Thanks to my team and to you!

"Figure what out?" Isabella asks as she hears Rosalie's name come from Edward's mouth, her voice bold and confident as she discards her drenched overcoat. Splatters of raindrops drip onto the wooden floors as she hangs her belongings on the hook behind the bar.

"You," Emmett laughs. "How you makin' out over there?"

"At Rosalie's?" Isabella questions before continuing with a clear of her throat. "Fine, actually."

"Just let Rose do what she does and stay quiet," Edward says, his eyes never meeting hers as he understands the minor hesitation in her voice as they all acknowledge, without words, what happens in Rosalie's building. "Do that, and no trouble will come to you."

"Am I in any more danger there than I am here?"

Edward brings a cigarette up to his lips and inhales with a sharp breath. "You think you're in danger here?"

She turns to look at him now, leveling him with a reminder of why she's here, to begin with. "Are you forgetting my brother was killed not too far from where we stand?"

Her hand rests angrily on her hip, unintentionally drawing attention to the exact places that will bring crowds of men to his pub along with their thoughts.

"I haven't forgotten," Edward replies, tearing his gaze away from her as he walks behind the bar. Daring to meet her eye again, he rests his hands on the wood and catches her stare with his own. "But other people have started to. And it's better that way around here."

"Better for business, you mean?" Isabella corrects, not bothering to hide the accusation in her words.

"Watch it," Emmett warns, shooting Isabella a look before taking a crate of bottles into the back room, leaving her alone with Edward. She hasn't been alone with him since their conversation about her brother a few nights ago. And even though she has replayed it in her mind in the days since, she's reminded of how intimidating he is, now that he stands across from her at the bar.

The room is empty besides the two of them, the rain still stalling the rest of the crowds, yet his presence fills the room and makes her feel like she's suffocating.

Edward stares at her, the intensity behind the piercing green of his eyes almost too bright for her. "You're not afraid of me," he says. "Of this place."

Isabella wonders for a moment if she should lie but changes her mind. She needs this man to help her— in what way remains unsure— and lying to him, and the risk of being caught lying to him, won't help her quest to bring justice to James. "I am."

He shakes his head and opens the register. "You don't make it appear that way."

"That's the way it's supposed to look, right? Like I belong?"

Edward pauses and looks at her strangely; there's no way to tell her she stands out so easily from the rest of them here in Port Angeles without upsetting her, so he keeps it to himself the best he can. "Who tells you these things?"

Words and images of her mother and father, her friends from Forks, flood her mind. "People back home."

He nods. "I see."

The register opens at his words, and he glances at his pocket watch before counting the drawer.

Uncomfortable with the silence between them, Isabella sighs. "Look. I told you the other night I'm only here for answers."

Edward shuts the register with a loud clang, startling her. "And you're prepared for that? These answers may come at a high cost."

"What choice do I have?"

"What choice do you have?" He repeats her question back to her, his tone suggesting he can't believe what he's hearing. "You can grab your things from behind the bar, walk ten blocks, and catch the next train back to wherever the fuck you came from. It doesn't matter where you are, here or there. It won't bring your brother back."

"I will go back home," Isabella argues, moving a step closer to her right, so she stands directly opposite him in his tweed vest with the sleeves of his white cotton shirt rolled to his elbows and her in her pale yellow dress of cotton sateen, neckline in a V. "When I have what I came here for."

She wonders if he can sense the way they've arrived at an impasse the way she can. She doesn't falter when his face, always void of expression, turns darker and his brows furrow as if he's in deep thought, at war, with himself. Exhaling smoke to the side of her head, Edward leans over the bar and looks at her earnestly.

"What if you never do? Find your answers?"

For whatever reason possesses her to do so, her lips form a small smile, and she huffs a light laugh from her lips. "I will."

"How can you be so sure?"

Isabella hesitates for a moment, unsure why she feels compelled to share these dark parts of her life with a stranger, especially one with a reputation such as his. "My brother and I were very close," she sighs. "I know it sounds strange, but I can feel his story here. I can't feel it at home, but I can here."

Well acquainted with the way certain places and people can bring about such strong and foreign emotions, Edward nods and says nothing else. Looking at her now, her tiny frame and perfectly arranged hair, he knows she appears harmless. It could help her get what she wants. She can use her innocence to find the answers she seeks for James' death. And he can use her innocence to his advantage as well, he thinks as the door opens to the pub and in walks their first guests of the day.

He greets the men, Isabella walking behind the bar with ease, fooling even him as he watches the look on the men's faces as they stare at her with rapt attention.

Edward locks eyes with Isabella as she pours the men their drinks, her smile for the men but the words behind her eyes for him.

I love these two. I don't have too many chapters after this one written yet, but I have a feeling these two have more in common than they think.

See you soon!