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LadySharkey1 rocks my world by being the most amazing, kick-ass beta I could ever imagine.

9.

It was becoming a morning ritual.

Bella inhaled deeply as she opened the terrace doors, making sure to skip out quietly after leaving a note on the kitchen counter. After staying in the Cullen's home for the past couple of days, she knew the chances of either of the children being awake before ten in the morning were slim but she didn't want to risk it anyway.

She'd always liked the morning air, even if she hated getting up early. It was a strange little dichotomy which, she had to admit, held no small amount of irony. If she'd had it her way, she would have been the last one to rise, like she had been back in Forks, and she probably would have been. In this strange, new environment, however, Bella found she rose almost with the sun.

There was something about the few quiet hours it afforded her that made her feel not the slightest bit sorry. Tired, yes, but also strangely upbeat and more optimistic than she'd felt in years.

As hard as it had been to leave everything she knew and loved behind Bella was starting to think that maybe that was what lay at the base of this sudden optimism. Home, as much as she loved it, was still covered in a thick blanket of grief and loss. Though Charlie had only moved his daughter to the remote little town of Forks after his beloved wife had died, he had taken almost everything of hers with them that he could pack. Pictures, ornaments and furniture that were all somehow connected to the memory of who she was still sat proudly in their house.

While Bella had never once in her life wanted to have that any other way, she had to admit that even though she loved how it kept the memory of her loving, vivacious mother alive, it was also a constant reminder of the fact that they'd lost her.

Being away from home allowed Bella to put a little bit more distance between herself and her grief; she would always love her mother and cherish each and every memory she had of her, but Bella also realized that if she wanted to really honor her mother's memory, she had to move on with her life. She only had to look at her father to see what would happen if she didn't.

And so Bella inhaled deeply, breathing in the fresh air as her feet sunk into the sand; her footsteps heavy as she plowed through it to her favorite spot in the dunes. It was a little crater about eighty feet away from the house; remote enough for her not to be seen but close enough for her to keep an eye on the kids' bedroom windows. When they woke up, she would see.

Dropping the little satchel she'd made out of a blanket to the ground, she set to work untangling the knot and unpacking the few things she needed for her perfect breakfast: a travel mug filled to the bring with black, but very sweet coffee, a bagel and, of course, her Kindle.

The peace and quiet she craved, though, didn't last. Before half an hour had past, Bella felt that prickling sensation at the base of her skull that she always felt when she was being watched. Sighing, she took a sip of her almost lukewarm coffee before she turned around and saw her suspicions confirmed.

Groaning, she wished she'd never turned around. At least then, she could be oblivious to the grinning face of Edward Masen, staring at her from the top of the valley she was hiding out in.

Well, damn.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, wishing immediately her voice hadn't come off as abrasive as it had. Knowing him, he would probably see her gruffness as a challenge.

"I'm hurt, mousy!" he cried in mock indignation, his shoes slipping on the sand as he worked his way down into 'her' dip. "Here I am, scouring half the seaside for a nice place to sit and watch the tide roll in, only to be chased away the moment I find the perfect spot."

"You can't even see the ocean from here," Bella grumbled, the benefits of rising early vanished like snow before the sun. "Now go along and watch the ocean from the deck or something. This spot is already taken."

His smirk was insufferable, making Bella's hackles rise like the needles on a porcupine as he leaned in, his face almost within striking distance. "Is it, little mousy? That's funny, because I don't see your name on it."

Grabbing a little stick of wood, Bella narrowed her eyes as she leaned over the edge of the blanket, drawing her name into the sand in big, swirly letters. "And now it is."

"You're really not mousy at all, are you?" he mused, his eyes shining with mirth as he watched Bella's frustration grow. "In fact, I don't think I can go on calling you 'mousy' any more. How does 'kitten' sound?"

"About as obnoxious as your first nickname but nothing I say will stop you. So eat your heart out." Biting her lip, Bella felt about as trapped as a pig in a slaughterhouse. There was nowhere she could go. If she stayed in her little spot, he would stay as well. If she left, he would follow her. "Why do you always have to be obnoxious? Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"I'm bored," he admitted, his demeanor changing as he sighed. "Staying in the Hamptons really isn't as fun as it's cracked up to be. Once you've seen the sights, visited the shops and been to every damn seafood and boating festival at least once, you realize soon enough that it's just the same boring rich people you'd already met in Manhattan but now they're dressed in Polo's and Bermuda shorts." Dropping a grin that was probably meant to magically make her pants fall off or something, he added, "You, sweet kitten, are the only interesting addition I've noticed so far."

"I'm charmed," Bella huffed. "But if you're so bored here, why stay?"

He shrugged again, the brawn slowly evaporating from his posture as he looked out over Bella's shoulder. "The powers that be want me to lay low and be a good citizen for a while."

"That doesn't seem like a bad plan," Bella mused wryly, thinking about the headlines, "though while I'm sure the parents of Manhattan will rest a little easier knowing their children are out of your reach, I'm not sure your sister feels the same."

"What kind of asshole do you take me for? I fucking love those kids. I'd never do anything to hurt Jasper or Rose," Edward argued passionately, losing his cool, charming cover for a mere moment as he let his true, more passionate self shine through.

"You had no problem feeding drugs to somebody else's kid!" Bella snapped, her hands digging into the sand, drawing strength from the earth's energy as his anger flared up again.

"I didn't know she was a minor, okay?" Edward cried, his eyes wild with the passion of despair and frustration. "I've seen the fucking pictures in the newspapers but I swear she looked nothing like that on the night. If I'd have known her real age, do you really think I would have offered her drugs?" Shaking his head, his eyes met hers, forcing her to see the truth in them as he went on. "I'm the last person to claim I'm a good man, kitten—hell, I'll even go as far as to say I'm a fucking asshole! However, I'm nowhere near the villain the press makes me out to be either."

Narrowing her eyes, Bella held his stare; a lot of words being said between the two of them with their eyes, without either speaking a word of that aloud. "Then…who are you?" she finally asked, her heart pounding with uncertainty as she realized she was on the brink of something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

It was big, though.

"I don't really know." The raw uncertainty of his words made Bella feel for him as more of the enigma started to unravel. Stripped of his cocky arrogance, Bella could see that all of his antagonism was just a front to keep people at bay. He was hiding himself, just like she had done for the longest time. And maybe that was why she managed to spot his fakery from a mile away.

It takes one to know one, after all.

However, where his mask was easy enough to spot, the reason why formed more of an enigma. Because why would a man who had everything handed to him on a silver platter choose to push everything away and spit in the face of the people who only tried to help him? Was he really that self-destructive or was there more to his story? Had sinister forces pulled him into a life that no more suited him than most of Kim Kardashian's wardrobe suited her, or was he the sinister force that pulled everyone around him down?

Before that morning, Bella would have been inclined to believe the worst—and even at that moment there was still a large part of her that did—but stripped bare of the obnoxious façade he'd put up, she was starting to see the man underneath.

And, she had to admit that this man was starting to become more fascinating by the minute.

Thoughts?

Happy holidays to everyone celebrating. See you next week.