Hey! I hope everyone is doing well and being safe these days.
Fran, Mr G and Me, and Monica03 helped me with this chapter. They're the best! (Any mistakes you see are my own.)
I'll admit, I'm nervous about this chapter so ... I guess I'll let you all jump in.
SM owns everything Twilight.
The television blares with the screams of innocent campers, the screen flashing with terrified faces, masked killers, and blood.
Ordinarily, I would be glued to the screen, watching the movie I've seen at least a hundred times before, but right now, it can't keep my attention. My gaze constantly drifts to the window, to my phone, to the front door, repeating in a never-ending cycle of nerves and anxiety.
I'm not sure how much longer I can take this. Sitting here and waiting for the phone to ring again makes me antsy and uneasy; my half-chewed fingernails can attest to this.
On the third pass of my anxious watching cycle, I catch Edward in the kitchen, sitting at my usual spot at the table. He sits with his body leaning forward, his forearms resting on his knees as he quietly converses with Emmett, who slowly paces the kitchen.
Frustration paints Edward's face as he speaks with his brother, shaking his head every so often at whatever Emmett says. In response to every negative retort he gets, Emmett huffs, his gentle face storming over in a fierce glare as his pace quickens.
I watch them for a long moment, wondering what the hell they're talking about so adamantly.
It almost looks as if Edward is annoyed with being here, but honestly, no one is making him stay.
Since my birthday, four days ago, Edward and his siblings have been here from a little after sunrise to sundown.
Why I'm not entirely sure, but I have my theories.
To be honest, it has been a little bit of a comfort to have them here. At least it doesn't feel like Rose, Jasper, and I are alone, waiting for our world to crumble. Plus, for the most part, they have been a good distraction.
Not that I would tell Edward that.
His ego is big enough.
Rose has fluctuated between worried pacing and silent crying. Each time she falls into one of these spells, Emmett is there, sweeping her away with a gentle hand and soft words. They've disappeared together for hours at a time, and it doesn't escape my notice that when they return, Rose is a lot calmer and more centered.
Jasper, on the other hand, has been a little tougher to sidetrack.
Most of the time, he's stuck in his own head, blankly staring off into space with anguish rolling off him in paralyzing waves. In those times, Rose and I find ourselves sitting next to him, trying to hold ourselves together.
Other times, Jasper's watching our guests with an investigative frown that would make my father proud.
When Edward, Alice, and Emmett first stayed with us the day of Mom's injury, he didn't speak to them at all; instead, cast suspicious looks toward all three. He still hasn't let up on his guarded glances and at times, appears to be studying everyone with a frustrated, analytical eye.
Yesterday, things seemed to change; after disappearing outside with Emmett and Edward for the better part of an hour, they came back inside looking jovial, though I can still sense Jasper's tentative doubts toward them.
Alice has tried her best to distract me while she's visited, bringing her favorite horror movies, books, and television shows, as well as more photo albums for me to look through. But it's obvious things still aren't well with her. She's been staring off into space more often than not, leaving burning questions on my lips about my hunches regarding her headaches.
I haven't asked her yet, though I'm dying to. I feel a conversation like that needs to be done in private, so for now, I'll wait.
Movement from the kitchen interrupts my pensive staring. Edward straightens in the chair, and in an effort not to be caught, I abruptly look away, my gaze landing on the cheerful and brightly colored children's clock out in the hall; the very same one I had hung in my room when I was eight.
When I had redecorated, the clock disappeared from my box of donations and ended up on the wall where it's been since, a blaring reminder of how different I was ten years ago. I had begged my mom to get rid of it, but she wouldn't budge.
"It makes me happy," she had told me, her grin as bright as the hands on the clock's face.
I couldn't find it in me to complain about it, so I kept quiet, keeping my grievances about the childish item to myself.
Now, I'm tempted to take a hammer to it until it's nothing but chunks of plastic and metal.
I glare in its direction as I hear the slow, steady rhythm of its hands moving, only audible when there's a suspenseful lull in the movie.
My eye twitches as it ticks again, the sound a never-ending reminder of how much time has passed without talking to Dad. He's texted, saying Mom would be okay, but other than that, there's been nothing. When we've tried to call him, his phone goes straight to voicemail.
However, Dr. C or Esme call right back on their phones, calmingly reassuring us that everything is okay.
I'm not too sure I believe it; it's been too long, and too much time has passed.
It's been four days.
… Four days since Mom had gotten hurt.
… Four days since I had seen Dad sob in Carlisle's arms.
… Four days since he had sped out of the driveway, leaving dark tire marks against the pavement.
Four long days.
Each new day that passes, our worry and apprehension increase, despite the company.
Jasper sits next to me stoically, his unblinking gaze glued on the screen. He's not really paying attention either; he's lost in his thoughts, hopefully not focusing on the bad side of things, like I find myself doing at times.
I can only hope that like me, he diverts his negative attention and focuses on the positive.
Mom will be okay. She has to be.
Feeling a tingle in my throat, I swallow thickly and cough, hoping to dispel the feeling there. It doesn't work; instead, it gets worse, and my eyes start to burn with the threat of oncoming tears.
Suppressing a groan, I dig the palms of my hands into my eye sockets, hoping to scrub the feeling away.
On my other side is Alice, who has constantly been fidgeting since she sat next to me. It's been somewhat frustrating when she won't be still, but right now, it's welcome.
Her hands twist together, her fingers vigorously scratching her wrists before she lightly sighs, bringing them up to massage her temples. For a brief moment, there's stillness, but then her leg begins to bounce as she chews on her thumbnail, an unfocused look in her eye.
When she turns to look at me, her smile, like her face, is tense and troubled. She hasn't tried to speak, but then again, I haven't tried to say anything.
It's not for lack of trying; I just don't know what to say anymore.
Rose sits in Dad's chair; her cell phone clutched in her hand. Every so often, she'll run a hand through her hair, and tap her foot against the floor, only to stop and tuck her leg underneath her. After she checks her phone, her fingers flying over the screen with her lip tucked between her teeth, the process starts all over again.
After Jasper and I had relayed what had happened, Rose was halfway out the door before we could pull her back. Emmett had reached her first, his hand encircling hers as he softly asked her to come back inside. At the angry tirade that poured from her lips, he stepped back, begrudgingly allowing Jasper and me to take his place.
She vehemently argued with us, telling us we needed to go with Mom. Over and over, she said this, pleading with us to just go, to follow after her so we could be with her and help her heal. Her voice cracked on the last few words she uttered before she broke down, covering her face with her hands as she sobbed, sinking to the floor.
I cried along with her, tears pouring from me like molten lava, burning a path down my cheeks. I wanted nothing more than to collapse down with her, to share my grief and worry with someone who understood, but it wasn't the right time.
Breaking down wouldn't help her.
We immediately swarmed her, guiding her back inside and onto the couch where she clutched both of us with such a tight grip her fingernail impressions still remain bruised into my skin.
Once she calmed a little, Jasper spoke to her, whispering reassurances while I sat by quietly, staring at the floor.
After several minutes, Rose pulled me into a hug, telling me everything would be okay. Jasper moved to my other side, whispering his own reassurances and positive words.
"Everything will be fine. We just have to believe it," he had said. "Keep believing it, no matter what."
I've repeated their words in my head over and over, trying to hold on to that belief, but the more time that passes, the harder it is.
"Stop," Rose says, looking up from her phone. "She'll be fine. She has to be."
Wordlessly, I nod and rise, feeling her eyes on me as I stagger into the empty kitchen. I don't know where Edward and Emmett have gone, but at the moment, I don't care. I'm just glad it's empty as I stumble to the kitchen sink, the air leaving my lungs in a rush as my stomach makes contact with the edge.
Sliding my hands out, I rest my palms on the cool faux marble, feeling the chill seep into my palms. For some odd reason, it comforts me, giving me a strange sense of peace, I haven't gotten since before everything went to shit.
Wanting more, I lean down and lay my face against the steel divider of the double sink, listening to my rhythmic breathing bounce off the walls of the sink.
Unseeingly, I reach for a glass that's drying in the rack to my right and flip on the cold water, only rising when I feel the water begin to spray my face.
Behind me, I hear the shuffling footsteps of Rose.
"You okay?" Rose asks, placing a hand on my back.
I do a combination nod and shrug, swishing the water around in my mouth before swallowing.
She sighs, squeezing my shoulder once. "She'll be okay."
"Yeah? Have you heard anything?"
"Not yet."
"Well, that makes me feel better."
Unwillingly, my words come out bitter and sarcastic, because at the moment, there's no way we can know if Mom will be okay until we hear something ... anything. Since that has yet to happen, I'm not sure if she'll be okay or not.
Deep down, I feel like she will be, but can I trust that feeling? My mind keeps reminding me of the missing people, of the lifeless bodies currently being found seemingly every other week and I can't help but wonder if Mom will be one of them.
No, stop. Like Rose said: she'll be okay. She has to be.
Maybe if I repeat this enough, I can beat out all the negative thoughts that enter my head.
"Listen to me," she says firmly. "She will. I know it, and I feel it. Jasper does too, you know he does, he's just worried. It's natural for him."
Knowing the truth in this, I smile, giving her a quick hug in thanks.
She smiles in return, looking around with a critical eye. "Where's Emmett? Wasn't he in here with Edward?"
"No idea," I murmur. "You know, I find it funny you're only asking about Emmett."
Lightly, she pushes my shoulder and tries to look upset, but the apples of her cheeks have a slight pinkish hue. It also doesn't escape my notice that her eyes have dropped to the floor, and the corner of her bottom lip is tucked between her teeth.
Seeing my amused expression, she tries to look indifferent but miserably fails.
"I know where Edward is; he went out front to give Alice and Jasper some privacy to talk."
My eyebrows raise into my hairline, and I can't help but wonder what they're talking about. I want to eavesdrop so badly, but at the same time, I know it's not right of me.
"Anyway, I'm going to go to the bathroom and then we'll watch more movies, okay? Aunt Renee wouldn't want us to sulk. She'd want us to have fun and keep positive thoughts. So let's do that."
Knowing she's right, I nod.
"Good. Be right back."
Nodding, I go about setting out some snacks. They probably won't get eaten, considering we're all too worried to eat, but at least the option is there if we want it.
In the silence of the house, Alice and Jasper's conversation becomes clearer, and while I try not to listen in, it's difficult when it's the only thing you can hear.
"I have a lot to figure out, Alice," Jasper says, his voice low and full of regret. "It's just … you're so intense. Since we've met, you've looked at me as if you've known me for years. How is that possible? And then you look at me like—"
"Like what?" Alice questions when there's a hefty pause in the conversation.
"Like you … like you love me."
There's another heavy silence, and I find myself holding my breath as I wait for her response.
"I do feel something for you, Jasper. I won't lie. I … feel very strongly for you, but you don't have to return these feelings. You don't even have to like me."
"I do like you," he blurts out.
I don't have to look at him to know he's bright red, majorly embarrassed from what he just revealed.
"Okay, then just start with that. Let's start as friends and see where it goes, okay? If there's nothing more between us than that, then … then it'll be okay. If there is, then that'll be great too. I won't push you for anything you're not ready for. Friendship is fine with me."
"That's kind of what my Uncle Charlie said. Sort of, anyway."
"He's a smart man."
"Yeah, he is," he trails off. "Okay. We'll start … slow."
The shuffling of clothes alerts me to the fact that Jasper is moving, and I make quick work of pulling out my phone to look as if I'm distracted. Luckily, Jasper is so lost inside his own head that he walks straight past me and into his room.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I wait a minute before heading into the living room.
Alice is still sitting on the couch, her head tilted back, and eyes closed. I would believe she's sleeping if it weren't for the constant tapping of her fingers against the cell phone in her hand and her lips silently mouthing words I can't understand.
"Is that your phone?"
Startled, she jumps. Seeing only me, she melts slightly into the couch cushion, gripping the phone in her hand tighter.
"Yeah, it's new. I accidentally dropped my other one."
I nod, thinking back to our phone call a few days ago, wondering what was happening where she had dropped her phone. It had honestly sounded like she was in some sort of scuffle, but I didn't know a tactful way of asking without seeming extremely nosey.
"What happened?"
Apprehensively, she smiles and jerks a shoulder upward. "I fell."
A quiet buzz surges through the silence of the now quiet living room, the DVD repeating the low, ominous tones of the music playing on the loading screen.
Immediately, Alice fumbles with her phone, her fingers flying over the screen. Rising from the couch, she goes out to the front porch, throwing an, "I'll be back in a minute" over her shoulder.
Rocking on my heels with my hands stuffed in my pockets and my eyebrows up near my hairline, I whistle lowly.
"All righty then."
Needing some air, I head toward the back door, stepping out onto the porch.
Taking a breath, I feel a slight jolt in my lungs at the crisp, September air. It would almost be pleasant out here if it weren't for the heavy, humid air, still hanging from summer. The only thing that's keeping me out here, besides wanting to avoid the screaming inside, is the cool breeze gently billowing down from the north and the smell of earth and leaves.
The gentle click of the door has me turning around, seeing Edward slowly striding toward me. He moves to the railing across from me, leaning his hip against the banister. Crossing his arms over his chest, he looks out over the yard before straying back to me.
"Are you gonna stay out here all afternoon?"
"Yeah. I do this every fourth afternoon; go out into the backyard and run around naked. It's a freeing exercise that gets me connected to nature. You're lucky, I was just about to disrobe."
I smirk as he sputters, his eyes and mouth wide.
"You're such a guy. Jeez," I mutter, chuckling at his reaction. "Why? What's it to ya?"
I eye him skeptically, wondering why he's out here. Is he concerned about me … worried? Or does he simply not trust me to be by myself?
During the time he's been here, he hasn't gone out of his way to seek me out and talk to me, though he has given me reassuring glances and smiles.
"No reason," he replies, sitting on the banister, turning his face upward toward the sky as a gust of wind forcefully blows by. "I like to spend time outside too. It's very peaceful and refreshing for me."
I hum, crossing my arms over my chest and eying him with interest. "So this is what you do now that you're homeschooled? You stay outside all of the time?"
He chuckles lowly, his eyes twinkling with humor. "I see gossip still flows around here."
"You're the new, mysterious family. Expect the spotlight on you for quite a bit."
"Noted; and to answer your question, I do occasionally spend most of my time outdoors. Thankfully, I'm advanced in my schoolwork, so I can take a few hours out of the day to go for a hike."
I snort a laugh. "Wow. I thought I was the only modest one in town."
His lips twitch as he fights a smile. "Now, you know."
There's a long stretch of silence, but it's not uncomfortable or tense. In fact, it's very relaxed and almost soothing. With the cool wind gently blowing by, the heavy cloud cover, and the thick scent of rain in the air, I could almost be relaxed.
Since I'm standing, my feet and legs immediately begin screaming at me minutes after my decision. Edward's head slowly turns toward me, watching as I subtly try to shift into a more comfortable position.
Snorting, he pushes away from the banister, jerking his head forward. "Come on. If you want to spend more time outside, I know a place."
I debate for a moment before agreeing. "Let's go. Wait, this is near my house?" I ask suspiciously.
"Like I said, I hike. I've been through this area before."
"I see. Is this place somewhere you can get rid of my body?" I sarcastically quip.
"Please," he retorts, offended. "In your own backyard? With your cousins and my siblings just inside? There are limitless miles of woods around this town with no one nearby. If I did something stupid like that, I'd deserve to get caught."
Unable to help myself, I snicker. He's right; it would be rather idiotic of him to do such a thing.
Slowly following as he leads me into the trees surrounding the rear of my house, Daisy, the dog next door, gives a combination of a huffing bark and growl, the sound rumbling deep in her chest. Looking over my shoulder, I see her standing on the porch, her body tense and straight, her ears pinned back on her head. Seeing me looking, her tail wags briefly but stops as she again barks.
"She doesn't like you," I remark, catching up with Edward as he waits at the tree line.
His eyes narrow briefly at the dog before he sighs and shrugs. "I'm not the best with animals anymore."
"Anymore?" I question, noting the hint of melancholy in his words.
Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair, the expression on his face a mixture of someone in deep pain, who is extremely pissed off at the world. "Yeah. I used to—" he trails off, his face pinching before he shakes his head. "Never mind. It's not important anymore."
A million questions burn on the tip of my tongue, but I keep them back—for now.
Eight minutes later, a slow, steady gurgling of water can be heard, the sound bouncing off the trees. An additional minute passes, and Edward stops, shoving his hands in the pocket of his jeans as we come to a stop near the small stream.
Lush green grass and small yellow and white flowers are spread out in a sea of green, holding two large rocks facing the small brook running through the trees. Amazed and awed, I slowly walk toward the edge of the bank, following the steady rush of water as it glides and crashes over the rocks.
I don't know how I never found this before. Countless times I've walked through the woods, observing nature and the wildlife that inhabit it. Even the small lake that this stream flows into isn't as beautiful as this tiny plot of flowing water. Disappointment and gratitude war within me as I absorb both the sound and the fresh scent of the water.
I feel foolish I hadn't found this place before, considering it's practically in my own backyard, but I'm thankful I now know it's here.
My fingers itch to draw, to imprint this area on paper forever, but with my supplies still tucked away at home, I'll have to settle for being in the present moment.
Edward takes the rock to the right, his fingers interlaced and hanging over his knees as he rests his forearms on his thighs, his eyes studiously on the water.
Taking the other rock, I try to sit as comfortably as I can, but with the hard surface and my bony ass, comfortable doesn't seem to be achievable.
Sighing heavily, I slide down to the ground, using the rock as a backrest instead.
Content, I watch the water as it glides over the rocks, bubbling and gurgling as it travels downstream, washing away leaves, dirt, and the occasional unfortunate lizard that slithers up to catch a drink.
"It's nice here," I say after a long moment. "I can't believe I've never found it."
Edward hums, sliding down to me, his fingers plucking at the blades of grass, precariously close to my own hand. "You probably didn't know where to look. After all, the woods are vast."
Nodding in agreement, I angle my body toward the right slightly as Edward continues to speak.
"It is soothing. Although, there's another place …" he pauses, swallowing thickly. Indecision flashes across his face and before I can say anything, he continues. "There's another place that's even better a little further away from here. It's just past the small lake, give or take half a mile. It's not my favorite place, but it's in my top three in the world."
"Your top three in the world? Where are the others?"
He shrugs, still plucking grass. "The other places I've lived."
"Must have been a lot of places," I mumble.
"It is." His words are final, offering no other information.
"So, you've come here a lot?"
Nervously, he glances up but quickly averts his eyes, furiously plucking at the earth, his hand moving closer to mine with each minute. "A couple of times."
"Hmm. Interesting," I muse, recalling the times I've thought I've suspected he's been around. Now, I can't help but wonder if I did see him out here. From the way he's landscaping the area near my hand, I'd say I'm correct in my assumption.
"A little tip: don't slink around a person's house, mmkay? It's creepy," I tease causally.
His posture relaxes, and his lips quirk into a grin. "I've heard that somewhere before."
"Really? That person sounds so smart."
"Eh, they have their moments."
Playfully, I glare, but I can't keep the expression locked on my face for some reason. I don't know whether it's the serene atmosphere or the fact that we're getting along, but I find myself grinning.
As soon as the thought registers, my smile falls.
I shouldn't be smiling. Not while my mother is somewhere hurting.
"She'll be okay, you know. Your Mom," Edward quietly says, his index finger brushing gently over the back of my hand in a soothing, sweeping motion.
My gut reaction is to deny his claim. There's no way he can know for sure. Although, if Alice is as gifted as I think she is, then I suppose he would know, at least in some way. "Yeah? Do you have future insight or something?"
"Or something."
His words are vague and insignificant, but they bring me tremendous relief. Edward may be a lot of things, but I know … I feel like he wouldn't lie about something like this.
"Thanks."
He merely nods, his face turned toward the bubbling water, but his fingers continue sweeping across my hand. I shiver slightly at the feeling but don't pull away just yet.
A silence lapses around us, and I sigh in contentment, leaning my head against the rock and closing my eyes.
"I never said this, but Happy Birthday."
Stretching out my arms and legs, I groan at the delicious pull of my muscles before resuming my previous position. "Thanks."
His words bring memories from the morning of my birthday into my mind, where I found the mysterious sketchbook. Curiosity bubbles within me again, wondering who could have given me such an expensive item. No one I know can afford to casually spend nearly fifty dollars on a sketchbook.
Well, no one, I would expect to give me something.
Fishing the card from my pocket, I study the elegant script, running my fingers over the paper. I've seen this handwriting before, and I know exactly where I had seen it, too.
"Did you give me anything for my birthday?"
He looks at me from the side, a teasing smirk on his lips. "Fishing for gifts? I didn't figure you for the type."
"Hell, yes. Who doesn't want gifts for their birthday?"
"I don't."
I wave away his words. "Yeah, that's because you have that never-ending angst going on. Normal people want gifts. On some level, at least."
"Uh-huh."
It doesn't escape my attention that he hasn't answered me, so I keep my gaze on him, letting him know I'm not letting this go.
Innocently, he shrugs and stretches his legs out next to mine, gazing out over the water with a peaceful expression. "I don't know what you're talking about."
I would believe him, except he's again back to his landscaping.
"Uh-huh. You know, you're the only guy I know who has pretty handwriting, so," I trail off, biting the inside of my lip as he turns slowly toward me, eyes wide and affronted.
"Excuse me? I do not have pretty handwriting," he spits.
Unfolding the card from my palm, I wave it in his face before examining it myself.
"Let's see, no shakiness, perfect prose, and the style looks typed … I'll admit, I thought it was typed until I felt the indentations in the paper."
He remains silent, glaring at the small white card in my hand as if he wishes he could set it on fire, so I take that as my cue to continue.
"You forget, I've seen your handwriting, and it matches this. Perfectly."
Cursing lightly, he allows his chin to drop to his chest for the slightest second before raising his head. "Okay, so I did. Most people say thank you, you know."
"Most people sign their card."
"Yeah, well, most people don't think the recipient will examine it so thoroughly."
I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth, shaking my head in mock disappointment. "You should have known better; my Dad is a cop."
A single chuckle escapes him. "I'll remember that."
"So, why did you get it for me?"
There's nothing but silence as we sit there, listening to soothing sounds of nature. Just when I think he's ignoring me, he speaks. "You needed a quality book."
"How did you even know I draw?"
Angling his body toward me, he lifts his knee closer to his chest to rest his arm on it, his hand running through his hair. "I'm observant. You doodle during class, and I've seen some of them. They're good, so I thought you'd like a sketchbook. You're looking into this too much."
I don't ever recall doodling in class. Sure, I've spaced out, because sometimes I can't help myself, but I don't ever recall drawing on anything of mine.
"I don't draw during class."
"I didn't say they were good," he replies with a teasing smirk.
Laughing without humor, I flip him off. "For the record, I'm not looking into this too much. If the situation were reversed, you would be suspicious as hell if I started acting all nicey-nice and giving you gifts after being a complete bitch to you for months on end."
"True. There's no telling what someone strange will do."
I give him a pointed look. "Exactly."
He chuckles, the sound rich and deep. "There wasn't any ulterior motive. I thought you'd like it, so I got it. Apparently, I was right about you wanting gifts for your birthday."
"I do and I love the sketchbook. It was just odd, having it sit on my porch all alone."
"I thought you liked odd things?"
I shrug my shoulder. "Within reason, I suppose. I like scary stuff as much as the next horror enthusiast but I don't want to be murdered or kidnapped."
"Got it."
Suppressing a laugh, I return my attention back to the stream, but I can't leave it there. We may not get along all the time, but giving me that sketchbook was completely unexpected and entirely appreciated.
"Hey, Edward?" I ask, gently nudging him with my shoulder.
Looking up, he smiles, quirking an eyebrow. "Yeah?"
"Thanks for the sketchbook."
"You're welcome … and you know what keeping that notecard means?" he suggestively asks with a grin as he gently pokes my arm.
"Yeah. Evidence in your trial for stalking me."
Throwing his back, he laughs, the sound carrying through the trees and scaring the birds resting overhead. They squawk in annoyance, their wings flapping furiously as they soar into the air.
"Thanks for showing me this place. I'll have to come back sometime."
Absently, he nods. "It's a good place for reflection."
I hum, seeing his point, though I must wonder what he reflects about, and while I'm completely positive he won't share anything with me, I have to ask.
"What do you reflect about?"
He hesitates, looking at me from the corner of his eye before tentatively replying, carefully choosing his words. "I haven't always done … good things. I haven't been the best son to my parents; my biological and adoptive parents."
Knowing this has to be sensitive ground, I tread lightly. "What happened to your biological parents?"
"They got sick and succumbed to their illness."
"I'm sorry," I murmur, my hand twitching to reach out and cover his in support. Impulsively, I quickly reach out and grasp his, squeezing once before pulling back. To my surprise, he grips my hand, his thumb gently sweeping over the skin on the inside of my wrist.
I sit back, mesmerized, watching the purposeful movement of his fingers against my skin. The pleasurable tingle of the delicate brushing of his fingers causes me to shiver. His gaze lifts to mine as I do so, but he doesn't let go, nor does he look away.
"It was a long time ago."
"Still," I tell him, not knowing what else to say.
"Thanks."
We sit in silence for a long moment while I think over his words, trying to distract myself from his hypnotic touch.
I can't really speak for his biological parents, but I can speak for his adoptive ones. I've seen the way Carlisle and Esme look at him; there's so much love in their gazes, there's no way they're not proud of him, despite what wrongdoings he may have done.
"You're wrong, you know. About Carlisle and Esme. You're a good son; they wouldn't love you if you weren't."
He scoffs, yanking blades of grass from the ground. "You don't know what you're talking about … you don't know what horrible things I've done … I've … I've hurt people. I moved away from them, not wanting to be around them for the things I've done. I know the hurt I've caused."
"You're right, I don't know exactly what you've done, but I know they love you. I can see it when they look at you. Sure, you've screwed up and done things they might not have agreed with, but they still love you. They wouldn't look concerned when you unexpectedly leave or look at you with such love and relief when you return."
His mouth opens as if he's going to reply, but he snaps it closed just as quickly as he contemplatively stares off into the water.
I leave him be, knowing he's processing what I've said.
"You could be right," he mumbles.
"I have my moments. It's nice of you to finally notice … self-centered jerk," I tease finally.
He laughs, and I take that as a sign the heavy moment is over.
"Thank you, Bella. I don't believe it completely, but thank you."
"You should believe it. It's the truth."
Sighing heavily, he stares into my eyes for a long moment, slowly moving toward me. The closer he gets, the more my heartbeat thunders in my ears.
Before I know it, his lips are pressed against mine and he's sucking on my bottom lip, his tongue gently caressing mine. For the next few moments, we remain like this, with our lips moving quickly against one another, exchanging gasping breaths.
Our hands our unforgiving as he pulls me closer, and I tug on his hair, lost in the dizzying sensations swimming through me. It's only when I'm light-headed that I pull back and crab-walk backward toward my own rock, pressing my back tightly against the rough surface.
Against his own rock, Edward mirrors my position exactly. One hand digs into the earth while the other rubs at his forehead, his eyes screwed tightly shut.
Not knowing what the hell happened, I decide on the best course of action.
Deflection.
"How did you leave home? Where did you go?"
Jerking back, he stares at me with wide eyes, his mouth falling open before he replies, his words coming out slowly and gaining strength the longer he speaks. "I'm eighteen. I can leave whenever I'd like … and as for where I went, I have my own place."
I gape at his admission, feeling awed by his amount of freedom. While I'm slightly envious, I don't want to leave my family; not yet and especially not now.
In the distance, the low rumble of thunder can be heard, roaring through the sky. Lost in the conversation and surroundings, I failed to notice that the thick, off-white clouds have now been replaced with dark, foreboding storm clouds, threatening to unleash at any moment.
"We should probably get back."
It almost sounds as if he's disappointed, but the look on his face doesn't match the tone of his words.
"Yeah, I guess so."
Jumping up, he brushes the dirt off his jeans and holds a hand out to me. Instead of taking it, I get up myself and stumble lightly, catching myself on the rock behind me.
Edward looks too amused at my blunder, shoving his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. "That could have been avoided if you had taken my help … but no, you had to be stubborn. You should work on that."
"Let me ask you something, smooth operator. Does your mouth have a funny taste in it from sticking your foot in it all the time?" I ask sweetly.
"You could always tell me. After all, you've kissed me … quite enthusiastically, I might add."
"Ugh, don't remind me," I snarl, striding past him in the direction we came.
Unconsciously, I bring my fingers up to my lips, willing away the tingle residing there.
The snap of twigs and leaves underneath my feet drown out all other sounds, and unfortunately, I don't notice him walking up next to me until it's too late.
Smugly, he smiles, his eyes zeroed in on my fingers. Jerking my hand away, I narrow my eyes, silently daring him to say one word. Holding his hands up in surrender, he waves an arm forward, and I take the chance to stomp the rest of the way, completely frustrated at how easily he gets under my skin.
If only I can figure why, then maybe I can figure out a way to block him.
At the edge of my backyard, Edward softly calls my name, and for split second, I debate about whether or not I should keep going and just pretend I didn't hear him. Knowing that's the immature thing to do, I stop, but I don't turn around.
"What?"
My skin erupts in gooseflesh, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end as he walks up behind me and leans down to whisper in my ear.
"I like it too."
The breath catches in my throat, and for some strange reason, I feel taken off guard. Why, I don't know, but I never expected him to admit such a thing, especially to me.
Realizing I'm not with him, he turns, that smug grin still on his face.
"What's wrong?" he innocently asks. "Are you stunned?"
Snapped out of my stupor, I square my shoulders and walk as confidently toward him as I can.
"No," I reply as easily as I can manage. "I was just basking in being right … again."
Rolling his eyes toward the sky, his head falls back on his shoulders as he sighs heavily, shaking his head once. For a moment, I think his exasperation is real, but the short snort that leaves him tells me otherwise.
Underneath my feet, the floorboards creak and shift as he jogs up, a teasing smirk on his lips as he starts to speak, but he stops as the familiar roar of an engine fills the air.
Freezing in place and not daring to breathe, I strain my ears waiting for the sound of car doors closing.
Seconds later, I hear two car doors slam, and I grin widely, my cheeks protesting from the action. A short time later, the excited squeals and hollers of Rose and Jasper inside boost my enthusiasm.
Grabbing onto Edward's arm, I jump up and down a few times, my free arm slapping his shoulder in a series of quick bursts.
He laughs, his hand pressing against my lower back to steady me as I leap into the air like a sugared-up kangaroo.
It's only when I'm out of breath that I stop, leaning against the house with Edward's hand trapped between my back and the rough exterior of the house. Surprisingly, he makes no move to remove it and, instead, moves with me, reaching for the door before I can.
With a flourish, he opens the door, and we come face to face with a bright-eyed, excited Rose, her skin pink and flushed.
"Bella! I was just coming to get you! Come in, come in! She's back! Aunt Renee is back!"
Grasping my hand, she tugs me in, dragging me through the house. Looking behind me, I see Edward slowly following us, smiling softly as he rakes a hand through his hair.
Because I'm not paying attention to where I'm being dragged, I run straight into Rose's back, nearly knocking her over. She laughs and steadies both of us, giving me a tight hug before passing me to Jasper, who hugs me just as tightly.
I return his embrace half-heartedly, forcing a chuckle out as he twirls me around, laughing in my ear. When he finally releases me, I teeter slightly, blindly reaching for the wall to regain my balance.
Once the dizziness has passed, my eyes immediately zero in on my father, looking much better than the last time I saw him.
His eyes are brighter, and his smile is genuine, though the effects of months' worth of stress still linger in his bloodshot eyes and the purple shadows underneath them. He looks haggard, but the laid-back slope of his shoulders and his relaxed frame says more than words ever could. Grabbing him in a tight hug, I squeeze him for all I have, burying my face in his shoulder and inhaling the familiar musky scent of his cologne, the peppermints he loves so much and another sweeter scent that seems vaguely familiar, but I can't place it for the life of me.
After a moment, I pull back and look him in the eye. "Do you know how worried we were? You disappear for four days and only send text messages? I expect this behavior from other parents, but you? I'm so disappointed," I joke, trying to control the annoying scratch in my throat and the burning in my eyes. "You and Mom are in a load of trouble. You're both grounded forever."
Dad laughs, his mustache twitching. "Really?"
"Yep. I'm almost tempted to ask what you were doing, but I'm not going to."
"Good choice," he muses. "As I've said before, I can't afford the therapy bills for you."
I scrunch my nose in distaste. "Ew, come on, Dad. And I'm serious," I tell him, pointing a finger. "You and Mom are grounded."
Again, Dad laughs boisterously, throwing his head back. "And how do you plan on accomplishing that?"
"I'll get a lawyer," I immediately reply. "I just need to borrow some money."
Dad's voice is humorously droll when he replies. "Yeah, I'll get right on that."
Playfully, I push his shoulder. "So, where's Mom?"
He doesn't need to answer, though. Looking over his shoulder, I see Mom standing near the table, looking content, radiant, and more beautiful than ever.
I stare in awe and shock, feeling like I'm seeing her for the first time.
Her hair is fuller and thicker, shining under the muted light filtering in through the windows. There's an iridescent glow about her skin, seemingly radiating from the inside out. Her eyes are still sparkling with vibrant energy, though they appear to be a shade darker, but that could be because of the dull light.
Without another thought, I rush toward her, seeing Dad follow me and come to stand next to Mom, but I pay him no mind as I throw my arms her, squeezing tightly.
Immediately, I notice something is off.
While her skin is still soft, there's a certain firmness that wasn't there before.
Slowly, I pull back and study her closely from head to toe.
Everything about her looks the same, but at the same time, it doesn't … I just can't put my finger on what exactly makes her so different.
A thousand questions fill my head as I stare at my mother, but only one spills from my lips.
"What happened to you, Mom?"
She laughs, the sound richer and lighter, taking on a musical quality I'm sure wasn't there before.
"Oh," she says, waving a dismissive hand. "I had a little accident, as I'm sure you've been told. I got frightened and slipped. I hit my head and had a bit of a concussion." Her hand slides up the side of her neck and into her hair, softly rubbing at the base of her skull.
Her face pinches as if she's in pain, her eyes drifting closed as she swallows thickly. Dad steps up and wraps an arm around her shoulders, placing a kiss on her temple. To my surprise and shock, Esme steps up on her other side, whispering in her ear.
Taking a step back, I look around, seeing Carlisle behind Esme, sympathetically smiling as he places a hand on his wife's shoulder.
After taking a few deep breaths, Mom smiles, though there's still something heavy in her eyes. "I'm okay," she says, plastering a smile on her lips. "I'm okay," she repeats.
Esme takes a step back, patting my arm once and turning into her husband's arms, leaning back with a contented sigh. They remain close, inclined against the edge of the counter, their gazes locked on Mom with studious eyes.
"Mom?"
Her eyes snap to mine with a speed that startles me; I jump lightly, taking half a step back.
"I'm okay," she says once more. "Anyway, I had a concussion and spent some time at a clinic in Seattle. Carlisle was gracious enough to personally look after me."
I catch Carlisle's soft smile and nod before I focus back on my mother.
"And everything is all right now? You're … okay?" I hedge, eying her warily, still trying to process exactly how she's different.
"I'm fine," she beams, her earlier despondence long forgotten. "Don't I look it?"
In a familiar move, she steps forward and spins around, her sky blue, gypsy-style dress billowing out around her knees like a cloud.
"Yeah, a little too fine."
"Bella," Rose scolds, nudging my shoulder before she slides past me, squeezing in between Mom and Dad and hugging Mom's side. "Would you let it go? She's fine … she's great, actually, and she's back! I thought you'd be happy."
I stiffen slightly. The air around me shifts as multiple people step toward me, one of them coming to stand next to me. From the way I feel instantly calmer, I know one of them is Jasper. "I am. I'm thrilled, honestly. I just—"
"It's understandable," Carlisle interjects, leaning forward, his face filled with kindness. "The image you were left with probably made things appear worse than they were, but I promise you, your mother is fine. Better than fine, actually. She's in excellent health."
"I'm sorry about that, Bella," Dad says, sheepishly. "I didn't mean to scare you kids. It's just … your mother is everything to me and the thought of anything happening to her—" he trails off, his voice choked.
Rose moves out of the way as Mom turns toward him, kissing him squarely on the lips before pulling him into a tight hug.
"I'm here, honey."
Dad nods and squeezes her back; his eyes closed tightly as he embraces her. Their moment is so intimate that I look away, my gaze landing on Edward's, who stares at me with worry swimming in his amber eyes. He watches me intently, and while it's completely insane, I feel as if he's trying to tell me something, but I don't have the code.
A throat clearing breaks me out of my stupor, and I turn toward my parents.
Again, I stare at my mother, my mind immediately trying to decipher what makes her seem so different. But at the same time, Rose's words come racing through my head.
She's right; all that matters is that my mom is back.
I need to let this go, no matter how much it nags me.
Thoughts?
I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
I'll update soon, I promise!