Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.

As always, Iris worked her magic on the edits and May gave her pre-reading love.

If you're reading this for the second time, thank you for coming back to the re-vamped version. I'm still clueless as to why the original was removed in the first place. And for new readers, welcome and thanks so much for being here.

Story banner created by Jaime Arkin and extra story pics can be found on my Facebook: Jennison Foster

Mom and I have lived in this town for a total of two weeks.

While I've been cooped up in this old house, trying to make it home, she's managed to snag a job at the local diner and a new boyfriend.

That's fast, even for her.

She asked me to be nice, but I have no plans to make friends with this Charlie.

He won't stick around long.

They never do.

Don't get me wrong. I love my mom dearly, but she has poor taste in men. Lord knows she has her share of issues, and it could be her fault they leave. Either way, I'll just hang out in the background, like always, being as invisible as possible until it's time to help her pick up what's left of the pieces of her broken heart when Charlie's no longer in the picture.

I have yet to experience 'the fall'like my mom. She said it'll happen to me one day when I least expect it. However, at nearly sixteen, I haven't fallen or tripped or even stumbled.

And I'm fine with that.

I've seen what falling in love has given her: a lot of sleepless nights, puffy eyes, and an illegitimate child. She's a glutton for punishment − eating up love's lies and deceitfulness and then basking in its aftermath.

Her heart must have a thousand bruises by now.

Just once, I wish love would be kind to her.

She's a good person who deserves a better life.

*LitF*

Mom parks our car in Charlie's driveway next to his cop car. His house is two–stories and white, with a picket fence in front. She's told me he's Chief of Police and a whole lot of other things no teenager wants to know about their parent's personal life. But that's my mom. She thinks we're friends, which we are, but not on that level.

"Bella, please give him a chance. Charlie's different. You'll see."

I smile and nod, wanting to believe her, but she's said that so many times before.

For her sake and mine, I hope she's right, because her falls are exhausting.

*LitF*

We're in Charlie's kitchen. Mom's making a salad as he grills steaks in the backyard.

"So, what do you think of him so far?"

"He's nice."

She smiles at my response and starts humming while slicing the tomatoes.

"Has he dated anyone with a kid before?"

"I'm not sure. Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

Charlie's been nice to me but not too much. It's not as if he's trying to win me over, and his laid-back attitude's surprisingly refreshing.

Still, I'm skeptical. The jury's still out on him.

Before she can question me further, which I know she wants to by the look on her face, Charlie walks in with the tray of cooked steaks.

"I hope you ladies brought your appetites, because these babies are money!"

He sets the tray down on the bar and kisses Mom's cheek before turning and pulling dishes out of the cabinet.

For the first time in my life, my mom blushes, and I think she may be right.

Charlie seems different but in a good way.

And I hope she doesn't screw this up.

*LitF*

Over the next few weeks, we spend a lot of time with Charlie.

When they're both not working, we're at his house or vise-versa. He doesn't seem to care that I'm around all the time, and he doesn't make me feel like the third wheel. In fact, he insists I don't stay holed up in my room when he's at our house. When we're at his or out in public, he doesn't treat me as if I'm a nuisance. He even includes me in conversations.

He seems genuine, not like the others.

At first, I didn't want to like him, but when I see the way he treats my mom and how she reacts, it's nearly impossible to dislike the man. He makes her laugh, and he sneaks kisses when he thinks I'm not looking. I still don't like it when he drinks beer, though. Alcohol can change people. I've seen it firsthand. But not once has he raised a hand to my mom or driven us around after a few drinks.

*LitF*

Today, we're going to a wedding. Mom knows the happy couple, but I don't. Apparently, they're regulars at the diner and close friends with Charlie. I'd rather be in my backyard, enjoying the sunshine and music on my iPod, but they both insisted that this would be a good opportunity to meet some people my own age.

I'm not a shy person; I just have a hard time opening up to people at a rapid rate. I've been called a snob and a bitch, but it never bothers me. I'm just pickier than most when it comes to choosing my friends, and I usually have more male friends than females.

Yes, I'm that girl − the one who gets the death glares from all the girlfriends because of their own insecurities. Not once have I actually been the other woman, but I've been accused on more than one occasion. I've lost friendships and caused a few breakups, and neither makes me proud.

*LitF*

I'm sitting on a bench, watching Mom and Charlie dance, when someone sits down beside me. I steal a glance, and it's a boy around my age. He's wearing dark jeans and a brown jacket, which is odd since it's warm enough for me to forego one with the dress I'm wearing.

"Are you as bored as I am?" He sighs dramatically.

I turn my head toward him, noticing his green eyes. Everyone I've ever known has either had blue or brown. They're fascinating. And he's cute; a pretty boy with shaggy, brown hair falling between his ears and shoulders. My heart beats a little faster when he smiles and stares at me, as if I'm obligated to answer, but I choose silence and shrug my shoulders.

"You're not a mute, are you?" His half-serious expression is questionable. He might be messing with me, but I'm not sure.

My devious side decides to play with him, so I hand-sign the word 'asshole' while keeping a straight face.

He sighs, scooting closer to me, tilting his face toward mine.

"My name's Jasper Whitlock." His voice is low and slow. "And your mom's fucking my Uncle Charlie."

My laughter's loud and makes heads turn.

"Bella."

I hold my hand out, hoping I've just found a new friend.

"My name's Bella."

Thank you for reading.

Jenn