~A past hidden in darkness. Present cloaked in secrets. The future holds the only truth that cannot be escaped~
After our shower and changing the sheets, we laid in Edward's bed in comfortable silence. Our arms wrapped around each other as I curled into him and his head rested on top of mine—wanting to escape in him. The clean, soft sheets against our skin and surrounded by the fresh smell of us.
We spent most of the night reuniting. A fuck fest full of sweet, passionate love-making and rough, punishing, primal fucking. We turned into animals that weren't sated until we had tasted every inch of each other. Reminded ourselves of how incomplete we were without one another.
Nothing in the world felt better than being back in his arms—and bed.
We didn't talk too much, having already gotten all of our feelings out. Everything was out in the open, and now we were trying to move on from the past and just focus on what to make of our present and future.
Almost like an unspoken agreement that we were gonna bury the past and not bring up what he did. Not let it define him or us and move forward. To trust each other.
That's all we can do.
It's now the next morning. A Saturday, so I was able to sleep in, lounging in Edward's bed, buried underneath the sheets in my post-orgasmic glow. It was so comfortable with the silk sheets against my skin and the darkness that filled his room from the blackout curtains.
It felt like heaven.
I'm too lazy and cozy to get out of bed. Plus, my legs felt like jello, and I would most likely collapse if I got up.
When Edward tells you he's gonna fuck you until you can't walk—he means it.
Something is missing though, because I usually wake up with Edward's strong arms around me. I pat the sheets next to me, trying to find Edward's burly, warm body to cuddle. As I turn around, a frown forms on my face when I realize I woke up to an empty bed.
Before I can worry too much, at the side of my eye, I catch a note on the bedside table with Edward's messy scrawl.
Baby,
I just ran to the store to grab some things I needed. You looked too cute, I didn't want to wake you up. Hopefully I'm back while you're still asleep so I can wake you up with my tongue in your soft, sweet pussy.
Yours, E.
I clench my thighs from the ache his words cause and the soreness from all the times he fucked me throughtout the night. I wish I was still sleeping too. No better way than to wake up with his face buried between my thighs.
How can a man be so adorable, sexy, and dirty all at the same time?
He's not even here and is already working me up.
What a tease. He better put his mouth where his words are when he comes back.
I touch myself, waiting for him. Remembering all the dirty things we did last night, surrounded by the smell of us. His tongue on my pussy and ass. His cock fucking my mouth. Fucking my pussy so hard until I came all over him. My fingers aren't even close to the things he can do with his cock, but it'll do for now.
After bringing myself to climax, I decided I should finally get out of bed and take another shower. I didn't bring any extra clothing since I came straight from school yesterday.
I never learn. Every time I end up surprising Edward here, I always end up staying the night.
My legs are still weak as I get out of bed and dig in his drawers, looking for his clothes to wear. I love wearing them anyway, and he goes crazy when I do.
My hand hits something hard beneath a pair of sweats. Nausea consumes me at the reminder that I found something suspicious last time I dug through his drawers. Something that changed everything.
Doesn't he have any other hiding spots besides his clothing drawers?
I pull out the hard object and breathe a sigh of relief when I see it's just a yearbook from his previous school in California—his junior year.
I know I should put it down, but who am I kidding? I'm too nosy. I trust Edward, but I want to learn as much about him as I can. I want to see more of the person he was before he moved here so I can see how much he's changed—for us.
Plus, it's just a yearbook, not like I'm gonna find another murder case in it—hopefully.
I search through the pages and don't see any pictures of Edward. He doesn't seem like the type to have been a part of any teams or committees. I flip through the photos of all the students categorized alphabetically by last name until I find Edward Cullen.
I'm surprised he actually showed up to take the picture. He seems like the type of person that doesn't give a shit about having his photo in the yearbook. But then why else would he have the book then?
Edward doesn't look much different. A bit younger looking, his jawline not as sharp as it is now. His body slightly slimmer, which shows he's been working out more recently with the defined, sculpted muscles he has now. A lot less tattoos, only a few on one arm. He still has his nose piercing though, and his wild copper hair is the same.
Still as handsome, brooding, and a bad boy as ever.
But it's the expression on his face that saddens me—that I don't recognize. He looks numb—emotionless. So different than the Edward I know.
As much as it breaks my heart to see him in pain and suffering with me, I prefer that to the blank look in his eyes in this picture. Not the same hauntingly beautiful eyes that speak louder than words ever since I met him—because at least it shows he's alive and feeling something.
I'm about to snap the yearbook closed, not wanting to see Edward like this, until a familiar face captures my attention a few photos down from him.
Victoria Davis.
It's her—Edward's ex.
The girl Edward kil—I can't finish that thought as bile rises up my throat.
I'm working really hard to ignore it and move on from it, but it's still fresh in my mind, so I know it's not going to be easy.
Faded crimson red hair, dull blue eyes shadowed by dark circles, gaunt sunken-in cheeks, and a protruding collar bone. All the signs of someone addicted. All the features that match the photo I found months ago but clearer here.
She looks a lot like how my mom used to. Even more unwanted memories coming to surface.
I burned all the photos Charlie had of my mother, but her hollow bloodshot blue eyes and emaciated frame will forever be burned in my memory.
That's why I'm kind of shocked that I couldn't tell when Edward was using. I should be an expert at it from learning so young. But, I don't think Edward was using enough or addicted. He used it as a temporary fix during his hardest moments.
My thoughts turn back to the girl in the yearbook.
Davis.
I knew what Victoria looked like, and I knew her first name—but I didn't know her last name. I've been tempted to search for her online just to see what shows up, but I didn't have much to go on.
I'm sure there are millions of Victoria's with red hair and blue eyes in California.
As I slam the book shut and place it back where I found it. I can't get that name out of my head. The logical part of my brain is telling me to forget about her and move on like I promised Edward and myself. He told me everything, and I trust him. I can't keep thinking about what happened with her if I want him to heal and for our relationship to improve.
He's doing his part; now I need to do mine.
But the curious, nosy bitch in me can't fight the urge — the little voice screaming in my head. Just to google her name and see what pops up.
Call it the detective in me — I guess.
I believe Edward's story. But I'm curious to see if there were any leads in her case. If she was just another missing persons case in America among the millions of others under 18 like Edward had told me. If her body was ever found. If Riley and his dad had covered it up as well as they promised Edward. If it really was just swept under the rug so easily.
She was an underage teen; I'm sure she couldn't have been forgotten about that easily, regardless of her history.
I didn't trust Riley even though I'd never met him. What if he didn't hide her body as good as he thought he could. Would he and his dad go against Edward and snitch him out even though Edward paid them off and did everything they asked for?
I wanted to make sure Edward was safe and free from this. That it would never have the opportunity to be brought up to be used against him or haunt him again. I wanted to protect him.
The last bit of closure I needed, and I promised myself I would never speak of it or snoop again.
If only I had listened to the phrase curiosity killed the cat.
A/N: Please help me get to 800 reviews, we're so close! :)