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

-:-

I walked along with Edward, stepping over piles of mossy undergrowth and dodging rogue branches—not to mention wondering where he was taking me and if he would remember his way back. We did seem to be walking straight, though—there were no impulsive turns or hesitation on his part.

"You'd never even know it was here," he said, lifting me over a small agglomeration of thorns and pointing. In the distance, I could see rays of sunlight coming through a small clearing.

"What is it?" I asked, curious.

"Something I forgot about until just a minute ago."

As we approached the gap in the trees, I could see a large stretch of land that almost seemed to be glowing with light. It turned out to be a meadow of sorts, a circle of flowing grass that rippled in the wind, brilliantly green and gold and wavelike in its movement. Sure enough, the sun was bright and warm and high in the azure sky; when I looked across the expanse, I could see scattered tips of dewy wheat glistening under the brilliant gleam.

"Wow," I said, taking in the lovely sight. "How did you know this was here?"

Edward said, "I found it by accident, months ago. I was having a bad day and ran off course for the hell of it. To speak your language, I guess I took the road less traveled by*."

I knew he was smirking before I turned to look at him.

"This is what John was hinting at—for me to show you something nice. I told him about it awhile back. Do you like it?"

I let go of his hand to walk further out, slowly spinning to get a full view. "It's beautiful. I've honestly never seen anything like it. It's dreamlike."

"Mm-hmm." Behind me, I felt him gather my hair off my shoulder and press his lips to my neck. "There were flowers when I first came here. I guess it got too cold, but it was like something out of a book."

Proving his words true, dried-up purple and blue petals layered the ground and added another sprinkle of color over the grass and autumn leaves. I crouched down to get a handful and let them fly from my fingers like blown dandelion.

"I wish I would have remembered to bring you here sooner," Edward continued. "It would have been a nice change from our bedrooms."

"Oh? To do what exactly?" I asked with a grin.

He shrugged, feigning innocence. "Read, of course."

I snorted and got to my feet, reaching out to grab his waist. "You know, if you wanted to have a forest fantasy, all you had to do was ask."

"Really?" He placed his hands on the small of my back, bringing my hips to meet his. "That easy?"

"Ha! Since when have I played hard to get?"

"About thirty minutes ago," he said pointedly.

Well, I couldn't really argue with that.

For kicks, I broke away from him, unwilling to let him manipulate me into a mess of hormones, and took off my sweater. "I don't know about you," I said, rolling up the sleeves of my shirt, "but I could use some sun." I stretched out on the grass, which I expected to be coarse from the season, but it was surprisingly soft and tickly. I tangled the blades between my fingers, loving the texture and fresh scent of it. "Are you joining me or going to watch me sunbathe?"

"Why don't you just take off your shirt?"

I gave him the hairy eyeball and he put his hands up in defense, smiling as he sat on the ground. "I'm not being perverted, I'm just picturing your face when you see you've got a farmer's tan."

I considered that. "I'll take off mine if you take off yours."

He looked down at himself and shrugged. "Deal," he said, lifting his long-sleeved shirt over his head and laying it under his head like a little towel. He settled himself beside me and raised his eyebrows. "Well? Lose the shirt, Swan."

"Man, you would think I've been holding the goods to myself for a month," I said, grinning and rolling my eyes. "What is it, a full moon tonight?"

"Hey, you were the one who said I wasn't allowed to lie down because I'd fall asleep on you," he pointed out. "You're my incentive to stay awake."

"My boobs, not my company?" I teased as I sat up to remove my shirt. I could feel his eyes on me, softer than the sweep of the wind, and I couldn't pretend that I didn't enjoy how he stared at me like I was something beautiful. I set my shirt to the side and removed my shoes and socks. It might have sounded silly, but I wanted to feel the grass between my toes, too.

"Take off mine while you're up there?"

"Your shoes or your pants?" I asked, smirking.

"Now who's getting greedy?"

I undid his shoelaces and such, making his feet match mine, then fell onto my back. "Don't worry, we're not allowed to touch."

"What? Why?"

I laughed at the surprise in his voice. "Tan lines," I said. "I can't have a white print of your arm reaching across my chest to grope me." I was joking, of course, but he pouted like I was serious. "Fine, fine," I relented, and he rolled his eyes when I only linked my little finger around his; it was too much fun to not tease him.

We lay in silence for a while, letting the warmth of the sun soak into us. The heat and sound of the rustling trees were reminiscent to the crash and roll of summer waves and it was so pleasant, I could have drifted right off. The thought made me turn my head to Edward. His eyes were closed as I expected, and I wondered if he might have fallen asleep already. I curled my pinky a bit tighter, squeezing his finger.

"I'm awake," he said, though he kept his eyes shut.

Smiling, I rolled onto my side and reached over to caress his arm. "You know, Renée told me it was eighty-six degrees the other day at home. After Thanksgiving, we can go to the beach and do this the right way. You know, without jeans and hiking boots."

I felt giddy thinking of balmy sand under my feet and the sparkle of sunlight on the water, the delight of rubbing sunscreen on his back—and probably aloe on his sunburn afterward.

"So I get to see you in a bathing suit?" He cracked an eyelid. "Bikini?"

I laughed. "If you want. Sorry to disappoint you, but it might not look much different than this," I said, pointing to my bra.

"Not if it's a G-string," he said, letting his eyes wander to the front of my jeans.

I wrinkled my nose. "Um, dream on. Unless you want to put one on with me." He made a face, too, and then even I had to cringe. "Yeah, never mind. Even you couldn't pull that off."

"Maybe I'll put on a mankini."

I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? Then I'd have to sell you to a circus."

"And what would my talent be?"

"You just put on that mankini and do a few cartwheels. People will be horrified and mesmerized at the same time."

Edward grinned halfheartedly. "I wish we could leave sooner."

"It's only a few days away," I said, stretching to play with his hair. "Minus today, I'd advise you to soak up as much of the cold weather as you can. You'll go into humidity shock when we get to Florida."

"I'm looking forward to it, actually."

"I don't know. Wait until you see my hair. You'll be begging me to shave my head so the frizz doesn't poke you in the eye." He laughed, but I was half serious. "One summer in Phoenix when I was younger, I cut my own hair because I was tired of it getting so wavy and untamed. I was going for the pixie-cut, but Renée caught me before I could finish. She was so pissed. She wouldn't let me cut the rest, so I had a mullet until October."

He barked a laugh and uttered, "Man, I hope your mom saved pictures of that."

"Oh, no," I warned. "No baby pictures. You aren't allowed to see. No."

"Oh, I'm having her pull out all the albums. Halloween costumes, ballet recitals, the awkward teenage years…" He continued while I groaned, and I eventually covered his mouth and threatened a tickle war. He raised his hands in surrender, adding, "If it makes you feel better, I was at the lake once and fell too close to a fire pit. No kidding, I lost half of my bangs and actually singed off an eyebrow."

His declaration started a slew of confessions and embarrassing stories between us, and as time passed, our cheeks grew pink with laughter as well as from the overhead sun. We turned on our stomachs as the conversation turned to memories that stuck out in our minds as children. I told him that before Renée introduced me to peanut butter fudge twirl ice cream, vanilla was my favorite flavor because it was Charlie's, and he used to ask me if I wanted 'icy clouds' for dessert. Edward relayed that every time he received a good report card, his dad would take him out for deep dish pizza and to the batting cages, where they would hit 'home runs' until the sun went down.

I loved to watch his eyes shine with fondness and delight at the mention of his family instead of melancholy, and I wanted to immerse myself in his words and memories until they were a part of me, too. Feeling young at heart, I wished that the day wouldn't end. I wanted to stay out in this secret, middle-of-nowhere haven and have time stop until we said so.

Inevitably, though, the sun began to fade and the clouds drifted over us in giant, grey puffs. I lamely joked about 'Marshmallow Storm Troopers', which launched Edward into a story about a family camping trip and how he'd participated in a roasted marshmallow eating contest. "I got to twenty-four before puking," he said. "It was even more gross because we'd just eaten hot dogs and I put a mountain of mustard on mine. My cousin called me Mellow-Yellow until… well, he still probably would."

I couldn't stop laughing after that and he pulled me on top of him, grinning.

"I was only thirteen then," he defended himself. "I could probably do it now."

"Please don't try," I giggled. "There's a marshmallow topping I make for sweet potatoes on Thanksgiving, so don't make me feel the need to hide the bag from you. If there—"

It was then that something dawned on me, something I was surprised I hadn't remembered sooner.

"What?" he asked when I didn't finish.

My mouth dropped at my sudden realization. "Damn you, Edward! You still haven't told me the rest of that damn pie recipe!"

He looked slightly confused before breaking into a cocky smile. "Oh, yeah. Sweet potato pie. I completely forgot."

"You better not mean you forgot the ingredients—" I stopped, feeling a cool tickle on my bare back. I glanced up at the sky, surprised. It had become overcast but I wasn't expecting the weather to turn so soon. Had hours gone by already? "Is it raining? Did you feel that?"

"No. You're kind of on top of me," he pointed out, pinching my waist and peering at the clouds. "Do you think we should go?"

If we didn't want to get wet, then yes, I knew we should get up and go. But…

"Not until you tell me all the secret ingredients," I said, wrapping my arms around him. "Because I know what you're going to do. You'll withhold them from me until Wednesday night and instead of me baking a pie for my dad, I'll have to buy one from Tom and you'll taunt me all throughout the holiday until I'm on my knees and begging you."

A slight drizzle had started, but was quickly picking up, as was the breeze. I still didn't move.

"You really think I'd be so cruel?" he asked, taking a hold of my shoulders, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Yes," I answered seriously.

Edward snorted. "Bella, come on, we're getting wet." He wriggled underneath me and began to lift me from his chest.

"No," I said, and even though I could feel the sprinkle turn to fast-falling drops, I still kept a strong hold on him, locking my legs around his so he couldn't bend his knees. "Come on. Tell me."

"Are you kidding right now?"

I creased my eyebrows in a mock-glare and he taunted me with only one raised brow. I knew what that meant: I was in for it.

"Don't you dare. Edward, don't even think about-"

I really should have known better, as he was much stronger than I was, and I screamed for him to stop as he started tickling my sides. Only moments later, our surroundings seemed to transform into a flooded grassland: the skies opened and rain poured, falling in thick sheets, soaking us as we shrieked and wrestled until we could barely breathe.

When I finally managed to wrench myself out of his grasp, I pinned him down and gripped his shoulders. "I'm not giving up, you know! We can stay out here all day!"

"You're tenacious, woman," he managed to say, though he could hardly shout. I'd never seen him laugh so hard.

"Tell me!" I yelled over the raucous downpour.

He caught his breath and rolled his eyes, blinking away the rainwater that was streaming into them, and finally cried, "Fine, fine! Frangelico! That hazelnut liqueur! Tom brushes it over the crust and puts it in the pie mix!"

I froze in the middle of our tangled hug, took a moment to think about it, and shouted, "What? The nunbottle? That's his secret?"

"Yes, and that's all!"

"Are you sure?"

With a playful growl, he sat up, bringing me with him. "Yes! Yes, Julia Child, you now have the power in your hands. Are you happy?"

I couldn't help sputtering over another laugh. "I am. Was that so hard?" I said in jest, kissing his cheek before scrambling to my feet. "Come on, before it starts hailing next!"

With a little yelp, I quickly gathered my belongings and began to sprint for the trees.

"Bella!"

I slid on the slick grass as I abruptly stopped and turned back. Edward was still standing in the field, arms empty, making no move to dash out of the storm with me.

"What are you doing?" I called, shielding my head with my shirt, even though it did no good.

He jogged toward me, reaching out and taking my hand. "First, we're going to want to go that way," he said, pointing in the opposite direction, "but I have to say something, and if I don't say it now, I'm scared I'll lose my nerve."

"Um… okay?" I had to laugh a little at his choice of making a speech in the pouring rain. I wasn't sure if I should be more curious or worried.

"It's just… I've been thinking about what might happen after this. I know we'll be together for the next week, at least. Afterward, I'm not sure where I'm going to end up, you know?"

I stared at him, studying the uncertain look in his eyes, and slowly felt my clothes and shoes fall from my grip. My throat grew tight and I took a small step back, instantly thinking the worst, but Edward squeezed my hand, not allowing me to pull away.

He gave me a sheepish smile. "But I know I want it to be with you. Wherever you are."

"With me?" I repeated. I hoped I heard him correctly; the weather was vociferous.

When he nodded, I felt an urge to beam until my cheeks ached, but he suddenly seemed serious and I held back.

"And I know you're young and you have plans to do things, things that have absolutely nothing to do with me, but…" He breathed deeply, kneading my fingers with his thumb. "I guess what I'm asking is, would you consider letting me be a part of your life? After we leave?"

He still wore a little crease of nerves between his brows. I wanted to playfully shake him and ask him if he was actually worried that I would rather be without him, but then I remembered I'd been wondering about the very same situation only hours ago. Taking in the magnitude of what he was saying, I realized my own fears were the same as his.

"Edward… you already are," I said, finally letting myself relax and grin. "I don't have to consider anything. You know that."

He pulled me a bit closer, his smile shy, but stunning. "I guess I figure it's impossible for you to love me as much as I love you."

"Incorrect."

"I don't know about that."

The rain was almost blinding, but it was intoxicating to watch it stream from every contour of his body, from the angular curve of his jaw down to the v-shaped groove of his hips. He was so beautiful right then, so lively and completely drenched. Every inch of him was radiant.

"Come home with me," I said, linking our fingers together. "After the holiday, if you decide you like Florida enough to stay, you can stay. Or we can leave, go somewhere else to make plans together. Because wherever I am won't feel like home without you."

He brushed my dripping hair away from my eyes. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm dreaming all of this, all of you. It feels too good to be real."

"It's real. Get used to it."

I'd never been kissed in the rain before, but it was one for the books when he leaned down to pull me into one I wouldn't soon forget. The way his fist curled in my hair, the mesh of our lips in perfect, eager pressure, the combined taste of the rain and his mouth… it was ideal pleasure. It was brief, though, since the skies were pouring down so viciously. I reached to pick up my things and ran with Edward to get his, and I hurried after him as we raced to the opposite side of the field from which we had come.

I was confused, thinking we would have rushed back to the lodge—it wasn't that far, after all—but Edward explained that it wasn't the first time he'd gotten stuck in the rain out here. He led us directly to a little grass-covered nook under the trees. A little brink of earth had overgrown around a boulder, posing as a cave without an entrance. It was walled with roots and leafy plants and stretched out above a hill, creating a covering of sorts. It was somewhere we could sit out the storm, anyway.

We peeled off our jeans and used our wet clothes like blankets, settling ourselves atop them and huddling together. While an occasional spray of rain would find its way to us, our makeshift shelter wasn't a bad spot at all. We kissed to keep from shivering, his mouth always finding places to make me feel warm. Light on my lips and under my ear, and he knew just how much pressure I loved on my neck. I could have stayed like that for hours, just kissing and being enveloped in his arms. We could have been, honestly. Time didn't exist for us then, deep in nature as though we were the only ones on Earth.

Eventually, the rain reduced from heavy to light, and even a bit of sun began to peek through the grey sky again. I wandered to the edge of the tree line to get a better look. From what I could see, the clouds were still moving at a steady pace.

"It might let up soon, but probably not for long," I said as I felt Edward's arms wrap around me.

"Anxious to get back?"

Not with the way he made me shiver, having his hands so low on my belly. I turned my chin toward my shoulder, the one on which he was resting his head, and pressed my cheek to his. "I'm not in a hurry, no."

"Mm. Neither am I."

From there, I wasn't sure who started it. When I realized his hands weren't stopping their light fondle, I might have been the one to lead him back in the open, onto the lush grass. He might have been the one to gently lay me on my back, lowering himself on top of me. It could have been the other way around, though; I was too busy concentrating on the feel of the rain and wind—both cool, but Edward was so warm. I smiled against his mouth, loving the chills and bursts of heat that merged on my skin and inside me.

As he moved, letting his lips roam from my neck to my chest, I reached for his shoulders and lifted my hips to brush against him. I wanted to hold him close for this. I tangled my leg around his, stopping him from moving, and was surprised when he drew back.

"Not just yet," he said, his voice smooth. He bent down and kept his head low, and it felt as though he was kissing each of my ribs, his hands in chorus as they granted me generous strokes down my sides. The feeling was surreal, sensual, and I adored how he always thought to stir me up with such sweet, slow burning. My breath picked up as he made me bare and parted my legs, and I drew my fingers through his hair, waiting for him to come back up and meet me face to face.

He didn't.

Instead, his mouth trailed from my stomach to the little crease of my thigh, pressing kisses all the way. I balled my fists, gripping his hair a bit tighter, but I didn't stop him. I wondered if he might touch me or simply tease me—get so close and do nothing, just to drive me mad—and then the thought of him kissing me there sent me into a mix of wild hope and half panic. I almost wanted to call out and protest, because this was new and my mind silently argued with him: Wait… No, don't. No, do. Please. Now. Or wait—

In between the unbridled want, I was uneasy, self-conscious, and wasn't sure what it would feel like.

Oh.

Like a forced pull of gravity, my head fell back against the earth and I closed my eyes, a dizzying sweep of pleasure stirring inside me. He'd done it. His mouth was on me with gently-pressured lips and teasing licks and sucks and oh my God…

I moaned out loud. This was different, an amazing different—something that made my breath shake in my lungs and my limbs curl. There weren't really wordsas much as there were fragments of obscenities, which didn't exactly sound lovely with my quiet mutters about the Lord, but rushed speech fell from my mouth in whispers before I started saying hisname.

"Edward…"

Of all my reactions—my perceptible desire and writhing movement—saying his name seemed to make him the most eager. His hands dug into my hips, which I unthinkingly pushed forward for more. I had almost no control. My whole body was part of it; my chest heaved and my back arched, my toes curled, and I wasn't even there yet. It was intense, and with the added sensation of raindrops sprinkling my skin, unique. My breath was thick in my throat and small gasps left the tip of my tongue, and moans replaced my pleas, and all I could do was fist handfuls of the grass to keep from crying out—and then I realized I could be as loud as I wanted because we were in the middle of nowhere.

I wrapped a leg behind Edward's back and his tongue drove me crazy, closer, tracing shapes and circles as if completing a brilliant code that was meant only for me. There was a rise—a feeling, warm and fluttery—that tightened in my belly, in my chest. I could only pant and grab his hair, urging with my hands for him to keep going, to not stop—to never stop.

"Oh, God. Oh, please," I whispered. "Oh, fuck. Oh—"

Winded, I didn't have the lung-power to quite scream, but I let myself go and my breathy, carnal cries were uncontrollable, echoing as my body got what it wanted. It was like being suspended in mid air, rippled in pleasure—admittedly better than my earlier feeling of 'flying' on the bridge. A mature version. An ideal version.

I was overheated and trembling, but greatly euphoric as I came down from the high, and looked up at the sky as I caught my breath. The sun was shaded by the clouds, but it still broke through in a split-second window, looking as though it was winking at me. I smiled.

Edward emerged in my line of sight as he sat up, peering down at me with a grin like he'd just created world peace.

"Wow," he said, a little breathless. "I've never seen you blush like this. Good, huh?"

Pointing my finger, I tried to make a joke about sunburn but couldn't even find the energy. He had a right to be a little smug. Hell, he had a right to be extremely smug. I reached and pulled his arms until he was hovering over me. "Just kiss me," I managed to say.

I rested with him on my chest for a few minutes, tasting the rain on my lips, and then decided to reciprocate as best I could with the strength I had left. Prudence and shyness aside, I became a bit voracious about wanting to give back, to make him feel twice the gratification he'd just given me. There was no secret that he wanted it too, especially not when I could see and feel him hard against me, but I enjoyed the surprise in his eyes when I pushed him onto his back.

"Your turn," I said.

-:-

I had to admit, I was kind of proud of myself.

Edward was sprawled next to me, still breathless and flushed and completely spent. I'd pushed him to the edge and back, entirely unpracticed, but he hadn't seemed to mind at all—not with the way I'd felt him pull at my hair and shoulders, or the incredible sounds he made as I stroked him with my hands, took him into my mouth. I'd stopped and teased, making the touches and kisses go slow and steady before lowering my hips and letting him fill me, fervently giving him as much I could as he moaned and breathed my name. We'd been with each other for weeks, but never had I seen him let golike that.

Like I said, I was feeling more than a bit pleased. This day had been the best—for both of us, I was sure of it.

It had stopped raining approximately ten minutes ago. The sun was bright again and the wet grass was a gorgeous sight, appearing to be sprinkled with crushed diamonds. Edward was also stunning, lying there with his hand on his chest and crystal drops of water trickling from his hair. I'd curled myself up to him like a spoon, and the last thing I wanted to do was get up, but the breeze was growing strong and half of the sky was already getting dark again.

"We should probably head back," I said, raising myself in a sort of pushup. "We might be able to make it before it pours again."

Edward made a grumbling sound, not even bothering to open his eyes. "I'm thinking we should just live here. Just lay here and never move."

"Well… we'd get snowed on, eventually."

He chuckled quietly. "I don't mind snow."

"Yeah, I'd like to freeze this moment, too," I quipped as I forced myself to stand, "but you were the one who warned me about frostbite. Imagine if what happened to your ear happened to your… you know."

"That would be pretty tragic—losing my toes and all."

I laughed as I stood, and then instantly felt like a hussy as I had to scan the ground to see where my underwear had gone. I was pretty certain no one was around, especially since a mini monsoon had just occurred, but still… I had a nagging feeling someone might see. I figured it was just the sense of being naked without walls, like someone might pop out from around a tree with a video camera at any moment. I scurried back to the little stone nook we'd previously sat under and started picking up my clothes. They were spotted with grass and leaves and mud from laying on the ground, and I had half a mind to dunk them in one of the little pools of water that had gathered in the dips of the ground. Figuring that would just make them dirtier, I grudgingly began to put them on.

"Ugh," I whined as I tugged my shirt over my head. Everything was cold and saturated and plain uncomfortable. My jeans were the worst; I could barely pull them up. I heard Edward snickering as I hopped around, struggling to yank them up to my hips. "Going to walk back naked, are you?" I called out.

He snorted, groaning as he finally sat up. "Yes. Completely nude. I might even hang out in front of the lodge and welcome the guests with Carl."

Carl was what we'd named the bear statue by the lodge's entrance.

"Hey, you'd be an amazing attraction. Doris would make millions."

I chucked him the rest of his clothes and he, too, grimaced as he put them on. Shivering, I stooped down to put on my shoes and wet socks. Gross. "I might actually get in the bathtub when we get back. I haven't done that yet, not once. Renée packed me all this ridiculous, girly bath stuff and I haven't even treated myself. I think I'm going to. Want to join me? Honestly, that tub could probably fit three people in it. I promise we'll just relax. You know, since we've probably had enough play in the water for one day?"

Aware that I was babbling, I cut myself off and looked up to find Edward gazing across the field. He was motionless—not simply glancing around for enjoyment, just staring. Oh God. I hoped he hadn't seen a bear.

"What is it?" I called uncertainly. "You see something?"

"I think so."

I stood up and cautiously walked over to him. "What? You're scaring me."

"No, no—nothing bad," he said, holding out his hand. I took it and he pulled me closer. "I thought I saw a flash, maybe a glare. I guess it was the sun or something, but… right there. Look."

He pointed and I did as he said. Staring out at the distant tree line, I waited, wondering what I was supposed to be seeing. "Um, trees?"

"See the one that splits in the middle—how the left side swoops down to the ground?"

"Uh huh."

"And then next to it, that rock? It's shaped like an 'M' almost."

I gave him a strange look. "Are you feeling all right?"

He smiled, shaking his head. "It looks like the painting in my room. Imagine more leaves."

When I took a second glance, I was surprised I hadn't seen it right away. The mixed shades of golden foliage, the thin, warm aurora of the sun sifting through the sky, the spattering of leaves and grass in a vast open space—there it was. It didn't just look similar, it was the painting in his room. Just very enlarged… and real.

"Weird, isn't it? It's kind of cool, though. Maybe whoever painted it did so right here."

I didn't answer him because, at that moment, another thought struck me. Fuzzy memories of past dreams began to surface in my mind—the ones where I'd been lying in a meadow, just watching the trees sway and the clouds drip from the sky. It could have been anything in my subconscious—nature was nature—but I'd grown up in the desert, with palm trees. And here, the way the trees circled us just the way my dreams had shown, was perplexing. I glanced over my shoulder, squinting back at the small pools of water I'd just seen, the ones that surrounded the thick, brown trunks… Hadn't I dreamt of them before, too?

I had. The first day I'd met Edward.

"Hey, you okay?"

I snapped out of it as he squeezed my hand. "Yeah," I answered through an exhale. "I just…" The painting and cognizance was strange and a bit staggering, like we'd been whispered to by unseen forces to end up right here. I couldn't help but stare at him, watching the cool breeze fan his hair and ripple the fabric of his damp shirt. Edward, in the middle of my dreams come true. "I love you. That's all."

It was his turn to give me a funny look, but he smiled and said, "Love you, too. Ready to go?"

I nodded, taking one more glimpse at everything. Maybe I was being crazy or just on a schmaltzy high after having the mother of all orgasms. It wouldn't be the first time hormones had messed with my head.

We headed back out from where we came in, through the now dripping mass of trees. Even with the impending second storm, we didn't hurry; it wouldn't have done us much good, seeing as the trail had turned into a muddy mess and caused our shoes to stick and squelch with every footstep. I huddled close to him to keep warm, our conversation drifting from how we should make one more visit to the meadow before we left, to placing bets if we would see snow before Wednesday, to where we should go after the holiday. We stuck on that topic all the way back and started to play, racking up pros and cons of where we could live.

"Millennium Park is right across from the lake."

"Okay, but I'm only thirty minutes away from the ocean," I pressed. "That scores at least five points."

We were now on Chicago vs. Jacksonville.

"Doesn't it rain everyday in Florida?"

"Usually in the summer, but only for a little while and then the sun comes back."

"Okay, we'll come back to those. Did you give any more thought to Fort Collins? It's quiet. Scenic." It was his favorite vacation spot, too, so he'd told me before.

"Kind of. I don't know, I still vote for Maine, living somewhere right on the cliffs," I said as we cleared the woods and started up the slick hill. I could see the tip of the lodge, probably where our rooms were. "We could wake up and smell the pine trees and walk along the water. It'll be cold, so it'll feel more like home for you, but the sun still comes out enough for me to get my fix."

"Sounds like here, you know," Edward said with a smile, gesturing to the sky. "Well, not right now, but… we might as well just stay. I'll buy you a sun lamp."

"Yeah, but Forks doesn't have an almost limitless supply of lobster." I nudged his foot with my own as we finally reached the back of the lodge. "Speaking of which, I'm hungry. You?"

He shrugged nonchalantly.

"I can cook us something. Tom wouldn't care if I played around in the kitchen."

Edward chuckled. "I don't suppose I could say no to that, huh? What do you have in mind?"

I looked at our dripping clothes. "I'd say it's soup weather."

"Sounds good to me," he said as he rubbed his eyes. "Mind if I nap in the pantry while you cook?"

"Such a man." Though, as I pulled him along, he did resemble a walking/talking something with dying batteries, his footsteps slow and shuffling. "You look beat."

He gave me a smirk. "Well, yeah. Some little minx just ravished me in the woods. I'm exhausted."

I opened my mouth to protest—he was the one who had started it—but he silenced me with a kiss. I was like putty that was left on a hot rock, melting away in summertime heat. I groaned and pulled away. "You win. I'm a total minx. But you're a massive manipulator with those lips."

"Oh?" His eyes were shining. He knew.

"Yeah, and it's not fair," I said, unable to hide a grin.

"You're not so bad yourself," he added.

As we climbed over the cusp of the hill, we froze, our smiles unfortunately short-lived. In front of the lodge, two police cars stood out by the entrance. They weren't neatly parked in spaces, either—just pulled up by the door. One officer was by the stone wall, pacing and speaking into a professional radio, and disappeared down the driveway without seeing us.

Edward and I stared straight ahead for a few moments before looking at each other. As his brow furrowed, he said, "I don't know," answering the questions that were running through both our minds: Why? And what happened?

He tightened his grip on my hand and I unwillingly trudged along with him, nervous about what we were about to encounter. I hoped no one was hurt. Maybe someone was in trouble instead. I didn't want to think that either, but it was better than the first thought.

Both hesitant, we roughly scuffed our wet, muddy shoes on the mats and walked inside, only to be greeted by a very crowded lobby. Doris was standing by her desk with a police officer; they were speaking in too low of voices for me to make out what they were saying. Other people were talking in small groups, buzzing over one another, and I had no clue what to make of it. I glanced at Edward, who had the same perplexed expression.

"What do you think is going on?" I asked him in a hushed voice.

"I'm not sure," he answered. "I hope no one's had a heart attack."

I hoped not, either, but it appeared that something was clearly wrong. "If someone was hurt, don't you think we would have seen an ambulance?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe it already left."

Eventually, people noticed us. One by one, they fell quiet as they gaped in stunned surprise, as if they knew exactly what we had been up to. It was unnerving, their gawking, blatant stares.

"Isabella! Edward!"

I jumped as Doris' frenzied voice rang out through the room. Bizarrely, it dawned on me that it was the first time I'd ever heard her call Edward by his first name. No lighthearted 'Mr. Masen', but Edward. That was different—more serious. She waved away the officer beside her and came straight at us, and a humiliating thought struck me.

Oh. My. God.

Someone had seen us. One of the church-going, no-horizontal-fun-until-marriage believers had been caught in the storm, too, and saw us going all orgasmic in the middle of nature and in front of God, no less. That's why everyone was staring. We were being portrayed as the darkest kind of sinners and had probably broken some sort of 'no nude exposure' law. And no matter what reason the cops were here, they wouldn't likely have a problem arresting us, too.

Fuck. Charlie would kill us both.

"Where have you been?" Doris demanded as she came around the sofa, only seconds away from—well, I didn't know what she was going to do other than scream, but I was scared to find out. I backed up against Edward and was about to bolt when she suddenly threw her arms around me, clutching me against her chest like she had just found a long-lost daughter.

"Oh, honey!" she sobbed, her plump frame shaking and nearly causing me to fall. Edward, thankfully, held onto her shoulders and kept us from tumbling over.

"Doris?" I said, alarmed.

"I thought—I thought—" she said, weeping, unable to get the words out. She wailed into my shoulder before releasing me to grab a hold of Edward, too. He put a comforting hand on her back and stared at me, his face mirroring my bewilderment. Once he straightened, he looked her in the eyes.

"Doris," he said gently. "Are you okay? Did someone try to rob you? Hurt you?"

"N-n-no," she blubbered. "It's John…" She let out another heartbreaking cry and bawled into Edward's already drenched shirt.

John. John Miller?

"Mr. Miller? What about him?" I found myself blurting out, soaking up her panic. "Is he all right?"

She only sobbed. I felt as though my heart was suddenly creeping its way into my throat, finally realizing that this was not about me and Edward and our rendezvous in the woods at all. I narrowed my eyes to a group of women who were standing by the stairs and stared at them, silently pleading for someone to reassure me that, somehow, everything was still okay—that there had just been some kind of scare.

"Tom found that poor man right down the street on Fern Hill about an hour ago," said one of the women with a quiver in her voice.

My mouth dropped. I had to replay her words in my head a few times before speaking. "Found him? He's not—?" I whispered, unable to bring myself to say what I was thinking.

She nodded somberly. "He didn't make it. They think it might have been a rogue animal from the mountains. Maybe a cougar."

My heart throbbed with a pressing ache. Oh, my God…

Doris emerged from the fabric of Edward's shirt. "Y-you both were gone for so long and someone said they saw you leave on foot, but n-no one had heard from you! I I thought it had gotten you, too!"

She was half a second away from shrieking and falling apart. Edward quickly and protectively wrapped his arm around her shoulders as he led her to one of the chairs by the nearest officer, consoling her with his delicate words and small pats with his hands. I watched him in silent awe; he was in action and I couldn't move.

My body felt as if it had turned to rock. I barely managed to stagger to an empty armchair, dropping into the cushion like an anchor. It was swallowing me thickly, this heart-wrenching truth that was slowly sinking in.

He was dead. Mr. Miller was dead. My enigmatic, charming, grandfather-like friend. Gone. Dead.

No.

The whole realization was like slipping on a rolling patch of ice. The way your feet would fly out from under you so fast, and the world would spin as you hit the ground, and colors would flash in pinpricks behind your eyes until you were dizzy, until darkness came. Shock after shock stacked up in gravid layers and I could feel it upon my shoulders like steel fog.

A hand rested on my shoulder, but I didn't look to see to whom it belonged. I heard words that might have been directed at me, but I didn't answer or ask for reiteration. I forgot to breathe, too, because my chest began to burn and I had to loudly gasp a breath of air before the pain dissipated.

There were murmurs and sighs that filled the room like a bleak melody. This was a small town; Mr. Miller was probably known by more people than I thought. I darted my eyes to different faces, searching through their sorrow. I'd lost sight of Edward. I curled my fists, digging my fingernails into my palms and feeling warm sweat. Where was he? I needed him. I needed to see his face.

Before I could go to pieces, I spotted him in the far corner speaking to a policeman. He appeared calm, but when his eyes met mine for a moment, he looked concerned, remorseful, and his mouth dipped into a frown before he turned to reply to the officer. I wondered what he was saying, what they were asking him. Would someone want to question me, too?

As it turned out, they did. An officer eventually came to my side, stooped to my level and began inquiring. What was my full name? Oh, I was Charlie's kid? What was my relationship with Mr. Miller like? How involved was I with Edward? We'd been seen talking to Mr. Miller earlier that morning—did he say where he was heading? Had we followed him at all? Had we seen anything strange outside? Heard anything? Where had we been?

I felt out of sorts as I solemnly answered. We hadn't seen anything. We hadn't heard anything. We'd only been in the woods, walking. We'd been together, lying in the fields. Waiting out the storm.

My thoughts raced:

Edward's hand in my hand and his hands on me and mine on him, and the air and rain were cold and hot and heaven, and all the while Mr. Miller had been dying, dead, lying cold and bleeding, and how could he be dead when I just talked to him hours ago and he had been fine, alive, and telling me to take care of—

Just promise me you'll take care of each other.

The woods. He'd meant in the woods. Right? Surely he meant for us to be safe on the trails. He didn't mean for them to be his final, departing words. He'd been smiling and content. He was going to visit his children—grandchildren. He couldn't have known he was going to… No. Impossible. It'd been an animal—a cougar. A horrible accident. Oh, the blood. There must have been so much blood.

I felt dizzy and bent over in my chair, letting my head hang low to my knees, my hair curtaining my face. A riptide of thoughts swirled in my mind like a storm. Jesus, that road. Fern Hill Road—it was only a few lanes away. Edward and I had walked on that street before, mostly because it was quiet and surrounded by trees. If Mr. Miller hadn't persuaded us to go into the woods, we might have been walking along that very street. We could have been hurt or killed, too, like a death trap waiting for us. His change of heart about us venturing into the forest had been suspicious, but it could have saved our lives.

Another hand brushed my back. At first I thought it was the officer who had questioned me, but it was the warm, gentle hold behind my ear that snapped me out of my daze. I sat up to find Edward standing next to my chair, cupping my neck. He leaned down and softly whispered, "Come on, Bella." I slowly stood and he steadied me in front him before brushing his fingers over my cheeks. Wet. I hadn't even realized I was crying.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

I nodded. It was a boldfaced lie.

"Let's go." He placed a quick kiss to my temple and led me past the people who were still staring at us because we were, in fact, alive. Edward rubbed his forehead, lost in his own thoughts, and as we walked closer to the stairs, my eyes wandered. I spotted Tom sitting at one of the café tables with an officer. They were speaking in subdued voices, but I was able to make out enough—just enough—to make my heart skip.

"…throat was entirely ripped out."

I halted, my feet freezing in place. Tom's voice was monotone as he continued, "Body half shredded, eyes missing. Like I said, there was only the smallest bit of blood. I can't make sense of it. It was freakish. It was like one of those cougars sucked him dry with a straw. And his throat was just… gone."

Tom then caught my eye and his anxious expression softened, apologetic over the words I wasn't supposed to hear. I felt my bottom lip begin to quiver as a dreadful sort of iciness crept over me. Though I was shocked, I couldn't stop myself from gazing over at Edward, hoping he'd been distracted by something else. But his softhearted green eyes had grown fierce. He'd heard, too.

I barely felt the weight of my wet shoes as we climbed the stairs. I hardly registered climbing them at all, but somehow we ended up on the very top floor. I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes, and my chest ached with a pounding thump thump thump, like prodding at a bruise.

This couldn't be real.

I heard Edward start to pace and I wanted to open my eyes and grab him and tell him it wasn't true—that what he was thinking was absurd—because it was an animal attack, not a murder. I wanted to tell him, but I couldn't even budge.

Silence, silence, silence, and then a shattering crack cut through it all. I recoiled from the noise, gasping, and turned to see Edward pummeling his fist into the wall, again and again as a growling sort of scream rose in his throat.

I tried to call his name, but my voice was an insubstantial whisper. "Stop," I said anyway, grasping the back of his shirt and pulling. "Edward, stop it!"

He did, finally, his breath coming in furious pants. He stretched his hands to the wall, hanging his head, and I swallowed against a wave of nausea when I saw that he was bleeding. I watched blood trickle over his knuckles, down his hand, and slowly dribble onto the carpet. It could have been paint. Drip, drip, drip. I couldn't stop staring.

Was this what shock was like?

The minutes that followed crawled, but were more or less rounding; it figured that as soon as he started to calm, it was then that I began to lose it. I stepped away and bit back a sob, feeling the blow of grief hit me with an odd sort of fury. Blood rushed in my ears like turbulent groundswell and it was all too much, just too much. When Edward glanced over his shoulder, the fire in his eyes vanished almost instantly. He tucked his injured hand into his sleeve, swearing under his breath, and reached for me.

"I'm sorry," he murmured as he hugged me close. The long-anticipated thunder finally sounded, raging from above the roof. I wound my arms further around his back, and he ran his fingers through my hair, soothing me. "Shh, honey, it's okay."

I really tried to not break down completely, but my eyes were stinging, my chest was burning, and I became a goddamn cloudburst right on his shirt. He sat on the ground and pulled me into his lap, and I reached up to pull his head down to mine, unable to feel close enough to him. He murmured words of comfort and I lightly stroked his hair. After awhile, I wasn't sure who was consoling whom.

Ultimately, we both grew silent and still; even the raindrops that were ricocheting off the roof seemed to slow. I lifted my head and looked at Edward, tracing my fingers along his jaw until he gazed down at me.

"Are you okay?" I asked. Crying had given me a little bit of clarity, but he nodded woodenly, his eyes not giving away much emotion. "I—I think we should change." I didn't want to leave his embrace so soon, but we were both still in cold, saturated clothes.

"Yeah." He slowly stood and helped me up. "You should shower. Get warm."

"Okay," I agreed. Other than his arms, it was the next best thing. "You too. I'll come to you when I'm finished?"

I didn't want to be alone or away from him, but we both needed to. He bobbed his head in agreement and stroked my neck, then turned to go to his room, looking somber. Sighing, I turned to enter my own door and reluctantly went inside, alone.

In the shower, I couldn't enjoy the hot water on my skin. My thoughts blurred, and I robotically shampooed my hair and used the soap before turning off the faucet and stepping out onto the chilled floor. It was too early for pajamas, but I didn't care. I pulled on yoga pants and one of Edward's t-shirts, and only dried my hair because I didn't want to be cold. When I had nothing else to do, I walked out into the hall.

It was going to be a long, sad night.

Before I opened Edward's door, I squeezed my eyes closed, willing them to stop tearing up. I didn't want to cry in front of him anymore. I knew if he saw tears dripping down my face, he would concentrate solely on me and instantly stuff his emotions in a metaphorical hole. We'd both lost a good friend. He needed the chance to come to terms with it as much as I did.

When I finally opened the door, it was like déjà vu. Edward's bags were on his bed and he was collecting handfuls of clothes and tidbits to stuff inside them. I stared for a few moments before speaking.

"What are you doing?" I asked tiredly.

He turned, looking frazzled. "Oh, I… I think we should go. We should leave. Now. This is—I don't want to stay here. Will you come with me?"

"Whoa. Edward," I said, closing the door.

"I'll help you pack," he insisted, tossing some toiletries in his bag. "I just need to…" He looked around, as if unsure of what to do next.

"I think you should sit down," I offered quietly. His hands were trembling. If he wasn't careful, he was going to set off a textbook panic attack within seconds. "I should, too. Let's sit and talk about this for a minute."

He hesitated, drawing his fingers through his hair, his forehead lined with worry. As I pulled him to sit on the bed, he gave a heavy sigh, seeming shaken. Maybe it was just the neon-orange C on his sweatshirt that clashed with his complexion, but his face appeared ashen, too. His eyes matched mine, though—red and watery. He'd been crying as well.

I opened my palm and reached for him. "Let me see your hand."

Edward held up his right hand and I took it in mine. His fingers were cold, only warm on the pink, swollen flesh over his knuckles. The blood had been washed away, but they were still gashed and definitely going to bruise. "I didn't break anything," he told me, curling his hand into a fist and back. "It'll be fine."

"I'll get you some ice as soon as the lobby's less crowded."

"It's not a big deal."

I gently ran my thumb over the damage and glanced at him, concerned. "Why are you packing your stuff?"

"We can't stay here. Not now," he said, squeezing his temples with his good hand. "You heard."

I had heard. "It can't be what you think. It's just—"

"Impossible?" he finished with a scoff. "You can't be certain either, not for sure. And I know you think I'm nuts, but—"

"I don't think you are, but… these kind of accidents aren't unheard of." I hated to use such a word, to avoid speaking Mr. Miller's name for the sake of sensitivity, but I was too afraid I'd start bawling. "It's horrible, but these things happen up here, especially with all this forestry. There have been cougar attacks here before. Bears. Coyotes."

"Those animals attack for meat, not blood."

My stomach twisted at his words and I felt the color drain from my face. I tried to gather the words to tell him that maybe one did—because where on earth could the blood have gone, after all—but the thought made me feel sick.

"You heard Tom. You heard what he—" Edward paused to swallow. "His blood. His eyes. It was the same with my mom."

Staring at him, I was speechless, feeling my eyes sting and pressure build in my throat. A subtle fold was noticeable in his cheeks, as though he was sucking them in slightly, to keep from crying, maybe, or just holding back a roar of frustration. I wasn't sure. Eventually, he turned to the empty fire grate and dropped his head into his hands, working his fingers over his eyes and breathing heavily. "Shit. Just… God damn it."

"No one could have done anything to prevent it," I tried again, aching to dispel the mental image of gashed wounds on Mr. Miller's cold, perished body from my mind, as well as picturing Edward's beautiful mother without the same exact eyes he'd inherited.

"They don't know what to make of it, I'm telling you," he said, his voice raw. "The police didn't just ask me if I saw anything strange, they asked if I saw anyone strange. These murders, Bella—they're not old news. Just because I've stopped looking doesn't mean they've stopped happening."

I shook my head and rubbed his arm, trying to ease his distress. "No," I said. "No, it's… no."

I didn't want to think, not even for a moment, that he could be right. He was simply thinking of Chicago and his parents and other families—other people who had been slaughtered. It wasn't something to be easily erased. His grief and anger were present in his trembling, which soon turned to shuddering, and I couldn't take it anymore.

"Edward."

I grasped his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. After only a few moments, I pulled back in concern. He felt hot and sweaty. Something wasn't right. He looked away, but I didn't miss the sudden flush in his face, the quiver of his bottom lip or the sound of his teeth snapping together. The trembling wasn't just from his oscillating emotions. He was shivering.

"Are—are you okay?" I asked him, feeling alarm creep into my chest.

He nodded quickly, but that didn't deter my worry.

"You're not," I accused. "What's the matter?"

"I'm just in shock."

"That's not what I mean. You're shaking. Are you cold?"

He narrowed his eyes to me. "Are you not?"

"No." The room wasn't even a little bit cool. "Didn't you shower?"

"Yeah," he said, kneading his temples. "I just can't get warm. I feel kind of… I don't know. I think I'm getting a migraine."

"I think you have a fever," I replied, placing my hand against his cheek. He was shaking with chills when the room was perfectly warm, after all. He was even in a sweatshirt. "And your head hurts? When did this start?"

Edward kept his eyes down for a few stubborn moments before shrugging his shoulders. "I felt a little off all day, but it started to hit me when we were walking back. I ignored it. I just thought I was tired." He gave me a sideways glance. "I guess not. Perfect timing, huh?"

I looked at him sadly. "You would say that."

He let out his breath and stood, turning his attention back to his luggage. "Look, I'll be fine. I just want to get you out of here."

"But… why?" I got up and stopped him from zipping his bag. "You don't think we're safe here?"

"Someone just—hejust died here."

I shook my head again. "Edward, we can't just leave."

"We can."

Trying to concentrate on not sobbing again, I ran my fingers through my hair and attempted to think straight. Maybe he was right—maybe it would be better if we did leave. If it would make him feel better, than what was the harm? But then something dawned on me.

"I'm not saying it wasn't an accident, but if it's—" I sighed, not sure if I believed it, but my next words were very much a reality. "Look, we weren't accounted for when it happened. If it's like you said and the police think this is something other than an animal attack, don't you think it will look pretty suspicious if we suddenly decide to skip town?"

Edward halted his packing and narrowed his eyes.

"I mean, of course we had nothing to do with it, but the police—I don't know. I just don't know. But I don't think we should do anything we hadn't already planned on."

He sat back on the bed, his shoulders slumping, and I immediately went to his side again. I hadn't expected him to listen so fast, but then I remembered that he'd been pointed as a suspect in his own parents' murder before. Then he was labeled as the guilty party for the death of his neighbor when he had only been defending his own home and protecting himself. I could see those awful ghosts swimming in his eyes and it was heartbreaking.

"Besides, there will probably be a funeral," I said softly, wrapping my arm around him and leaning on his shoulder. "I don't want to miss the chance to say goodbye, you know? And if you're getting sick, we should just stay put until Wednesday. It'll give you time to feel better."

Edward touched his head to mine and I stroked his hair. "Out of everything, it's the best choice we have," I added.

He was quiet for a long time. I could only imagine a handful of what he was going through, and that probably wasn't even close to half the pain. After awhile, he finally sighed. "Wednesday," he repeated resignedly.

I nodded, sweeping sweaty hair off his forehead. "Yeah. We'll leave then."

"Okay." He still looked uncertain, but he seemed to accept it. At my worried look, he assured, "It's okay."

He wasn't, though. He was still shaking and little lines of pain, both mental and physical, wrinkled over his eyes. I knew he must have felt awful when he didn't push my hand away when I felt his forehead.

"You should try to sleep," I said, then tugged on his sweatshirt. "And take this off. You're too warm."

He didn't look happy about it, but he complied and crawled into bed. I followed, lying beside him, careful not to snuggle too closely and give him any more body heat than he already had.

"It feels like the flu. I get it every few years," he said, tightly holding his pillow as he shivered.

"I hope not," I said, inching over and rubbing his back. "I was sick right after you left, before—same symptoms and all. It only lasted for twenty-four hours. Maybe that's all it is."

"Maybe."

Thankfully, it didn't take him long to drift off to sleep. I was another story; even though I was drained, I could only stare at the windows and watch the rain pelt them in an angry sequence. It was so bizarre to think that we'd had such a beautiful morning, and an even better day. But the skies were symbolic now, with dark, hovering clouds and torrential downpours, and slashes of blinding light that burned instead of warmed.

First, I missed Mr. Miller. I thought of him taking his last breath, alone—except for the thing—the animal, I reminded myself—that had killed him. I hoped it had been quick, that he didn't have to feel much.

Second, I worried about Edward. How much more grief could he take before it became too much all over again? And now he was sick, probably due to all of the other stress that had pinned him down over the past couple days.

Third, I cried. Feeling lost and devastated, I curled on my side and buried my face in my hands, not wanting to admit to myself that I was scared—scared of things I had no control of, scared of whatever might happen next.

-:-