XXVIII. The Petunias Would like to File a Complaint with the Owner of the House

I'd never been the type of girl who could easily lie or pretend. Which had made this whole fictional situation hell to begin with. So, when this rando girl who'd probably consumed too much alcohol and was still chewing her way through her last bite of pop tart asked me why I 'smelled like vampire,' well, the best reaction I could muster was a bewildered expression and an eloquent, "Huh?"

But I suppose it didn't matter, because she continued talking as though I hadn't even uttered a sound. "I'd know that smell anywhere, so no sense in lying," she said and finally swallowed. "I'm more amazed by the fact that you're not dead. What's your secret? Don't tell me you snatched yourself a vampire beau as well."

"As well?!" I spluttered.

Serena shrugged and fished out her second pop tart. "Ours is more of an on-again off-again thing, but don't let that fool you. Angelo has had the bad habit of getting himself into trouble since the day I met him."

I stared. "…Angelo?"

"Um, yeah. We're talking vampire boyfriends. Keep up," she sneered and promptly took another bite. "So, what's your story?"

I couldn't summon a response to the absurdity that was this conversation.

Fortunately, it was cut short by the appearance of Riley.

"Isabella, there you are," he jogged over to us. "Listen, we gotta go. My aunt called, and she's not too happy I stole you."

"Oh. Right. It's getting late regardless," I said, abandoning my pop tarts on the bench and rising to my feet.

"Hold up! You seriously have to go?" Serena complained.

"Yep. It was nice meeting you," I muttered, all too ready to head off. This girl was weird, and there was no sense in getting sucked deeper into the supernatural world than I already was. She could be a witch for all I knew!

But before I could escape, she snatched me by the wrist and shoved my sleeve up to my elbow. "Cut that out!" I hissed, but was unable to escape her abnormally tight grip.

"Hang on a second," she muttered, magicking a sharpie out of nowhere and removing the cap with her mouth. The cool ink bled into the skin of my inner forearm as she scribbled across it. Around the cap, she said, "I can't talk to just anyone about these predicaments. Be sure to give me a call, Izzy!"

It had been fine when Jasper had called me Izzy. Now, the feeling wasn't the same. "Don't call me that."

Serena rolled her eyes, but didn't seem all that put off by my sharp tone. Instead, she pulled the cap out of her mouth and conceded. "Alright. Isabella, then. Seriously, call me. I could use a friend." Her eyes glittered with earnesty.

"I have to go."

This time, she allowed me to escape her grip, and I quickly pulled Riley along before she could insist on prolonging the conversation.

"Who was that?" Riley mumbled, craning his head over his shoulder

I wrinkled my nose. Boys.

"I'll spare you the details." Instead of attempting to wade back through the house, we ducked around and exited through the side gate. "Was your aunt really mad?"

"Nah," Riley assured, shooting me an easy grin. "She was just worried. But I know she'll call my mom if I get up to any trouble, so I'd rather she didn't know about this."

I rolled my eyes. "My lips are zipped."

"Aw, thanks," Riley cheered, throwing a friendly arm around my shoulders.

I shoved him off and held out my palm. "Keys."

"…Fine."

"Thanks," I chirped as we reached the car. I slid into the driver's seat. "And try not to puke in your aunt's car."

"…What the fuck," I hissed, scrambling to sit up and blearily blinking up at the strange woman sitting by my bedside.

Whoever she was, she didn't glance up from the newspaper folded across her lap as she asked, "What major scale uses five black keys on a piano?"

I blinked and stared. "…Shit, I don't know. G flat?"

She clicked her pen and scribbled across the page. "Huh. It fits."

"Congratulations," I muttered, rubbing the crud from my eyes and taking stock of the room I was in. It looked much different in the daylight. We'd gotten home so late, Riley's aunt and uncle were already in bed, and he'd shown me to their only guest bedroom, volunteering to take the couch himself. "Shit. You're her. You're Zaire."

She wasn't exactly what I'd imagined. Initially, I assumed she'd be young. Maybe a couple years my senior. And then, when I realized that out of all people, she was Riley's aunt, I imagined someone older, round and soft with age. In reality, Zaire White was all sharp edges and slender limbs. Her skin was dark, almost like Leah's, and her black hair tumbled past her shoulder, streaked with gray. Her face was mostly smooth with the exception of crows feet and laugh lines―which was odd, considering her currently bland expression.

"A keen eye you've got there," she murmured, eyes still laser focused on her crossword puzzle.

I scrunched my nose. "I'm sure this would be more pleasant if I hadn't just caught you watching me sleep." Damn, I kept one vampire from spying on me while I got some shuteye, only to get this crazy lady.

"I wasn't watching you sleep. I was working on this while I waited for you to wake up," she said in such a reasonable tone, I was almost inclined to agree with her.

"…And you had to do this at my bedside, why?"

"I didn't want my nephew getting any more foolish ideas. How's the hangover?"

My eyebrows shot up. "I didn't drink."

Finally, she ripped her gaze away from the newspaper. "Hm. I see. If that's the case, get up and get dressed. Ron should almost be done with breakfast."

"Alright," I agreed, all too relieved to have her leave my space. I got that this was her house, but sheesh, what did a girl have to do to get some privacy around here?

I didn't waste much time getting dressed and brushing out the tangles in my hair, before striding down the hall, following the savory smell of breakfast all the way to the kitchen.

"Good morning," I said, slipping into a seat at the kitchen table beside Zaire.

"Ah! You must be Zee's little reincarnation buddy," a man at the stove called, flashing me a cheery grin over his shoulder. Much like Riley, he was tall and blond, though not as fit, and with a receding hairline.

"Um," I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. "Is that like an open family secret?"

"God no," Zaire snorted. "Just Ron. Riley's still zonked out on the couch and probably will be for the rest of the morning, so you're more than welcome to speak freely."

"Ah. Okay," I agreed meekly and accepted a plate from Ron with a small smile. "Thank you." The sudden air of honesty was such a relief, I almost didn't know what to do with myself.

"Thanks, hon," Zaire similarly received a plate piled high with scrambled eggs, bacon strips, and toast.

"Isabella, correct?" Ron checked. At my nod, he asked, "Coffee or juice?"

"Juice please!"

"Coming right up!"

It was surreal, eating breakfast with this couple. They knew what I was, but likely never became entrenched in the rest of the supernatural nonsense this world had to offer. And for a moment, I wondered what it would've been like if I'd woken up to this family instead. Normal, but not normal. My type of normal.

"So, I'm curious, kid. How'd you know Zee's story wasn't just another piece of fiction?" Ron asked above the rim of his coffee cup.

I set my fork down. "I was looking for answers. And then Azmon showed up." I turned to the woman beside me. "You've met him, right?"

Zaire frowned. "The name doesn't ring a bell."

My face dropped. "Did no one speak with you about what had happened to you?"

"Oh!" she snapped a finger, eyes lighting up in realization. "Are you referring to that odd fellow with the purple eyes?"

'Odd fellow' would not be my first choice of words to describe Azmon. More like 'ominous' and 'foreboding.' Then again, I was starting to notice that Zaire wasn't exactly what you would call conventional.

"Yes. Tall, dark skin, curly hair?" I checked.

"Hm. Yes, I believe we must've met the same guy," she hummed with an air of nonchalance.

"Well, when I met him, he was flipping through your book. And he said it might comfort me, but that it wouldn't give me the answers I was looking for," I shrugged. "I took that to assume that there might be some truth to the story you wrote. And then I read it, and it was too accurate not to be."

"Fascinating," Ron exclaimed. "We always wondered how common Zee's situation was. I never imagined her book would actually bring another one to our doorstep."

I tilted my head. "You sound very charmed by the idea."

Ron's smile turned abashed. It was near identical to Riley's. "Ah. I'm sorry. Am I being too insensitive?"

I shook my head. "No. I guess I'm just curious as to how you initially reacted when Zaire shared this with you."

"She mentioned that too. That there's a boy involved?" At my nod, he continued, "I'm not sure how similar the situation might be with your boy, but I was already with Zaire, before Zee came along,"

That's when it clicked. Zaire was to Zee, as Bella was to Isabella.

I peeked at her from my peripherals. "Sorry. You prefer Zee?"

She smiled softly. "I do."

"Okay," I nodded and glanced back to Ron. "How on earth did that work?"

Ron's grin remained sheepish. "Like the girl in her story, Zee pretended to have amnesia. Despite the horrifying circumstances, I assumed it would be like one of those romantic movies where I had to get her to fall in love with me all over again. Imagine my surprise when she said she wanted nothing to do with me!"

I giggled. "I imagine it wasn't romantic at all."

"It really wasn't. Her family especially struggled with her sudden change in personality. It was a right mess, but I refused to give up," he smiled fondly at his wife. "I loved Zaire. But by the time she had confessed to me about the reality of her situation, I'd already fallen for Zee. The truth only served to fill in the gaps I'd been missing."

I smiled. "Now that's romantic."

"Isn't it?! Yet she refused to include it in the book!" he huffed without any real heat.

Zee shook her head. "The book was packed as it was. Perhaps I'll consider it for the sequel."

"Only if you convey just how dashing I was," Ron winked.

"At sixteen? Hardly."

I grinned, watching silently as they bantered back and forth. Zee may not have been who I'd been expecting, but I was happy for it.

"So, that's it, kid," Ron grinned. "Make sure your boy is in love with you, and you shouldn't have any problems."

I swallowed thickly. "Right."

"But that's not the issue Isabella is struggling with," Zaire noted. Had I included that in my letter? I couldn't remember anymore.

"What's the problem, then?" Ron asked.

"Actually being able to talk about how I…died," I whispered, gaze trained on the table, before turning to Zee. "How were you able to do it?"

"I didn't," she said simply. At my shocked gaze, she asked, "This Azmon fellow―he showed you, didn't he?"

My voice was small when I said, "Yeah. He…he didn't show you?"

She shook her head. "He offered, but I turned him down. I wanted to know, so I asked him to tell me. But I didn't want to remember."

I smiled weakly and said, "Smart."

Zee shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. I'll always wonder whether I'll regret not knowing more than knowing. But it is what it is."

"Right."

"Either way kid, if anyone can help you through this, it's Zee," Ron assured me.

I averted my gaze and blinked back a few tears. "Thank you."

After breakfast, Ron went to rouse Riley so they could head down to the college for the day, while Zee invited me out back to help her with her garden.

I put on a sun hat and tugged on the gloves she gave me while saying, "I'm warning you now―I know nothing about gardening."

"Hm. It's not ideal," she said, dumping a trowel into one of my gloved hands. "But I already prepared the garden bed yesterday. We're just planting these today." Into my other hand, she carefully deposited a pot of what looked like pink petunias that had yet to fully bloom.

After carefully picking up an additional two pots with budding yellow and purple petunias, Zee led the way out of the garden shed and back to the flowers that lined below the rail of the back porch like a dotted rainbow. We kneeled beside an empty gap of loose soil, where she showed me where and how deep to dig.

I asked her questions while we worked. But the more I asked, the more I realized how little she knew. In fact, I was beginning to realize how much more I knew in comparison. For one, Azmon had only visited her once, and nearly a year after she'd already woken up in this life. By then, she didn't care to know more than to confirm the fact that she really had died.

I stared at her. "That's it? You didn't want to find a way back?"

Zee carefully lowered the patch of yellow buds into the hole she'd finished digging, before meeting my wide-eyed gaze. "A year can be a long time. By then, I had gone through so many therapy appointments and had been mostly accepted by this body's family. I guess you could say I'd adjusted. Azmon merely explained what I already knew to be true. That I had died and couldn't return."

Although I remained baffled, I finally understood the difference between Zee and I. She'd had a support system. I hadn't. While they believed she'd been struggling with amnesia and personality change rather than reincarnation, they'd still understood that something was extremely wrong and had helped her through what must've been the most difficult transition of her life.

Perhaps knowing all about Bella Swan hadn't really been an advantage at all.

And I began to wonder if coming here had been a waste of time. Because there was no way back. And although even before this, I had already begun to accept that, Zee's words were like the final nail in the coffin. Words that punctured my lungs and lodged in my throat and made it difficult to breathe.

By the time I finished digging, Zee was already depositing the second patch of flowers into the ground. She then helped me with removing the pink buds from the pot, carefully lowering them into the hole I'd dug.

It was once the flowers had been fully planted, that Zee spoke up again, "Have you taken the time to grieve?"

I blinked, eyes glued to the clusters of petunias. My voice was hoarse when I repeated, "…Grieve?"

"Of course. You died and lost a whole life. Just because you have a new one doesn't make the last one any less worth grieving over."

I swallowed thickly. "How…how do I do that?"

"I suppose it's different for every person, but giving yourself time to accept the truth is a start. Intentional time. And tears―they're a good release. It's best not to let it build and fester."

I inhaled deeply, reminding myself I could still breathe, and said, "I've already done that."

"Have you?"

I finally met her steady gaze and shrugged. "I mean, yeah, after nightmares or panic attacks. They suck."

She hummed, "I imagine so. But I meant tears of grief, not of panic or fear."

"…I'm tired of crying." But even as I said that, I could feel tears welling along my lashes, throat closing up once again.

More gentle than I imagined her capable of, Zee curled an arm around my shoulders and held me close. "Cry, Isabella. And tell me about your loss. And then maybe cry some more."

I gasped, hot tears spilling over my cheeks. I'm not sure how long I sat there, crying without even meaning to, shoulders quivering and expression contorted. But it was like purging something I didn't know had been building at the base of my throat. And suddenly, the weight of grief settled on my shoulders, and all I could do was bend forward under its crushing force. A high, keening sound escaped my throat, and the hole in my chest became a yawning chasm of ragged edges. It was unbearable. I could only continue to sob in response.

"God, I can't believe I'm crying over fucking petunias," I bubblered, scrubbing at my face with my sleeves.

Zee laughed and squeezed my shoulder. "Good thing we haven't gotten around to watering them."

I snorted, and wiped at my nose. But then the joke died, and all that was left was the miserable truth.

Before I could even get the words out, I was crying again. There was a serrated knife lodged in my throat that made it hard to swallow, air stolen from my lungs, but I forced out the words regardless, "I…died. I fucking…drowned." I laughed sharply. "Can you believe it? What a stupid ass way to go."

"Yes," Zee hummed softly, "Very stupid."

I'd said it. Finally. The words that had been choking me up and suffocating me had finally been exposed. And I no longer felt like crying. I was suddenly calm. It was mostly fueled by the hollowness that rang inside my chest.

"So stupid," I repeated quietly. "Practically laughable."

I sniffled and roughly wiped away the stray tears, distantly thinking about that night. Before the rough currents had violently seized me―when it had just been my cousins and I, out late, the luminous moon high and the waters darker than black. Even then I'd known it was a stupid idea to take my tia's old yacht out for a joy ride. But in the midst of the pandemic, all we'd wanted was to escape the cruelty of life. Instead, I'd made it crueler―for my family; for my brother. If I had one last regret, it was allowing him to join us that night.

Zee gently cut through my thoughts. "Why don't we head inside? You can tell me more over sandwiches and lemonade. You like lemonade?"

"God, yes," I laughed. "One of the few things I still love. Everything tastes shit."

"Tell me about it," she laughed alongside me, pulling me to my feet and leading me back inside the kitchen, arm still tight around me until I'd settled back into my chair. "I threw the tantrum of the century when I discovered this body was allergic to strawberries," Zee was telling me, removing her gloves and washing her hands, before pulling out glasses and a pitcher of lemonade.

"That's so tragic," I lamented with her. "Did you know, I used to hate oranges? This body can't get enough of them! It's ridiculous."

And that's how we spent the rest of the afternoon. Instead of talking about my family, or my old job, or my old friends, Zee and I complained about everything from shitty tastebuds to the subpar technology currently available. It was somehow therapeutic, like I hadn't known I'd been suppressing all these thoughts until they began pouring out like word vomit.

It was the ringing of my phone that finally cut into our conversation.

"Sorry, you mind if I take this?"

"Go ahead. I should get started on dinner anyway," Zee shrugged, pushing herself to her feet.

I flashed her a quick grin before ducking out into the hall and answering the phone. "Hey. Something wrong?" Unlike yesterday, I hadn't really kept in contact with Edward, seeing as I'd stayed safely in the house all day.

"Do you have a minute? I'm outside." The urgency in his tone made it difficult to disagree.

"Of course," I murmured, heading further down until I reached the front door and stepped outside. I spotted him leaning against his car, below the shade of the sycamore tree. Although it was nearly dusk, the cloud cover wasn't as trustworthy here as it was in Forks.

"What's going on?" I asked as soon as I'd reached his side.

Rather than answering right away, Edward looked me over, as though making sure I remained unhurt. He then pulled me close, tucking my head under his chin and wrapping his arms around me. Despite the tension lining his shoulders, I allowed the embrace, sinking further into him and curling my arms around his torso. His familiar, sweet scent was comforting and my heart squeezed painfully with an emotion I refused to identify.

When he finally loosened his hold, I pulled back far enough to meet his gaze and reached a hand up, fingertips brushing against his jaw. "Talk to me, Edward."

His tawny eyes burned with despair. "Isabella, we have to go."

"Not until you tell me what's going on," I said firmly.

For a brief moment, he closed his eyes, features twisted into a miserable expression. And then, finally, he confessed, words that numbed me over in disbelief. "Alice, she…she saw your future vanish and shift. Unless something changes, you'll be a vampire before spring's end."

A/N: Let me know your thoughts! :)