A/N… You guys have been super patient. This – again – is all Edward. I'll let you get to it.

~oOo~

Chapter 26

EDWARD

"Let's talk about your wife, Masen," the cop on the screen demanded through the earbuds I was wearing.

I was waiting for Common Ground to close, and then we were going to head to my parents' house. Charlie and Bella were riding with me; everyone else was going to meet us there.

My eyes drifted across the café. My sweet Bella was back in the swing of things. She looked happy. She was busy, too; it seemed the neighborhood had missed her. Carmen and Eleazar were running the kitchen and dining room. Bella was behind the counter, preparing to count the drawer and close.

I went back to my laptop screen. My father was stoic, almost pompous in the interrogation room. He wasn't exactly relaxed, but he wasn't caving to the two officers asking questions.

"My wife left almost a year ago. Took a train. I have the charges on my credit card to prove it," he replied without much inflection.

Jesus, I'd forgotten what a cold, unemotional bastard he was. It wasn't even about the answers but his delivery, his tone, his every-fucking-thing. He spoke to everyone like they were fucking stupid. It was condescending and disrespectful. And the officers in the room had just about had enough.

"Cut the shit, Masen," one detective snapped. "You think we'd haul your ass back to Seattle from Chicago because she took a train a year ago?"

"I don't know what you're insinuating, and I don't know where my wife is," he replied coldly, but he raked a hand over his face and then through his hair.

My brow furrowed at that tell of his. I was doing my best to watch this like a cop, like a detective, and that answer was a lie, which I knew, of course, but the detectives in the room with him saw it a mile away. There was a knock on the door, and the second detective answered it.

"We're actually not insinuating anything," the other officer at the table continued, flipping through a file. "You keep some interesting company, Ed. You're in deep with the Volturis, huh? Both here in Seattle and in Chicago."

"I'm not going to discuss my client list with you. That's privileged information."

"Your loyalties are screwed up," the first detective continued. "I need you to understand we've got you dead to rights on child abuse, child abandonment, and neglect."

My father didn't even flinch. "The boy was fine."

I frowned at that statement, but the detective who'd been standing at the door stepped forward, saying, "Actually, I think the boy is smarter than you, Masen. And I'd be willing to bet you haven't exactly instilled any loyalty in him, because you're kind of an ass."

"He's a spoiled boy, soft. It's probably a blessing his mother left. Now he can man up."

"Oh, he manned up, all right." The detective walked to the table and set a photograph down. "See, he didn't buy your bullshit, either. And he's calling you a murderer."

My father studied the picture, swallowed thickly, and shook his head. "I want a lawyer."

Something akin to pure fear crossed my dad's features. He was already sweating, but his hands were shaking as he pushed the picture of my mother in that godforsaken suitcase away from him. I didn't see regret. I saw fear and what I'd almost label guilt.

Bella appeared in my peripheral vision and raked her fingers through my hair as I pulled out my earbuds.

When I gazed up at her, she simply leaned in and pressed kisses to my forehead. "Ready when you are, baby," she whispered against my skin. Her eyes drifted to the screen, but she looked back to me and sat down on my lap. "Make me a promise today, Edward."

"What's that?"

"Promise me you'll step away or outside if things become too much. Say the word, and I'll give you a moment to get your shit together. And in turn, I promise no breaking up, no matter how this goes today."

Smirking, I nodded. "Promise, beautiful." I kissed her softly. "Thank you."

"Everyone who's going today… We all love you. We all hope you find the answers you're looking for, but we also want you happy and healed."

Swallowing thickly, I nodded again. "Love you, too."

Bella's smile was big and sweet and warm. "Good! Then I'll happily hold your hand all day if you want."

"Okay."

She tilted her head. "Okay," she repeated with a nod. She kissed me one more time and slipped off my lap. "I saved you some boxes. In case you want to take some things. C'mon."

We loaded the boxes into my truck, and Charlie took the back seat. It was an hour drive to Stillwater. My mother had truly wanted to be as close to Aunt Esme as possible, so the house was only a few streets away from her.

The lawn and driveway had been maintained. I paid for lawn service, electricity, and alarm systems. I owned the home outright, paying only the taxes on it. But my ass couldn't live here. When anyone asked me why I didn't just sell it, I never had an answer.

But I'd buried my head in the sand for far too long.

Maybe it was the fact that I'd finally talked about it after all these years. A glance over at the beautiful girl in the passenger seat made me think maybe that was true. Or maybe the fact that a key figure in my last case traced back to this house and my father.

That may have been a bigger cause for me to finally face this house and my history. It was a clue. It was a puzzle piece to a case that didn't feel quite closed to me. I hoped with everything I had that I could look at it that way as we pulled up next to Emmett, but one look at the front fucking door, and I felt like I was fifteen again.

There was an unmarked police SUV next to Emmett's Honda and Uncle Carlisle's Mercedes.

Putting my truck in park, I glared at the house for a minute. For a moment, all I could see was the darkness of it, the year of fending for myself, and the harsh reality that my mother wasn't there to provide a buffer between my father and me. I saw his silence, his coldness, and his abrupt demeanor.

But then I really looked at the house, and I caught sight of things my mother had done. Her touch was everywhere – flowers planted around the front porch, the rocking chairs by the window of her study, and the welcome sign with sunflowers on it hanging by the front door.

That last thing was faded and cracked and peeling. And my memories of this place felt that way.

I got out of the truck quietly, along with Bella and Charlie, who were also silent. The first person to me was Lt. Mitchell, wearing civilian clothes and her badge. She looked the same, maybe a little older, but she still had a warm smile, hazel eyes, and short hair. She held out her hand, and I shook it.

"Edward, it's really good to see you," she greeted kindly.

"You too…"

"Just call me Dana. This is a personal thing for you, isn't it?"

"Yes."

She nodded, glancing around.

"Sorry. Let me introduce everyone," I said, placing a hand on Bella's shoulder. "I'm sure you remember my aunt and uncle, Carlisle and Esme Cullen."

"I do! It's good to see you."

I gestured to the rest. "That's my cousin, Rosalie, and her fiancée, Emmett McCarty. That's our friend, Tanya Denali." All three waved to the officer. "My girlfriend, Bella Swan, and her father, Charlie." For those who didn't know, I added, "This is Lt. Dana Mitchell. She responded the night I found my mother."

Pausing for a moment, I pulled out the keys to the house, looking to Dana. "I've read the police file and your reports. I just… I need to know if there's anything else you remember, maybe something not in the report."

She nodded, holding up a large manila envelope. "It's not much, but I can show you."

Steeling my nerves, I led everyone to the door and unlocked it. Once I'd disengaged the alarm, we all stepped inside the house.

The smell was musty, closed-up. I probably needed to have a cleaning service come, but I didn't want anyone inside the house, not even me. Furniture was covered, the china cabinet was still a pile of shattered dishes and glass, and floors were dusty. I led them all to the kitchen.

I glanced around at everyone and noticed Bella's eyes were on the destruction in the dining room. I'd told her about destroying that cabinet the last time I was in this house. It had been rage and grief and frustration.

Charlie asked, "Was there a struggle?"

Bella leaned in, whispering quickly into his ear, and his expression changed from confusion to understanding.

Dana slapped down her envelope onto the counter, flipping it open, but she didn't make a move to pull anything out just yet. She met my gaze, wearing a sad smile.

"This case, this house…you… It all stuck with me. I've got a son of my own, and at the time, I'd just gone through a divorce, so when I stepped inside this house that night, all I could see was a young boy who'd lost his mother. I probably smothered you."

I cracked a grin. "You probably kept me sane," I countered.

"I'm glad. I wasn't following a cop's protocol that night, but a mother's instinct."

It was at that moment, every woman in the room looked to Dana like she was an angel. Charlie smirked, nodded, and leaned against the counter as she pulled out a stack of things from that envelope.

"I wasn't a detective then. My partner and I simply responded to the call. My station is smaller, so any calls I made or interviews I did were simply to help my fellow officers. Once your father was arrested, I handed over anything of importance, because it looked like it was all over."

Nodding, I didn't say anything. In fact, everyone was quiet. Bella's hand slipped into mine, linking our fingers together, but it was Charlie who had questions of his own.

"In all your calls and research, did you find anything concerning motive?" he asked her. When she turned his way, he chuckled once. "Sorry, retired cop, and I was just trying to help Edward out a little."

She smiled his way. "I know that Edward's father was having an affair with a woman in Chicago, and I would assume that played a part in motive. The problem we ran into was the length of time between Elizabeth's death and finding her body."

Frowning, I shook my head.

"Dude, that's not on you," Emmett stated, leaning on his elbows on the counter, but he turned to my aunt. "Mom, did she know about the woman in Chicago?"

Aunt Esme shook her head. "If she did, then she never mentioned it to me. In fact, no matter what she was going through, you'd never know it. She was really good at hiding the bad stuff."

Apparently, that was a learned behavior, because I did the same damn shit.

Letting out a deep sigh, I pulled Dana's stack of papers closer because a few pictures caught my eye. Some of them were more crime scene photos, other pages were hand-written notes, and one or two were family pictures. The latter caused my breathing to falter. They were candid shots – Mom and me with Aunt Esme, Rose and me as little kids at a playground, and a birthday party.

Picking up that last one, I studied it closer. It was the last party my mom had thrown for me in this house – my fourteenth birthday – the June before she disappeared. I took in our happy smiles, the cake, the stack of presents on the table, but I started to really look at the background.

Just out of focus, Uncle Carlisle was laughing with young Emmett and Tanya. Rose was in the background with Aunt Esme and Tanya's parents, but through the French doors and out on the deck, I could see my father – wineglass in one hand, cigar in the other, and an uneasy expression on his face. He was standing with two men dressed in suits, which kind of stuck out at a teen's birthday party.

However, one of the men was shorter, pale, with dark hair.

"Is that—" Charlie started to ask.

"Aro Volturi," I answered, my gaze snapping up to Dana as I held up the picture. "Where'd you get this?"

"In one of your mother's photo albums," she answered softly. "Did you just say Aro Volturi?"

Nodding, I pushed the picture toward Uncle Carlisle. "Do you remember this party?"

He frowned, picking up the picture and studying it. But it was Rosalie who said something.

"I do. Your mom said those men were business associates of your dad's. That they just stopped by that day. We weren't like…told their names or anything," she rambled nervously. "I mean, we were kids. Adults did all sorts of shit we didn't understand back then. Honestly, I was surprised Ed Sr. had even been there."

Bella chuckled at her, but it faded quickly. "Okay, well, this picture only proves Aro knew your dad and that he'd been in this house." She pulled a few pictures out of Dana's stack, but she finally looked to me. "I'm going ask a hard question, Edward, and if you don't want to answer, I get it. But… Do you remember the last night your mom was alive?"

I sniffed, my brow furrowing as I gazed around the kitchen. I shook my head slowly, but that wasn't the answer. I just wasn't sure I could remember it.

"Baby, you said that you woke up one morning and your dad was in here. The kitchen. You said all he told you was that your mother had left, taking the cat with her," she pushed on gently. "Obviously, he'd been home and not traveling, so I'm wondering what that last night was like with all three of you in this house."

I met her warm gaze that was not only filled with love and worry, but also curiosity and determination. Those last two things were probably from living with Charlie, who I turned to next.

"She's got a point. Did anyone ask you about that back then?"

"I did," Dana stated, smiling sadly. "All you said was that your mother cooked dinner, that she was supposed to help you with a school project, but you'd fallen asleep."

My eyes narrowed at that. "I did? I said that?" I let go of Bella's hand in order to rub my face and rake my fingers through my hair.

I didn't remember that shit. Taking a deep breath, I pushed away from the counter to wander around the kitchen.

"What fourteen-year-old boy falls asleep at like eight o'clock at night right after dinner?" Emmett asked no one in particular. "I mean, I was up too late every damn night."

I snorted a little but left the kitchen. I needed to think, but maybe I needed to look at things again. I needed to see this house from a different perspective, an adult perspective, not the kid mindset I'd had in this place.

"Give him a second," I heard Emmett whisper as I walked back into the living room.

Flashes of my life inside this house came in blurry memories. I'd tried so fucking hard to forget the bad shit that I'd forgotten some of the good things too.

The sofa in front of me alone had memories attached to it – staying home sick from school with Sam curled up on my feet and my mother picking mysteries to watch together on TV. Playing video games while Mom cheered me on. I knew if I looked at the arm of the recliner, I'd see shredded fabric, where Sam had sharpened his claws. There was a stain on the rug from when I'd spilled a glass of juice while playing Clue with Mom.

I walked to a door on the other side of the living room and opened it. My mother's study was in disarray. Clearly, the police had searched the room, leaving photo albums open and pictures scattered. Books had been shifted and moved, desk drawers opened and riffled through, and the closet searched.

Scanning her bookshelves, I read titles of books my mother had loved. There were classic authors like Bronte and Dickens. There were contemporary authors like King, Koontz, Grisham, and Steele. However, my mother's copy of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes was front and center on the middle shelf on a stand. She'd loved her copy because it had been her father's. I could see her everywhere in this room. And that specific book came with deep-rooted memories from when I was twelve or thirteen.

"Hey, kiddo. Put the game down for a second," Mom said, leaning back in her chair at her desk.

I glanced up from the chair by the window, setting my Game Boy aside and walking to her.

"Here, Edward. You like puzzles and mysteries. Let's see if you can handle Sherlock Holmes," she told me, taking a book from the shelf and setting it into my hands.

"You mean like the movies?" I asked her.

"Well, yes, but those are glamorized. Robert Downey Jr. is handsome enough, but this is the real deal, love. I think you'll like them," she said, reaching up to push my hair from my forehead.

Smiling up at her, I nodded. "Okay." I cracked the book open and walked back to the chair to start it.

My brow furrowed as I picked up the book from its display, because I was definitely taking my mother's copy out of this place. The first thing I noticed was the paper cover didn't fit. I slipped it off, and underneath it wasn't Sherlock at all. It was my copy of The Book Thief. I'd written my name just inside the cover in typical little boy scrawl.

"Oh, my God," I barely uttered aloud. "Bella was right."

I spun around, practically running up the stairs. I heard some of them call for me, but I was already opening my old bedroom door. The memories in this room were like a punch in the gut.

Once my mother was gone and my father basically left me on my own, I spent more time in this room than any other in the house. It was where I did my homework, played video games, slept, ate, and lived. The rest of the house had been too empty, too big without my mother. Frowning, I walked to the mostly empty bookcase and searched for The Book Thief. The paper cover didn't quite fit, but considering all I'd been going through, I wouldn't have paid attention. Not even a little fucking bit.

I reached up with a shaking hand to pull it off the shelf. Behind that cover was indeed my mother's copy of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. There was movement in the doorway, and I glanced up to see Bella standing there.

"You okay?" she asked softly.

Nodding, I whispered, "I think you were right." I held up the two books with the switched covers. "She knew the one book I'd remember most or want of hers was Sherlock, but… Sh-She switched them."

Bella walked to me, putting her hand on my arm. "Sit. You're shaking."

I huffed a humorless laugh, but I did as she asked by falling down onto the edge of my old bed. I switched the covers back onto the correct books but then flipped through Sherlock. When a piece of paper fell out and fluttered to the floor, Bella bent to pick it up.

We locked gazes as she silently held it out for me. I couldn't imagine what my expression was, but her eyes filled with tears that she blinked back quickly.

"Bella, I don't know if… I just…"

She stepped closer to me, standing between my legs. With her free hand, she pushed my hair from my forehead and pressed a long, heavy kiss between my brows.

"You are way stronger than you think. But this is why we're here, Edward. Deep down, you're ready." Placing her hand on the side of my face, she leaned in again and kissed my lips. "You're getting something rare, baby. You're getting one last conversation with someone you've loved and lost."

She kissed me again, pressing her forehead to mine for a brief moment before pulling back and holding up that folded piece of paper again.

I slowly took the paper from her, barely removing my gaze from hers. Taking a deep breath, I let it out through my mouth. Opening the folded paper, I read the short note.

My sweet Edward,

If you're reading this, then I'm gone. And there's so much I need to tell you. I had to do this in a specific way because things are not what they seem. So I need you to go to the treasure chest.

Mom

"Christ," I hissed, handing the note to Bella. "She left clues. Just like you said. And she did it in places my father wouldn't know about."

Bella read the note, nodding a little. "Okay, so where's the 'treasure chest'?"

"Her room."

I stood up, taking Bella's hand because I needed it in mine. Once we were in the master bedroom, I shook my head. It was still a mess like her study. But they wouldn't have found this. I walked to her nightstand, shifting it away from the wall. Underneath was a loose floorboard.

I pried it up, reaching in with a shaky hand. It was silly to call the decorative box a treasure chest, but it had looked like one to me as a kid, and Mom had agreed. From that point on, anything we'd wanted to hide or save went into the chest. When I was really little, it was a cool rock or seashell. When I got a bit older, it was money I was saving for something I wanted. For her, it was everything to do with me – baby teeth, first haircut, sonogram pictures, and a toddler's hand and foot cast in plaster.

When I set it on the nightstand and opened it, all those things were still in there, but tucked in the top of the lid was another folded piece of paper.

You gotta keep going, love.

Everything about you is smart and strong. If I tell you that you have to be careful, then I know you'll keep this to yourself. You must keep it quiet. Next, you need to go to the entrance of Narnia.

Mom

Snorting I shook my head as Bella read it, and she laughed softly. "Okay, okay, so… A wardrobe or…or…armoire or closet?"

Grinning, I kissed her temple. "Mom would've liked you. C'mon," I told her, taking her hand again. "Guest room."

I pushed open the door of the spare bedroom, and in the corner was an armoire. Reaching in, I spread the clothes hanging on the bar. In the back was a hook and a board that could be removed if this piece of furniture had been used for a TV. I slid the board to one side, and pinned to the wall was one more folded note.

Bella leaned against me as I read the next one.

Last one, kiddo.

You gotta brave the Chamber of Secrets. It was your favorite place to hide. Keep it secret, Edward. And I'll explain why we're doing this.

Mom

"Fuck," I sighed, squeezing my eyes closed. "I really wasn't sure I could go down there."

Warm, gentle hands cupped either side of my face. "Where, Edward?" Bella whispered, kissing me softly.

"The fucking basement."

Bella froze for a moment, keeping my face in her hands. "Want to take a second? Maybe tell everyone what's going on? They were worried when I followed you up here."

"I still have to go," I argued weakly.

"But not alone, Edward. We're all here."

I finally agreed to at least go back down to the kitchen. I set the notes down on the counter so everyone could see them. Aunt Esme's tears hurt me to my soul, and I understood it. Why would my mother go to such lengths to keep shit this damn secret?

My gaze traveled around the kitchen into the dining room and back as they spoke softly. I tried like hell to remember the last night my mother was alive. I remembered sitting at this very counter as she cooked dinner. I remembered my father in the living room. Hell, I remembered Sam on the stool next to mine. Was there tension? Or was I simply trying to justify shit that didn't exist?

What was perfectly clear was the memory of the last time my father set foot in this house. That shit never went away. Mom had been gone a little less than a year. When he'd show up, we would barely speak. By then, I'd had my own routine – school, homework, dinner, and bed. There were video games thrown in there, and I'd read books, but that was my life alone for a year.

I'd told Bella that Ed Sr. never answered his cell phone in front of me. And by the last visit, I'd really started to get suspicious of that asshole. The morning after I'd snooped through his phone and called his fiancé in Chicago I'd barely slept, but I was going through the motions with him.

I ate my cereal slowly at the kitchen table as he sat on his laptop across from me, typing away. My temper was on edge, and honestly, I'd gotten used to his absence. I'd rather he stay gone.

"My flight's in a couple of hours. I left you money on the counter. You're keeping your mouth closed about staying here alone, right?" he asked, gazing over the top of his screen with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes."

"Good. You're grown enough. And your grades are fine. I have too much to do to worry about without finding you a damned babysitter. Understand?"

"Yes."

He seemed to stare at me a moment, but I focused on getting the last few marshmallows out of my bowl of Lucky Charms. It was on my way to the sink with my bowl that some puzzle pieces started to click together. The garbage can was at the end of the counter, and on top were a few empty wine bottles. He'd only been home two days, and I'd been here with him. He never once went down to the basement to retrieve a new bottle.

In fact, he'd brought those at the same time he'd set a pizza down on the counter the first night he came home. There were at least a dozen or so bottles down there in the racks. Most of them the merlot he preferred.

So why buy new bottles? My gaze shot up to stare at the back of his head. So he had another woman in Chicago, but suddenly, I was trying to remember the last time he'd been home. Had he avoided the basement then too?

He closed his laptop, stowed it into his case, and stood up from the table, saying, "Keep your nose clean and your mouth shut, son. I can't have your nosy relatives callin' me for bullshit."

"Okay."

"I'm serious, Edward. If you say a word, I'll yank you out of this house and move you to Chicago to a private school where you'll never see your friends or your aunt and uncle again. You should've grown up in Chicago, but your mother thought she knew better. And look how that turned out," he ranted as he gathered his coat and suitcase at the front door.

I ground my teeth in order to keep from saying anything, because I wanted nothing to do with Chicago. Really, I wanted nothing to do with him, and Chicago would be with him. No fucking way.

"Right," I finally said, turning my back on him as he left out the front door.

Once his car started and pulled out of the driveway, I darted upstairs to his bedroom. Shit wasn't adding up. I dropped to my knees to look under the bed, but there wasn't anything but an old toy or two of Sam's and some dust. I hopped back up and stared into his closet.

My mother's things were gone already. He'd thrown all her clothes into garbage bags and put them out by the curb. The shelf at the top of the closet had some pillows, a folded blanket, and a box, and I reached up for the latter. Inside the box was my mother's little silver flip phone, her wallet, and the keys to her car.

But they'd found my mother's Volvo at the train station.

I left the box on the bed and wandered back down to the kitchen, and I was starting to get truly pissed off. The basement door was beside the refrigerator, and I finally opened it. I rarely went down there. There wasn't much I needed in there. I bought my own food, I wouldn't touch the wine, and the rest of the stuff down there was just…shit.

Turning on the light, I descended the stairs, coming to a halt at the bottom of the cold, dry room. After all the Sherlock I'd read, I didn't move for a moment, trying to take in exactly what was down there.

First thing I noticed was that Sam's carrier was on a stack of boxes just ahead of me. And that's when something in the pit of my stomach started to plummet. If his cat carrier was here, then Mom didn't take him. If her car keys were here, then she didn't drive.

I stepped fully into the basement, eyeing the rack of wine. And I'd been right; there were plenty of bottles for him. My eyes raked over the two shelves of boxes, tools, and all-around junk. There was a box of old toys in the corner that my mother was planning to donate, but all of that was untouched with a few cobwebs on it. Behind me was the chest freezer, beside the stairs. And finally, there was a square, metal door in the far back corner. Apparently it gave access to plumbing or gas lines or electric, but after I'd read Harry Potter, I'd dubbed it the Chamber of Secrets. It was a fantastic place to hide when I didn't want to go to school or fought my mother on whatever vegetable or chore I was protesting at the time. That didn't look touched either.

I faced the room again. And again. I studied the ceiling, the shelves, and the floor.

Nothing looked moved or missing, until I saw the scrapes on the floor in front of the chest freezer. I peeked behind it, but the only thing I could see was the paneling.

But it was loose. When I pulled the freezer away from the wall, that loose paneling shifted.

"Edward!" I heard several voices bringing me back to the present. My whole body shivered as I realized I'd followed my memories in real life down to that goddamn basement.

I gagged a little, sinking to my knees, because the basement looked like they'd simply left the freezer pulled away from the paneling and the open space behind it open and gaping.

"Look at me, Edward," Bella said, cupping my face and blocking that hole in the fucking wall.

Squeezing my eyes closed at the memory of pulling the black-plastic-bag-covered suitcase out of that space beneath the stairs, I shook my head at the scream I'd let out, the tears that simply wouldn't stop, and the heartbreak I'd felt at the sight of her as I'd clawed the plastic bags open and unzipped the suitcase.

"Baby, please." Bella's voice was a pleading whisper as she kissed my forehead and ran her fingers through my hair. "Me, Edward. See me. Just me. Okay?"

Swallowing back bile, I nodded. "Okay." When I opened my eyes, she was all I could see thankfully. "I'm…sorry."

She shook her head. "You've got nothing to be sorry for," she soothed, and I could see the tears in her eyes and feel the shake of her hand, but she was honestly the only fucking thing holding me together.

There were murmurs of agreement around me, and I finally started to calm down from the memories and focus on why I needed to be in the basement in the first place. I got to my feet, ignoring the open space under the stairs and making my way to the metal door in the wall. Sitting just inside was one of those office file boxes with a lid on it and my name on the top.

Reaching in, I pulled it out.

"Gimme that," Emmett urged me. "We're not doing this shit down here, brother. C'mon. Let's get upstairs."

Bella's hand in mine tugged me toward the stairs, but she didn't stop in the kitchen. She led me to the front door and outside to the driveway. She dropped the tailgate down on my truck, urging me to sit. Instead of sitting beside me, she crawled into my lap, hugging me with everything she had.

"We're going to take a second, baby," she mumbled into my shoulder.

"I'm okay," I replied, swallowing back every emotion and wrapping my arms around her.

"Well, I'm not," she said with a smile in her tone, trying to lighten shit. She pulled back, and I dropped my forehead to hers. "I need a minute." Before I could apologize, she kissed me lightly. "Don't. You're okay. Just… I'm hurting for you."

Nodding, I inhaled that gorgeous flowery-fruity scent of hers and let it soothe me. As much as the curiosity was killing me to see what was in that fucking box, I actually needed this more than I'd care to admit. She was exactly the remedy for what the house made me feel. I had a sneaky suspicion that my mother had put together her own case against my father. It was how she was; it was how she'd taught me to be, and it was the only thing that was making me want to go back inside.

I gently pulled Bella back just a little. "Take your time, beautiful. I'm ready when you are."

~oOo~

A/N… Everyone take a deep breath and let it out. This ran way longer than I'd anticipated, and we didn't even finish in the house.

I'm doing my best to be on time for next week, but I'm actually not making a promise to that. Keep your fingers crossed. I'm off for a couple of days, so the best case is that I get a good start on it.

Make sure you check out The Eras Contest. It's created, hosted, and judged by some good friends. You'll find it in my favorite authors on my profile. I need more stories to read from that, so I hope some of you will consider writing.

Until next time… Mooches, Deb ;)