Edward was avoiding me again.

The concrete table sat empty when I arrived at school on Monday, despite the shiny Tesla being right there in its favorite spot. Somehow, I had managed to completely backslide in a little over twenty-four hours. Even though our hike back to my car had been filled with silence, his departing gesture wasn't one that had led me to believe he was pulling away. Unless I had misinterpreted it and it was more of a permanent goodbye.

I didn't even have the project to fall back on. There was nothing I could do to force him into conversation. But the sudden cold shoulder didn't end with him.

Though a pout puckered Alice's lips when she entered the classroom, she made no attempt to talk to me or even say hi before taking her seat. She was fidgeting more than normal as Mr. Rosner conducted the lesson. Something was distracting her–bothering her. And I wasn't the only one to notice. Mr. Rosner tried to catch her off guard with an out-of-nowhere question, but Alice answered it correctly and without hesitation. When Mr. Rosner turned away from her, she went back to fidgeting, her shoulders twitching as if she were stopping herself from turning around. Or maybe my hopeful brain was merely interpreting it that way. I didn't get a moment's chance to stop her before she was up and out of the classroom, the bell ringing seconds after she was gone.

Abby gave me a questioning look, but all I could do was shrug. I had no answers.

When lunch came around, I didn't know what to do. Did I dare to look for our usual table? Or should I pretend like I didn't care and sit with my friends as if this were weeks ago? My mind made itself up and went with the first option.

It was empty.

My eyes darted to the Masen table.

One. Two. Three.

Four.

Only four. Edward wasn't with them. None of them were speaking. Or eating. While all the other students took advantage of the barely supervised hour, the Masens were all looking off in different directions, as if they were each by themselves.

I ate absentmindedly, wondering if Edward was actually just sick and this sense of being ignored was all in my head. He seemed physically fine on Saturday, but something could have happened the day before. A virus could incubate for days and then take you down. Thinking that his absence was because of me was probably a little self-centered. A hundred different things could have happened between then and now. That thought settled into my mind and calmed my nerves.

Until I walked into physics.

Edward was here today and sitting at his desk, still next to mine in the front.

"Hey," I said cautiously as I slid into my seat. He merely turned his head, nodded once, and faced back to the front.

My stomach sank. That was cold.

Edward obviously wasn't sick and very much present for the school day. Which could only mean that it was me. Unfortunately for him, I could be annoying.

"Missed you at lunch," I whispered, leaning into the aisle that separated us.

He didn't look at me as he replied, "I was in the library."

"Doing what?" I fully planned on prodding until he broke or until class started. With my luck and his stubbornness, the second was probably going to be the outcome.

I could practically hear his teeth grinding together. His eyes remained forward, his left hand curled into a tight fist on top of his desk. If we were having a different kind of conversation, I would have taken the risk to comfort him.

"Studying," he finally answered.

"Studying wh–"

The bell cut me off and Shetler wasted no time jumping up from his desk and starting the lesson. I tried my best to pay attention, but Edward's absolute refusal to look at me and his absence at lunch was too far in the front of my mind. It worried me. Something had to have happened and I needed to know. But he wasn't going to make it easy.

He was gone before the bell rang, just like Alice.

The pattern remained constant for the rest of the week. By Wednesday, he refused to answer even a simple "hello." Alice managed to shoot me a sympathetic glance before sitting at her desk every morning. On Thursday, I skipped lunch in favor of the library, hoping to catch Edward hiding in a corner with his headphones blocking out the world. But the library was empty, save for its keeper, Mrs. McNiel. This wasn't where he was hiding.

Where could he be?

I had half a mind to stake out the parking lot, but my growling stomach refused to be ignored any longer. Instead of sitting with my friends, however, I grabbed a sandwich and headed for the science building.

Shetler raised an eyebrow at my early arrival, but then simply shook his head and turned back to the lesson plans spread out on his desk. Neither of us bothered the other while I ate my lunch, my eyes trained on the entrance to the classroom. There was a small unit quiz planned today according to the whiteboard, so if he wanted full marks, he would be forced to come to class.

My foot bounced in anticipation, slightly shaking the desk in consequence. The clock ticked closer to the beginning of the hour. With my sandwich gone, I had nothing else to do except wait. Nervous energy found its way out with finger tapping and constant fidgeting. It only grew as students started filing in.

"Where were you?" Abby asked as she approached my desk.

I tried not to be rude, but I kept leaning past her in order to not miss a single person. "I'll tell you later. I swear."

"Okay." She sent me a look that very loudly said that I was losing it, but she didn't push as she continued on to her desk.

The uptick in students was hitting its max, now slowing down to the last few stragglers. The second hand was getting closer to the one. Any moment the bell would ring and the desk next to me remained empty. Mr. Shetler began to gather his work together, readying himself for the lesson.

Edward walked in.

He sat down the moment the bell began to shrill over the speakers. Had he done that on purpose? But how did he know that I was in here, waiting for him?

He didn't even look in my direction, no greeting or nod of acknowledgement. I deflated in my seat, my plan foiled and my feelings punctured with a poisoned knife.

I didn't bother to try and catch him at the end of class. He was gone before then, anyway, out the door while the rest of us were still trying to pack up.

"What's going on with you two?" Abby asked as we left the science building. Scanning the area, I searched for anyone who might be eavesdropping or overly curious before pulling her around the corner and away from the more popular paths.

"To be honest, I don't know," I told her. As quickly as I could, I relayed to her the events of the past weekend and Edward's sudden switch up.

"That's weird." Abby's frown indicated her brain was working overtime. "Do you think… maybe he's jealous?"

I snorted. "Jealous?"

Abby nodded eagerly. "Yeah. I mean, you and EJ are close and it sounds like things got heated."

"That's because EJ's a hothead," I retorted.

"True," she chuckled back. "But still. I keep telling you that EJ likes you more than you want to admit and maybe Edward picked up on it."

If it were anyone else, then I might have accepted that as a possible explanation. But that didn't fit Edward. He didn't react to things like a normal teenage boy. It was partly– Well, it was part of the reason I liked him. He couldn't be shoved into that stereotypical box. He felt like a step to the left while everyone else was going right.

Shaking my head, I sighed, unsatisfied. "I don't think that's it. There's something else that I'm missing. A large piece that would help make sense of it all."

"Well, whatever that piece is, we're not going to find it now." She checked her watch. "We're both about to be late for class."

"Right, sorry. Get going. I'll talk to you later."

She threw a salute before running off in the opposite direction.

With the next day being a holiday and school being out, I didn't have another chance to try the ambush again. Even if I thought I could make it to the parking lot in time, I didn't want to confront Edward in front of his family. That would only make him shut down more and make me the aggressive bad guy.

So, I had three days to figure out a better plan. Or–hopefully–for Edward to come back around.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Wake up, kiddo! I know it's Saturday, but your mom wants to get started."

I groaned at my father's insistence to get up for the day. Rather foolishly, I had stayed up a little too late reading, a pathetic attempt to distract myself. My eyes fought to remain closed, to keep dreaming a scenario I could no longer remember.

Burying my face in my pillow, I figured I had about five minutes before Dad came back to check on me. Once I was dressed and filled with breakfast, we would have to move the remaining furniture that I hadn't already taken care of on Friday. It was mostly the big stuff left–the bed, the dresser, and so forth–but then the real work would begin.

With the little energy I could muster, I pushed myself up and rubbed my eyes. A long, wide yawn forced its way out while I stretched out my arms. This felt like a violation, waking with the sun on a Saturday. But my parents were determined to finish this project today so my furniture didn't spend the night in their room. After getting dressed into a pair of worn jeans and a t-shirt, I slowly trudged down the stairs where Mom had breakfast waiting.

"Are you ready for new floorboards?" Mom said with too much cheer this early in the morning.

"Uh-huh," I said through another yawn. Mom chuckled as she slid a plate in front of me and handed over a fork.

Dad sipped on his coffee as he sat back in his chair. "Hopefully this won't go too late in the day."

"We have to move my furniture, rip up the old boards and then hammer in the new ones," I pointed out. "I think we'll be having a sleepover in the living room tonight."

"We'll see," Dad shrugged.

When we were all through with eating and the kitchen was cleaned up, we headed back upstairs and began the process of moving out the furniture. It didn't take too long with the three of us–though if Mick were here we would have done it even quicker–and soon we all had floorboard chisels and thick workman's gloves in our hands. Even with all our modern technology, doing this the old fashioned way couldn't be beat. Or, at least, that was what Dad insisted.

Started on the far right side, we hammered the chisels in between the boards and pushed them up, tossing the splintered pieces in the designated area close to the door. Progress was quicker than expected, helped along by the fact that we didn't need to take care as we demolished the old floor. About four feet into the process, something caught my eye.

Between the foundation planks was a small pile of objects. Putting down the chisel, I carefully pushed away the collection of cobwebs, lint, and to pick up the findings.

They were photos, mostly, along with a single CD with no writing to indicate what was on it. Sitting back, I flipped through the pictures, my breath growing more shallow with each one.

The girl in most of the photographs was small and pretty, with long brown hair and a heart-shaped face. But the boy, who starred in at least three, was beautiful, with bronze hair and amber eyes. It couldn't be….

"Mom," I called out softly. My voice trembled, but Mom didn't seem to notice.

She paused in her work, huffing with each intake of air. "Yeah?"

I cleared my throat to try and stabilize my voice. It didn't really work. "Who owned this house before us?"

"Um," she looked to my dad while trying to jog her memory. "It was the Blacks, wasn't it? Who lived in La Push?"

"Yeah, until it was passed down to the grandkids, I think," Dad corrected. "It belonged to their grandmother. Or maybe great-grandmother."

"What about the grandfather?" I asked. The photographs were shaking in my fingers. I tried to keep my breaths long and deep without drawing too much attention to it.

Wiping sweat from his forehead, he thought about it for a second. "I'm pretty sure he's still on the reservation, though he's pretty old at this point. Why the sudden interest?"

I held up the stash, careful to keep the subjects out of my parents' view, though I doubted they would really recognize any of them. "I just found some stuff and thought maybe they would like them back."

"Would you look at that," Dad smiled. "I'm sure they would appreciate you doing that."

I tried to keep my smile from looking uneasy as I stood up and left the room, crossing the hall to where my dresser was stored. Between the folds of a few jeans, I stuffed the findings out of view, where they would wait until I could look at them more closely. There was a chance that I was wrong, that it was all a big coincidence. Maybe Edward's biological family lived here before? People often resemble their ancestors, right?

It hardly helped calm my racing mind. It didn't fit. Not really. Because the resemblance was uncanny, down to the eyes. All this time I thought that there was something different about Edward. Now the proof was buried between my clothes.

My arms were sore by the time we were done. By some miracle, we were able to complete the replacement in one day–if finishing up at nearly ten o'clock really counted. But everything was back in its place, the only real change being the shine and slickness of the floor. I would have to be careful walking across it in my socks. I mentally patted myself on the back for being able to get through all of that without serious injury.

As exhausted as I was, there was no way my brain would turn off as I closed myself in my bedroom for the night, not with this latest discovery.

In the light of the nightstand lamp, I sat cross-legged on my bed, the pictures in hand. I didn't have a player for the CD, so its contents remained a mystery. The photographs were the more dire matter, anyway. With the information Mom and Dad provided, I was able to do a little research on the family that owned this house before.

Bella Swan was the last registered owner, having it inherited from her father. She never sold it or rented it out to others. Which could only mean that, based on the dates printed on the back of the photographs, the girl could only be her.

I had to admit, I was a bit jealous of Bella. She was pretty, in an odd sort of way. She had large brown eyes and a full mouth that sat above a pointed chin. From what I could tell, she was of average height with a petite frame. But she was sad. It was evident in her eyes. The smiles in most of her pictures were forced, if they were there at all.

I turned to the next picture, the one that I couldn't stop staring at.

It was Edward. It had to be. He was smiling, brightly and warmly, in a way I had never seen in person. It made my heart race, the way he glowed in this simplistic set up. He seemed… impossible.

And he was in my kitchen.

I knew those cabinets, although they were no longer that sun-faded shade of yellow. As impossible as this was, it also made sense when the pieces were put together. From the way Edward reacted as he entered my home–he'd been here before. He'd been in this room before. How many times? And why?

I scoffed. I knew why. The answer was right there in his eyes. He loved Bella. They were… together. So, what happened? Something extreme had to have taken place because in the next photograph, the smile was gone, the warmth had disappeared, though the dates were sequential. Standing side by side, he looked down at Bella, his face was like sculpted stone. Closer to a Grecian statue than a human, including the coldness. Had Bella hidden these away so she no longer had to think about him?

That shouldn't be the question I was asking. That was secondary to the glaring truth I held in my hands.

What in the world was Edward Masen?

I really needed to make a decision before someone reported my loitering.

For fifteen minutes, I had been parked on the side of the road, fingers drumming on the steering wheel while I made up my mind. This kind of confrontation could be dangerous, digging up long buried secrets that I shouldn't be privy to. There was no telling what kind of reaction I would receive once the question was asked out loud. But I needed to know.

Taking a final deep breath, I opened the door and stepped out of the car.

The house wasn't large, positioned a little ways off of the dirt road, it's only neighbors made up of the trees. It was only one floor with a faded coat of sky blue paint flaking off the siding. Walking up to the front door, I pulled open the storm screen and knocked.

Since it was a little past ten in the morning, I hoped whoever lived here was up and awake for the day. According to the internet, this was supposed to be Jacob Black's house, widower of Isabella Black. Mild grumbling and muffled heavy footsteps grew on the other side of the door, so I took a step away, but held the screen door open with my back.

A tall, broad shouldered man answered, his face wrinkled and weathered with age. Surprisingly, he stood straight, no sign of strain on worn muscles that was typical of older adults. His long hair, gray mixed with strands of black, was pulled back into a low ponytail. Though certainly old enough to be a grandfather, he wasn't who I was looking for.

"Can I help you?" he grumbled, his voice still strong and full.

"Hi," I waved sheepishly. "I'm sorry, I was looking for Jacob Black?"

"You found him."

My jaw dropped. There was no way this man was Jacob Black. I was stunned to find that he was even still alive since he was supposed to be over a hundred and twenty years old. Maybe this was his son or grandson named after him. I didn't look into their descendants to see if any of them shared a name.

"Oh, sorry, let me clarify. I'm looking for Jacob Black who was married to Isabella Swan."

"Bella," he corrected. "And like I said, you found him. What do you want?"

What was with the genes of these people? Between EJ and this man, there had to be some sort of secret that helped them get to pique form and then stay there for decades.

"Oh, sorry. Um, well, you see, my parents bought her old house and we were doing renovations and," I reached into my bag and pulled out the envelope that I stored the pictures in, "I found these under the floorboards. I think they belonged to your wife."

Brow furrowed deeply, he reached for the envelope. I pulled back, keeping a hold of it.

"I have some questions. If you don't mind."

The huff Jacob released made me think he was about to slam the door in my face. He surprised me, however, and opened the door wider to let me in.

There wasn't much beyond the standard furniture in his living room. A couple of chairs, a sofa, some side tables. It was the pictures on the walls that were the interesting find. A whole life was laid out, from college graduation to a wedding to the lives of their children. One look was all I needed to hammer in the confirmation that his Bella was the same hidden away under my floorboards.

Lowering himself down onto one of the recliners, Jacob motioned for me to take a seat as well. "What do you want to know?"

"How did you two meet?" seemed like the best place to start.

"Initially, we met as children, but she didn't remember that." He pushed back in his chair and laid one hand on either armrest. Just like a grandfather. "We met again in high school, when she was seventeen and I was fifteen. We became friends and then, as time went on, grew to be more." He shrugged, as if he didn't see the beauty in such simplicity.

"Was there anyone before you? For her, I mean?"

That question made him shift uncomfortably. "Why are you asking?"

Knowing that I had to, I opened the envelope and handed over the picture of Bella and Edward. "Do you recognize him?"

Leaning forward, he took the photo and squinted. Then snarled. "Edward Cullen."

"Cullen?" I repeated. Not Masen. But still Edward.

"Yes, Cullen. He was her boyfriend, but the family up and left without warning. Good riddance if you ask me."

"Why did they leave?"

Jacob shrugged. "Who knows? I don't care."

There was an undertone that indicated that maybe he did know, but would rather not disclose that information.

His scowl softened, letting the sadness of a memory I wasn't privy to take over. "I'm never going to run right."

I blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"That's what she said," he clarified, "before we got together. That boy left her, without a second thought, without a care, and I was left to pick up the pieces. But I did. I put her back together and she made me whole, until she died." He handed the picture back over.

I couldn't help but stare at the image, wondering if this picture was taken right before the "Cullens" left. "She must have really loved him."

"Completely," he sighed.

"Did you ever feel like second place?" It was a treacherous line to toe, but I needed to know what it felt like from his perspective. Because I was in danger of falling into that same black hole.

"I loved her. It didn't matter to me."

It didn't matter to him. That was real love, rare and pure.

"Do you know anymore about Edward? About what happened to him?"

Jacob lifted his chin, his jaw squared. "There are some questions that shouldn't be answered. Though, I have a feeling you already have the answers you're looking for."

I nodded and stood. "Thank you." That answer was more than enough. "I'm sorry for just showing up, but I appreciate you telling me about her. Here." I held out the envelope for him to take.

He waved it away. "Keep them. I don't need them. The Bella I knew–she outgrew those pictures, that time. She made more of herself. Those memories are all I need."

Nodding, I slipped the envelope back in my bag. "Thank you, again."

Standing up as well, Jacob saw me to the door, but stopped me before I fully could exit the house.

"The Cullens' leaving was the best option, for everybody. People are only safe when they're not around."

Are? Was he confirming what I thought he was? "Who all was in the family?"

"Dr. Cullen, his wife, and five others they claimed to have adopted."

The world began to tilt. I needed to get out of here. I needed to get home. All arguments for coincidence were out the window. The Cullens, the Masens, they were one in the same. Jacob all but confirmed it.

"Keep yourself safe," he warned as he finally let me go. Then he closed the door behind him.

Stumbling away from the porch, I tried to keep the world stable as I made it across the grass and back to my car.

"Sloane?"