribs and arm protesting with every careful movement. The cast was still there, heavy and awkward, but at least I was walking.
The ride home was surreal.
Dad drove us in his cruiser, silence stretching between us.
While outside, people pointed, whispered—small-town gossip already seeping through Forks. By now I wouldn't be surprised if the mayor was already aware of my situation.
By the time we made it home, the smell hit me first—lasagna. My favorite. Bella was just finishing up, hair falling into her face as she stirred the sauce.
She looked up when the door opened, relief flashing across her features before she masked it with a small smile.
"Welcome home," she said, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Figured you'd want something normal after hospital food."
"Thanks Bella."
I didn't need more encouragement. Fork in hand, I attacked the plate. Hot, cheesy, perfect. Belly full, I finally stumbled up to my room. Computer on, headset ready, heart hammering. Jennifer.
It rang twice before she picked up.
Her face popped up on the screen. Red-rimmed eyes. Messy hair. That familiar furrowed brow. And just for a second, everything felt like it was back to normal.
"Hi," I croaked, voice rough.
"You had me worried, you bastard!" Relief and frustration marring her voice.
She broke down, finally seeing me instead of just hearing my voice.
I grinned weakly, heart tightening. "I'm here," I said. "I'm okay."
Her sobs slowed, just enough for her to whisper, "Thank God…"
Her parents barreled into the room like a storm.
"Is that Beau I'm hearing?!" Elaine's voice pitched high, eyes scanning me like she was inspecting a crime scene. "Oh my god, you look terrible, dear! How are you doing? Jenny was inconsolable!"
I shifted in my chair, trying to keep my arm still in its cast. "I'm fine, Elaine."
"Morris." I nodded politely toward her father, who looked equally tired, tie crooked, hands buried deep in his pockets.
"Glad you made it," Morris said, voice gruff but relieved. He gave me a quick, measured look, like he was silently scolding me for the scare I'd caused.
Jennifer, still red-eyed, turned toward her parents, voice small but insistent.
"Can I go to Forks, please?" she asked. "Just for a weekend."
Elaine's hand tightened on her daughter's shoulder.
"You know we can't, darling. We have to go to L.A. to help your Uncle—she's been worried ever since your cousin Bruce stopped replying to her calls," her father said, tone firm but careful.
Jennifer opened her mouth to argue, but I cut in, voice soft but steady.
"Hey, babe… I'm not going anywhere. Your family comes first. I'm off school for a few more days, and this cast isn't coming off for another two months. Trust me—my only plan is twiddling my fingers here. I'm in no immediate danger."
Her shoulders sagged slightly, relief creeping in. "But I'm definitely coming to visit after we're back from L.A.," she added, eyes brightening despite the red rimmed ones from earlier.
"Of course, honey," her mother agreed before her father could even open his mouth to protest.
I couldn't help the small smirk. Guess he was left footing the bill.