A huge thank you to Raum, Patricia, and Eliza for all their help, advice, and their endless patience, and to everyone else who has helped this Pennsylvania girl with advice, recommendations, and information on the Olympic Peninsula. Without their help, this fic would not exist.

This story is set in 2012.

Disclaimer - All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners.

If you're enjoying the story of Gray and Edward, there is also a completed companion piece, By Just One Vote, that I hope you'll check out. By Just One Vote takes place in Tennessee during the summer of 1920 and is the story of Gray's first time living amongst humans after her change. She and Carlisle travel to Nashville to witness history either made or denied as the final battle in the seven decade long fight for women's suffrage begins. There are a few times here and there in this fic where events in that fic are referenced. Nothing crucial, but some things might leave you scratching your head and wondering if you missed something.

.~.

Chapter 14

.~.

Edward pushed the book away. Formulas, area, equations, cos, pi, this over that squared equals something else. . . He was no mathematician and never would be. He just needed to get a good enough grade on his final tomorrow to never have to take trigonometry again.

"I can't study any more," he said. "My head is full."

"You'll do fine," Grace said. "Well, fine enough."

He rubbed his eyes. "That's all I want." He leaned back in his chair and dropped his head back. Finals were almost over. "One more day."

He leaned forward and took Grace's hand, threading their fingers together and stroking the back of her thumb with his. Get through school tomorrow, and they had all summer together. He hadn't looked for another job after the robbery—he didn't think he could work behind a cash register again, and that was pretty much all Forks had to offer as part-time work for teenagers. His funds took a hit, but on the upside, he had all summer free to spend with Grace.

A loud cheer came from the TV in the living room, followed by a disappointed silence from the crowd a grumble from his father.

"Jesus Montero. Upper deck." Grace said. "Just foul."

"We'll get 'em."

Grace leaned toward him, grinning, her arm folded on the kitchen table.

"So confident for someone whose team is ten and a half games back."

"Plenty of season left."

"For college, maybe you should take a statistics and probabilities course for your math requirement."

Edward smirked before leaning in and kissed her. With his father in the next room, it was little more than a soft brush of lips, but it was more than enough to remind his body of what they'd done. Just thinking about what they'd done. . . .

He forced himself to think about something else, but it wasn't easy and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Do you know where you're going yet this weekend?" he asked. While he and his father were having a guys weekend at the ballgame, she was having an annual girls' weekend. Hunting. Edward rubbed the back of his neck. What was that like? he wondered. To chase down a wild animal and take it down with your bare hands. He tried to picture it. It creeped him out, but he had to admit, he was curious. It had to be a hell of a rush.

"Vancouver Island. Esme likes the gardens and the architecture. It's her year to pick."

In the living room, his father grunted.

"Alex Rios struck out on three pitches," Grace said.

He chewed on his lip and got up to go to the fridge.

"Rosalie is going?"

"This weekend? Yes. We all are."

Edward got himself a drink. He couldn't get the way Rosalie had glared at Grace out of his head.

Grace stood up and gathered her papers and trig book, putting them in her book bag.

"What's her problem?"

She kept her back to him as she zipped her bag shut, but Edward saw her pause. It was just for a moment, but his question about Rosalie had visibly disturbed her.

"It's complicated."

People always said something was complicated when they didn't want to talk about it.

"You don't have to tell me."

"None of us have happy stories. You know mine. The others' are worse. Rosalie's. . . ."

"Is bad?"

"Rosalie was the victim of a very brutal crime."

Edward winced, but he didn't understand what that had to do with Grace.

"She was left for dead. She wished she was. Carlisle found her. There was a lot of blood."

"And he changed her."

Grace nodded.

"In hopes she would be a companion for me. This was not long after I rejoined Carlisle and Esme. I missed Tanya and her sisters. I grieved for Trudy and Sibby more every day." She stopped, and she shook as she drew a deep breath. Edward went to her and put his hands on her shoulders. "It was nineteen thirty-three. We would've been thirty-two, had any of us lived. Sybbie died the year before from tuberculous, Trudy of childbed fever ten years before that."

Edward remembered. The day he'd confronted her, she'd told him about her best friends and how they'd died.

"Rosalie was eighteen. She wouldn't have survived her injuries. He changed her, hoping to give me back something I'd lost. He'd hoped she and I could be friends. Sisters, even."

Edward wrapped his arms around her from behind.

"None of us chose this," she said. "We do the best we can to make the most of the hand we've been dealt. It's easiest for me. I already knew Carlisle, and my story isn't violent."

"But hers is."

"Rosalie's last hour or two as a human were horrific. It was almost eighty years ago, but part of her is still stuck in that alley. When we were changed, the venom repaired any physical injuries or illness. But emotional injury. . . ."

Rosalie was frozen as a rape victim. Grace might not have said the word, but it hadn't been necessary. He felt like garbage. What's her problem? he'd asked.

"That was why she wore trousers for so long rather than a dress," she said. "It might seem like a small thing now, but at the time, it was a bold statement. It made her feel safer."

It didn't seem like a small thing at all.

Grace covered her eyes, but Edward could see the lines across her forehead that told him her eyes were squeezed shut. He wished he'd never brought it up.

"Her father was a banker. Her family were middle class but they'd had aspirations of climbing the social ladder, and Rosalie's marrying well was how they planned to do it. For her part, all she really wanted was a nice home of her own and a husband to love her. She wanted a husband to kiss her good-bye in the morning and when he came home at night, and more than anything, she wanted children."

Grace's voice had trailed off, and she looked a million miles away.

"Her wedding was a week away."

Edward bit his lip and took her hand, their fingers threading together automatically.

"She was marrying into the wealthiest family in Rochester. It was to be the social event of the year. Then in one hideous night, she lost everything. From society bride to companion in one horrific night and three days of unspeakable agony." She dropped her head. "Companion," she repeated."It might not have been so bad, had it not been for that word. A companion was a step above a servant," she explained. "Dependent women, spinsters mostly, or childless widows, poor younger relations, paid to keep a wealthy woman company.

"All of that came back to her the day of the prom. That's why she was the way she was. My dress was what set her off. Her family wouldn't have been able to afford it. Not that that would've mattered. The designer's showroom was invitation only. They wouldn't have been able to even get in the door. My American grandfather could've bought out the bank where her father worked a dozen times over, and my other grandfather was—"

"An English Duke."

"A penniless one, but yes. Rosalie is vain, and she has a temper. She'd suffered the ultimate betrayal, humiliation, lost her life, her family, her future, her dream of children. Carlisle hadn't meant it in a demeaning way. He was thinking of genuine companionship and friendship. But to hear herself referred to as a companion added insult to the injury she'd already suffered. But I'm every bit as vain, and my temper is just as sharp. Almost from the first moment, we've been like striking a match around dynamite."

"We do love each other now, but it was a struggle to get there. We never made it to friends—we are too dissimilar—but we are sisters. Sisters don't have to particularly like each other, just love each other. We do. We just aren't always very good at showing it."

She motioned toward the kitchen window.

"Sometimes it's like that. You love someone like family, but circumstances and tempers make it seem otherwise."

Edward sighed. She wasn't talking about her relationship with Rosalie. Jake was out there, somewhere. He always was. Grace was far more understanding of it than he himself was. Edward didn't know when he fit school in. Or sleep. Since prom it had gotten to be a non-stop vigil. The pack had expected him to go with everyone else to the after prom party they'd all planned. When they hadn't shown up, it had caused a mad panic. Jake hadn't let him out of his sight since.

His father came into the kitchen and pulled a bag of chips out of the cabinet. He didn't say anything, but Edward knew a times up when he saw it.

"I better get going," Grace said. "Love you," she mouthed silently behind his father's back.

Edward's heart thumped. "Love you, too."

"Good night, Chief Swan, and thank you again."

His father looked to be at war with himself, like two competing forces were fighting inside him. One side appeared to overpower the other, and it looked like he were about to say something, but at the last second, the competing force overtook it.

"Yeah," he grumbled.

His tone didn't seem to affect Grace. She smiled as if she knew something he didn't and raised her hand as she slung her backpack over her should. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He followed her to the stairs and watched her leave. His father sat down as the game came back on, and Edward joined him. The score was tied at nothing, and the Padres were batting. They sat in silence as the first three batters singled. By the time their half of the inning ended, the Padres were up three, nothing.

"They going away?" his father asked, keeping his eyes on the TV.

Edward almost asked who, but then he got it—before Grace left, that was what had been on his father's mind, what he'd been thinking about. Her family's trip that weekend.

"To Vancouver Island. A girls' weekend. It's a family tradition."

His father didn't respond, but Edward noticed the way his fingers fiddled with the remote.

After a scoreless bottom of the inning, his father asked, "When they leaving?"

"Right after school tomorrow."

Was his father wondering what it was like too, hunting? One thing at least, or rather one person, Edward was pretty sure his father was not thinking about. He strove for as casual a tone as he could manage. "Got any plans with Ms. Mason?" he asked.

His father looked genuinely surprised at the question. His eyebrows drew together before he shrugged.

"I guess so."

"You two graduated together?"

"Jenny and me? Yeah."

Edward didn't know what time she'd left after dinner last week on the day of the prom. She'd been gone before he'd gotten home, and his father had been dozing in flannel pajama bottoms and an old t-shirt on the couch.

The game came back on, and the first two Padres' batters singled.

"They all going?" his father asked.

"This weekend? Grace said so."

A double drove in another run, and by the end of their half of the inning, the Padres were up six, nothing.

"Know when they'll be back?"

"Sometime Monday."

.~.

Trigonometry was their last exam, and when the bell rang at the end of the period, Edward leaned back in his chair as the temporary teacher they'd found for the end of the school year stood up. He was young, just out of college and only a few years older than the students he was teaching, but he was bright and a damn sight better than his predecessor. The school board were praying on their knees that he'd stay.

"Okay, everyone. Pens down."

Around the room, their classmates let out a collective breath of mixed dread that they'd tanked it and relief that it was over. Edward turned to her and held up crossed fingers.

"We'll see."

All across the school, chairs began scraping across vinyl tiles, and voices rose as thoughts began turning from exam-mode to summer vacation. She was about to respond, but the ground wobbled beneath her feet as she stood, enough to make her step backward, bumping into the edge of her desk. When she took another step, it felt as if the ground wasn't where it belonged. Washington was one of the most seismically active regions of the country. Tremors happened regularly. Most were so minor they went unnoticed, but that had been strong enough to knock her off balance.

"Okay there?" Edward asked with a grin.

Gray scanned the thoughts of the rest of the school. No one else had felt anything.

The smile fell from his face, concern replacing it as he touched her arm and leaned in close. His eyes darted around them. "Did you hear something?" he whispered.

"You didn't feel that?"

"Feel what?"

They approached the teacher and handed in their papers as the young man pretended to search for something in a drawer.

Don't look, he warned himself, thoughts of her filling his mind. She's a student. Don't even look.

In the hallway, Edward asked her again, "Didn't I feel what?"

"It was nothing. I felt a tremor, that's all."

"I didn't feel anything."

"No. Nor did anyone else."

Walking slowly, Gray brushed the tremor from her thoughts as their hands slipped into each others' automatically. Several kids passed them, talking excitedly, and rounding on them to pull Edward into their plans. Jessica was among them, her jaw set hard, her lips pressed into a thin line. It was a pity Jacob Black didn't imprint on the girl, Gray thought. She was wild about him, and they could commiserate together on how much they both loathed her.

Edward made excuses for them both, and the crowd nosily moved on. He wrapped his arm around her as they fell behind and leaned in to whisper to her.

"Okay, you're right. She hates you."

And she did. Jessica's vanity and temper could rival Rosalie's and her own, but so could her loyalty.

"You're not her favorite person either," Gray said.

Both Edward and she dragged their feet as much as they could, but they could only walk so slowly. Eventually they reached their cars, the only two of the students' left in the lot. She slipped her arms around his waist and pressed her forehead to his chest.

If Esme didn't have her heart set on this weekend . . . But she did, and it was only that which kept Gray from bailing. She was thirsty and needed to hunt, but she didn't need to go as far as Vancouver Island for that.

"Enjoy yourself at the game," she said.

"Yeah," he said, sounding less than enthusiastic.

"You'll have very good weather. Nice and sunny, Alice promised."

"Super."

Gray smiled. "You sounded just like your father."

He laughed and held her tighter. "You enjoy your weekend. Have fun hunting."

"Yeah," she said, mimicking his tone.

He sighed and ran his fingers through her hair. "Is it selfish of me to say I don't want to go? To say I don't want you to go? To just want everyone else to go away and leave us alone?"

"Yes, but I'm selfish too, so I'm perfectly okay with it."

They both leaned in at the same moment, and their lips met with an urgency born in knowing they would be apart for far too long.

Gray clung to him.

"They're waiting for me."

"Yeah. My dad's waiting for me too."

Reluctantly, they stepped apart. Gray ran her fingers down his chest, memorizing the sound and feel of his heartbeat at that exact moment, so different at rest from when it raced inside him but still unmistakably his. If she closed her eyes and held her breath, even in a crowd of thousands, the sound of his heartbeat alone would lead her directly to him, she knew it so well.

Edward and his father needed this weekend away. Going to a couple of ballgames just like they'd done every other summer would be good for them. His father's injury had taken a lot from them both, but not that. That was one piece of normal that hadn't been stolen from them. With his father's intake appointment with the Police Association recommended psychologist coming up, they needed that.

They kissed again, a long lingering kiss that only ended when the first of the teachers made their way toward the lot.

"I'll see you on Monday," she said, laying her hand over his heart. She grinned. Racing again, though not as fast as it had in the back of his truck.

Edward wrapped his hand around her wrist, holding her close.

"Go catch yourself a foul ball," she said.

He smiled down at her. "Go catch yourself a mountain lion."

.~.

It was of no surprise to Edward to see the Black's car in front of the house when he pulled up. At this point the surprise would've been had they not been there.

A thought occurred to him as he parked—this weekend, it was still just the two of them, him and his dad, wasn't it?

Well aware Grace's scent would be all over him, he entered the house, prepared for anything from a cold shoulder to open warfare.

An action movie was on. Tom Cruise climbed up a grappling hook line into a helicopter in flight high over a snow-capped mountain range and single-handedly took out the two heavily armed bad guys inside. It might have looked like before—Billy and Jake over, hanging out and watching TV, maybe throwing something on the grill later or shooting pool—had the tension in the room not been palpable, and were it not for the addition of Leah at the end of the couch, rolling her eyes as Cruise's character learns to fly the state-of-the-art helicopter on sight while simultaneously evading fire from another helicopter filled with more bad guys.

"How'd trig go?" his father asked.

Jake refused to look at him. His gaze was fixed on the wall about a foot from the TV. He didn't say a word, but the loathing on his face screamed at the top of his lungs.

"I think I did okay." Edward debated for a single second before defiantly adding, "Thanks to Grace."

Jake jumped up and stormed from the room. Shaking her head, Leah grumbled under her breath before looking at Edward reproachfully and following Jake downstairs. Dammit, Edward swore to himself as he went after them. Jake was standing at the pool table, hands braced on the edge of the table, arms taut, head bowed. Leah stood next to him, her arm around him as she whispered to him. Jake's shoulders shook visibly, and Edward heard his breath catch. Jake spun around. His chest heaved, and his face was wet.

Edward crumbled.

"Jake—"

"What are you thinking?" Jake asked him. "Seriously?"

Edward tried to speak a second time, but Jake cut him off again.

"What part of this are you not getting, huh?"

"Jake," Leah cut in. "Not helping."

"She is either going to change you or kill you," he continued.

"Jake," Leah warned.

"Better she killed you than you be one of them," Jake spat.

Edward's stomach clenched as if he'd been sucker punched in the gut.

"Dammit, Jake—that's enough," Leah said. "Go back to the res before you say something else stupid you'll regret."

Jake glared at her.

"Leave your keys," she said, unmoved. "I'll drive Billy home."

"Whatever," he said, pulling his keys from his pocket and throwing them. "One way or the other, I'm not sticking around to watch."

The back door slammed shut behind him, and Edward sank down onto the couch.

"Well, that could've gone better," Leah mumbled. "He didn't mean that."

"Didn't he?"

"He's upset. He's scared." She folded her arms, then let them fall. She put her hands in her pockets, then pulled them back out. "He saw the back of your truck."

"What about the back of my truck?"

"Hand shaped dents? Dents that weren't there before your disappearing act after prom." She folded her arms again and turned her head away in disgust. "Like that scene from Titanic."

Edward felt his face flame.

"That's none of anyone's business."

"Now you're going away for the weekend, and by coincidence, she's going away for the weekend."

"And you all figured what? I decided, 'Yeah, let's do this—let just me take my finals first?' You seriously think I'd do that to my dad?"

"You wouldn't be the first person to do something they once swore they wouldn't."

Emily, she meant, Edward was sure.

"For fuck's sake, my dad and I are going to the game together."

"You really think you can just keep on going on like this?" she asked. "You'll follow her somewhere, wherever, and tell people there, what? That you're her older brother, her uncle? Her grandfather?"

Edward flinched, but he fought to keep it from showing. He felt like he had when Jasper confronted him. What was he going to do when it came time for Grace to have to pick up and start all over. He would be, what? Twenty-two? Twenty-three? Grace would still be seventeen. And that would only be to start. He'd turn twenty-four, twenty-five, but she would stay seventeen.

"I've seen how irresistible the pull of that kind of utter devotion is. It's addictive. Little by little, day by day, it'll chip away at you, until one day the idea that once revolted you doesn't so much anymore. After that, it's not long until it's what you want. No matter who. . . .

"You know, my mother hasn't spoken to her sister since?" she asked.

"Leah—"

"Know what you want, Edward. Be absolutely sure, because there'll be no going back after it's done."

.~.

Gray perched high above the ground, motionless. She'd caught the scent of mountain lion and moved into position, listening to it slink through the underbrush. It was hunting too, she'd wager. Venom pooling in her mouth, she leaned forward. She passed the tip of her tongue over her lip, breathed deep—

. . .and slumped down on the branch. There were five distinct scents, a mother and four cubs. Just as human hunters did, her family had rules that they followed, and females with dependent young were off limits.

No matter. She'd already drunken her fill. More than her fill, in truth. She'd overdone it to the point of being uncomfortable. The next breeze brought a small herd of deer—likely the target of the mother cougar and her young. Full as she was, when the scent of the deer's blood came to her moments later, it didn't appeal to her in the least.

The others had scattered off in small groups or on their own. They occasionally passed in and out of her range of hearing. They would all meet back up later, but at the moment, her mind was her own. Normally, the quiet was something she craved, but while her mind for the time being might be her own, it wasn't easy. She didn't like being so far away from Edward.

Before long, Tanya's thoughts entered her mind, looking for her. She wasn't sure whether Gray wanted company or not, but for that matter, she wasn't sure if she herself wanted company or not.

"Up here," Gray called out.

Tanya changed course in her direction, but she moved slowly. She scaled the tree equally slowly and silently curled down against the trunk. Her thoughts were in the ancient Slavic languages Gray couldn't understand, but their tone, and Edward's father's face in them, made them crystal clear.

An hour passed without a word spoken aloud.

"His appointment is Tuesday," Tanya said at last.

"Yes."

"How does . . . How is. . . ." She folded one hand over the other. How is he?

Gray considered. She'd been expecting the question. She'd hoped to have decided how to answer before it was asked, but she hadn't. She didn't want to give Tanya false hope, regarding anything. But. . . .

"I think he's ready to talk to someone."

As she said the words, she had an idea.

.~.

Edward walked down the stadium steps in front of his father, acting as a human shield from any other fans who might bump his father's right side. They'd stopped at Edgar's Cantina and gotten Caribbean roast pork sandwiches and roasted corn on the cob. The day was sunny and warm, just like Grace had promised, and the stadium was familiar territory. They reached their row, and Edward glanced at his father as they made their way to their seats. His spirits seemed higher. He sat to his father's right, and they settled themselves with their food. The Mariner's were just finished with batting practice, and a swarm of kids was pressed against the fence, baseballs held out in one hand and Sharpies in the other, eagerly begging for autographs. Edward's chest felt suddenly heavy. He could almost see younger versions of Jake and him mixed into that swarm.

What was Jake doing? Probably watching the pregame in his living room with his dad. Edward had wondered what it was like to hunt like Grace, to chase down a wild animal and take it down with your bare hands. But what was it like for Jake? The dude turned into a massive fucking dog. Wolf, Edward corrected himself. He'd seen Paul . . . change. Phase, they called it. What was that like? Did it hurt? he wondered with a twinge. From what he remembered, it looked like it had to fucking hurt. And was he still himself afterward? Was it something they could control? It had been daytime, so the full moon thing was just a myth.

Thinking about Jake, his thoughts turned to Leah, raking him over the coals. What was he going to do? Grace wasn't human. She was a vampire. She'd tried to make him understand that herself, that it was more than just words or a different diet, but it was only just really sinking in now. He would age. She wouldn't. What were they going to do? How could they possibly make it work if he kept getting older, but she stayed seventeen? He couldn't lose her. Just the thought of never seeing her again, and he couldn't breath.

But he couldn't hurt his father either.

Even here, he couldn't get away from it, not really.

"You're not eating," his father said.

Edward took a large bite of his sandwich, and garlic sauce ran down his hand, and his father laughed and handed him a napkin.

Edward nearly dropped his food. Jake and Paul were forgotten.

His father had laughed.

.~.

I'm sorry I'm a little late this time around. I'm closing in 300 reviews, 150 Favs, and 200 Follows. Yay! Teaser for chapter 15 for all reviewers!

Author's Notes: I had Gray's best friends die of tuberculous and child bed fever. In the 1930's tuberculous killed approximately 70,000 – 80,000 people per year in the U.S. making it the 6th most common form of death. Trudy died from child bed fever in 1921. That's not the same thing that killed Sybil in Downton Abbey. Child bed fever was a postpartum infection. It was a terrible way to die that could take days. Sybil died from eclampsia, which is dangerously high blood pressure. Pretty awful way to die to, but at least you didn't suffer for days.

The scene from the movie on TV isn't made up. Seriously. It's a real scene from Mission Impossible, Fallout. I just love it when guys laugh at Twilight and vampires that sparkle because it's silly.