Epilogue - The Other Side

Charlie did not like Peter. It was a spectacular brand of hilarious.

The moment he had me alone, Charlie spit out a dozen reasons: He's too old for you; he's too quiet; he's too much like Edward. There wasn't any way for me to contain my laughter at the last one, and I struggled to control myself long enough to say, "He's nothing like Edward. Trust me."

Charlie didn't like that either.

What normally would have been awkward morphed into boundless amusement when I realized that Peter cared that Charlie didn't like him. I was going to have revenge for every single thing Peter had ever done to annoy me, no matter how small. This was perfect.

We were in Forks for two weeks before heading home to Kansas. We'd be back in a couple of months for Charlie's birthday, and then — well, we were free to do as we pleased. The Nebraska house was still there: ready and waiting, with all the time in the world. I grinned at the thought of limitless visits with Charlie over the next few years.

Charlie had one hand on his hip, the other on his gun holster. He stared Peter down until he looked away. I couldn't wait to tell everyone every single detail of this interrogation, over and over, until they couldn't stand to hear it one more time.

"What do you do for a living, son?" Charlie emphasized the word 'son' to sound more like 'dipshit'. Back when it was Edward he pulled this crap on, I found it embarrassing.

"I'm a private investigator, Sir." Peter must have been off his game, because his nuance wasn't nearly as effective as Charlie's.

I snorted. "Is that what people in the business call bounty hunters?"

Charlie was getting quite good at his exasperated eye roll. "You've got to be kidding me. And just how old are you?"

I couldn't help it. I laughed.

Peter kicked the heel of his boot into mine and stood a little straighter. "Twenty-five."

Charlie really didn't like that. "So, do you make a habit of befriending teenage girls, then?"

"Hey!" I practically shouted the word into the tension building between them. This was getting to be too dangerous. Time to dial it back. "Why don't you go unload Charlie's present?"

Peter retreated without so much as a snarky word about it. I was never, ever going to let him forget about the time I saved his ass from Charlie.

"Present?" Charlie looked confused. "Bella, you really didn't have to."

"No, no, it's nothing. Just something I wanted you to have."

The time to cool off helped, and Charlie was more flustered than furious by the time Peter had maneuvered the picture frame out of the car and into the house. He handed it to me when he came back, and I, in turn, gripped it at the top with both hands and held it out to Charlie.

"What is this?" Charlie asked. He grasped the sides of the frame, took the weight out of my hands, and stepped back—as if the extra distance would answer all his questions.

"I told you, I took some art classes." I shrugged. "I painted that. It's the woods out back." I decided not to say anything about why I'd painted it.

"It's…" Charlie was at a momentary loss. "It's really beautiful, Bells. I'm—" he needed another moment to swallow back his emotion. "I'm proud that you could paint something like this."

Charlie really meant something along the lines of 'I'm proud you can look back at that point in time and not have a meltdown,' but if he wasn't going to say it, I wasn't going to, either.

"Took a while to get there, but I had a lot of help." Peter's rigid posture relaxed when I grinned at him — a happy smile of his own danced over his lips.

Charlie cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the atmosphere. "Guess you two should bring your bags in."

"I didn't realize you were into '90s cult classics." Mike hit the keys on the register at Newton's without paying attention to what he was doing, alternating between grinning at me and giving Peter long, nervous glances.

I glanced down and repressed a snicker. Reality Bites; Peter's sense of humor was a special kind of beast. "Someone gave it to me as a joke."

Mike laughed too fast and too loud to be anywhere near genuine. "So, how long you in town for? Got any free time for old friends?"

Peter's head cocked to the side — he'd mainly ignored Mike and the other handful of customers in the store. Now he was interested.

"I think I can find some time. We can get everyone together for a bonfire. It'll be a bit cold, but we've partied in worse." Peter would have to survive the night on his own, too, but I was less worried about that part.

"Nice. I'm not off for a few hours, but I'll text you when I'm done and we'll set it up." Mike handed over my change, and the small paper bag full of fly-line for Charlie.

I left with a smile and a wave. Peter left with a scowl.

Back in the car, Peter turned in the passenger seat, examining me as I put on my seatbelt and pulled out of the parking lot. We had one more stop at the grocery store, then back to Charlie's. Tomorrow would be a day with the Cullens. Peter wouldn't admit it, but he was nervous to be in the same room as Carlisle and Jasper.

"You were just being nice back there, right? You're not going to make me go hang out with you and some idiot who wants to lick you up and down—you can pretend all you like, but you're not that mean."

"Well, lucky you, you're not invited at all." I almost missed my turnoff, and had to flip the blinker on, check the mirror, and get over into the right lane in rapid succession. Peter's terrible driving habits were wearing off on me. "You're not allowed on the beach. The whole reservation is vampire-free."

"That's—" Peter scowled. "Now I don't want you to go, either."

"Too bad." I wagged a finger in his direction without looking.

"Maybe I'll just come and get you after a couple of hours. I'm not afraid of dogs."

"Why do you all insist on calling them dogs?" A familiar irritation washed over me.

"Does that bother you?"

Many times Peter had said something similar to me, but this once he seemed more curious than condescending.

"Yes." I debated how much to tell him. "I have friends on the reservation. People who helped me, who cared about me when I didn't care about myself. It was a hard time for me, and there are a handful of ways I wouldn't be here now if it weren't for the Quileute tribe."

Peter backed off. "Would it help if I told you that while I'm not afraid of dogs, adorable puppies terrify me?"

"Making me roll my eyes into the back of my skull while I'm driving isn't the best idea you've ever had." It worked, though. He'd beaten back the funk he'd put me in.

"I'd survive."

"Maybe we should get a puppy. We'll walk it around the neighborhood in a stroller and pretend like it's our baby." The idea was outrageously hilarious. "Can you imagine? Oh, think of all the cute puppy clothes you could put it in."

Peter laughed right along with me. "What if that strange lady at the end of the street wants to set up play dates with her mutts?"

"Cathy?" I asked. "She's not so bad, really."

"Since when?" Peter asked.

"Since she, and everyone else, treated me like a friend when I needed one, despite how hard we tried to drive them all away."

"I see," Peter said. He didn't, not really, but he had a soft, fond smile on his face that meant he understood enough.

We pulled into the grocery store. Once we were out of the car, I grabbed the collar of Peter's shirt and hauled him closer. Our kisses were in the hundreds, but still, that spark from number four remained.

"This is better," Peter said, putting a bit of distance between us before changing his mind and diving right back in. "This is way better than bonfires and pimply boys, don't you think?"

I ran my fingers through his hair—tugged a bit on the ends and nipped at his bottom lip. Peter wrapped an arm around me and lifted until only my toes touched the ground. He kissed the corner of my mouth and brought us cheek to cheek. "We can get a puppy, if you want. I'll even let you bring it in the house."

"Mhmm…" I hummed. "And what will I owe you for this generosity?"

"Lots and lots and lots—" Peter punctuated each word with a slow, easy spin in place. I bent my knees to keep from scraping my toes on the pavement. "—of the really fun kinds of favors."

I laughed. "We're too selfish for pets, anyway. Maybe we should have a test run with a houseplant and see if it survives. But I'm open to negotiating for the favors."

Peter laughed and hugged me closer. "I am happy with you."

I buried my face in the crook of his neck and grinned. My arms squeezed tighter. "And I am happy with you."

Peter let me down, but kept me held close. "I'm sorry for taking so long to find those words. For taking so long to figure out what you mean to me."

Something deep within me, some constant turmoil that had dictated far more of my actions than I cared to admit, gave one last shudder and settled. It was a strange feeling — warm and peaceful, and sure.

"Fine." I huffed, pretending to be put out while my stomach did gleeful cartwheels. "I guess I can forgive you for that, too. But you have to come to Thanksgiving with Charlie next year. And Christmas, with Alice."

"That's not fair," Peter whined. "There's only so much of Alice anyone can reasonably be expected to deal with."

"And she is extra special on gift-giving occasions," I pointed out, feeling diabolical. Served him right for traumatizing all the neighborhood children on Halloween.

"Fine. For you." Peter agreed. His fingers wound between mine; I'd been loved before, but I'd never felt it like this. "I don't know if I like this thing where you have endless time to do whatever you want, anymore. Feels like I'm going to regret it."

"For years and years and years," I agreed. This conversation wasn't exactly new for us, but we kept it purposefully vague. There were years, plural, and that was all that mattered at the moment. "Then what? I'm sure you have all sorts of plans to get me back for holidays with the Cullens, birthday parties with Charlie, and bonfires with werewolves."

"Not really. After is after. Until then, both our heads are on the chopping block, I guess." Peter shrugged and pulled me closer again. "Someone will step in to take power — Caius or Marcus, probably, maybe one of the remaining guard — and who knows? Maybe they'll want to come calling, but what does it matter?" He brushed the hair from my face before stealing another kiss. "They'll never find us."

AN: You guys, I can't even begin to express how much the warm welcome back means. I've been gone so long that I kind of figured this would be something I finished just for me. To everyone who came back and read, favorited, reviewed, sent me such amazing PMs... thank you. I love the crap out of you.

This one's been a wild ride. It feels so good to finally check that 'complete' box.