"Yes," I grumbled. "Will you come and get me, please?"
"I'm on my way," he said at once. "What's wrong?"
"I want Carlisle to look at my hand. I think it's broken."
It had gone quiet in the front room, and I wondered when Jacob would bolt. I smiled a grim smile, imagining his discomfort.
"What happened?" Edward demanded, his voice going flat.
"I punched Jacob," I admitted.
"Good," Edward said bleakly. "Though I'm sorry you're hurt."
I laughed once, because he sounded as pleased as Charlie had.
"I wish I'd hurt him." I sighed in frustration. "I didn't do any damage at all."
"I can fix that," he offered.
"I was hoping you would say that."
There was a slight pause. "That doesn't sound like you," he said, wary now. "What did he do?"
"He kissed me," I growled.
All I heard on the other end of the line was the sound of an engine accelerating.
In the other room, Charlie spoke again. "Maybe you ought to take off, Jake," he suggested.
"I think I'll hang out here, if you don't mind."
"Your funeral," Charlie muttered.
"Is the dog still there?" Edward finally spoke again.
"Yes."
"I'm around the corner," he said darkly, and the line disconnected.
As I hung up the phone, smiling, I heard the sound of his car racing down the street. The brakes protested loudly as he slammed to a stop out front. I went to get the door.
"How's your hand?" Charlie asked as I walked by. Charlie looked uncomfortable. Jacob lolled next to him on the sofa, perfectly at ease.
I lifted the ice pack to show it off. "It's swelling."
"Maybe you should pick on people your own size," Charlie suggested.
"Maybe," I agreed. I walked on to open the door. Edward was waiting.
"Let me see," he murmured.
He examined my hand gently, so carefully that it caused me no pain at all. His hands were almost as cold as the ice, and they felt good against my skin.
"I think you're right about the break," he said. "I'm proud of you. You must have put some force behind this."
"As much as I have." I sighed. "Not enough, apparently."
He kissed my hand softly. "I'll take care of it," he promised. And then he called, "Jacob," his voice still quiet and even.
"Now, now," Charlie cautioned.
I heard Charlie heave himself off of the sofa. Jacob got to the hall first, and much more quietly, but Charlie was not far behind him. Jacob's expression was alert and eager.
"I don't want any fighting, do you understand?" Charlie looked only at Edward when he spoke. "I can go put my badge on if that makes my request more official."
"That won't be necessary," Edward said in a restrained tone.
"Why don't you arrest me, Dad?" I suggested. "I'm the one throwing punches."
Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to press charges, Jake?"
"No." Jacob grinned, incorrigible. "I'll take the trade any day."
Edward grimaced.
"Dad, don't you have a baseball bat somewhere in your room? I want to borrow it for a minute."
Charlie looked at me evenly. "Enough, Bella."
"Let's go have Carlisle look at your hand before you wind up in a jail cell," Edward said. He put his arm around me and pulled me toward the door.
"Fine," I said, leaning against him. I wasn't so angry anymore, now that Edward was with me. I felt comforted, and my hand didn't bother me as much.
We were walking down the sidewalk when I heard Charlie whispering anxiously behind me.
"What are you doing? Are you crazy?"
"Give me a minute, Charlie," Jacob answered. "Don't worry, I'll be right back."
I looked back and Jacob was following us, stopping to close the door in Charlie's surprised and uneasy face.
Edward ignored him at first, leading me to the car. He helped me inside, shut the door, and then turned to face Jacob on the sidewalk.
I leaned anxiously through the open window. Charlie was visible in the house, peeking through the drapes in the front room.
Jacob's stance was casual, his arms folded across his chest, but the muscles in his jaw were tight.
Edward spoke in a voice so peaceful and gentle that it made the words strangely more threatening. "I'm not going to kill you now, because it would upset Bella."
"Hmph," I grumbled.
Edward turned slightly to throw me a quick smile. His face was still calm. "It would bother you in the morning," he said, brushing his fingers across my cheek.
Then he turned back to Jacob. "But if you ever bring her back damaged again-and I don't care whose fault it is; I don't care if she merely trips, or if a meteor falls out of the sky and hits her in the head-if you return her to me in less than the perfect condition that I left her in, you will be running with three legs. Do you understand that, mongrel?"