..::.. Chapter 44 - Pillow Talk ..::..

I gasp awake. I'm fighting for air. I open my mouth and take it in eagerly. The high ceilings above me are fully blurred. Tears pour out as I feel every burn from the bullets.

Mom's vacant eyes stare back at me. Her hair in waves. Rose petals frame her face.

A dream. Was it? I don't know. All I feel is a caress. I look, and Edward is here beside me. He's looking down at me with worry. He hushes my cry.

"Baby," he whispers. His fingertips wipe at the streaks down to my hair. "Shh."

But I cry.

His lips press to my cheek, my eyes, my lips. He is soft, and it's a contrast to the other day; the knife in his hand coated with Riley's blood.

"Tell me." He offers. He pulls the covers more securely around my shoulders as he tucks me close to his side. I lay a cheek on his shoulder and close my eyes.

"More? What was it this time?" He asks about memories. He encourages. He knows they're coming slowly. His hand skims my back as he waits.

He was right. His bed is bigger. We did move in it. Fell into it. Like I could fight it. Last night or ever.

But last night was a plan.

Now, my heart pounds, wanting to crawl out and bleed this truth—or dream? And I don't know so much anymore.

Blurred images form over the ceilings. I'm frozen in place seeing them, as they unfold by pieces. Every gunshot. Mom firing back. Her eyes; dark and violent. Then they were blank.

I press a fist over my mouth and hold back a sob.

"Bella, you're scaring me." His brows knitted with concern, looking down at me.

I look at him, hitched sighs. He's not as scared as I feel. He never will be.

In my dream, he wasn't there to see his grandfather with a gun in hand, aimed at my mother and me. He couldn't have known.

I can still hear the laments: not mine, but Jasper's.

Jasper?

I sit up exasperated. The fog pulling back and revealing him. Jasper crying over Mom. He was there.

Edward touches my arm. I flinch. He lets go and lifts his wrists to show he's hands off.

Bella, breathe. Calm down. I look around. How do I leave here now?

Play the part.

I sigh heavily. I bury my face in my hands and melt back onto the pillow. The dream can't be real. No. Dreams are dreams. They're images conjured up randomly, no reasons.

Aren't they?

Edward is just watching every morphing expression on my face. I blink. I come to.

I touch his cheek, down to his lips. I shake my head to reassure him. "Just a dream. It's nothing." I play it off.

I watch him. His concern. Genuine. Like yesterday morning. Now he looks at me the same way. I remember his words at my door then.

"You really did miss me," I idly say.

He's quiet. After a moment he lays back by me and clears his throat. The vibration deep and tickling my skin.

"Did you ever look for me, all those years. Were you curious?" I push.

I see his throat bob as he swallows. I run a finger over his skin there. His breathing rhythmic, calming. He thinks.

"No," he finally says.

I let the remnant tears slip away, and I pull myself up on my elbow. "Never?" He looks at me blankly from his pillow. His knuckles idly run over my torso to my breasts. He frowns slightly and shakes his head.

"Why?"

"I kept my word. And … I wanted you to move on; have a normal life."

I roll to my stomach. I look at my hands. "But then, I came back."

"Then, you came back," he affirms.

"I watched you for so long across the house, that robe, your grandfather's." I hint. "I wondered how you became so crazy. Now I think you definitely are. It was quite a show you put on."

He smirks faintly. He pulls at my wet lashes with a thumb. "I knew you were watching. I didn't trust you." He pauses. "Is that what you're remembering?" He's still skeptical.

I shake my head. "I was remembering Carlisle's comment. What did he mean 'Mom was hiding and sneaking?'"

He sighs like he's dreading this. "It's no big deal."

"Then, what is it?"

He closes his eyes to snooze a little. I poke his side. He speaks after a while. "Your mom was a badass, but a very terrifying one. She almost killed me once with a gun she hid in the kitchen. Remember all the ones I found that night, the shotgun under the couch? Well, they're hers. Yours. She was just being a mother to you. I … figured I'd continue the pattern in the basement. It was a great idea. That's all it was."

I'm shocked. Do I remember? It's foggy.

"Why would she want to kill you?" I smirk a little.

He doesn't open his eyes but simply says, "Because I was a little shit and deserved it. And she found me sleeping in your room."

I let out a dumbfounded sigh. He opens an eye slightly, and that faint grin once again appears.

"Edward," I begin after a pause. He hums in response, eyelids back in place. My nerves a mess. "How did your grandfather die?"

He opens his eyes, confused this time. He thinks on the random question. "Same as I would have if you hadn't run back to the house that night you remembered me. They came for him while we weren't there." He fades out. His eyes glazing up with memories.

"When was that?"

He turns them to me and observes me closely.

"Same day you stopped remembering. They went for you and your mother after they were through with him." His jaw goes sharp. "Bella, I've told you. I've tried to find them…"

I place my fingers over his chest.

"I know."

"You don't think it pains me? Enrages me? They took you from me. They took both of you."

I nod. "I know," I say calmly, but inside I'm screaming. My heart pounding behind my ribs.

He flicks the sheets off angrily and sits. He rubs his face.

I watch his bare back. Our passion still marked on his skin. I run my hand over them, kiss a few slowly, but I'm antsy.

I'm desperate.

"Take me home. Please."

He looks over his shoulder at me. "Forget your small, cramped home. Stay with me."

I smile. "That's ridiculous. I have to work."

He gives me a pointed look. He's serious. "You work for me now."

I might just die here. I need to leave. I need to find Jasper.

"Then I must tell Sue I quit," I say. I watch him look around for his phone. "And not over the damned phone."

I crawl out of bed and look for my dress. He tugs on the sheets I covered myself with and pulls me close. His warm mouth muffled against my belly. His palms grip my ass to pull me closer. I can't help but run my fingers through his dark dyed hair.

"Let's leave. Right now," he asks.

"Yes, home."

"No. Far away."

I push at his arms. "You're insane."

He dips his head between my legs and buries his mouth there. I grow weak, knees buckling, and he's not playing fair. He tugs on my hips, and I'm on his lap. I'm breathless, regardless of time and worry. I feel him, and he moves me. My labored breaths over his head. My lids slowly blink. And I instantly remember …

The ledgers.

I frantically look around the room: no desk here or papers lying around. A vast suite I didn't take note of.

Our labored breaths barely echo across the space; it's so large. I groan, eyes closed, when he does things. I've missed this with him; nonstop, hours together.

I cup his chin. He looks up at me through lashes, but he grinds into me steadily. "Last one, then we leave," I say breathlessly. The corner of his mouth lifts impishly.

We don't leave until mid-day.

…..