Occasionally

"Let me know when she gets hot again."

"Yeah."

She still had goose bumps on the arm that wasn't touching mine. I'd barely raised my head to look for a
blanket when Edward snagged one draped over the arm of the sofa and flung it out so that it settled over
her.

Occasionally, the mind-reading thing saved time. For example, maybe I wouldn't have to make a big
production out of the accusation about what was going on with Charlie. That mess. Edward would just
hear exactly how furious—


"Yes," he agreed. "It's not a good idea."

"Then why?" Why was Bella telling her father she was on the mend when it would only make him more
miserable?

"She can't bear his anxiety."

"So it's better—"

"No. It's not better. But I'm not going to force her to do anything that makes her unhappy now.
Whatever happens, this makes her feel better. I'll deal with the rest afterward."

That didn't sound right. Bella wouldn't just shuffle Charlie's pain off to some later date, for someone else
to face. Even dying. That wasn't her. If I knew Bella, she had to have some other plan.

"She's very sure she's going to live," Edward said.

"But not human," I protested.

"No, not human. But she hopes to see Charlie again, anyway."