Thanks for reading.

Oh also, I changed Bella's nickname from Izzy to Isa. The name Izzy was bothering me for some reason lol

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eight
is it over now?
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Jasper's on the couch playing video games when I return home.

After climbing into the Uber Edward ordered for me, I had the driver drop me off at work so I could gather my things. Chelsea was understandably confused when she saw me in a man's white T-shirt and a bandaged arm. I gave her an edited version of reality that was mostly the truth—I'd accidentally crossed the road without looking and a nice man saved me.

She was horrified but rattled off the important questions once she saw I was okay. Like was the guy hot? Did I get his number? Did I recognize this for the meet-cute that it was?

Instead of answering her, I just laughed. And then I denied her offer to drive me home and took an Uber back to my place so she wouldn't have to reschedule her clients.

"I'm surprised you're awake," I tell Jasper now, shutting the front door.

His eyes stay on the TV. "Why?"

Because you get home at 2 in the morning, drink until 5, and sleep until the afternoon, I think.

"You're just usually asleep," I say instead, removing my heels and sitting beside him.

"Well, the suspense of your morning was much too interesting to allow for rest," he jokes, pausing his game to focus on me now.

With one look at me, he fights a smile.

Hair—wrecked.

Shirt—borrowed.

Expression—resting bitch.

"So? How'd your master plan go?" he asks, a buoyant tone in his voice because it's easy to assume things didn't go as expected.

"Things went great. Edward noticed me, and he even invited me back to his condo."

Jasper's brows raise in curiosity. "Well, you move fast. I guess that explains the borrowed shirt."

"It's not what you think," I insist. "We went back to his place because… hesavedmefromalmostgettinghitbyacar."

I say it in a rush like it will lessen the embarrassment of my stupidity.

The smirk slides off Jasper's face. "Jesus. Are you serious?"

"Couldn't make that up even if I tried."

"You good?" he asks, and I just shrug. "So I take it Edward didn't confess? You didn't snoop and find some hidden file on his computer with the evidence you need to take him down?"

"No. Obviously not. But there's no way he'll forget about me now considering how fucking dramatic everything was. And I might have taken off my shirt in front of him…"

"Shameless," he laughs. "Since you're clearly still alive, is it fine if I roast you a little? I think it will help keep you grounded."

"How can I get any more grounded? I was literally sprawled in the street."

"I don't mean physically, but mentally and emotionally."

"Sure. Roast away," I say dryly.

"You're shit at this."

I wait for him to go on, but when he doesn't, I say, "That's it? That's all you got?"

"What, you expected me to be harsher?"

"Yes. You've said meaner things to me on a random Tuesday."

"There's not much more to say about the situation. You're just not an evil mastermind, but that's a good thing, Isa."

"Actually, that reminds me. I did get something," I say, grabbing my phone from the coffee table.

"Whoa, your screen is fucked."

"Thanks for pointing out the obvious," I mutter, pulling up the photos I took of Edward's home office.

Jasper leans closer, curious.

"You got something, all right," he deadpans. "Shitty photos."

I groan because he's right. They're blurry, maybe because I snapped them too fast out of sheer fucking nerves.

"Well, he did give me this," I reply, swiping to the picture of Edward's license.

He frowns. "Why the fuck would he do that?"

"I guess to make me feel safe before we went to his condo."

"Right, right. Definitely something a man who snapped and murdered his girlfriend would do. Go out of his way to make someone feel safe."

I ignore Jasper's remark and inspect Edward's license, zooming in for a better look.

"Wait. His address says Bellevue, not Seattle," I realize.

"That's only like, twenty minutes away. Maybe he moved recently. I don't think my license has our current address, either."

"Okay, sure. Maybe he commuted for work before and he's new to the area. That would explain why I just recently started seeing him in the neighborhood where I work when I never have before. But he specifically gave me his ID under the guise that I could send someone his address so they'd know where I was. Why would he do that if he knew his address wasn't accurate?"

"I don't know, but nothing shady happened. You're sitting here with me now and not chopped up in his bathtub, so it was probably an oversight."

"I guess," I reluctantly agree, then lock my phone and rest my head on Jasper's shoulder. "I don't know what I'm doing," I confess.

"Is that a white flag I see waving in the wind?"

"No. I'm not done. I'm just… I got thrown off kilter. And I'm potentially concussed."

He chuckles. "Ah, fuck. Never a dull moment with you, kid. We should probably get your ass to the hospital."

"I know," I sigh, straightening. "But we can't go to Virginia Mason because that's where Edward works, and even if I'm certain he doesn't recognize me, I can't say the same for you since you two had classes together growing up."

"Yeah, I'm pretty memorable," Jasper agrees, smug.

"You and all your noteworthy accomplishments, like being voted Class Clown."

"Excuse you, it was Jolly Jester," he corrects.

"Apologies, I didn't examine your ribbon that closely."

"It's fine. I still have it in the memory box under my bed, so you can look at it after they check out your brain," he jokes. "But if they want to admit you to the psych ward, I'm not going to say no."

"Shut up," I laugh, shoving him.

After I change my clothes, we go out of our way to avoid the hospital where Edward works. I wait two hours to be seen, then wait a few more hours before my CT results are read, and it's confirmed I'm concussed. Thankfully there's no bruising or bleeding.

It's almost four in the afternoon by the time I'm discharged.

"So, be real with me—are you done with all this sleuthing bullshit?" Jas asks on the way home. He's serious now, unlike our joking earlier.

Honestly, maybe I should be done with all of this. But I know the urge to give up is just because I'm tired, hungry, sore and now have a large ER bill to pay.

"Why does it matter?" I reply. "It's not like you're involved."

"I just took you to the hospital because your plan went sideways. I'd say I'm involved."

I stare out the window. "Okay, well, no. I'm not done yet. But I might need to rethink some things," I admit. "Maybe my plan doesn't need to necessarily ruin Edward."

"You're one day into this and already getting soft," Jasper muses. "I'm not saying that's a bad thing. I'm just pointing out the obvious."

"I'm not getting soft. But maybe I was too hasty and—"

"You? Never."

I ignore Jasper's jab. "Edward did save me. I have to take that into consideration."

"Ahh. So his punishment is being lessened because of good behavior?"

"In a way, sure. He could've stood by and watched me get hit by a car but he didn't. Maybe it's all part of his do-gooder act, but it counts for something. Maybe my end goal doesn't have to cause him turmoil. But I'm not calling it quits completely. I can at least still try to find some answers. I think that's fair. Right?"

"Fair? You're still being shady and he doesn't know who you are."

"I'm lying by omission. If he asked, 'hey, are you related to Rosalie Hale?' I'd say, 'what a specific question, but yes, I am.'"

Jasper snorts. "Shut the fuck up. No, you wouldn't."

"Yes, I would," I insist.

"And changing your plan isn't just because he's hot, right?"

I roll my eyes even though he can't see and just say, "No."

Jas slows to a stop at a red light and looks over at me.

"Jokes aside, I'm worried about you. How sure are you this is safe? That he's safe?"

"I don't know. Do I think he'll actually hurt me and make me disappear like he did to Rosalie?" I ask bluntly. "No. He has no motive to get rid of me."

"But maybe there was no motive behind Rosalie's disappearance, either. Maybe Edward had nothing to do with it at all."

"Quit playing devil's advocate. The fact is, she's gone and it doesn't add up. Something else had to have happened," I insist. "He knows more than he let on. I guarantee it."

Jasper sighs and starts to drive again when the light turns green. "Okay, Sherlock Holmes. I guess it's up to you then to solve the case."

I glower at him. "Okay, let's say something does happen to me. You'll know where I'm going, therefore it'd be easier to pin this on him. If my life is at risk to prove that he did do something to Rosalie, then so be it."

For the first time, Jasper looks genuinely worried.

"You're willing to risk your life for hers?" he asks, voice low. "Where's your self-preservation, Isa?" I don't answer him because anything I say will sound unhinged. "You're stubborn as hell. Just like—"

He catches himself, his eyes still on the road.

"Just like Rosalie was," I finish for him morosely. A weighted silence fills the car. "I'm doing this for her." Still, he stays quiet. "I'd want her to do this for me. If she had the chance."

"God dammit," he exhales, pulling onto our street. "Look. I get it. I do. And I know shit has been more intense recently with the podcast and Edward showing up. You're not acting like yourself. But this isn't healthy. Living like this. Being stuck. It's toxic for you. I see that now… and I—"

"You're not going to tell Dad, are you?"

I sound like a child. Scared of being reprimanded by our father. But if I'm being honest, it's the only thing that would stop me, and imagining Dad's disappointment honestly makes me consider ending this now. But also knowing how much peace he'd have if we just had a little more information makes me more determined to keep going.

Jas stays contemplative as he turns into our driveway.

"No, I'm not going to tell him," he admits, killing the engine, and shifting in his seat to face me. "Dad has too many things to worry about. I'm not going to add this to his plate. But if something happens to you, it's gonna be my ass. So be fucking smarter. You're gonna tell me every little bit of your plan so I know where you are and what you're doing. And look before crossing the road, for fuck's sake."

I perk up. "So is this your way of saying you approve?"

"More like I'm resigned to it. I know you're not going to listen to me, and I'd rather you be honest than keep shit hidden. It's safer that way."

I nod in understanding. "I think after today's little incident—"

"The one where you almost died," Japer clarifies. "Yes. Little incident."

"I'm going to take it easy for the next couple of weeks and pause my—"

"Stalking?"

"Pause my interest in him. I don't want Edward to be suspicious if I start showing up here and there. But now that I know where he lives and you're accepting of this, we have to do one stake-out together at least," I tease.

Jasper laughs and shakes his head, opening his car door to get out. "Don't push it, psycho."

"It was a joke!" I insist. "And I'm not psychotic. Just circumstantially crazy."

XXX

Later that night when I'm in bed, I call Jackson.

He answers on the fourth ring.

"Well, well, well. If it's not the girl who's avoiding me."

"Avoiding you?" I echo as Lucy jumps onto the bed and kneads the blanket with her paws. "We were just texting two days ago. What are you talking about?"

Jackson breathes a laugh into the line. "Forget it. How are you?"

"Is this because I said not to come this weekend?"

"Yes. But don't worry, my ego is still intact."

"I'm sure nothing I could say or do would bruise your ego, Jackson," I say lightly. "I see the comments you get from women on Instagram—that you make murder and mystery sexy."

"If that's what some women say, then all the more reason to be flattered I want to spend time with you."

I roll my eyes. My original thought was if he was here this weekend, that would interfere with my focus on Edward. Now that I'm taking a break from all of that for a couple of weeks, I guess Jackson could visit, but for some reason, I still don't extend the offer.

"This weekend is busy, that's all," I say. "I won't be able to dedicate a lot of time to you."

"I'm not a puppy. I don't require your undivided attention" he teases, and my chest feels uneasy.

"What are we doing?" I ask, staring at the ceiling.

"We're not spending time together. That's what. So nothing, I guess." I stay quiet because there's nothing to say to that. "What—you want me to define this?" he asks, misinterpreting my silence. "You want a label?"

"No," I say instantly. He laughs, like maybe he's offended, so I add, "You don't either."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because what guy wants a label with someone he doesn't know?"

"I do know you," he insists. "I know your family is everything. I know the pain you still hold onto. I know you're loyal and would do anything to bring justice for Rosalie."

You know my trauma, I think.

"Well, when you list it out like that, I sound like a great time," I joke.

"Why are we talking about this? I just want to see you, Isa," he says, using the nickname my family has for me. The one that's been used for all podcast interviews.

"Jasper doesn't know about us," I finally say, using that as an excuse.

"So? He doesn't need to."

"Yeah, that's fine, but I don't think he'd be happy knowing we're talking more than we need to. You know he's not pro-podcast."

"Well, first of all, you're a grown woman the last time I checked. It shouldn't matter what he thinks. And why do you think he's against the podcast?" Jackson asks. "It's been a while since Rosalie disappeared, so nothing is fresh. Sometimes it's healing to look back on things and make sense of them. To talk them out and look at them objectively."

"It's a sensitive thing for him," I say, feeling defensive of Jas.

"But why?"

"I don't think he has to offer up a reason why. It was a traumatic time for all of us. And am I being interviewed right now?" I ask, irritated. "Because it kind of feels like that."

"Jesus. No." He sighs. "I'd love to see you. I don't care who knows. So, the ball is in your court."

"Okay."

"Okay."

"Do you know Edward lives here? In Seattle?" I ask out of the blue because I'd rather talk about him than Jackson's and my current situationship.

"Yes, I know that."

This surprises the hell out of me. "How?"

"You don't think I research everything? Everyone?" he asks rhetorically, and it makes me wonder if he's looked into me, too. "He was living on the East Coast, but moved to Bellevue a few years ago. He just moved to Seattle a month or so ago."

"Have you, like, talked to him?"

"No. But I reached out to let him know about the podcast and extended the offer for him to come on it. He hasn't replied, and I doubt he will."

My hands are clammy, and my stomach drops.

"You never told me," I mumble, but even if Edward is aware of the podcast, that still doesn't mean he knows about me.

"Didn't tell you what?"

"Any of that. That you asked him to be on the podcast. That he was even in Washington, let alone Seattle."

"I didn't think I needed to. I didn't think that's something you'd want to know. Plus, it's better to get your genuine reaction to things while we're recording."

"You were going to mention this to me on the podcast? To get my reaction?"

"Getting honest reactions makes for a better show." I get what he's saying, but it feels manipulative. Jasper's words fill my mind, about how the podcast only exists to exploit our pain. "How do you know he's in Seattle?"

"Because I saw him," I say simply, leaving out all other details. "Do you think he did it? Do you think he's responsible for Rosalie's disappearance?"

If Jackson says no, then maybe, just maybe I'll back off and leave Edward alone completely.

He exhales into the line. "What I think doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does. To me it does. You're looking at this through a different lens. Mine is filtered with pain. So, just tell me. Do you think Edward is guilty?"

"Look. We did get an anonymous tip that we're checking into which would make things look really fucking bad for him. And before you ask, no, I can't tell you. So I don't know yet if he's guilty. But I am sure of one thing." Jackson's voice drops an octave, leaving an eerie feeling in my gut as he confirms what I already suspected. "Edward knows a hell of a lot more than he's letting on."