Stupid Volvo Owner

Chapter Fourteen— I'm a Detective

I sighed as Edward wordlessly led me toward my truck. The tense line of his jaw indicated that he was highly irritated, but I hadn't done anything to deserve it.

I tugged my arm from his grip and glared. At least he had the decency to look remorseful, but it didn't last long. Too soon, the softness in his eyes was once again replaced with something darker. I didn't know what to make of it and I was tired of all the drama. It didn't help that I had read all that stuff about "cold ones" in that book that now seemed like it sat more heavily in my bag than before.

"I can walk myself."

"Not without getting lost," he retorted without another glance in my direction. Instead, he looked straight ahead as I walked beside him. I would have turned away from him if I didn't know he'd likely follow me. "It's getting late and the storm is moving in. It would be a good idea to head home."

Before I could reiterate that I could make my own decisions, something else came to mind. How did he know where I was? I kept my facial features as neutral as possible, but my heart pounded in my chest. Super speed and strength would not account for him knowing where I was, would it?

"I was planning on it before I bumped into you," I said slowly, trying not to sound nervous. I wanted answers, but I knew deep down that I wouldn't get them from him. For months now, I'd known what he was capable of, and yet, I kept his secret. I would have to tread carefully to find them myself. "What are you doing out here, anyway? I thought you were gone with Emmett."

If anything, his features sharpened further. Did he expect me to forget that I couldn't go to his house that morning because he was heading out camping?

"We came back early and I went for a drive."

"And you ended up in Port Angeles and happened to run into me," I said, cringing slightly. I could even hear the light sarcasm in my voice.

"I saw your truck and I knew you'd likely be at the bookstore."

"Oh." Had I told him I enjoyed reading? I couldn't remember at the moment. My head was too full with other things, like cold ones and blood-drinking, no matter how much I tried to stamp that ridiculousness out. "Did you need something?" I asked.

He only shook his head, coming to a stop in front of my truck. His head tipped to one side, his jaw still tense as he stuffed his clenched fists into the pockets of his jeans.

"I wanted to say hello." His tense mouth instantly transformed into the half-smile that had me as confused as ever. It didn't last long, but enough to know that maybe whatever was wrong had nothing to do with me.

At least, that was what I hoped.

The rain decided to make an appearance then, plopping large drops onto my face and hair. One caught in my lashes and blinked a few times to loosen it, feeling it fall down my cheek like a tear. I opened my eyes again, surprised to find Edward with his mouth slightly parted, his gaze fixated on my face. I blushed under his scrutiny. When I was nervous, I blurted out things; it would be no different just because I was with Edward—, of course not.

"I got my truck back," I said. Obvious much! "Um, I mean I'm no longer grounded."

His mouth finally closed, turning into a thin line. "I see."

I nodded. "So I guess you don't have to drive me to school anymore."

He sighed, his shoulders falling slightly as he nodded. "I liked driving you."

"Oh."

Was he going for a record of how many times he could to leave me speechless in a day? If so, he was succeeding.

"The rain is picking up," he said, sighing once again. "I wouldn't want you to get sick."

"I wouldn't want you to get sick, either," I said softly. His mouth tipped up on one side.

"I won't."

I kept my face neutral, though inside my mind was whirling. Did he just admit that he never got sick? I really needed to stop overthinking so much. He didn't say he never got sick, only that he wouldn't get sick this time.

"All right, I better go," I said, opening my door and tossing my books inside. "I'll see you tomorrow at school."

"Of course. I'll follow you home." I cocked an eyebrow. "To make sure you arrive there safely."

"I'll be fine, Edward."

"I want to."

There was no arguing with him, and I knew it. "You're going to hate it."

He smiled then, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking. "I think I can survive the drive following you. Even the hour it would take in this old thing."

I couldn't help adding, "You're forgetting the rain. Arizona girl, remember? I still have enough of Phoenix in me to be able to admit that we really suck at driving on wet roads. You might as well add fifteen or twenty minutes to that."

It was obvious he hadn't thought about that. "Maybe I should drive you."

"I can't leave my truck here, I'll be fine."

He looked thoughtful, his head turned slightly to one side. After a moment, he exhaled sharply. "You're right, but I'm still following you."

"Okay."

I slipped inside my truck, turning on the heater, already feeling the cold seeping into my bones. I gratefully rubbed my hands together as the heat settled around me. I heard a car door slam closed and turned to look out my passenger window to find Edward in his car right beside me.

"I can do this," I said. It felt like I was being watched as I drove, but it wasn't the same feeling I had during the drive to Port Angeles.

I pulled out and headed out of the city, keeping to the speed limit. The rain seemed to be in patches, slowing every once in a while to accommodate when it would increase. The radio blasted oldies that my mother played before, and I tapped my fingers along. Often, I checked my mirrors to find Edward following closely behind me. I looked up to catch him tapping his long fingers, too. I smiled, wondering if we were listening to the same thing. It made it feel as if he was sitting right beside me.

I sighed as I remembered that now there was no reason for us to ride together anymore. I didn't like it, but it seemed pointless to have him go out of his way to pick me up in the morning when I had a perfectly good vehicle of my own.

I pulled into my driveway and waved as Edward drove past, honking once. The fear of what Monday would bring reemerged. Would he revert to the same Edward as before? Would he talk to me now that all we shared was a Biology class together? Would he ignore me as he had after the van accident?

I made my way inside; I could swear I heard the book of legends and stories, as if it was calling to me. Suddenly, it was all I could think about and everything I'd read started swimming around in my head.

Dad grunted a hello from the living room, indicating he ordered pizza and it would be there soon. I was thankful for that, because my mind was not up to making dinner. I ran upstairs, even managing not to stumble in my haste to get to my room. Inside, I dumped my purchases on my bed and found the book, and sat down at my desk with it. I hastily flipped through the pages to get back to the section on the Quileute legends, stopping at one of the sketches. The drawing of a skeletal mask, depicting one of the so-called "cold ones" was a bit scary—it actually gave me the creeps. Long, pointed teeth, face not even resembling a human, almost misshapen—but hadn't the physical description I read included "unearthly beauty"? There was nothing at all beautiful about that illustration. Things like that should have had me closing that book and telling myself that I was being ridiculous. Super speed and strength, cold skin, and strange eyes did not make him one of those. Besides, it was only a legend, anyway, and many inconsistent versions at that.

That was what the logical side of my brain was telling me. Yet it was the other, more potent part, nagging at me, overwhelming reason, and had me going to my shelf to find the notebook where I had started to take notes on the elusive Edward Cullen. Legends have to start from somewhere.

I returned to my desk, scooting closer with my chair and flipping the cover open, setting it beside the book. With my left hand on the crisp, new pages, my eyes ran over my observations thus far; everything I'd thought about all day, despite my efforts.

Immeasurable strength. After all, he had stopped that van with one hand, right?

Impossible speed. Even in the panic and intensity of the moment, there was no way he should have made it all the way across that parking lot to save me.

Ice cold skin. As I read the words, an involuntary shiver shook my shoulders, remembering the feel of his albeit brief contact with my skin, and mine with his knuckles on the steering wheel.

I'd never seen him eat… wait a minute, I might have to scratch that one off, I thought and felt my forehead crease. I had seen three of them eating cereal on Saturday, despite the sour milk. So that observation might be null and void.

I leaned back in my chair, covering my face with my hands and groaning. What the heck was I doing? Why was I obsessing over something so stupid? It was a story, passed down and elaborated over the ages, as all myths and legends are. I sat up, snapped both covers closed and hurried downstairs as my dad called up to me for dinner.

However, as I sat there sharing a silent meal with my dad—not that it was all that unusual for it to be silent—each bite of pizza sent my thoughts circling again. I'd had pizza probably thousands of times in my life. It was practically its own food group at my house in Phoenix, since my mom was a hazard in the kitchen and there were nights when I was too busy with homework or just didn't feel like cooking. Yet, its taste did not escape me each time I ate it. Whether it was an amazing deep dish, or one of those overly greasy ones that settle in your stomach like a brick, or the thin crust things that taste like cardboard, or just an ordinary pizza, I took notice.

How can one not realize that they are eating sour milk? It had such a potent taste and pungent smell.

Those thoughts also brought about a flash in my mind of the three pairs of eyes turning to me at once, with the most unnatural color to them. No matter how hard I thought about it, I couldn't remember anyone I'd ever met in all seventeen years of my life that had that shade of eye color, and yet, there were at the very least four of the seven occupants of one singular household with them.

I barely finished one slice of pizza before telling my dad that I was really tired and just wanted to head to bed early. He looked at me oddly for a moment but then simply nodded and muttered a soft goodnight. I moved as quickly as I dared with my poor sense of balance back upstairs, closing the door behind me and clicking on my desk lamp. Once settled into the chair, I grabbed my pen and began adding to the list.

If the Cullens eat, they have no taste buds.

Edward shares odd eye color with at least 3 members of his family (note to self: pay more attention to the others).

I paused, tapping the end of my pen on the paper as I wracked my brain, yet nothing else was coming to it. It had been a long day and my head actually hurt from all the thinking. So I closed my notebook and proceeded to change for bed.

My dreams that night were filled with dark images of moving shadows and Edward with pointed teeth. I awoke the next morning feeling more tired than I had before I'd gone to bed.

"Stupid nightmares," I grunted as I stumbled my way through my morning routine. Dressed and ready, I grabbed some yogurt and a banana from the kitchen. Dad was long gone, having had an early shift.

I hated how much I missed seeing Edward's Volvo at the curb, waiting for me as I locked up. I made my way toward my truck and cursed the never-ending rain. It almost seemed routine now; I should have been used to it.

I climbed into my truck, slamming the door closed behind me. Turning the key in the ignition, all I heard was a click. I tried again, with the same result.

"Unbelievable," I growled, punching the steering wheel. That was stupid because it hurt like hell. I pulled out my cell phone and tried to decide who to call. Dad would be busy, since he mentioned the night before that he was shorthanded for the whole week since one of his deputies was on vacation.

That only left one option at the last minute and he was the first one that originally came to mind anyway. I found him in my contacts and took a deep breath before I called.

He answered immediately, "Hello, Bella." It almost seemed as if he was expecting my call.

"I'm sorry, but can you still give me a ride to school? Something is wrong with my truck."

I heard the rev of an engine in the background as he replied, "On my way."

The line disconnected, and before I could check to make sure he hung up, I saw his car in my rearview mirror as he pulled up to the curb.

My suspicions deepened. It did seem awfully convenient that my truck suddenly stopped working when it had been fine the day before. And had made it all the way to Port Angeles and back without an issue to boot.

I hopped out of my truck, surprising myself when I didn't face plant on the way to his car. From behind the wheel, he smiled, the interior already warm. Again, it almost seemed as if he expected this turn of events.

"What's wrong with your truck?" he asked, pulling onto the road.

"I have no idea, it just wouldn't turn over," I said with a shrug, warming my hands and face in front of one of the vents. For some reason, he opened his window an inch or two. Was that something for the list?

"I can have Rosalie look at for you," he offered, leaning toward the window. I remembered that first day and how he seemed to notice how I smelled. Did my scent bother him? I thought I smelled pretty darn good; I loved my lotion and body wash. Was that why he opened his window?

Did I smell too good for him? As in, dinner "good". Oh, that was a frightening thought, but the fear only lasted a few moments.

"You want your sister, who can't stand me, to look at my truck?" I questioned with a raised eyebrow. "Are you crazy? She hates me."

He shrugged. "She doesn't hate you. Besides, she would do it if I asked."

"My dad and I can take it to the reservation for Jacob to look at it," I stated. Something I said instantly put that high wall up around him and made every feature in his face harden.

"I'll have Rosalie look at it," he stated as if I said nothing.

"All right," I replied. I didn't want to argue, mainly because I had so many other things on my mind. "Thanks for picking me up again."

"I told you I liked to do it," he offered, but the tension in his posture hadn't lessened.

"Still, I hate to bother you."

He said nothing as he pulled into the parking lot. We were early again, and he slipped out of the car to open my door before I could even grab all my things. I offered him a thanks, and he grinned in response, before we went our separate ways to our lockers.

I breathed a sigh a relief, I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Nothing had changed, and yet, somehow everything had.

At lunch, he acknowledged me with a smile and nod from his table. His attention was diverted to his brother, Jasper, his brow creasing with whatever they discussed. As I sat down, I observed them as much I could without them noticing.

Each member had a tray of food in front of them. Alice would move food around, but never put any in her mouth. Jasper's back was all I could see from where I sat, so I couldn't tell what he was doing. Edward would lift a spoon to his mouth, but the angle didn't allow me to see if he was actually eating. His plate never seemed to be less full.

Before the bell rang, I rose from my table and walked by his;. I needed to see for myself. Every single one of their postures stiffened as I approached and Edward's brow creased further. As I passed, I could see torn up bits of food, but the same amount as when they started.

What did that mean? Was it all for show?

Biology was interesting. Hyperaware of Edward in the darkened room, as Mr. Banner played a movie. I didn't react to the need to look at him, thankful for the curtain of my hair between us. From the corner of my eye, I had noticed his tense posture and his clenched fists on the table.

The rest of the week was the same. I observed them as best as I could. They didn't eat or drink anything that I actually saw when they sat for lunch. Edward continued to pick me up, having towed my truck to his place on Monday.

By Friday, after a brief glance from Alice and Jasper, with golden eyes that I knew I remembered as being black as pitch, as I passed their table again, I knew.

I sat with my notebook at my desk, the list taunting me. It wanted the word and my hand rebelled against writing it down, despite logic ruling out anything else. Cold skin. Speed. Strength. Doesn't eat. Identical, ever-changing eye color in all of them. My gaze ran over every item more than once, when finally I penciled the final one in and circled it twice.

Edward is a vampire.

Dazed by my thoughts and concerns, I climbed into bed. When he came to pick me up the next morning, should I just tell him that I knew, or work myself up to it? How would I even approach the topic, or better yet, would I even still go, knowing what he was?

With that thought in mind, I tried to sleep, knowing I had a decision to make. I wasn't sure how long I slept when a tapping sound startled me from my dreams. Ones filled with Edward and memories of our time together.

I rose from bed, noticing the flutter of the curtain at my open window, one I knew I checked earlier, because it was especially cold outside. My foot hit something on the ground by my desk, and I lifted the notebook I was sure had been on it.

It was still opened to the list, and I noticed that one side was slightly torn and crumbled. I looked up at the window and caught sight of my truck parked in the driveway right beside my father's cruiser, and gasped. When did that happen? I hadn't heard it return the night before, and Edward had never said anything about it being done. The last I knew, his sister was enjoying the challenge of working on my old beast; did she get bored of it already? Then my eyes fell to the torn edge of the notebook again, and felt that morning wasn't coming soon enough.