A/N – All right. Here is chapter two: Edward's point of view. Maybe it seems strange to you that I would write the second chapter in EDWARD's point of view instead of Emmett's, but admit it: You want to read Emmett and Rosalie's make-out scene from Edward's point of view. I laughed so hard when I wrote it. Picturing him going, "Oooohhh… I didn't want to see that!" and trying NOT to hear what Emmett is thinking…

Plus, in Midnight Sun, Edward himself says that he doesn't feel guilty reading Emmett's thoughts, because he rarely thinks things he wouldn't say. So you can pretty much get Emmett's point of view THROUGH Edward's. But yeah. I LOVE writing Edward's point of view. He's awesome.

Disclaimer – Again, I don't own any of Stephenie Meyer's characters, though I would LOVE to own Edward… sigh Wouldn't we all?


Edward's POV

I did not envy Emmett right now. It wasn't as though I ever envied him Rosalie, but if there were ever a time I was most glad I wasn't him, it was right now. I thought it was bad when Rosalie was mad at me, which was more often than not, but apparently she saved her real wrath for Emmett. Poor guy.

As if the actual yelling wasn't enough, I could hear her screaming thoughts, too. I'm just glad Emmett couldn't hear them. He might do idiotic things every so often, but he didn't deserve this.

What was I THINKING, marrying EMMETT MCCARTY?! He is so… ARRRGGGGHHH!!! Unfaithful bastard!

I have to get out of here. I don't want to be on the same continent as him right now, let alone in the same godforsaken house!

It was not as though he had meant anything by what he'd done. We'd been in town, and yes, the girl might have been attractive by human standards, but Emmett wasn't thinking of her that way—he was only thinking of her blood. He'd only been a vampire for 12 years. His control was no where near perfect yet. (Not that mine was either.) It was not Emmett's fault that Rosalie was insecure and didn't believe what the man she loved—the man who loved her—told her.

Rosalie had bottled up most of her anger until we got home. I had scarcely entered my room before she exploded. She was just lucky (and Emmett unlucky) that Esme and Carlisle were out hunting. They never would have let Rosalie say the things she said. Especially not when Rosalie was the sole reason Emmett was part of our family.

But at least she was leaving. It probably wasn't a healthy response to run away, but when she was like this, her thoughts drove me crazy! Plus, this would give me an opportunity to talk to Emmett—reassure him a little bit.

I heard the sound of tires squealing as Rosalie left. I heard her think, If he wants me, he's going to have to come after me.

As soon as the car left my audible range, I went downstairs to talk to Emmett. I wouldn't tell him that last thought of hers, though. She'd come back on her own. She always did.

I plopped myself down onto a big chair next to the couch he was sitting on. "Do you want to talk?"

"What am I supposed to do? I've never seen her that mad before. And I didn't even do anything!"

"I know that," I replied.

What? You do?

When he looked over at me, questioningly, I tapped two fingers to my forehead.

"You heard? Can you talk to her?" he asked. He was obviously feeling desperate if he was asking me that.

"I always hear, but if she wouldn't listen to you, why would she listen to me?"

Oh. Right.

"I don't know," he hesitated, obviously realizing how ridiculous his request was. "I just… how am I ever going to make her forgive me?"

"She always forgives you. She loves you," I tried to console him. But what else could I say? I might be able to read Rosalie's mind, but her logic was… incomprehensible. "She just needs some time to cool down." Yes, that sounded good.

"I guess so." Maybe I could buy her something…

"That might not be a bad idea. Maybe you could track down that blouse she wanted earlier."

"Yeah! That's a good idea!" I'll telephone them right now!

"Emmett? It's one o'clock in the morning. You're going to have to wait until they open later today."

He moaned, dropping onto the couch and placing his forehead in his hands. "What can I do in the meantime?" He was searching his mind for ideas.

"I don't know, you'll think of something. You always manage to…" I was interrupted by the sudden entrance of Rosalie's thoughts into my mind. She was still very angry, but she wanted to talk to me, for some reason.

"Emmett—she's coming back. Stay like that—let her see how sorry you are—and then try apologizing or something. Good luck."

I raced upstairs, put on my Duke Ellington record, and grabbed the first book I could reach. I flopped down on my stomach on the couch in my room. I was listening to the catchy swing music and tapping my foot to the beat when I heard the front door close.

I saw Emmett in her mind, and her How dare he make himself into the victim here! UGH!

Oops. Apparently that wasn't a good idea.

Emmett attempted to apologize, (Rosalie was thinking, No way. You're not getting off that easy.), and she wouldn't even let him finish, before she interrupted with her, "DON'T TALK TO ME." I also saw the glare Rosalie gave Emmett. That look might have killed a lesser being.


I was still tapping my foot when Rosalie barged into my room. The door slammed so hard against the wall, I was surprised the handle didn't put a hole in the wall.

"Did you want to dance?" I asked her, sarcastically.

I'd been thinking about what I'd say when she came in and the music had inspired that comment. I knew it had the potential to infuriate her, but I was annoyed with her. She shouldn't be treating Emmett this way, especially considering he hadn't actually done anything. Not a single disloyal thought.

She had promised before God and witnesses, of which I was only one, to love and cherish Emmett in good times and in bad times. She wasn't doing a very good job of holding up her side of that vow. She wasn't treating her husband—the man she supposedly loved—with very much kindness or respect, and she certainly was not showing that she trusted him.


"You burst in so excitedly—I thought you might be yearning to dance." I pointed to the record player, just now realizing that the book I was holding was Animal Farm. It had been voted Book of the Year in the United States for 1946, so I thought I should read it. I thought briefly that I should probably start at the beginning, instead of page 72, where I currently had the book open to.

Yeah, because that is so what I'm in the mood for. Back to dancing with Rosalie.

I very nearly snorted.

Can't let him goad me… No. I need you to show me how to change a flat tire.

I couldn't stop my head from popping up at that.

Oh yes—Edward with his stupidly surprised face.

I raised an eyebrow, but I couldn't stop my confusion.

WHAT?! Rosalie? Stunningly beautiful Rosalie? Rosalie, whose hair is never mussed? Rosalie, who is meticulous about her clothing?

Rosalie wants to get grease on her hands?

She rolled her eyes at me.

I couldn't help it. I had to know. "Why?" After all, not only was her desire to get dirty incomprehensible, but what did this have to do with her fight with Emmett?

Grrr… I don't want Emmett to hear. Oh, whatever—I'll just think it then.

And I saw it in her mind: She'd been driving down the road, fuming, when the vehicle started handling funny. I knew right away it was a flat, but she didn't. She got out of the car to see if she could see anything wrong, and discovered the tire. She'd gotten mad at the situation—the "piece of rubber" had ruined her grand getaway, which she wanted to continue without Emmett knowing the reason—and she had taken her frustration out on the poor convertible. I heard the creaking of metal. I was actually surprised the axle hadn't snapped.

"You shouldn't have kicked it," I remarked.

He's trying to annoy me! "I realize that now."

She had actually examined the axle, and was replaying that inspection for me. It looked bad. From what I could see, the whole rear driveshaft would need to be replaced.

"You made it about twenty times worse, you know."

"Yeah, I do know, thank you very much. Are you going to help me?" Or am I going to have to pick the damned thing up and run it back home?

I did snort at that remark. That would be quite a sight to be seen. "Fine," I agreed. Maybe I could help Emmett out after all. "Let's go."

As we were walking out of the house, I spotted Emmett through the kitchen.

Will you talk to her? Please?

I mouthed, 'I'll try' to him. He looked visibly relieved.

Thank you.

I shrugged my shoulder. I didn't know how successful "talking" with Rosalie would be.


She directed me where to go, and we made it in hardly any time. Her car obviously didn't go as fast as mine, or it would have taken us longer to get there. Then again, mine was a roadster—built specifically for speed. Not that I could drive it much anymore. It was German, after all. I didn't want to be lynched. Not that I could be. And that, itself, would raise unneeded attention to our family.

When we arrived, I crouched down to look at the axle. Rosalie was thinking about a 'bent metal rod,' so I told her what it was actually called.

"It should be straight," I added.

"I figured that much out on my own," the wheels don't line up anymore. I'm not stupid. "How do you fix it?"

Did she really want to know? "You get a new axle—either from an old model or directly from Ford—then lift the car up, take this part of the car apart, replace the axle, then put the car back together," I explained, simplifying the process quite a bit. She had no idea what was required for that detailed process.

"That sounds…" expensive…, "complicated."

"It is." But from my diagnosis, we could probably bend the piece back together. The shock on the metal would make the piece more brittle, but if I was careful, I should be able to bend it back. "We can worry about all that later. But we should be able to make it drivable for now." I scooted underneath the car and bent the axle slowly back into place with my hands.

Once I was out from underneath the car, I added, "I guess vampire strength actually comes in handy once in a while." At least some good came from this existence. If you could even call it 'good'.

"What about the tire?" she asked.

"We'll have to change it," I added, spotting a rusty nail between the treads. "It looks like you ran over a nail." I pulled the metal from the tire and handed it to her.

She stared at it for a moment. An entire automobile rendered useless by a tiny piece of metal.

That wasn't the only small thing that could disable something much larger. Had she not heard stories of birds being sucked into airplane engines, causing the entire plane to crash? I just shrugged. "The spare tire is in the trunk."

She opened the trunk, and I took the tire and car jack out. I told her what the 'metal contraption' was and the basics of how it worked.

"Why can't I just lift the car up with my hands?"

Again with wanting to get her hands dirty. Apparently being angry at Emmett caused her to not think clearly.

"One—you're going to need both hands to change the tire, and two—what if someone saw you? The jack isn't hard to use."

"Fine. Move over. I can do it."

"You do realize you might get dirt under your fingernails, right?" I didn't want her to realize this after the fact and get more upset.

She glared at me, and said, "Move," drawing it out into two patronizing syllables.

I explained how to use the jack—where exactly under the car it should go, and how to use the bar to make the jack lift. Once she started, she pretty much did the entire process herself. I had to show her how the lever from the jack could be used to loosen the lug nuts, but she did the rest without a single word from me. It was actually pretty impressive. She performed the entire process with innate skill and grace.

Once she was done replacing the tire and lug nuts, she lifted the car up, pulled the jack out, and gently put the car back down.

I raised my eyebrow at her. "Anxious to get home?" I asked, trying to suggest that she go back to Emmett, rather than continue on her drive away from him and their argument.

She didn't catch on. She realized that I was referring to Emmett, but not that I was trying to keep her mind away from running away.

She shrugged, and thought, That was kind of fun. I noticed that sometimes she would think at me when she didn't want to admit something aloud—as though the things going through her mind were somehow less… quotable than something actually spoken.

But I smiled at her, nonetheless. She smiled back.

I put the flat tire in the trunk, as well as the jack, and got in the car.

I was thinking about what Rosalie had said—about having fun changing a tire. How odd. She liked working on cars. I knew it was selfish, but maybe if she spent more time doing things that were "fun", she wouldn't be as… volatile. And there were plenty of things she could learn to do easily—simple maintenance, straightforward repairs.

"You know, Rosalie—there are a lot of things about cars that really aren't too complicated. Things that need to be checked regularly, easy repairs. I could show you some of them, if you would like."

I could see in her mind that she was looking at me. You're volunteering to spend time with me?

Uhhh…. I supposed the answer to that would be a technical 'yes', but she didn't need to know the reason behind it. I just shrugged a shoulder.

"I'd like that," she replied, surprised that she wanted to answer affirmatively. Do we actually have something in common?

I couldn't help but laugh at that, because she was right. "Shocking, isn't it? After all this time, we have finally found a common interest? And it only took fourteen years!" I laughed again at the absurdity of the situation. "And automobiles, of all things! I never would have guessed it."

She laughed as well. I suppose it is pretty strange.

I was thinking about the things I was going to teach her—how to check different fluid levels in her vehicle. How to change the windshield wipers and check the air pressure in the tires. How to change the oil and filters. That would keep her busy for a while. Then, if she still likes it, I could show her more in-depth procedures. Maybe one day, she could fix the rear driveshaft herself.

I tuned back in to Rosalie's thoughts just in time to hear a brilliant realization—one that I'd very nearly come to myself. She was realizing that working on her car—even something small, like changing a tire—provided an outlet for her negative energy. She had left the house as mad as a raging bull, but now she was calm.

I need to change tires more often!

She realized again, rather suddenly, that I could hear her. Why is that so hard to remember? we thought in unison.

"I think Emmett will be happy with my discovery," she added aloud. I was surprised that she said anything—normally she would have said something to try to save face.

I decided to feign ignorance. "Yeah?" I said, naively, and shrugged.

Yeah. That innocent act is totally working on me, she thought sarcastically. You know as well as I do that he will be ecstatic.

I couldn't help but laugh. She'd seen right through me. "Yes, he will be," I dared to admit.

I paused, thinking of Emmett, and the promise I'd made to him to talk to Rosalie if I could. I took a quiet, but deep breath before continuing. I never quite knew what would set Rosalie off, but I knew I was taking a risk even thinking about saying what I was about to say. "He wasn't attracted to her, you know," I thought this was the most important thing for her to realize, so I made this statement first. She didn't stop me, so I went on. "I heard him. He was just thirsty, like he said."

She sighed, "I know."

I was so shocked that I couldn't stop myself from blurting out, "You do?" Oops. I tried to recover at least a little by saying, "Then why…" but couldn't think of anything flattering to say, so I let the sentence drop, shaking my head.

"I know now." I didn't know what to think of that, so I waited for her to continue. "I wasn't thinking clearly before. I cannot think clearly when I'm like that. I don't care how many minds you have read. You do not know what it feels like to know you are being irrational, but not be able to stop."

She was right about that. I had seen women who were acting unreasonably who had similar thoughts—but I simply could not understand this phenomenon.

"I needed some time to cool off. That is why I drive. It helps clear my mind—so I can think rationally."

So I hadn't lied to Emmett. I couldn't believe I had been even partially right about Rosalie.

Rosalie pulled into the garage, and thought, Wish me luck. But who was she kidding?

"You don't need it," I replied, and quickly ran up to my room.

As I plopped back down on my couch, I was surprised to hear, Maybe not. But I should. Did she actually realize that Emmett was sometimes too forgiving? That this incident was all her fault, and that she was the one that needed forgiving—not him?

I heard Rosalie's thoughts as she searched for Emmett, and saw her in Emmett's mind when she entered their room.

Uh oh. What's that look on her face? I don't think I'll move this time until she says something… Wait. What is she…? I didn't particularly want to see this obvious foreplay, but I did want to see Emmett's reaction to Rosalie's new-found hobby.

Umm… hello… Emmett thought as Rosalie made herself comfortable on his lap. She isn't acting like she's mad anymore—did she just smile? What did Edward say to her? She's never forgiven me this quickly—not in twelve years… well, maybe during the first couple, but… Mmmmm……

Rosalie kissed him then, and I was doing my best to not hear Rosalie's thoughts about Emmett's lips or tongue. I was trying even harder not to hear Emmett's thoughts of how great the "make-up sex" was about to be. His thoughts were more… visual.

Why was I still here?

Mixed in with Rosalie's thoughts of how good Emmett tasted, she was still determined to tell him about how she'd changed her car's tire. She stopped kissing him and tried to talk, but Emmett wasn't having any of that.

I almost gave up, but just as I stood to leave, they started talking, so I sat back down.

Emmett apologized and Rosalie explained her side of the story. Emmett reaffirmed his side—he was simply thirsty, and that girl's blood had smelled the best of anyone around. And then Emmett started kissing her again, before she could say anything. She tried to interrupt, but suddenly her mind was blank of everything except for how incredibly amazing she felt, and I got up and grabbed my car keys.

I was reaching for the door handle when Rosalie exclaimed, "Emmett! Stop it!"

He was pouting, but I tuned in now, sure that Rosalie wouldn't be so easily distracted again.

"I just want to tell you something quickly, and then we can go right back to kissing."

"Promise?" he asked, hopefully.

"YES, I promise," she was getting upset again because he was wasting precious kissing time. They were both so intensely physical—they were well suited for one another.

Emmett smiled at her, and Rosalie's mind went blank again. Uh oh.

"Okay—what?" Emmett asked, only half paying attention. The other half of his mind was concerned with undressing Rosalie. He was slowly pulling the back of Rosalie's blouse loose from where it was tucked into her skirt. I focused my concentration on Rosalie's thoughts.

What? What, what? What is he talking about? She gave herself a mental shake. Damn that smile. Uhhh… oh, right. "I changed a tire."


Emmett's mental balance had shifted. He was too concerned with getting Rosalie out of her clothes that he barely registered what she was saying.

"AND it was quite stress-relieving," she said, explaining.

"And?" He tugged at her blouse a little bit more, smiling as she shivered.

"And, you nitwit—" she grabbed his hand, halting his attempts to undress her, "—will you listen to me, please? I'm going to need to fix the entire axle in a second here if you don't stop!" she exclaimed, harshly.

She had his full and undivided attention now. "I'm sorry. I'm really listening now."

Rosalie mentally calmed herself before starting over. "I made a discovery tonight, Emmett. Fixing my car helped me to calm down and think clearly. That's why I'm back so soon. That's why I'm not upset with you anymore. I took out my negativity on the car."

"That's awesome! And I was the one who bought it for you!"

"Yes, and I'm glad you did," she said. I think that's enough talking for now. She returned his hand to her lower back and began kissing him again.

Emmett was kissing her in return, gently touching the bare skin of her back. I would have left at this point, but, for once, Emmett's mind wasn't on kissing. He was thinking about this shocking new discovery. Rosalie likes cars? And fixing cars helps her not be mad at me? He interrupted their kissing with a, "Rose?"

"Mmm?" was Rosalie's response.

Emmett momentarily lost the ability to speak when Rosalie began sucking on his ear, but he wasn't giving up that easily. He pulled his strength together and said, "If you need to change more tires, I have four on my Jeep. And I could talk to Edward and Carlisle—that would be eight more."

I winced for Emmett. He obviously hadn't thought about that statement before he'd said it. And sure enough, the next thing he knew, Rosalie was hitting him. "What are you saying?" But I was surprised to hear that her thoughts indicated she was not serious in her offense.

I'm going to make him squirm for that one. This will be fun…

"Uhhh… I was just thinking that… Well… you can't change the same tire over and over again."

Wrong answer, Emmett!

"Are you saying I'm temperamental?" she asked then. She was getting a thrill out of the fact that Emmett was sweating over what to say next.

"No. No, no. I just… Ummm…" he was stammering.

"Well?" she asked, thoroughly enjoying herself. She was so mean to him sometimes.

Emmett interpreted Rosalie's look correctly. Damn. If I say something wrong, she'll be mad at me again, and then I'll have to wait twice as long for the make-up sex…

"I do a lot of stupid things—" Emmett managed, only slightly pausing before going on, "—that make you understandably frustrated, so you'll need something to take that frustration out on—that's all."

Well done, Emmett, I thought.

Rosalie smiled at him. "Good answer."

Emmett grinned and grabbed Rosalie, flipping her onto her back on their huge bed. That and her squeal were my indications to get out of the house.

Emmett started caressing Rosalie's exposed abdomen, and I didn't need to see any more.

I quickly decided I might need something more to do than just drive. I grabbed my copy of Animal Farm and ran downstairs.

Just as they began kissing again, I called up to them, "I'm going to go for a run. I'll be back… later."

Edward, they both thought in unison. They'd forgotten I was in the house. I suppose it was understandable—they often got caught up in themselves and forgot everything else. I wasn't offended by it at all. But that didn't mean I was going to stay.

As I closed the door and ran off, I could hear them laughing.

Rosalie did a quick inventory of her thoughts. I can't blame him. I wouldn't want to hear my thoughts either, if I were him. And I definitely wouldn't want to hear Emmett's

Emmett's thought upon my leaving could have been much worse: Edward had better take his time out there! It is going to be a while till I'm done with you…

A/N – Did you like it? Did you laugh at Edward-in-an-awkward-position as much as I did? I tried to make it so he could block out some of the finer details. I didn't think he would want to picture Rosalie naked, for instance, like I'm sure Emmett was seeing in his mind. I decided to cut poor Edward a LITTLE bit of slack. She IS his SISTER, after all. She's beautiful, but Saint Edward, I'm sure, doesn't want any of Emmett's impure thoughts running through his head… heehee… :)

Don't be too critical about the car stuff. I tried to research a little bit (thank you Wikipedia), but I know very little about cars. I hope that didn't show. ;)

For this chapter, I am posting links of Edward and Carlisle's cars. I WANT EDWARD'S CAR. I'll admit—it's no Aston Martin V12 Vanquish, but it's pretty:)

Review and let me know what you think!