Chapter 2

The neon numbers of the alarm clock taunted him, reminding him that if the highway was clear, tomorrow was going to be hell to endure on zero sleep.

The bed wasn't to blame for his constant tossing and turning. The mattress was surprisingly comfortable considering the little inn was out in the middle of nowhere. And it wasn't the lack of noise, even though he was definitely accustomed to the nighttime sounds of the city.

It was her.

He couldn't stop thinking about Bella.

A thousand questions plagued him. Did she live here alone? Was the bed and breakfast profitable, or was she like most small business owners these days and barely hanging on? Was she single, and if so, why? Why hadn't some nice country boy swept her off her feet?

And why the hell did he care?

But there was one question that tortured him most of all.

Which room is hers?

It wasn't as if he was going to sneak into her bedroom. He just wondered if she was close by. Or maybe she slept in an entirely different part of the house. That would make sense, he reasoned, since she'd probably want her own space, far away from the complete strangers she welcomed into her home.

Is that even safe?

Edward rolled over onto his stomach and groaned into the pillow.

Suddenly, his cell vibrated on the nightstand. Thrilled to have service, he quickly sat up on the edge of the bed and reached for his phone. The message on the screen was from Alice.

Where the hell are you?

Instead of typing out the story, he decided to just call her.

"Wake my child and I will kill you," his sister answered sweetly.

"Sorry."

"So why aren't you at the hotel?"

He could hear the accusatory tone of her voice. It would have pissed him off, except he also heard the fear. This was his penance, and he paid it every day.

"Relax, Alice. I just missed the Port Angeles exit. My piece of shit GPS led me to this little bed and breakfast in Forks. It's out in the middle of nowhere. I would have called, but I didn't have a signal."

"But you're okay?"

"I'm fine. Wide awake, but fine."

Alice sighed. "I wish I was there, too. I won't enjoy explaining your absence at breakfast to our mother."

"What makes you think I'm going to miss breakfast?"

"Have you looked outside?"

Edward sprang from the bed and pushed the curtain aside. The only light came from the street lamp illuminating the parking area, and sure enough, his car was blanketed in snow.

"There's about six inches in Port Angeles, and they say the 101 is already a mess. Trust me. You won't be at breakfast."

"Or maybe dinner." Edward grinned. He couldn't believe his luck.

"You wouldn't believe how jealous I am."

Edward grinned. "You don't have to explain anything to anyone. I'll call Esme in the morning."

He did feel guilty for making his little sister endure the weekend with his parents, but she would have her husband and their toddler by her side. Alice would forgive him. Esme Cullen? Not so much.

"Well, it's after three. I should probably try to sleep," she said with a tired sigh. "I was just worried about you."

"I'm sorry to make you worry. I should have asked Bella if she had a phone. I just didn't think about—"

"Bella? Who's Bella?" Alice screeched.

"You're going to wake my niece."

"Who. Is. Bella?"

Edward rolled his eyes.

"Would you relax? She's the owner of the bed and breakfast."

"Oh. Good, because you know what your sponsor says . . ."

"I know what my sponsor suggests. It's not a law, Alice."

"It's a good suggestion, I think."

"I know you do. Now go to bed. I'll call you in the morning."

They said goodnight, and Edward set his phone on silent before placing it back on the nightstand.

Fully awake now, Edward climbed out of bed and grabbed a pair of jeans and a T-shirt out of his bag. He needed out of the tiny room, and he'd noticed the small lobby with the fireplace and television. Maybe some mindless cable television would help him drift off to sleep.

Very quietly, he made his way downstairs. As he approached the carpeted landing, he heard the low rumble of voices. He followed the sound into the lobby, and that's where he found Bella, sitting on the love seat. The voices came from the television, but her eyes weren't fixed on the screen.

She was staring at the bottle in her lap.

Suddenly, Edward's throat was painfully dry.

"Can't sleep?" he murmured, not wanting to frighten her.

Bella looked up. "No, but that's not unusual."

Edward nodded. Insomnia was his friend, too.

"May I?" he asked, pointing to the empty space next to her. Bella nodded, and he joined her on the couch.

"That looks . . . delicious," Edward said, nodding toward the bottle.

"Doesn't it?" Her voice was raspy. She didn't take a drink, though. She just continued gazing at the liquid before offering him the bottle. "You're welcome to it."

"I can't."

Bella tilted her head in his direction. "You can't?"

"No."

"I can't, either," she murmured. "At this stage, I can only grow plants and own a pet. I never had a green thumb and I'm allergic to cats, so . . ."

Edward chuckled. He couldn't remember how many potted plants he'd killed, and he worked too many crazy hours to be a decent pet owner.

"How long?" he asked.

"Sober? Just over a year," she replied.

"Me, too. So, why—"

"Why is a recovering alcoholic holding a bottle of whiskey?" Bella asked. "I found it last night while cleaning the rooms. One of the guests must have left it behind. Isn't that something? Someone left a nearly-full bottle of Jack Daniels in my bed and breakfast, as if it were a toothbrush or something else inconsequential."

Edward chuckled. "A year ago, I could have been that guest, except the bottle of Jack would have been the first thing I packed to take with me when I checked-out."

"A year ago, there wouldn't have been a bottle for me to pack. It would have been empty."

They shared a smile.

"I'm sure you know this, but it's not a good idea to have alcohol in the house."

Bella sighed softly and handed him the bottle. Edward quickly rose from the chair and opened the sliding doors leading outside. He uncorked the bottle and leaned over the railing, slowly pouring the alcohol onto the ground. Once it was empty, he re-corked it and tossed the bottle out into the snow.

When he returned, he found Bella still sitting on the couch. The television was now muted, and she held an empty rock glass in her hand.

"This is what I normally do when I can't sleep," she said as Edward sat down next to her once again. "I sit here, with the flickering light of the television, and I stare at the empty glass. It's my own personal form of torture. I stare, and I remember."

Edward slid a little closer. "What do you remember?"

Her sad eyes found his.

"I remember what it cost me," she said.