Disclaimer: Twilight is Stephanie Meyer's. This spin on it is from my own crazy brain.

-:-

The wind was musical, blowing against my ear and whispering its nomadic secrets in an organic language that I couldn't understand. It was enough to wake me, and I rolled onto my back, feeling the smooth patch of land underneath. Light was filtering through my eyelashes and I squeezed my eyes closed, unwilling to meet the dazzling rays of the sun. Still, it seemed to seep under the lids of my eyes, silently requesting me to open them, to see. Stubbornly, I stretched my hand to shield myself from the daylight, but before I could, another hand caught mine.

"Bella."

Gradually, the brightness was eclipsed by a presumable shadow and I finally gave in to the curiosity of my sun-blocking savior. Edward knelt above me, smiling in amusement, and he was beautiful. His hair rippled in the wind and the sunlight shone through the strands of brown and bronze, creating a godlike halo around his head. He curled my fingers to his chin, pressing a kiss to my knuckles before pulling my hand.

"You're missing it," he said softly.

I could hear something other than the wind, like faint crashes of groundswell combined with the hum of music. With his insistent tug on my hand and coaxing eyes, I sat up to see rolling waves far across from us, along a stretch of golden sand.

"The view?" I asked, dragging my fingers through the heated, powdery granules that reminded me of home.

"Hm," he mused, sweeping my hair out of my face and leaning close, his eyes like liquid jade. "That, among other things."

His lips were cool as they brushed my cheek, and his hands were eager, traveling around my back and tearing the soft fabric of my dress. The straps fell down my shoulders, rippling in the breeze, and I watched in fascination as Edward pulled his shirt over his head, all muscle and magnificence.

I gasped as he suddenly fell back, pulling me on top of him. We were equivalent in body and motion: skin on skin, panting breath amongst eager lips, impatient hands ridding us of our clothes, braided legs and heavy need.

"This," he murmured, drawing me flush against his chest, our bare skin shining in the sunlight. "Missing—"

"This," I finished, lowering my head to capture his sanguine lips, ending our whispery breath, tightening my legs and pressing into him until he moaned against my mouth.

The waves continued to crash in the distance, adding to the symphony of our ecstasy as we thrived on each others' energy, desire, touch, and fire. The feel of him was exuberant and I was feverish, craving the stroke of skin and ardent release that only he could provide.

"Bella…"

He breathed my name with longing, and I grew hot, writhing in delight against the arc of his hips, so close to begging him to take me, have me, own me. My kiss turned desperate against his velvety lips, urging him to go further.

"Please, please…" Our tongues danced sinuously, and the mesh and pressure was desirable, warm… dry… cottony…

I opened my eyes, confused, and blinked against a sudden, scratchy darkness. What the hell was going on? I lifted my head, which was filled with abrupt grogginess, and my back ached.

I was in bed. It had been a dream. And a wet spot was on my pillowcase.

Oh my God. I'd just made out with a pillow.

Sighing heavily, I fell back down on the sheets and closed my eyes, trying to hold onto the last little bit of heaven from my dream a few minutes longer. But then I remembered where I was: Edward's room. I quickly flipped over to his side of the bed, hoping that he was still asleep and hadn't witnessed me dry-humping the sheets.

The bed was empty.

I froze, narrowing my eyes, wondering if I had imagined everything—had I come back to an empty room and fantasized our entire early-hour conversation as some sort of defense mechanism?

Well, that would have been one hell of a hallucination.

Even so, I craned my neck, feeling relieved as I saw Edward's bags still stacked in the corner and his coat hanging on the armchair where he'd left it. I sat up and flipped my pillow, hiding my gross drool mark, a bit surprised at the intensity of my dream; my body was still tingling with imaginary, lingering sensations—the soft wind and Edward's touch. I hadn't had dreams like this in a long time—it was like he'd lit a sparking fire in my imagination from the first time I'd ever laid eyes on him.

As I started wondering where Edward might be, I heard a distant sound, followed by footsteps in the hallway, and I smoothed my hair and tried to look innocent, as if I hadn't just been tongue-deep in his pillow.

When Edward opened the door, he looked at me in surprise, smiling. "Oh, hi," he said softly, as if someone was still asleep. "I didn't think you'd be up so early."

I returned his smile and stretched my shoulders. "Hi. Is it early? It feels like it's past noon."

"It's a little after ten," he replied, shutting the door and setting a key on the night table. He took a seat on the edge of the bed and sighed lightly. His eyes still appeared drowsy, but he looked much better than he had before. "It was close to four-thirty when we went to bed. I figured you would sleep well into the day."

"You're awake," I pointed out, angling my legs toward him. "Why were you up so early?"

He smiled tiredly. "I woke up around nine and couldn't fall back asleep. I was afraid I'd wake you when I showered, but you were like a rock."

I tried not to laugh. He should have seen me two minutes ago. "Yeah, that happens sometimes. I blame Angela and the cross-country training she put me through. I'll be lucky if I can walk later."

Edward chuckled and stared at his hands, a palm over each knee, and grew quiet, a pensive crinkle of thought across his forehead. "So, you slept okay?" he asked. "I didn't disturb you?"

Something in the tone of his voice told me he wasn't talking about the shower. After all, I hadn't woken up to the sound of the creaky pipes. "Did you have another nightmare?" I asked, my heart sinking at the thought of him lying awake, upset, when I had been out like a light.

"Oh, no," he said, looking a tad shy. "Nothing like that. I was being a little clingy, that's all. I kept waking up, afraid you weren't there—that I'd imagined everything. So I kept reaching over for you to make sure you hadn't disappeared or anything."

Now that he mentioned it, I could recall a few, brief periods of hazy consciousness when I'd temporarily stirred, the intermittent feel of Edward's hand rubbing my arm, and even a foggy recollection of being held, his body against my back.

"That makes me sound like a child, doesn't it?"

"Nope. Stop that," I interrupted, reaching over and covering his mouth. "I have one rule for you today. You're not allowed to put yourself down. At all. Starting right now."

He watched me carefully, looking comical with my small hand over his lips. I raised my eyebrows in a mock-serious manner. "Is that understood?" I said, feeling a smile tug at the corners of my mouth.

Edward remained quiet, his eyes narrowing to the side and back to me. After a few seconds, he nodded, and just as I was about to pull my hand back, I felt a sweep of wet against my palm. I yanked my hand away, gasping.

"Ew," I giggled, swiping my hand across his arm. "Licking? Really?"

"Well, you're bossy," he replied with a grin. "Self-defense."

I returned his smile and rested my forehead on his shoulder. "Sorry," I said. "But if it makes a difference, you're the reason why I slept so well. Well, you're bed is super comfortable, but that's how you make me feel, too. And if anyone seems clingy, I'm the one who—"

Edward suddenly stretched his hand out, copying my earlier actions and pressing his hand over my mouth. "You know what? We're going to share that rule today. Starting now," he teased, mimicking my words.

A muffled "Okay, deal," was my answer and he took his hand away before I could retaliate with my tongue. I'd already made a move on the pillowcase so that was probably enough excitement for one morning.

He tapped two fingers to my cheek, a curious smirk crossing his face. "Were you dreaming before I walked in?"

My eyes widened slightly. "Why? Did you hear me?"

I hoped to God I wasn't making porno noises.

"No, I didn't hear anything," he answered, eyeing me in interest. "But you look a little flushed. And like you have a secret."

I chuckled nervously, standing up. "Uh… Yeah, just a dream. Nothing bad, just… interesting."

"What was it about?"

Of course he would ask that. I glanced sideways, hoping to think of something that wouldn't hint that I'd been humping the sheets. The fireplace seemed to stare back at me, with candle eyes and a wide, open mouth. "Fire."

"Fire?" he echoed, following my gaze to the hearth.

"Ponies," I blurted. It was the first goddamn thing I thought of.

Edward pursed his lips in amusement. "Fire ponies?" he repeated, grinning stunningly.

"Yup. On a beach."

"So, you're blushing over fire-breathing horses and the ocean?" he asked jokingly.

I cleared my throat, trying to appear casual. "Well, fire's hot. I mean, not like sexy-hot… just the temperature."

I was a fucking moron.

"I guess I should get dressed," I said quickly, thinking that a subject change was for the best. I pushed the hair that had fallen out of my messy bun away from my face, which was burning now. "Can I steal a little more of your toothpaste? I promise I'll go grab my bags in a minute so I don't keep bugging you for your stuff."

"Sure," he said, stifling a yawn, still amused. "But I already brought your bags upstairs."

I slid out of bed and stared at him. "You did? How?"

"I stole your keys. You know, payback." He gave me a faint grin.

I narrowed my eyes to my hoodie, in which my keys had been stashed, and back to him. "So you took my keys, openedmy truck, got my bags, and carried them up four flights of stairs so I wouldn't have to?"

He nodded, and I lightheartedly nudged his shoulder. "Man, you really put me in my place. I'd kiss you if I didn't have morning breath."

"Well, hurry up and brush your teeth then," he said, spinning me in the direction of the bathroom.

I was glad to see him in such a good mood, especially after the amount of earlier stress, tears, and mental havoc that had played out. I went into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth, wondering if it would be weird to ask to use his shower. I needed to go downstairs and ask Doris for another room. I was pretty sure the room next door was still available for occupancy, if anything. We still needed our own space, and after all, spending the night with Edward didn't mean I had a free pass to settle into his room for the rest of our stay.

Our stay. I liked how that sounded.

"I promise I'll get out of your way, soon," I said as I came out of the bathroom, "and you'll probably laugh at me for asking, but do you mind if I take a quick shower? I should probably book myself another room and I feel a little hookerish going downstairs in the clothes I wore last night. Or wait, my bags are in the hallway, right? I guess I could change."

Edward chuckled, but surprised me by reaching into his pocket and pulling out a key. "I talked to Doris while I was downstairs. She was more than happy to hand me this," he admitted, offering me the small key. "I figured you wouldn't object to staying next door… familiarity, and all. Is that all right with you?"

I accepted my old room key with relief but a little hesitation.

"Sure," I said. I hoped Doris was planning on accepting payment from me and wasn't feeling obligated to just hand over a free room because I was Charlie Swan's daughter or something silly. She was a bighearted woman, but she still needed to keep her business afloat. "Thank you. I'll have to give her a check when I see her."

I started my mental calculator, trying to figure out how much I would be charged to stay at the lodge for another week or two. Charlie had used his credit card over the phone to reserve my room and never really told me the final cost; unfortunately, the train ticket I'd purchased had eaten a large chunk of my checking account and I was probably going to have to dip into my savings. But this was worth it, and if anything, I could always ask Angela if I could be a guinea pig for any medical studies being done at the hospital. Once, I'd participated in a sleep study for school and that had paid nicely.

"I kind of already took care of that, too."

I blinked, distracted from my thoughts as Edward spoke up. "Hmm?" I said, looking up. "Took care of what?"

He cleared his throat, sliding his hands into his back pockets. "I mean, you don't owe Doris anything. For your room."

It took me a few moments to realize what he was saying. He had already taken care of it—payment. I stood, agape, wondering if he was kidding around. When I realized he was serious, I actually tossed my head back with laughter.

"Then I guess I'll be writing a check to you," I declared. "Is Masen spelled with 'e-n' or 'o-n?'"

Edward shook his head. "N-o," he said. "As in, no, you don't have to pay me back."

"Well, I'm going to," I replied. I was going to need my checkbook. "I'm serious," I added as I picked up my clothes.

"So am I."

I rounded on my heels, feeling my cheeks rapidly grow warm. "Edward, no," I said, placing my folded clothes on his bed and picking up my jeans. "Really. That's too expensive."

"It's not a big deal, really," he said quietly, watching as I pulled on my jeans in rough movements.

"It is." I pulled my hair down, brushing my fingers through. "This isn't a few postcards or dinner or drinks that you're paying for. It's too much—I don't even know how much, but I know it's a lot. And it's yourmoney to spend on you, not me."

I tried to avoid his eyes because, suddenly, I felt guilty for batting away his generosity like it was offensive. But I couldn'tjust let him put down so much money as though it was something to shrug our shoulders about. No one was holding a gun to my head, demanding cash, and that was probably the onlycase in which I wouldn't feel the urge to argue with him.

Edward reached out and took my fidgeting hands, squeezing them gently to get my full attention. "Before you get mad, can I say something?"

"I'm not angry." My voice was firm, but quiet. "I'm just…"

"Stubborn?" Edward suggested, actually having the audacity to smirk. I opened my mouth to reply, but he spoke before I could. "I know. It seems like a big handout, and I figured you would put up a fight, but hear me out. If it wasn't for me, you'd be on your way back home right now—"

"That's not—you're breaking the rule—"

"Shh," he said. "It's only the truth. Despite what happened—and, trust me, I can't express how glad I am that you did stay—you still lost a few hundred dollars by not leaving. I'm aware of how much train tickets cost, you know."

I chewed the inside of my lip. He could try to talk me into letting him pay for my room or reimburse me, or whatever he wanted to do, but I wasn't going to let him.

"And anyway," he continued, "I was the one who left in the first place. We could have had an extra three weeks together—all of the drama could have been avoided if I just—"

"That's irrelevant," I interrupted. "If you hadn't left, you'd be playing the 'What-If' game with yourself and would have ended up leaving at some point, anyway."

There was a beat, and he chuckled.

"Yeah, that's probably true," he admitted. "Still, you stayed for me, and it kills me that I didn't stay for you before. And I'm not trying to cover up what I did with money or anything like that, it's just… I want you to know that I appreciate everything you've said and done, and if there's any way I can help make this easier, I want to. It's not even enough—it's a poor exchange, really."

"No, it's not," I mumbled, reaching out and touching his chest, sliding my hand down to his waist. "I just don't want you to feel like you owe me anything, because you don't. And it's expensive—"

"Bella, all I have is money," he cut in. "It's in my name, but I didn't earn it. And, it sounds strange, but I hate every bit of it. The only reason I haven't given it away completely is because I'm not working."

I digested his words carefully, knowing full well what he was talking about: inheritance money. Everything he'd acquired from his parents' deaths was sitting in his bank account. Thinking about it, I would probably hate that kind of money, too.

"It feels nice to spend it on something—someone who's worth it," Edward continued softly, watching my hands as I went along with stroking his side, his arms. "So, please? Let me?"

I sighed. When he put it like that, how in the hell could I say no?

"Besides, I went to law school," he added, cracking a grin. "I'll sit here and argue with you all day if I have to."

Rolling my eyes, I leaned closer and wrapped my arms around him. "That's really thoughtful of you," I said. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said with a long exhale. "You don't have to thank me, though. I'm—"

I quickly pulled out of his embrace. "Keep going, rule-breaker. See what happens."

Edward grinned. "I didn't even say anything."

"You were heading in the self-deprecating direction," I said. "Plus, you said it feels nice to spend money on someone who's worth it. You're worth it, too."

He nodded. "Okay, no more self-loathing. I promise."

"Okay, good," I agreed. "I'm going to go take a shower. Meet you downstairs?"

"Knock first and wake me if I'm not up already," he said, flopping back on the bed and grabbing a pillow—thankfully not the one I'd slobbered on earlier. "I just need ten minutes. Maybe twenty. Or twenty-five."

I smiled as I made my way to the door. "I'll take my time."

The second my hand touched the doorknob, I spun on my heels and walked back to the bedside. "Oh, one more thing," I said, pulling the ponytail holder off of my forearm. I reached for his hand and slid the little band onto his wrist. "I like the idea of you having something of mine. You know, tit for tat," I added, pointing to the shirt I was wearing.

He gave me a small, contented smile and traced the strip of black with his thumb. "I was thinking the same. Thank you."

I gave him a quick kiss before I left, not letting my lips linger any longer because I didn't think I'd be able to stop. Moments later, I entered my room and saw that my bags were stacked side by side on the floor and my keys sat beside my purse, on the bed. Atop the zipper was a slip of paper, folded once.

It was you who I needed all along. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize it. Thank you, completely.

Edward

-:-

I leaned my head back into the open air, allowing the sun to beam down on my face, and tried not to sigh heavily into my phone's receiver. It was a bit of a rude awakening to discover that I had four missed calls from Renée and Charlie, and I'd apologetically excused myself from lunch with Edward to return the call. I'd considered lying, fabricating a tale of misplacing my train ticket or accepting a job in town so I could 'become one and sing Kumbaya' with my hometown roots, but in the end, I figured there was no use in avoiding the truth. After all, I wasn't ashamed of Edward or my decision to stay, and Charlie interrogated people for a living—if I lied, he would know it before I even finished a sentence.

And of course, since I told the truth, I was having bucketfuls of parental insecurities poured upon me—by Charlie, anyway. Not surprisingly, he had filled Renée in on Edward's background on the night he and Edward had spoken on the phone so long ago. Although, considering Renée's motherly heartstrings, I wasn't sorry he had been a blabbermouth.

"Mom, he's been through so much in the past year without anyone," I explained honestly, swinging my legs over my truck's tailgate. "Could you imagine how I would feel if I didn't have you and Dad? I'd be lost. And I know Charlie's told you all about his background report, but that wasn't his fault. He was sad, alone, and scared, and if I had been in his place, I would have shot an intruder, too."

Renée hummed quietly, probably lost in wistful thought as if I were reading her a Danielle Steel novel. "That poor boy," she finally said.

"He needs somebody," I continued quickly. "And you know I've been alone for a long time, too. I want to stay for me, too."

I waited, looking up at the window, where Edward was sitting inside. He met my eyes for a moment and I waved apologetically. He raised his hand in acknowledgement and turned back to his lunch.

"Charlie, I can understand what she means," came Renée's voice through the slight static. "She met someone—let her have fun. And she's twenty-two—we can't do anything about it, anyway."

Go Renée.

It was true. Neither she nor Charlie could force me to trudge back to Florida, but if I wanted to avoid concerned, interrogating phone calls for the next week or two, it would be nice to have their approval.

"Just make sure you check in, baby," Renée said in an optimistic voice. "I'm not going to pretend that I'm happy you're not coming home yet, but if this is what you want, then I'm glad you have someone with you."

I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. "Thanks, Mom," I said gratefully.

"So, uh… what does he look like? He's cute, isn't he? Does he have a nice car?"

I laughed and heard Charlie's muffled voice on the other end of the line. Renée sighed lightly and said, "Your father wants to talk to you again. Be safe, okay?"

"I will," I answered routinely. "Love you."

"I love you, too," she replied. "And send me a picture of him, will you? I've been wanting to try out my new phone."

I rolled my eyes, agreeing, and listened to Renée say a few hushed words before Charlie spoke with a strong exhale, "I don't like this, Bells."

"Dad, if I said I was going to bible-study with the poster boy of Pleasantville, accompanied by bodyguards, you wouldn't like that either," I pointed out calmly. "I know you're worried, but you need to relax. Edward's a good person—better than any of those other morons Mom's introduced me to. He's different."

I could picture Charlie anxiously playing with his mustache or wrapping his fingers around Renée's purple phone cord—a habit that we shared. "It's not that I'm trying to talk you out of having a friendship with him…"

I didn't miss how the word friendship rolled off his tongue with a purpose. I looked over at the lodge's windows again; Edward wasn't at the table anymore.

"But it's a little odd, don't you think?" Charlie continued. "Shacking up with a guy you barely know?"

"Charlie, we're not shacking up," I blurted, feeling like he could see my telltale blush through the phone. Of course, I hadn't told either of my parents that I'd spent the night with Edward, but it wasn't like we'd done anything x-rated. "And I guess I have to remind you that I'm old enough to do that with anyone I want, thanks."

He released a grunt of displeasure and quickly said, "Don't remind me, Isabella."

"Well, fine," I said, pulling at a lock of my hair. "So will you stop talking like you're going to come here and run him out of the state? Because even if you did, you couldn't stop me from following him."

Charlie chuckled. "You're making it sound like you're in love with this boy."

I lost my breath for only a hint of a second. "Of course I'm not," I managed to say unwaveringly. "Just please don't judge him when you don't know him."

Silence followed for a few moments, followed by a sheepish-sounding, "Yeah, I know you're right. I suppose I'm sort of an amateur here, baby. I haven't done this before—knowing my little girl is involved with someone who I can't even meet. I'm new at this."

"I'm not exactly an expert, either, Dad," I admitted, feeling oddly sentimental at his protectiveness. "But I appreciate it. I promise, if there's anything I get worried about, I'll call you."

It wasn't like the almost-manhunt Edward had been on hadn't warranted a phone call before, but the past was past. At least I hoped.

After a few more minutes of reassuring 'I'll be fine's' and listening to Charlie's fatherly advice, which mostly consisted of self-defense tips and car care, I hung up. I jumped down from the back of my truck, relieved.

Parental concerns abated: check.

I went back inside the lodge, sweeping my eyes over the café and its mostly empty chairs, including the ones where Edward and I had been sitting. As I turned to look toward the stairs, I felt someone grasp my shoulders.

"Sorry," came Edward's voice as I flinched, startled. "I have a bad habit of sneaking up on you, don't I?"

I relaxed, pushing my phone into my pocket as I turned to look at him. "You're light on your toes, that's for sure," I answered with a small smile. "Where were you when I needed a ballet coach?"

He scoffed a quiet laugh and stretched his shoulders, and I realized he'd put on his coat. The lobby was plenty warm, but before I could ask him about it, he posed a question of his own. "So, what did your parents say?"

"Well, my mom misses me, but she's always been about spontaneity… so, she told me to enjoy myself," I said. I left out that she told me to photograph him, too.

"And your dad?" His voice was hesitant, probably concerned that Charlie was making copies of his personal records just in case.

"Oh, he's fine." I shrugged my shoulders casually. "You know… being a dad."

He cleared his throat, his left hand fidgeting near the neck of his shirt. I certainly hadn't forgotten the last time he and Charlie talked, and the way Edward's face had drained of color at the end of their conversation. I was sure the memory hadn't disappeared from Edward's thoughts, either.

"Just telling me to check in every few days," I elaborated, trying to set his mind at ease. "Asking me if I have enough mace to last the month and to make sure I have enough air in my tires."

I knew Edward could sense that Charlie had said a tad more than that, but thankfully, he seemed to accept my answer. "My dad used to say the same thing. Not about pepper spray, just the tires."

"Oh, so he never gave you a Christmas stocking full of personal security-defense devices?" I asked amicably.

I got a half-smile out of him and he shook his head. "Just a tire iron. It takes care of the car and can be used as a weapon."

Chuckling, I leaned against the grandfather clock, crossing my ankle over my opposite foot. Then, for a second, I didn't know what to say next. I wasn't sure if talking about my parents, or his parents for that matter, was too sensitive of a topic or one that should be continued. After a few moments, I finally asked, "Does it hurt to talk about him? About both of them?"

He paused, his brows dipping in slight melancholy. The answer was evident on his face, even though he halfheartedly shrugged. "Every so often," he replied. "But sometimes it hurts worse not to. It's easier… but I don't like forgetting them—how they were before, you know?"

I didn't know—I'd never had to try. "I can imagine."

"I won't bring them up if it makes you uncomfortable," he said quickly.

"It doesn't," I assured him. "I just wanted to make sure I'm not crossing a line if I ask about them."

He raised his eyebrows. "What do you want to know?"

I bit the inside of my cheek, sensing his slight insecurity. I knew that diving right into somber conversation probably wasn't the best start to the day, but there was no reason to make it depressing. Maybe he wantedto get the ball rolling, somehow. I supposed asking a simple question wouldn't hurt.

"Well, I know you were named after your father," I said, recalling a conversation where he'd mentioned it. "What was your mother's name?"

It wasn't a question he needed to think about, but his eyes were thoughtful. "Elizabeth," he answered, and to my relief, he smiled. "Or Liz. That's what most people called her."

I returned his smile, remarking, "All E's."

His eyes rolled slightly. "All of our initials were the same, too. My mom's middle name was Ann, and my dad's was Anthony—the same as mine. I remember confusing the hell out of my dad's new clients when I answered the phone as a kid, confirming that I was 'Mr. Edward A. Masen.' Imagine calling your defense attorney's personal number and hearing a five-year-old's voice."

"Little Einstein," I laughed, my eyes immediately drawn to the lock of hair that fell into his face, which he routinely tucked back into place. "This might sound strange, but who passed you the hair gene? Or is that just you?"

"Well, the color is from my mom," he said, habitually playing his hair again. "The unruliness is just me."

Watching him, I tried to imagine a woman with features similar to his, knowing that she must have been beautiful to create someone as attractive as Edward. Then I found myself wondering if he resembled his father, instead; his height, his build, his stunning eyes… I wondered where it came from.

"What's up?" Edward asked, once again pulling me out of a daydream.

I ran my hand along the side of the clock, feeling the rough grain of wood underneath my fingertips. Suddenly, the idea of trying to envision his parents felt a bit silly, as if I was one of those crazy chicks who demanded their fiancé's family history so they could speculate about what their children would look like. "Just trying to picture—I don't know. I guess what they looked like isn't my business."

As I mentally fumbled for what to say next, Edward pulled his hands out of his pockets along with his familiar black wallet. I watched silently as he thumbed through the fold, removing something: a photo. "It's a few years old, but it was my mom's favorite."

He held the picture out for me to take, and I held it gingerly by the edges as I gazed at the snapshot. It had been cut down to size, leaving the sides threadbare with white creases and slight fingerprints, evidence of constant removal and observation. But of course, I didn't notice any of that right away; I was immediately drawn to the people—to Edward first. He was younger, maybe twenty, still sporting the same tousled hair, familiar, kind eyes, and endearing smile. Yet everything about him seemed simpler, brighter.

He was sitting next to a woman, his arm linked around her shoulders, and even if I hadn't already known it was his mother, their similarities would have made it remarkably clear. She had long, layered hair, the shade identical to his, her eyes mirrored the same striking color of rosemary-green, and around her neck lay the diamond necklace he had once let me hold. She was lovely, seeming almost equivalently young as Edward, her maturity only defined by the laugh lines set in the corners of her eyes and mouth. Standing above them both, but leaning down closely was Edward's father, just as handsome as his son. They resembled one another in their physique, both tall and well-built, and also shared an unspoken air of alluring charisma. I stared at Edward Sr.'s hands, one clasping his wife's, the other resting on Edward's shoulder, and felt a warm prickle behind my eyes, warning me of oncoming tears.

I'd seen halfhearted pieces of the happiness that was in this picture reflected in Edward now. But comparing him to the man he was a few years ago, seeing the carefree smile that reached his eyes—the one that was so rare, presently—made me ache. The photo was a parallel of a time when his life was untouched and whole. His family was so beautiful and happy, and then had been shattered—stolen from him in the worst way imaginable. I didn't know his parents, and never would, but my heart still broke as if I had.

I could feel Edward's gaze lingering on me. I blinked away the tears and swallowed the swelling lump in my throat. There was no hiding my reaction, so I didn't even try; I wanted to tell him that they seemed like such nice people, that I would have loved to have met them, and was so sorry that they were gone. But I was speechless.

"Geez, Bella," Edward said quietly, and I gazed at him apologetically. "I know my haircut was pretty terrible back then, but I didn't think you'd cry about it."

For a second I stared at him, then snorted a soft laugh, the tension breaking. "Your hair looks the same," I said, breathing deeply, and then realized I'd just insulted him. "I don't mean—there was nothing wrong with your—"

But he waved his hand, faintly grinning. "Don't try to take it back. Now I know your true feelings."

I was relieved that he was teasing me. My eyes were still wet, but the urge to cry was slowly abating and I was able to get myself under control. "They look so happy—so do you. They were beautiful, Edward."

I gave another lingering look at the picture before handing it back to him. He took it gently, carefully sliding it back into his wallet. "Thank you."

After he'd safely placed his wallet back in his pocket, I tugged the fabric of his t-shirt, pulling him closer, wanting to hold him. He tucked his hands behind my neck and the feel of his fingers in my hair made me sigh. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Doris animatedly chatting to two silver-haired ladies; all three of them caught my gaze and smiled knowingly. I'd forgotten that Edward and I were still standing in the front of the lobby and not in the privacy of our rooms.

I cleared my throat, releasing him, only to playfully nudge him. "You were tan before," I remarked teasingly.

"Yeah, and now I'm only a few steps above albino," he said with a grin. "Maybe if my car had a sun-roof, I would have gotten some color lately. I've been hiding away in hotel rooms and libraries for the past year, and mostly coming out at night. Honestly, I haven't really taken time to sit in the sun."

I looked out the window. "Why don't we do that? We could take a walk or head over to the beach, even. I mean, obviously not to take off our shirts and sunbathe, but it's one place that isn't fully surrounded by trees. "

Edward followed my gaze to the sun-streaked parking lot, rhythmically tapping his fingers against his jeans. "Sure. That would be nice."

"Are you finished eating?" I asked, gesturing to the café. I hadn't missed his amused stares as I'd consumed my food in record time, while he ate at a normal, human pace—probably even slower. I blamed the fact that I had run a monstrous three miles yesterday and was just trying to make up for burned energy.

He nodded quickly, taking my hand and pulling me out the door before I could say anything else. I was glad I'd thought to wear a sweatshirt; the sun had stuck around, but it was chillier than the previous day.

"Mind if I drive?" he asked. He sounded strange suddenly, like he was hiding something—or just in a hurry for some reason. "Unless you want to walk?"

"To the beach?" I laughed, wondering if he knew exactly how long that would take. "Unless you want to give me a piggy-back ride, I don't think I could take that kind of long-distance hike again. My muscles are still screaming curses at me for yesterday."

"Oh, right," he said, the slight tension in his voice melting. "I'll drive then. But I'll warn you, I don't know where we're going."

"I think I can get us there," I said, trying to picture the route Charlie always took when driving us to First Beach. "It's been awhile, but I used to go all the time when I was younger."

Edward and I walked to his car and he opened my door first. "Okay, but if we end up lost in the midst of greenery, all blame goes to you," he teased before shutting me inside.

I relaxed, breathing deeply, and couldn't help smiling oddly at the mix of smells: of Edward and leather, the clash of fresh and stale air floating in the compartment. I felt safe with my back against the familiar seat, once again reminded that he wasn't gone—that he was here, with me.

As we drove, I pointed to the streets I recognized from somewhat-muddled memories of riding in Charlie's cruiser, and felt mostlysecure that we were going in the right direction. I couldn't help noticing that some of the leaves had lost their deep-rooted green, the edges curling with brown, while the middles were painted with tangerine and red. They had started to sprinkle the sides of the road: a multihued diversity against the moss and grass. It was pretty, but sad to watch them separate from their branches—their life.

Then leaf subsides to leaf, I mused. So Eden sank to grief.*

"Should I keep going straight?"

"Oh," I said, breaking my visual daydream, noticing the signs for La Push. "Uh, yes. It's pretty much a straight shot from here."

It took a matter of minutes, but we finally found a parking lot by the water, in which only a few cars were parked. The beach was a massive stretch, and since we were pretty close to the end of the shore, the only people I could clearly make out were a shirtless group of boys playing football and two surfers. All of them must have been insane, considering how cold it was. However, Edward and I had the rest of the coast to ourselves. As I walked to the front of the lot, I hunched my shoulders and pulled on my sleeves, pinching them shut from the inside, protecting my hands from the sting of the wind; it was a lot colder by the water. Thank goodness for the sun.

"Oh shit," came Edward's voice.

I turned to him and stared, my stomach clenching at his tone. "What's wrong?"

"I'm such an idiot," he said, coming over to me and squeezing my arms. "I pulled you outside and didn't even ask if you wanted to grab your coat."

Laughing, I gave him a gentle shove. "Geez, don't scare me like that. I'm fine. And, yes, you did pull me out of there. Were we getting stares from the grandma pack?"

"Something like that," he said, rubbing my shoulder. "Here." He started to shrug off his jacket.

"What—don't you dare," I said, my voice climbing to a girly high pitch as I stopped him, firmly gripping the brown fabric. "If you think I'm going to take your coat and leave you with nothing but a t-shirt, then you don't know me very well."

"It's cold out, I can't leave you like-"

"Exactly. I have a shirt on under this and the sun's out. And even though I'm not sure, I think I might survive," I joked, tugging the coat's zipper until it reached his chest. He looked so pouty, adorably squinting his eyes, until he finally mumbled, "All right, then," and walked back toward the car. He opened the trunk and I heard him rummaging through whatever was in there.

I sighed, halfheartedly smiling. He was always so worried about everyone but himself, handing out kind gestures like candy at Halloween—always without hesitation. My stomach warmed, as did the rest of my body, as my mind drifted to my earlier revelation: the new feeling of love that seemed to keep growing faster than I ever expected. Could I really even call it that? I'd never loved a boy, ever. For all I knew, this was infatuation at its finest, combined with meticulous parts of care and comfort.

At least I hadn't had the chance to let it slip aloud. Those words would probably scare him more than his own nightmares. I'd have to save my girly feelings for another day.

"Hey."

I turned around to find a navy blue blur torpedoing directly into my face. Recoiling, I caught the unknown object, only to be granted with an armful of a full, downy quilt. I lowered my hands and shook my head at Edward's playful smirk. "Nice catch," he said.

"You think of everything, huh?" I smiled at him, tightening my hold on the blanket.

He came to my side, holding what looked like a folded sheet. "I want something to keep you warm, too."

Maybe it was the way his hair was blowing in the wind, like waves of grain in a meadow, or it could have been the sincerity in his eyes shimmering like facets of sunlight on the ocean, but something made me say, "You already do that."

And just like that, I turned everything into a goddamn Every Kiss Begins With Kay moment. I ducked my head, clearing my throat and pointing down the beach. "Want to sit over there? Maybe we'll see some… whales."

You are such an ass.

"Okay," he answered, taking my hand. "Lead the way?"

The sand was squishy on the beach, but thankfully dry, and I realized that Edward brought the sheet for us to sit on.

"So," I said after we had gotten settled side by side. "I know Illinois has beaches along the lakes, but have you ever seen the ocean before?"

"Well, I've seen plenty on vacations, and when I first got here in September, I went to the one in Port Angeles," he said, leaning his head back, letting the sun hit his face. "Before I met you," he added.

"Oh, right," I replied stupidly, forgetting the possibility of vacations and that he'd been in Washington for weeks before I had arrived.

"And don't you remember when we went on our date?" he said. "You screamed like a little girl when you stuck your feet in the water."

I laughed, having forgotten about that, too. "My memory is terrible," I confessed, draping the blueberry-hued blanket over my lap. "So, that was a date, was it?"

The corners of his mouth curved upward, granting me a glimpse of his perfectly white teeth. "Well, it fits the definition. And you let me put my arm around you."

"Would you have kissed me goodnight if I hadn't fallen into traffic?" I asked, lightheartedly nudging him when he slightly winced at the memory. "It's okay, if it hadn't been for those drunken idiots, I would have never met Ben, and then he and Angela might have missed their connection. Everything happens for a reason."

He was quiet, subconsciously tapping his fingers along the sheet. Inwardly I smiled, wondering what artist he was playing in his head.

"I suppose so," he finally answered, then chuckled. "So, no other injuries while I was gone, huh? Maybe I was bad luck."

"You promised no self-loathing," I reminded him, and I could see a hint of his grin from the corner of my eye. "And no, unless you want to count stubbing the hell out of my toe on a particularly clumsy Thursday."

Edward made a snorting noise, and I inched closer until I could feel my shoulder bump his arm through the thick layers of fabric between us. "I think you were good luck," he continued, unzipping his coat a bit. "The second I was away from you, everything went to hell."

I studied his expression thoughtfully, remembering that night—how he'd left in tears, apologizing over and over, assuring me that he had to leave as if he didn't have a choice. Obviously something had changed his mind along the line.

"Why did you stop?" I asked, deciding not to beat around the bush. "You were so set on finding that man. What changed your mind?"

Edward crossed his arms over his knees. He always went so quickly from comfortable to cautious.

"Everything." I could see by his tensely-set jaw that an invisible spike of pain was caught in his throat. "Everything just changed in ways I didn't expect. And I wasn't as strong as I thought."

"I had the opportunity to do what I'd set out to do, and when the time came, I just couldn't. I couldn't take someone else's life. Not physically, not emotionally. You were right. I was too scared and didn't have the right, no matter what kind of monster he was."

He was sugarcoating his story—that much was clear by his eyes.

"Of course, it's a good thing I chickened out," he went on, "seeing as he ended up being the wrong guy."

He shook his head, running his hand over his face. "I can't stop thinking about it. The guy killed his entire family—his parents, his sisters… all because he wanted to be the center of attention. He claimed he was the one responsible for all the murders, even the ones before my parents."

"How did they know he wasn't?" I asked.

"He was too sloppy, and he couldn't explain—" Edward stopped, tiredly rubbing his eyes. "You really don't want the details. Let's just say his story didn't match the motive. He was nothing but a Hannibal Lector wannabe."

We were silent for a while, watching the waves curl and splash upon the shore, painting over the dry sand. Mirroring the ocean, strange feelings were also tumbling in my stomach—one of sorrow and another of disturbing unrest. What would have to happen to a person to make them want to slaughter their family, to feel a need to vie for the title of a killer? Psychosis, most likely, or just plain hatred. Either one wouldn't surprise me.

"I guess I just don't understand," Edward said, syncing our thoughts.

I glanced up at the sky as a patch of opaque clouds slowly concealed the sun. "Neither do I," I breathed, aching to erase the horrible memories plaguing his mind. I reached for his hand as I said, "I shouldn't have brought you to the beach."

He glanced at me, surprise outweighing his fatigue, and I clarified, "I mean I think I should have sought out the nearest spa facility. You look like you could use an aromatherapy massage or two."

Edward looked at his hands and raised his eyebrows. "I could probably use a manicure, too," he said with mock-seriousness.

I snorted and nudged him with my shoulder. "Yeah. Let's go get facials while we're at it."

"If it'll get rid of these, then count me in." He pointed to the bruises across his face. "I look like a cage fighter."

"I could always rub melted chocolate on you," I said.

My God, I might as well have taken off my bra and thrown it at him.

"On your face, I mean. I—I used to do it all the time in college," I uttered, wondering if I should start taking note of how many sexual innuendos I could inadvertently blurt out in a day. I could probably break a Guinness Record. "I'm not a stranger to bruises, and I'm not sure how it works, but supposedly if you cover one with chocolate it reduces the appearance."

Edward looked so puzzled, yet entertained, and I wasn't sure whether to laugh or get myself a psych consult.

"Maybe ice would just be better," I finished, proceeding to cover my face with the corners of the blanket.

I could hear him laughing under his breath and figured he was probably used to my verbal vomit by now. I sighed softly, still hidden, but eventually, Edward softly called my name, and my little quilt sanctuary was tugged from my hands. The wind instantly cooled my beet-red cheeks.

"Hey, I'm not done being embarrassed," I whined, pulling the blanket back with a smile.

"Come be embarrassed over here," he said, gesturing to his lap.

I could feel my heartbeat pick up the slightest bit, and I wondered if I would ever grow accustomed to the simple gestures and brushes of his hands without feeling kindled. I really, really doubted it.

I stood up and wrapped the quilt around his shoulders, and then slid myself between his knees, in the middle of his arms, and sighed contentedly.

"So, did this thing keep you warm while you were away?" I asked, turning sideways and tracing his coat collar. "Or do I have to go raise hell over at Newton's and demand a refund?"

Edward smiled briefly as he enveloped us deeper into the blanket. "No hell-raising necessary. It was the one constant comfort I had." He got a faraway look in his eyes for a fleeting moment. "One that I never even thanked you for. I realized it as soon as I drove away."

"Don't worry. There was a lot going on that day. I didn't even notice." It was sort of the truth; the words that were spoken between us were fuzzy, but the feeling and pain of that day was uncomfortably easy to recall. I leaned against his chest, unwilling to remember. "You don't have to thank me, anyway."

"I do," he said, resting his chin atop my head. "You don't understand. I can't even explain it. It was more than just a coat. It was—" He shook his head, exhaling shortly. "Thank you. You have no idea."

"You're welcome," I mumbled shyly. "Thank you for the CD."

He scoffed a laugh. "I think I should apologize for that, actually. It was pitiful."

"No it wasn't. I think I've almost worn it out listening to it. And you were sneaky with getting Mr. Miller in on the action," I replied, smiling.

He was silent for a few moments. "My head was spinning that day. I didn't know how to deal with anything."

A few distant shouts from the boys playing football made us glance up. The boys were tumbling into a big pile and one even splashed into the water.

When Edward turned back, he said, "I'm curious… What do you do? I mean, when things go wrong? I know it's not the same thing, but how did you cope after your stepdad… you know."

"Um…" I paused, biting my lip, trying to think of the best way to put it in plain words. Maybe he was searching for a good tactic, of which I didn't have. "I cheat."

"Cheat?" he repeated.

"I go numb," I explained, staring at a fraying string on the quilt that was blowing wildly in the wind. "It's like the way snow falls. Slow, but it starts to cover me like a blanket across my back. Only it isn't cold like snow is—it's anesthetizing."

Edward watched me pensively.

"It doesn't last forever, though," I added. "It's not something I can control, and when it wears off, I usually end up right back where I was before. I have a habit of trying to put things on hold until I know howto deal. It's how I ended up here, anyway. I just wanted a break, some time to see if I could rebuild things."

He slid his thumb under his lip, concentrating on the water before looking at me again. "Did you?"

I narrowed my eyes, taking a short moment to reflect on the weeks I'd spent at the lodge.

"Surprisingly, yes," I answered, filling my lungs with the salty air. "I distanced myself from my friends back home since I felt like such a killjoy. Here, I kind of found my old self and started to open up. Angela, Ben, and Doris have been great, and Mr. Miller's like the grandfather I never had. It feels good to have friendships again."

Edward nodded, arching his shoulders and pressing his heels into the ground, leaving crescent depths that the sheet dipped into.

"Aren't we friends?" he asked after a few seconds.

"Of course," I said, realizing I hadn't finished my thought. "I feel closer to you than anyone else. You're the reason I stuck around in the first place. And if it weren't for you, I would have never—"

Realized that I could love someone.

"I guess I think of us as more than friends," I finished quickly. Speaking the truth was easier than I'd anticipated, but I still sounded like a silly little girl with a crush.

"Bella," Edward said, sweeping a piece of rogue hair off of my face. "Why do you always say sweet things and then look ashamed of yourself? You aren't saying anything wrong."

His eyes were so full of affection, and I wished I could articulate my feelings with a simple stare like he could. "I don't want to say something that puts you off or scares you away."

"I love what you say."

The L-word was the last thing I expected him to say.

"I don't want to scare you either," he said, curving his arm around my shoulder to rub his thumb across my cheek. "But I'm crazy about you."

I drew in my breath, richly taken in by the breeze and his face. My hand had a mind of its own, reaching up to feel the curve of his neck, instinctively drawing him closer. It was so easy to be this close, to grasp his hair and feel his cheek against my temple.

"Does that scare you?" he breathed. I closed my eyes at the feel of the heat of his skin and the warmth of his breath, his mouth only finger-lengths from mine.

I shook my head, unable to find words, and was so consumed by thoughts of kissing him, I almost didn't notice that the distant shouts echoing across the beach were meant for us. Edward narrowed his eyes and looked over his shoulder and in the next second, he gripped me to his chest and fell backwards, hard. A loud thump sounded beside us and I heard Edward exhale sharply. I didn't understand what was going on, but I was on topof him, and numerous flashbacks of my earlier dream were flooding through my mind.

"What just happened?" I asked, my voice muffled against his coat.

He loosened his hold on me. "A football almost hit us."

I picked my head up and turned to see that there was, indeed, a football that had smacked down right beside us. Although instead of hitting the sand and bouncing down the beach, this one was half-burrowed in the sand like a crashed meteor. Edward and I shared a look of awed confusion, and I gently pushed myself off of him and pulled his hand, helping him stand.

"Damn," Edward said, staring at the half-buried ball. "Whoever threw that must be on steroids."

"Hey, sorry! You two all right?" came another shout, and we both turned to stare in the direction from which the ball had come. One of the shirtless guys I'd seen earlier was jogging toward us. Edward waved, calling that we were fine, while I plucked the ball from the sand.

"Think you can make it, little lady?" the stranger called, holding up his hands.

I chuckled and threw the ball as hard as I could, unpracticed, but was surprised to see that I could still throw a decent spiral. One summer, Charlie had made it his "life's purpose" to teach me how to properly toss a football so that I could fit in with the boys. I always chalked it up to his secret desire to have me become the first female on a major-league football team.

The bare-chested boy caught the ball, but instead of shouting thanks and turning back to his friends, he kept walking toward us.

"Still got that arm, Swan? I'm impressed!" he shouted as he got closer.

I blinked in bewilderment. Who was that?

"Do you know him?" Edward asked, glancing at me.

"I don't know," I said honestly, astounded by the eight-pack abs that were moving in our direction. The abs also had a face—a slightly familiar one. "Oh my God. Jacob?"

As he walked closer and I took in his boyish face, overlooking the massive muscular features that outlined him as a man, I recognized my old neighbor—my former playmate and partner in mud-pie crime.

"You remember me," Jacob said with a wide smile of pearly-white teeth. "Guess I made an impression all those years ago, huh? I knew you couldn't resist my training wheels."

I laughed in surprise and felt a weird sense of déjà vu—faint memories of he and I playing on this very beach, years ago. "You're huge. What did Billy feed you?"

"All the leftover fish fry that was supposed to be yours," he said, tossing the football before tucking it under his arm. He picked me up in a tight, one-armed hug, lifting me with no effort whatsoever. "It's been years, Bells! Where the hell have you been?"

"Florida," I answered with another laugh, returning his hug before he set me down. Even on a chilly day, his skin was so warm it was almost feverish. I supposed playing football was responsible for all the heat. "And I vaguely remember you promising to come and visit me if I'm not mistaken."

"Someone had to stay here and babysit all the adults," he said cheerfully, then turned to Edward who was patiently watching our exchange.

"Oh, sorry," I said quickly. "Jacob, this is Edward. Edward, Jacob."

"Ah, so you're the boyfriend," Jacob said lightly, shaking Edward's hand. I paused, giving him an incredulous look, but Jacob shrugged. "Charlie and Billy still talk like schoolgirls. I'm surprised your love life isn't printed in the Forks Forum yet."

My eyes widened, but I didn't have time to stutter an embarrassed response as Jacob continued to Edward, "Watch out for this one. From what I can remember, she's as sweet as they come but she's got a mean right hook."

He winked at me and I stared at him, confused. "Right hook? I never hit you."

"Oh, yes you did," said Jacob, laughing deeply. "I kissed you when we were younger. You clocked me."

I mentally scrambled through my internal memory box. "I did?"

"Yup," he said, looking almost proud. He gave Edward a smirk. "I was seven, she was nine. Bella was the unattainable older woman, you know?"

Edward smiled at me. "Oh really?"

I felt my face heat and Jacob chuckled again. "Man, you really haven't changed a bit," he said, tapping my chin. "Bella-Blush-a-Lot. Tell me you remember that one."

I wrinkled my nose, laughing, the memories suddenly flooding back to me with fluid clarity. "I remember now. No wonder I punched you, you little antagonist."

"Always," he said teasingly.

A chorus of shouts sounded in the background and I saw one of the boys shove another one, seeming on the verge of a fight as someone shouted, "Take a walk, man!"

Jacob scoffed and shook his head. "Sorry about Paul. He's just a jackass, really. Can't be told he's wrong or he lashes out and throws footballs at random couples, apparently."

"It's okay," I answered, unable to help staring at the group of boys where one was stalking off, up to the grass. "Edward's got good reflexes."

"So I saw," Jacob said, nodding his approval and knocking Edward's arm with his fist, like they were old friends. "I'll tell Billy to tell Charlie you saved his little girl from an oncoming missile. That'll get you in good with the old man."

Edward chuckled good-naturedly. "That's probably not a bad idea."

I just shook my head, making a mental note to call my father and tell him to stop socializing like a teenage girl.

"Nice tattoo, Jake," I remarked, pointing to the circular symbol on his upper arm. "Rub-on?"

"Ooh, listen to you," he said, grinning. "Nope. Real. I'm a big boy, now, Bells. Engaged and everything."

"Really?" I said, louder than I meant to. "Wow, really? Anyone I know?"

Jacob laughed at my reaction. "Remember Leah Clearwater?"

"Harry's daughter?" I asked, and he nodded. "Yeah, I remember her. She was a little older than me, I think."

"Yup, that's my girl," Jacob said, ruffling his hair. "I just proposed last week."

"Congratulations," Edward offered, and I smiled warmly, thinking of Jacob trading in his childhood Superman cape for a groom's getup.

"Yeah, that's great," I piped up. "I'm really happy for you."

"Thanks, guys," he said enthusiastically before another voice called out from behind him, shouting his name. He turned and threw the football, the tendons in his arm flexing and bulging as prominently as a body builder's. One of the other boys leapt for the ball, catching it and falling into the waves with a tremendous splash.

"Well, I'd better get back before the wolves descend. It was really nice seeing you, Bella." Jacob leaned over and gave me another hug, and I couldn't miss how solid he felt, as if steel resided in place of his muscle tissue. "If you have some time, you two should stop on by the house. I'm sure my old man would get a kick out of seeing how grown up you are."

"Sure, thanks," I said, leaning into Edward as the wind picked up.

"Nice to meet you," Edward added, and Jacob shook his hand again.

"You guys take care," he said, taking a few steps toward his friends. "Maybe stick with a safer activity next time. It seems that laying on the beach is risky, today!"

"Yeah, we'll go hiking instead," I replied, reaching for Edward's hand. "Find ourselves a bear to play with."

Edward shook his head, amused, but Jacob stopped in his tracks, his smile faltering. "Hiking, huh?" he repeated, his tone hinted with slight disquiet. "In the woods?"

"Well, on the trails in the woods," I said, confused at his worried expression. "I'll leave the bear-playing to the squirrels, don't worry."

"Sure, I know," he said, grinning again, though it lacked the luster he was sporting before. "I just remember you being a little clumsy. I wouldn't want you to tangle yourself in a bunch of thorns or anything."

"Oh, ha ha," I mocked, rolling my eyes. "I think I'll live."

"Just lookin' out for ya, Bells," he called, starting to walk backward again. "See you guys later. And keep out of the woods, eh?" he added, winking.

His words sounded playful and I waved good-naturedly, but as I turned back to Edward, I mumbled, "Why does everyone always warn me to stay out of the woods?"

"I think he was kidding," he answered, gently pushing the blowing strands of hair away from my face as I watched Jacob rejoin his friends.

"Did I just imagine that look on his face or did you see it, too?" I asked, feeling oddly curious. "As soon as I brought up hiking, his whole expression changed."

"No, I saw," Edward said thoughtfully, continuing to play with my hair. "In his defense, I could see you falling into a bush."

I poked at his ribcage, knowing he was teasing me. "He's just not the first one to give me a warning like that."

"Who else?"

"Mr. Miller." I pulled at my sweatshirt's sleeves, wanting to sit back down and huddle into the quilt. "I mentioned checking out the trails one day and he… I don't know. It was strange. He told me that if he were in my shoes, he'd stay out of them at all costs. I thought he was just afraid of coyotes or something, but it seems like it's more than that."

"I don't think you're far off the mark, though," said Edward pensively, a faraway look in his eyes for a few moments. "I've seen a scar on the bottom of his neck. It isn't usually visible—he wears his shirts buttoned to the top with a tie, you know?"

I nodded, thinking of the red tie Mr. Miller was always sporting.

"He covered it up quickly and I didn't stare, but it looked just like a bite mark," he continued. "That was only his neck and it was fairly small, but there might have been more. Maybe he was bitten by some kind of animal."

"It's possible," I agreed. "Charlie told me that there was a group of hunters that saw a bunch of wolves a few years ago. As far as I know, there haven't been any recent sightings. I mean, no one was hurt, but I guess if I'd been bitten by something in the past I wouldn't exactly frolic through the forest any time soon."

Edward chuckled. "I have. Well, I've jogged. I haven't frolicked in awhile."

"What, in the woods?" I said, gesturing to the trees beyond the beach, cracking a smile. "And I'm sorry, now I'm getting a vision of you dressed in tights, reciting A Midsummer Night's Dream."

He laughed, shaking his head. "I ran track in school. Running is the only healthy habit I've kept up. Usually at some point during the week, I go for a jog if the weather's decent. And please, get the image of me dressed up like a fairy out of your head. Between crying all night and that, my masculinity points just dipped into negative numbers."

"I'm just curious about the last time you've frolicked," I teased.

Edward sighed, his lips curling into a peculiar smile. "Eight years old. My friends and I used to play Robin Hood."

We resumed sitting as we had been, with my back against his chest, and spent a considerable amount of time telling simple childhood stories and joking around. But as another hour passed, we both grew wistfully quiet, lost in our own thoughts. I found myself thinking of Mr. Miller and the woods, wondering if there was some truth to an animal attack of some kind. After hearing about his late wife, I thought that Mr. Miller's tie might have been a special one that she gave him, but maybe he wore it for reasons other than sentiment. Perhaps he was just a creature of habit hiding a bad experience.

Eventually, I felt Edward's head grow heavy on my shoulder. Soon after, I felt his head jerk away from mine, followed by his shaky exhale. I tilted my head back, seeing him blink tiredly, having just snapped himself out of falling asleep.

"Sleepy?" I asked him with a smile.

He inhaled quickly, a bit startled at the sound of my voice. Instead of speaking, he only nodded, looking sheepish.

"We can leave," I said, seeing shallow fatigue behind his eyes. "Or you can lay down for awhile. My lap's free and the blanket's big enough for both of us."

There I went with my accidental hooker-talk.

"Would you mind if we went back?" he asked, yawning behind his hand. He seemed a little pale, too, so I quickly agreed.

After we shook the quilt and sheet free of sand, we walked back up to the Volvo. Edward was quiet and I could feel his hand tremble as I clutched it between my own. It was strange to see him slip so fast. Maybe he didn't get as much sleep as I'd imagined.

"Are you okay?" I took the sheet from his hands as he retrieved his keys and was slightly alarmed at his pallid cheeks and glazed eyes, and the way he gripped the roof of the car to steady himself.

"It's just a headache," he said, taking a moment to massage his temples. I kept my hand on the center of his chest, tightly grasping his coat, afraid he was going to pass out. "Do you think you could drive?"

He sounded so exhausted that I didn't even hesitate to say yes—which was saying something, considering I didn't trust myself with other peoples' cars. At least I knew how to handle a stick shift.

I slid into the driver's seat, tentatively starting the car's engine as he buckled himself into the passenger's side. "Did you ever get your head checked? You could have had a concussion," I said anxiously, watching him tilt his seat back and rest his head on his arm. I briefly wondered if he'd felt this nervous when I'd had one of my own.

"I have a slight one, but nothing to be worried about. It could be from that. I'm just really tired."

"You'd tell me if something was wrong, wouldn't you?"

He barely smiled, but it was more than I thought he'd give. "I promise. It's not the first time it's hit me this quickly."

"If you say so," I muttered, wishing I didn't have to change gears. I wanted to hold his hand or entwine my fingers in his hair, or just do somethingthat made me feel useful since I knew he would do the same for me. Then I figured maybe I should just pay attention to the road and not crash his car, because thatwould be more helpful than my handsin his hair, for Christ's sake.

His car ran so much smoother than my Chevy and I didn't realize I was going almost fifteen miles over the speed limit until I slowed down to turn into the lodge's long driveway. When I successfully pulled into an empty parking space and turned off the ignition, I mouthed a silent 'Thank you, God', celebrating the fact that I hadn't hit anything, and looked over at Edward.

He was asleep, completely unaware and perfectly still, except for the small rise and fall of his chest. I contemplated letting him stay there, undisturbed, until he woke on his own. I hated the thought of making him move when he looked so peaceful.

It wasn't until I reached in the backseat for the blue quilt that a thought struck me—simply the fact that he hadblankets in his car at all. How many times had he donethis, already—fallen asleep on these seats because he had nowhere else to go for the night? And I couldn't help but remember that every time I'd fallen asleep on a road trip, I'd woken feeling stiff and sore, craving a masseuse. I didn't want him to have to sleep here—not anymore.

"Edward?" I was gentle in shaking him awake and his unfocused, drowsy stare was both adorable and kind of comical. "We're back."

"Oh, okay," he said, his voice already rough as if he'd been sleeping for hours instead of minutes. "That was fast."

"I broke the law," I confessed, smirking. "I went fifteen miles over the limit."

He pushed himself up, routinely unbuckling his seatbelt with a tired laugh. "Wow," he said. "Look out for you, you outlaw."

"And I didn't scratch your car," I said as I shut the door, jangling the keys before tossing them to him as he got out. "Do I have your ultimate trust now that I didn't wreck your baby?"

"My baby?" he echoed, yawning, glancing at the Volvo. "Bella, an Audi R8 would be my baby. This is—I don't know, an embarrassing in-law."

I snorted a laugh and wrapped my arm around his back as we walked. "It's too clean and shiny. Maybe a prissy in-law?"

"A pregnant one," he continued, pulling open the front door to the lodge. "It's moody and full of… stuff."

"You're a mess." I laughed, glad there weren't too many people in the lobby to observe us. I was giggling and he was slightly unsteady. We probably looked drunk.

As we slowly made the trek up The Stairs of Mount Doom, Edward cracked his knuckles and stretched his shoulders, causing little pops of sound. "Maybe I'm rapidly aging," he mused tiredly, bending his fingers back and forth. "I need naps in the middle of the day, and it would explain why everything hurts."

"Everything hurts?" I repeated, concerned.

"I'm just sore," he claimed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's what I get for sleeping in the car and on the floor. You know, that and not sleeping enough. Sorry I had to go and ruin the day."

"You didn't ruin anything," I said honestly as we reached our floor, glad I'd chosen to wake him in the car. "Today wasn't a bad first day, was it?"

Edward leaned against the wall. "No. It felt good to talk. Today was really nice."

"Yeah," I said, sweeping my fingertips over the cool railing, watching specks of dust dance in the air. "And if you don't sleep through it, we can have tonight, too."

I bit my lip at how cheesy it sounded, but he granted me one of his genuine smiles. "We can have tonight," he agreed, reaching to lightly brush my hand, but he ended up clutching it as he suddenly stepped sideways, sliding a little along the wall.

"Whoa," I said, holding his arms tightly, keeping him from falling. "Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?"

He quickly righted himself, exhaling slowly. "A little dizzy. I'm good, I just need to—"

"Sleep," I finished, pulling his keys back out of his hand, searching for a key that matched the lodge's brand. "I haven't seen you this tired—" Since he'd had a full-blown panic attack, weeks ago. But I wasn't going to say that. "Well, in awhile."

Edward shrugged. "It comes and goes."

We took turns in his bathroom, scrubbing the sand out from under our fingernails, and he pulled sluggishly at his shoelaces, kicking off his shoes and falling into bed. I watched him curl up on his side, cheek-deep in a pillow. It was odd, this desperation of wanting to breathe whispers of comfort in his ear and mold my body into his curve so that he didn't feel alone as he drifted off.

I felt concerned as I padded to his side of the bed, stroking his hair. "You're worrying me a little."

"I'm fine. Want to stay?" he asked, eyes closed. "You don't have to. But if you're tired, I wouldn't mind a nap-buddy."

I smiled at my chance to cuddle with him. "I'm not tired, but I'll stay and read if that's okay. Do you have any books?"

"Um, yeah." He cracked his eyes open and pointed behind me to the dresser, where a few books were stacked. "Are you sure?"

"I'd rather make up for lost time, you know?" I said, turning around. A James Rollins novel was on top, so I chose that. "Do you want me to close the curtains? I can sit over in the chair with the lamp on as long as it doesn't bother you."

"No, this is fine," he said, blinking tiredly.

"Well, in that case," I said, sliding my shoes off and walking to the bed. I sat, scooting over next to him and propping my back with a pillow against the headboard. I looked down at him and put my hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. He looked a little better than when we had left the beach, but he seemed more than just exhausted. "Are you sure you're all right?"

He nodded, resting his hand on my leg as he nestled up to me. "Will you wake me if you leave?"

Well, I wasn't sure I ever would if he kept touching me like that. I only wished this was a moment when he felt well enough for both of us to enjoy it. I rubbed his back, which moved with slow breath, warm and soft under my hand. "I'm not going anywhere."

As if I'd given him magic words, he closed his eyes and breathed a whisper—a response, maybe, or just a sigh. He was asleep within a minute.

-:-