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And never, under any circumstances, forget that this place isn't always as welcoming as you think."
He gets up from the booth and grabs his jacket that falls effortlessly into place over his pressed suit. He pauses to look at the time on his pocket watch, nodding to her one last time before disappearing into the night.
Isabella leans back against the leather and speaks to an empty booth. "I haven't forgotten."
While she might not have forgotten the chill that runs down her spine when she remembers the city she's in, she most certainly forgot to secure her lodgings for her stay. It was as if the second her feet touched land again, all rational thought disappeared from her body, and instead, she followed her feet right to the center of the city.
Now, as she finishes her drink in the booth Edward had abandoned her in, the realization of her semi-permanent stay in Port Angeles settles into the pits of her stomach. Like the day began, it's only her and Emmett inside the pub, except this time she carries a day's work on her back and in her feet, her heels dotted with blisters from standing all day in a pair of shoes not meant for the occasion. This morning, she walked into this establishment with a sliver of optimism, and is about to exit with a weak, but firmer grip on the expectations she had just hours earlier.
The problem she faces now is where she's going once she finds the strength to move.
If she were being honest with herself, she would admit the safest place she feels right now is here at The Lost Key. The trepidation warming her blood this morning has faded temporarily, and though she doesn't think she'll ever rid herself of the caution she came here with this morning, she recognizes the notion that she has found a brief sanctuary within these four walls.
And never, under any circumstance, forget that this place isn't always as welcoming as you think.
Edward's words echo in her ears, a distant whisper repeated over and over as she downs the rest of her drink and limps her way to the bar where Emmett busies himself with closing up for the night. She doesn't expect any type of payment, as the events of the day had taken them all by surprise, so she heads behind the bar to grab her few belongings without a word.
As much as Isabella tries to hide it, Emmett must notice the hesitancy in her steps and calls out to her as she rounds the bar, jacket draped over her forearm and small bag clutched in her hand. "You know where you're going?"
Turning around, she answers with a slight shake of her head. "Not yet."
He nods as if he knew that was what she was going to say, but doesn't offer anything else other than a final swipe of his rag on the bar top. Resolved to a night of the unknown, Isabella pivots back on her heel and heads towards the exit, the dark night on the other side seeping in through the glass panes of the door.
With one hand on the handle, an image of her brother flashes before her eyes, and she wonders if this was the last thing he saw the night he died right here outside of this pub.
Did he, too, push these same doors open into the darkness of the night, unable to see what, or who awaited him on the other side? Was he fearful? Was he unprepared? Did he have the time to even think before his life was so violently stolen from him?
Oh, James, her heart clenches, and she closes her eyes against the emotion tightening in her chest. She is accustomed to the sharp pangs of grief that appear without rhyme or reason, but it still catches her off guard and momentarily throws her off balance.
But this is why she's here. It's what makes her take a deep breath and push the door, determined to find the answers she searches for in a city designed to keep them hidden.
She's here for James and won't let anything stand in her way. Not even the fact that she has no place to stay in what seems like a foreign place.
"Wait," Emmett calls out from behind the bar, and Isabella turns at the sound of his voice and sees him head to her with a shake of his head. He reaches behind her to shut the door. "You didn't actually think I'd let you walk out of here without helpin', did ya?"
Sighing, Isabella shrugs her shoulders like she's a child again. "I don't know what to think anymore," she replies.
It's the truth.
It has been a long day, and she can't decide if it's the hours of work she put in or the chasing of ghosts that have made her so weary on her feet.
"If there's anything you learn from your time here, know that help is always there if you ask for it. At least from me," Emmett says.
Her brow furrows at his words, immediately noting the difference in his advice compared to his friend, Edward. Emmett telling her she can come to him for help, Edward warning her of the dangers that lurk around her.
Unsurprisingly, it leaves her exactly where she started: unsure of who or what to believe. Instead of heeding Edward's advice, she follows an instinct she was born with, one her mother had always begged her to ignore, and chooses to side with Emmett.
"Thank you," she breathes. "In my haste to find the pub this morning, I forgot to find a place to stay."
"Figured as much," he chuckles at her expense, but Isabella finds no fault in the good-natured sound that falls from his lips. "I know a place where you can stay. For tonight, at least."
He walks back over to the bar, and she follows behind him quietly, exhaustion getting the better of her. She silently waits as he scribbles an address onto a piece of paper, and doesn't dwell on the fact that he could be writing an address on a different planet for all she knows.
Instead, she listens to the directions and uses the address on the paper to compare it to the street sign standing before her ten minutes later.
She's found her way, and when the door opens, she doesn't bother to see who opened it. Instead, she spies the vacant bed in the corner and plops down face first on the musty sheets.
And for the first time since her brother's murder, she doesn't cry herself to sleep.
Where did Emmett send her off to?
See you soon!