Good morning, lovelies! I hope everyone is managing to survive the longest short week. Today's a day a lot of people have been waiting for, the day the girls finally all make it to the island! So without further ado, let's jump in!

Thank you to Pamela for prereading!

- 9 -

Bella

July 1, 2023

Lighthouse Cove, Maine

Fucking airlines.

It was supposed to be an easy flight plan. Guatemala to Atlanta, then Atlanta to Maine. Two-hour window to transfer, just eight hours of travel overall. Simple.

Then, my flight was delayed in Guatemala, and when I got to Atlanta, they couldn't find my bags and I was shoved onto another flight that flew to Chicago before backtracking to Maine.

I've been traveling for over sixteen hours at least and I'm so fucking done.

The moment our wheels hit the tarmac, I pull open my phone, taking it off airplane mode. I text Carlisle, praying that one in the morning isn't too late for him to ferry me to the island.

Because I need to go home tonight. I need to see my girls and curl up in my favorite bed in the attic room.

I need to taste the salt and wind and magic that is Lighthouse Cove.

He doesn't respond, and I bite my lip, anxiously tapping my phone against my palm.

I'm the first one on my feet when the plane hits the gate, even though I'm near the back and won't unload for a while.

I try to kill time by finding a cab on my phone.

By the time I'm off the plane, I'm reasonably certain I'll be able to get to the docks, but whether Carlisle will be there or not is still a mystery to me.

I don't have any luggage since it's still lost who-knows-where. I thank god that I always pack a small change of clothes in my carry-on in case of this exact instance.

Outside of the airport, the air is cold and fresh, even though it's tinted with the taste of jet fuel. I see a line of taxis, but I'm about a crowd away and there are only three.

Sure enough, by the time I hit the curb, the taxis are all gone, and I'm told I'll need to wait upwards of an hour for another one.

I let out a string of swear words in both English and Spanish.

"Bella!"

I frown, my head whipping around as I hear my name.

I see a black truck parked at a curb in front of the airport, and my heart lodges in my throat when I see it's Edward flagging me down.

Wrapping my fingers around my backpack, I head toward him, apprehensive as to why he's even here.

"Hey," I say slowly as I approach. "What are you doing?"

He shrugs one shoulder, giving me that fucking grin that is making my body tense up in anticipation.

"Dad told me you were running late. He crashes early, so I offered to pick you up."

I stare at him, not making a move toward his truck.

"Your dad never picks me up from the airport," I say slowly.

Edward nods, motioning over his shoulder toward the taxi queue. "I could guess you wouldn't have a ride," he says simply. "Shall we? Do you have any bags?"

I swallow, frowning. "They're lost."

Edward nods, his eyebrows tugging together. "Oh,"

I hesitate one more second before making my way around to the passenger side of his truck. I consider for a moment sitting in the back, but that would be weird, even for me.

Edward slides in behind the wheel as I'm fastening my seatbelt.

"Good flight?" He asks as he pulls away from the airport.

"Not even sort of," I say before I can think better of it. Edward snorts softly beside me and I glance at him. I've never been with him one-on-one like this. The cab smells of him; whisky and salt and lemon, and it's distracting me so much that I'm having a hard time thinking.

"Are you just up at one-thirty in the morning?" I ask, turning toward the window to try to find space away from him, at least visually.

He hums. "No, not usually."

I turn to look at him, but I can't read the look on his face. He doesn't sound mad about it now, though I can't imagine he's happy about it either.

I turn my gaze to the dashboard, where I spot a book tucked into the corner on the driver's side. I can barely make out the title from where I'm sitting.

The Bell Jar? What, is he cramming for his tenth grade English final?

I've never read it—not even for school—and instead of embarrassing myself or potentially pissing him off with my exhaustion-induced-snarky mouth, I turn my head back out the window. The ride is silent the rest of the way to the docks. In my head, I'm trying to recite the Latin names of plants I learned about in Guatemala, just so I don't do something stupid like tell him how fucking good he smells.

When we pull up to the docks, Edward parks in one of the staff spots. I'm out of the truck before he has the engine off, taking a large gulp of fresh, salty air.

"Car sick?" he asks as he comes around the bed toward me.

I make a noncommittal sound in the back of my throat.

"You look dead on your feet," he says gently. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

What I know he means and what my perverted mind immediately thinks of are two very different things.

But out here, with the salty air as a buffer, it's a little easier to be around him with a clear head.

"Really, Edward," I tease. "I would have pegged you more of a gentleman than that."

I sort of regret the words the moment they are out of my mouth. I don't want to be stirring up trouble with our ride to the island, but it's been so long since I've had any decent sex, and somehow he looks hotter in the moonlight than I remember him ever looking.

He smirks at me, and I feel my belly clench a little.

"You're assuming far too much," he says with a shake of his head.

I let out a laugh, but inside, I'm pretty much turning into jello.

We head down the docks toward his boat. I won't tell him this, but I love his vessel. Whenever I saw a pontoon boat in Guatemala, my mind always traveled back to Edward.

I thought about him, a lot.

"The good ol' SS Esme," I say as Edward climbs aboard. "She's looking yare."

Edward turns back to me, one eyebrow cocked. "Do you know what yare means?"

I decide to let him help me up this time, taking the hand he's offering me as I shake my head.

"Not a damn clue," I admit.

Edward lets out a light laugh that sets my blood buzzing. "We'll have to work on your nautical knowledge this summer, Dr. Swan," he says, letting me go.

It's hard not to automatically jump him when he addresses me so formally. I don't know what it is about it, but hearing the title I'd earned coming out of his mouth is doing all sorts of delicious and naughty things to me.

I have to look away from him as he moves to the control panel and starts up the boat.

I settle on my usual seat before him, gazing up at the brilliant starry sky. I let out a long breath, relieved that I'm nearly home.

Edward is adept with the boat, and in no time, we're heading out into the dark waters between us and Lighthouse Cove.

I glance back at him a few times, and once, I catch his gaze on me. It makes me whip my head back forward, my pulse racing.

I've known and resisted how hot this guy is for the past seven years. There is no reason that this should be the year I finally give in to those thoughts.

None at all.

"You know, in Guatemala, there was this phenomenon." I hear myself saying the words before I think about them. I glance back at Edward to see him watching me, nodding for me to continue. "Bioluminescence. The waves would turn bright blue. It was incredible." I didn't go out to the beaches often, but I'd seen the lightening blue waves a couple of times.

"We get that here," Edward says, and I look at him in surprise.

"Really?"

He nods, his chin jutting north of us. "We get it frequently. It's incredible," he says, his eyes landing on me.

Even in the moonlight, I can see the gemstone hue of his gaze.

"I think I'll have to go explore that," I muse out loud.

Edward nods. "I'll take you."

I glance up at him, surprised. We've never done this. He's never crossed boundaries with any of us, even though there were nights when I'd dreamed that he would. Still, Edward has never been more than part of the mechanics of Lighthouse Cove.

I'm not even sure what to do now that he's opened us up to being more than that, even if the more is only a science trip down the beach.

I lick my lips, feeling unsteady in the conversation. "Sure," I say after a moment, my curiosity overriding my desire to keep a distance from him. "I'd like that."

We're pulling up to the dock at Lighthouse Cove before either one of us can say anything more.

Edward and I slip off the boat as soon as it's docked, him leading the way toward the van he and his dad use as a shuttle on the island.

"I can walk," I say, feeling guilty that I've already used so much of his time tonight. It has to be past two at this point.

"It's fine, Bella," he says, obviously understanding my hesitation. "Come on."

I climb into the front seat, and I'm once again assaulted by the smell of him. Somehow, the sea air only enhances the smell of whisky and lemon, and I take a shuddering breath.

"You good?" he asks, starting the car.

I nod, my lips pressed tight. "Yeah, just tired," I lie.

Edward drives us down the slim dirt road toward the rental house, and the closer we get, the more excited I feel. I'm ready for this, ready to be with my girls, in this place that has seen the best and worst of us.

Edward pulls up in front of the house, and I smile when I see the girls left the porch light on for me.

"Thanks, Edward," I say, reaching for my backpack on the floor.

"Bella, I…"

I look at him, surprised. He looks torn, his eyebrows dipping over his eyes before he shakes his head.

"I'll see you around?" he asks.

I can sense there is more to his question, but I'm too tired and excited, too confused and distracted to really understand what it is.

Finally, I nod. "Yeah, I'll see you around."

Edward nods and he seems satisfied with my answer as I slip out of his van, waving to him once more before I race up the steps to the house.

It's quiet inside, but the scent hits me like a freight train; cedar, cotton, linen, lilac, and salt assail my nose, my eyes fluttering shut as I breathe.

Home, I'm finally home.