A/N:

NOTE: I've only been to Redwood City once when I was a girl, so if you're from there and the description in this chapter isn't quite accurate, no offense is meant.

Beta is Lindz26. Pre-reader is MichelleMMarie—the Morpheus to my Neo.

CHAPTER SIX
*I Live with Him*

I glanced over at him. He was concentrated on the road. We were headed to Redwood City so I could pick up items I needed, and he could…do whatever it was he did there.

"What state are we in?" I questioned out of the blue, filling the silence.

"California," he answered.

California…wow. Definitely hadn't expected that.

Along the highway, a green sign passed, merely saying Redwood City, followed by the decently sized population of 74,974. I furrowed my brow, suddenly getting a strong case of déjà vu. But as quickly as it came, it left.

"So, you come here every Friday?" I inquired, observing how busy and overpopulated this town was. Cars were everywhere. Businesses were everywhere. It was a stark difference from the little town of Redwood, which made me wonder why Masen chose to live there instead of someplace more established like here.

"Yep," he replied stoically.

"For how long?"

"For however long it takes," he responded vaguely, causing me to roll my eyes.

After several minutes of stoplights and heavy traffic, we pulled into a large parking lot that was surrounded by various establishments, including a Starbucks, Target, and Marshalls. He stopped the truck along the curb outside of Target and momentarily glanced at Starbucks before clearing his throat and looking at the entrance doors of Target.

"You can get your stuff in there, unless you'd rather go to Marshalls," he offered.

"Uh, no, Target is good," I said, playing nervously with the hem of my dress. This would be my first time in the company of strangers outside of Redwood.

"I'll meet you inside in twenty."

I began to panic. He was leaving me here? "Where are you going?" I asked.

"Food bank."

A crease formed on my brow. Had I just heard him correctly? "Why are you going there?"

"Got some stuff in the back."

I looked behind me through the rear windshield. I'd noticed the tarp covering the truck's bed before we left earlier, and I'd definitely noticed there was stuff underneath, but he always had various things in the truck, so I hadn't bothered to question what it was.

"You're donating?" I queried, in awe yet skeptical of this selfless action by a man who seemed far from selfless.

"Are you going inside or not?" he asked, clearly annoyed with me.

In other words, get out of my truck. So, I did. I'd barely gotten the door shut when he drove off. Very cautiously, I went into Target. There were video cameras and TV monitors up above, and I could see myself, causing a frown to form.

Is that really what I look like on camera?

After grabbing a cart, I pushed it stiffly through the aisles, maneuvering around strangers. I'd gotten somewhat comfortable around Masen, but being around all these other people was nerve-wracking. I didn't know them. What if they did something to me? It'd only been two minutes, and I already wished Masen was here.

Once I started seeing things I wanted, I began to calm, actually semi-enjoying myself. Almost everything I saw, I wanted to buy, but I didn't exactly know what my budget was. I also wasn't sure if Masen was footing the bill. He had to know I didn't have any money, right?

My cart filled up with shampoo, conditioner, a hairbrush, some bestselling fiction novel, and cotton underwear. I was currently in the bra section, debating what my bra size was and if I even needed one. I mean, I'd seemed to be doing fine braless. And it wasn't like I was huge.

Masen suddenly walked by the bra rack, oblivious to me being here. Almost instantly, he backed up and stopped, looking at me with a slightly horrified expression. But that soon turned to a stony one as he approached me and my cart.

"Everything okay?" I asked, worried over his uncharacteristic behavior.

He glanced at the bras, then back at me, his eyes betraying him. "You ready?" he asked, a little too eager to leave.

I almost smiled, amused that he was so uncomfortable. "I think so," I replied.

He looked down into my cart at the collection of items I'd gathered. His hand reached into his back pocket, and he pulled out his wallet along with some cash. "I'll be in the truck," he said, and handed me the money. With that, he walked off, vanishing out of sight.

Once I got everything paid for, I left Target, feeling a lot more at ease than when I'd come in. Masen's truck was parked along the curb, and I noticed the tarp was now gone.

"Here you go," I said, once I was in, and handed him a Snickers bar, to which he glared at me. "I had some extra money leftover, so I bought us candy."

"And you couldn't have just given me the change?" he asked haughtily.

I gave him a penny. "Happy?" I queried, and opened my bag of Swedish Fish. I popped a red gummy fish into my mouth…then grimaced as I chewed. "This is disgusting."

He tossed his Snickers bar onto the dashboard, abandoning it, and pulled the truck away from the curb.

Knowing he wasn't going to eat it, I sighed, grabbed the Snickers, and tore it open. I enjoyed it much more than the candy I'd actually bought for myself. Served me right to buy something I thought would be fun to eat.

"Where are we going now?" I questioned.

"Grocery store."

Ten minutes later, that was exactly where we were. He came in with me this time, and I stuck by his side while he went around the store, throwing items into our cart. So far, we had a loaf of bread, instant coffee, eggs, and two steaks.

"Are we eating steak tonight?" I asked as we entered the spices aisle.

"Yep," he replied.

"Can I cook them?" I questioned eagerly.

"No."

I scowled at him. "Why not?"

He picked out some pepper and placed it in the cart, ignoring me.

"I can cook," I assured pompously, even though I wasn't sure if I could. But, really, how hard could it be?

"You're free to cook. Just don't cook my meals." He pushed the cart out of the aisle.

I followed after him. "Fine, then. I'm going to cook my own meals from now on, and you'll wish I cooked them for you."

"Good," he said, then took out one packaged steak, tossing it on top of a stack of boxed sodas, and steered the cart to a checkout counter.

I crossed my arms and stood off to the side while Masen placed our items on the conveyer belt. The teenage pimply boy who was ringing up our groceries kept taking secretive glances at me, as if I couldn't see him. When he gave me a shy smile, I realized that he thought I was checking him out, so I shot my eyes to Masen instead.

He tossed some money to the kid, who seemed terrified now. Masen snatched the receipt out of the boy's hand and then headed toward the exit with his sole grocery bag.

"What a douche," I heard the boy mutter.

Yeah, you're preaching to the choir, kid, I thought to myself as I walked after Masen.

We stopped for gas and then returned to the highway that led back to Redwood. He fiddled a bit with the radio, before he got frustrated with it and turned it off.

"So, what did you donate?" I asked him.

He sighed. "Geese."

I quirked an eyebrow. That wasn't an answer I was expecting. To be honest, I wasn't sure what I expected. "You can do that?" I inquired curiously. I figured there were rules with what you could donate to a food bank.

"If I couldn't, I wouldn't," he responded.

"How often do you donate?"

"Once a week."

Ah. It was starting to make sense now. "So, you hunt the geese, and then you donate them," I assessed.

He turned his head to me then back to the road. "How do you know I hunt them?" he asked suspiciously.

"Your gun isn't exactly quiet," I responded sarcastically. "And I've…seen you before." I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable, and quickly decided to change the subject. "Why do you do it?"

"Is this whole ride gonna be spent playing twenty questions?" he queried, aggravated.

"No, I'm just curious, that's all."

"I do it, because I can."

I sighed, knowing he was lying. No one donated just because they could. There was always a reason.

X-X-X-X

I didn't utter a single word on the way to the tavern later on in the evening, mainly because my attempt at cooking had been a catastrophe. I'd tried cooking scrambled eggs, and they came out all rubbery with a few hints of egg shells in them. Eating hadn't been fun, and I could only stomach two prideful bites before I stuffed it all down the sink drain and flicked the switch to destroy my failure.

Masen had been reading his Vietnam War book on the couch during it all, but I knew he'd subtly been keeping an eye on me.

Inside the busy tavern, Masen took a seat on his usual stool. The place was more crowded than normal, and the rest of the stools were occupied, so I sat in an empty booth, trying to spot Alice through the crowd.

"Busy in here, ain't it?"

I looked toward the familiar voice, seeing Alice taking a seat across from me in the booth. "Yeah, what's going on?" I asked.

"Some semi truck show's on this weekend, so it's extra happenin' in here," she answered. "How are you doin', sugar?" She smiled devilishly. "How'd your guy like them dresses?"

I shrugged. "He didn't really notice them."

She snorted. "Doubtful," she said. "So, you remember anythin'?"

I frowned. "No," I replied, "but I did give myself a name."

"Oh, tell me," she requested eagerly.

"It's Petal."

"Aw," she cooed. "My Irish grandpa used to call my gran that all the time as a pet name."

"Aren't you southern?"

"Well, yeah. Born in South Carolina and moved to Florida in my teens. Came here ten years ago with my husband."

"And he's from Florida, too?"

"No, he's from Georgia. His parents are quite wealthy and wanted him to marry rich, too," she admitted. "He was stayin' with distant relatives in Florida one summer, and we met at the county fair." She chuckled. "We were head over heels for each other within a day. His parents didn't approve the match, of course, so he left home."

"Did you elope?" I asked.

"Definitely not. By the time we decided to marry, his parents got over it all, and they even came to the weddin'." She scowled. "His mother still hates me, but I suppose all mother-in-laws hate their daughter-in-laws."

I smiled weakly. I probably wouldn't know.

"Anyway, enough talkin' 'bout me or I'll tell ya my whole life story," she said with a giggle. "What's goin' on with you and Masen?"

"Nothing," I answered. "Well, I told him about my amnesia. He didn't believe me at first, but I guess he changed his mind. We don't talk about it, though. Actually, we don't talk much in general."

"Hmm," she hummed briefly in thought. "I know the pair of us don't know each other very well, but you're welcome to stay with me and my husband 'til you figure things out. We've got a spare bedroom and everythin'."

"Thank you," I said in earnest, "but I'm okay, really."

"Alright, but just know the offer won't be off the table," she said pointedly, and stood from the booth. "So, what can I get ya? And don't tell me you ain't got no money."

I shook my head. "Nothing, I'm good."

"I can cook ya up somethin'," she offered.

"You've got food here?"

She chuckled. "Sugar, this is a tavern. We better have food."

"Oh…well, in that case, I'm not that hungry." I'd lost my appetite after chomping on egg shells earlier.

"Hun, you're like skin and bones," Alice reprimanded, and looked toward the bar. "I hope he's feedin' you proper."

"Yes, of course he feeds me," I responded defensively.

"Well, well," she said, surprise in her tone, and smiled.

"What?" I asked, confused at her sudden amusement.

She laughed lightly. "Oh, nothin'. I've gotta go check on some things." She winked and scurried off, leaving me bewildered.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Masen heading out the tavern's exit. I supposed that meant he was done and wanted to go, so I stood and looked toward the bar to wave goodbye to Alice, but my eyes zeroed in on something familiar resting on the counter. Masen's wallet. He must've left it there by accident.

I walked to it, but when I went to grab it, another hand tried to, as well. I looked up and saw Carmen. We both retracted our hands, scrutinizing each other.

"Excuse me, who are you?" she asked.

"Petal," I replied, and quickly grabbed the wallet before she went for it again.

"You should probably give that to me, so I can return it to the owner," she suggested, eyeing it in my hand.

I kept a tight hold on it. "I was going to do just that," I spoke snippily.

Carmen raised an eyebrow. "Well, I know the guy whose wallet that is, and I think it would be weird if some random girl gave him his stuff back."

I suppressed a huff. "I'm not random. I live with him."

Her eyebrows pinched together. "What?" she hissed.

"Carmen!" Alice's voice yelled out nearby. "Don't be forgettin' you got customers!"

Carmen let out a frustrated sigh and left begrudgingly. I smiled to myself, my thumb rubbing over the warm leather of the wallet. I looked down at it and suddenly had an urge to look inside, so I did. There was an American Express credit card, a driver's license, a firearms license, and plenty of money. On the driver's license, it listed his name as Edward Masen.

Edward.

So, Masen was his last name, not his first. It was like I now knew something about him that others didn't. I sort of liked it.

I went for the exit, ignoring the guys who decided making kissing sounds at me would amuse them.

"Take care, Petal!" I heard Alice call out.

I glanced over my shoulder and waved at her before leaving the building. Masen-or Edward, rather-had the truck already turned on, obviously anxious to go. I got inside and tossed his wallet into his lap.

He grabbed it, appearing taken aback. "What were you doing with this?" he questioned hastily.

I quirked an eyebrow. The natural reaction would've been gratitude. "You left it on the bar."

He opened his wallet and checked the money slot.

I scoffed. "You actually think I'd steal your money?" I questioned, offended.

Silently, he pushed his wallet into his pocket and reversed the truck out of the parking space.

"You're welcome," I said cynically.

There was no reaction from him. Not even the usual glare.

The truck ride was quiet, but it was a different sort of quiet than normal. He was lost in his head, and I wanted to know what it was he was thinking about so intently. It made me wonder about that wallet. He didn't seem like the type that would be forgetful of his possessions.

Back at the cabin, Edward removed his field jacket and placed it around the back of the chair at the kitchen table, which left him in just a white T-shirt and his cargo pants. I wasn't used to seeing him without the jacket on.

"Did you leave your wallet there on purpose?" I asked curiously. It was the only theory I'd been able to come up with.

He was making a fire and turned his head minutely in my direction. "What?" he questioned, appearing distracted.

I crossed my arms in front of me. "Maybe so that Carmen would return it to you?"

He turned his head directly to me, raised an eyebrow, and then walked to the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

Okay…

I waited patiently, staring at the bedroom door. After more than ten minutes in there, he finally emerged, dressed in pajamas and holding a pillow.

"Why didn't you answer the question, Edward?" I inquired suspiciously.

He stopped dead in his tracks. "You looked in my wallet?" he questioned.

"Maybe."

He let out a sigh and went to the couch, carefully placing the pillow on the armrest. He was acting strange.

"And you still haven't answered my question," I reminded, frowning.

"Why all these questions about the bar girl?" he queried, leaning against the back of the couch and folding his arms in front of himself.

"Are you seeing her?" I asked bluntly. My mouth had no filter. I just had to know.

A crease formed on his brow. "She gives me beer and that's it."

I pursed my lips, debating whether he was telling the truth or not. I couldn't tell. "It sort of seemed like you two—" I began to say, when he suddenly interrupted.

"Stop talking," he snapped forcefully. "Just go to sleep."

I breathed in shakily through my nose, trying to control my temper. I hated when he spoke to me like that. "You know, I've been trying my hardest to be nice so we don't argue, but it's really hard with the way you speak to me."

He narrowed his eyes. "Are you still talking?"

My jaw tightened. I was finally at my last rope. "That's it. I'm done," I announced, and went directly to the front door, pulling it open.

"What the hell are you doing?" he questioned angrily.

I stopped and turned to him. "I'm leaving," I answered. "Even though you've helped me more than I ever thought possible from you, you're also a jerk, and I don't have to put up with it if I don't want to. And right now, I don't want to. I can take care of myself."

He moved away from the back of the sofa, keeping his green eyes on mine. He abruptly grabbed his pillow off the couch and stormed to his bedroom. "See ya," he fired over his shoulder before slamming the bedroom door shut.

I probably stared blankly at the door for a total of two minutes before I decided I needed to move. My eyes took one last sweep of the cabin, taking it in, until my sight landed on Edward's field jacket placed around the back of the chair. I wasn't sure what made do it, but I went to it and ran my hands over the rough fabric. With one quick glance to the bedroom, I grabbed the jacket off the chair and quickly made a beeline out of the house.

Sadness washed over me briefly. I thought maybe I'd stayed long enough with him that he'd care about me in some way, but I supposed not.

After wrapping the jacket around my shoulders to keep me warm, I headed in the direction we'd usually take to go to the tavern.

It was pitch black as I entered the thick forest. Sounds of the animal night life filled the cold air. Drizzle began to fall from the sky, moistening my face. While I continued to walk, I prayed it wouldn't pick up. Of course, I had zero luck, because as soon as I prayed it wouldn't, heavy raindrops splashed against the leaves loudly.

My hair was starting to get wet, and I tightened the jacket around me, growing colder. There was no way I could continue walking with this rain escalating into a full downpour, so I quickly sheltered myself under a thick-branched tree, where I managed to stay relatively dry.

I thought maybe the rain would last a few minutes and then die down, but over fifteen minutes had gone by, and the storm wasn't weakening. I sat on the ground, against the tree, and used the jacket as a blanket, covering my now shivering upper body. I could feel my lips turning blue with how cold I was.

My head rested back against the bark, and I shut my eyes, the sounds of the storm intensifying. A clap of thunder crackled above me, followed by a flash of lightening, causing me to move the jacket up to cover my numb face.

I had no clue how much time had passed now, but I didn't think the storm was leaving anytime soon. I could either run back to the cabin and beg Edward to let me back in…or I could stay here.

But to me, there was no choice. I'd made my bed, and now I had to lay in it.

X-X-X-X

I awoke gradually and stretched, my joints cracking welcomingly. I hadn't opened my eyes yet, but I didn't want to, because I was super comfortable. I rolled onto my side and snuggled into the pillow under my head, smiling to myself. God, had I ever been more comfortable in my life?

Wait…why was I comfortable?

My eyes snapped opened and then widened. I bolted up in bed, staring around the bedroom I thought I'd never sleep in again. What was going on? Why on earth was I here?

I sprung out of bed, as if something had burned me, and dashed to the door. When I pulled it open, my breath hitched sharply.

Edward was sitting at the table, cleaning his shotgun that lay in pieces, the dogs asleep by his feet. His jacket had been returned to the back of the chair, as if it'd never been moved. He hadn't acknowledged me whatsoever, causing my nostrils to flare.

"Why am I here?" I asked through gritted teeth.

He glanced up at me and then went back to cleaning the barrel of his gun with a long brush. "I've been asking myself that since you washed up," he replied, his concentration only on his disfigured weapon.

I was furious. Beyond furious. What sort of game was this? "Why didn't you just leave me out there?" I yelled. "I was doing fine on my own!"

He set down the severed part of the shotgun and finally regarded me. "What the hell are you going on about?" he questioned, appearing annoyed.

I shook my head at him. "It started raining, so I stopped under a tree, but I must've fallen asleep by accident or something. Next thing I know, I'm back in your bed."

He looked at me incredulously, as if I was insane. "Boy, your memory is really shot to hell," he insulted.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"I don't know anything about you being under a tree. You've been passed out in the bed all night."

I stared at him blankly, completely and utterly bewildered at his words. "But…" I started, and paused, blinking rapidly. "But we had a fight. We had a fight, and I left." I pointed to the jacket on the chair he was sitting on. "I took your jacket with me."

"No fight," he assured.

I frowned. "I didn't leave?" I asked in a breath.

He shook his head and returned to cleaning his shotgun. "You're free to leave anytime, though."

My hand came up to the tender bump on my head, and I rubbed it. What was going on with my mind? I'd completely imagined an event and had no recollection of the actual event.

I'd officially gone insane.