1
A cold front had swept through the area overnight, leaving the sky overhead a dull gray. Edward Cullen stared out the front window of his home, dragging his long fingers over his ragged beard before his hand settled on the back of his neck. He watched the angry ocean swells bitterly beat against the nearby shoreline. It was almost enough to make him laugh, but that emotion didn't surface anymore. Hadn't in a long time.
He looked down when he felt Gunther nuzzle the side of his leg before looking up at him with expectation. The Golden Retriever let out a bark, which had Edward shaking his head.
"Okay, Gunther, we'll go out. Just let me get my coat."
Gunther barked again before hurrying to the door, sitting and waiting patiently. Edward placed his coffee cup on the kitchen counter before yanking his black Carhartt off the hook behind the door, shoving his arms in first before pulling it over his shoulders. Gunther stood and turned in a circle when Edward reached for the doorknob. When he opened the door, Gunther took off, hurrying down the back steps as he ran through the sand.
Edward grabbed his ball before he closed the door and followed. Gunther stopped and looked at him, his tail wagging excitedly. Edward reared his arm back and threw the ball, watching Gunther take off after it. Shoving his hands into his coat pockets, he turned back to the ocean, wondering what it would be like to just walk in and let the sea take him away.
How he longed for one more moment of peace, just one, where he didn't feel like he was walking through life without purpose. Without her, his life had no meaning; no love, no joy. It would get easier, they said, but it hadn't. It never would, Edward knew. How could it when she'd been the only reason he had to live?
Gunther ran up to him, but instead of dropping his ball at Edward's feet, he dropped a shoe. Edward squatted and picked it up, turning it around in his hand. It was a black high heel. It looked expensive, not that he knew much about shoes. Gunther placed his two front paws on Edward's arm, pushing it down before he clamped the sleeve of his coat between his teeth and pulled.
"Where's your ball, Gunther? Hmm? Where's your ball?"
Gunther pulled on his arm again, almost yanking Edward onto his knees. "Okay, boy, calm down. Show me where your ball is."
When Edward stood, Gunther turned and started running up the beach, looking back to make sure he was following. Again, it was almost enough to make Edward laugh, but again, he didn't laugh at anything anymore.
Gunther led him around a bend, where the brush had grown to create a small, private cove. However, instead of finding his ball, Edward stopped when he saw a woman splayed out on her stomach, just where the water caressed the beach. Her hair was dark, tangled with seaweed and sand. Her arms were bare, but her black dress was torn and wrapped around her body.
Gunther lay beside her, nudging her with his snout before letting out a soft whine.
"Hey, boy, come here," Edward said, grabbing his collar and pulling him backward. Gunther whined again, trying to get closer to the woman. "Stop, Gunther."
Whimpering, the dog scooted backward, staying low to the ground. Edward placed his hand on the woman's shoulders, taking a deep breath before he turned her over, trying to be careful since he wasn't certain she didn't have internal injuries. Shifting so he was kneeling, he started at her feet, noticing that her other shoe was still on. Her legs were covered in bruises, some of which had begun to turn green and yellow. There were scraps and cuts along her calves, knees, and thighs, which dipped under the hem of her dress. The front had been torn, and a bumblebee tattoo could be seen on her right hip. Her arms and shoulders were also bruised and scraped, and there were handprints on her upper arms and around her throat. There was a large gash on her forehead, her nose was broken, and her eyes were swollen shut.
Edward placed his fingers along her neck, feeling a faint pulse. She was alive, but she was freezing. Sliding his arms under her back and knees, he grunted as he lifted her and stood.
"Go home, Gunther," Edward ordered as he carried her around the brush and up the beach.
While he carried the unconscious woman to his truck, Gunther settled on the porch. Edward placed her in the back seat, covering her with the blanket he kept behind his seat before hurrying back into the house. Gunther pawed at the floor, whining as Edward grabbed his keys and phone off the counter, shoving them into his coat pocket.
"You can't come with me, boy. I'll be back."
Edward patted the animal's head before rushing out the door, making sure it was locked before he ran back to his truck and climbed in. He glanced at the woman, almost expecting her to be looking at him, but she wasn't. With a shake of his head, he turned around and headed to the hospital.
Due to the lateness of the season, the roads were empty. He slammed on the brakes outside of the emergency room and carefully lifted the woman from the back seat. The triage nurse gasped when he carried her inside, rushing from behind her desk.
"What in the world?"
"I found her. On the beach, I . . . I found her," Edward stammered. When she just stood there, he growled, "Get a goddamn stretcher."
"Oh, yeah," she mumbled before she bolted into the back.
A moment later, she returned with a stretcher, and close behind, a tall, thin man with dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. Edward shifted his attention from the woman in his arms to him, Carlisle Cullen, his older brother by two years. They used to be close, but like most parts of Edward's life, he'd pushed him away, too.
"Eddie?"
"I found her. On the beach. I mean, technically, Gunther found her, but . . ."
Carlisle nodded before he helped Edward lay the woman on the stretcher. "Any idea how long she was out there? Or who beat the crap out of her?"
Edward shook his head, taking a step backward.
"Let's get her in a trauma room. We need warming blankets and intravenous fluids," Carlisle ordered, grabbing one side of the stretcher while the nurse grabbed the other. He glanced at Edward. "You coming?"
Again, he shook his head, knowing the last place he wanted to be was back inside a trauma room. After all, his world came crashing down around him the last time he was there.
"Drink some coffee, Eddie. You look like shit," Carlisle said, looking away from him.
—H—
Edward told himself he should leave now that the woman was in safe hands. But he couldn't seem to get his feet to listen. So, instead, he did as Carlisle instructed and bought a horrible cup of coffee from the vending machine and settled in the back of the waiting room.
Then another cup, and another, and another.
It'd been three years since he last stepped foot inside the hospital. He knew the place like the back of his hand, having spent more time inside these walls than he did at home. Maybe if he hadn't, she would still be here. He'd ignored the signs because he had to save the world; help those less fortunate than they were. He'd been blinded by his oath, his sacred duty, and it cost him everything.
Hours passed, and the sun started rising when Carlisle pushed through the doors, stopping to look around. A smirk tugged onto his lips, one that Edward wanted to wipe off. It was the same look his brother had given him when they were kids and their father was scolding them for sneaking out in the middle of the night and getting wasted.
"Surprised you waited," Carlisle said, crossing his arms.
"Is she alive?" he asked, ignoring the smart-ass comment. Edward couldn't explain why he had waited. He didn't know the woman, yet he found himself unable to leave until he knew if she would survive.
"Barely. Her body temperature was just over ninety degrees when you brought her in. We're rotating warming blankets and using heated humidified oxygen and IV fluids to bring it up. Last time we checked, she was at ninety-five. Pulse is weak, heart rate is slow. The contusion on her forehead is superficial, but she had three cracked ribs and a dislocated shoulder. We're waiting for CT to take her for a scan, make sure she doesn't have a brain bleed."
Edward nodded. "Any ID on her?"
"No. I called the police department. They should be here soon."
Again, he nodded.
"I've been calling you."
"I know."
"Why haven't you called me back?"
"Didn't see the point."
"Eddie," Carlisle whispered, dragging his hand through his hair. "Mom's been worried sick about you."
"I know."
"You know? Then call her, for fuck sake!"
"I don't have anything to say to her."
Carlisle scoffed. "Tell me about the girl."
"Nothing to tell. Gunther and I were on the beach. I threw his ball. He came back with one of her shoes. Damn near ripped my arm off as he dragged me to her. I brought her here. End of story."
"And you don't have any idea how long she'd been out there?"
Edward shook his head.
Carlisle hummed. "Whitlock is probably going to want to talk to you."
He nodded.
"Once CT is done, we're going to transfer her to the ICU. You can wait with her if you want."
"No."
"Eddie —"
"I should get home before Gunther thinks I've abandoned him, too."
"You didn't abandon her, Eddie. It's not your fault."
"She needed me, and I wasn't there." And when his brother reached for him, Edward moved away. "I've gotta go."
And without giving his brother the chance to stop him, he was gone.
—H—
Gunther was lying next to the door when Edward got home. He immediately stood, looking past him for the woman, whining when she wasn't there.
"She's okay, boy," Edward lied, kneeling and rubbing the side of his face.
Standing, Edward shrugged off his coat and hung it, before he shuffled into his bedroom. He kicked off his shoes before stripping off his clothes and entering the bathroom. He started the shower, not caring how hot the water was before he pulled the curtain back and stepped inside. His eyes closed as he placed his hands against the wall, his shoulders aching, his back sore, and his eyes filling with tears he'd managed to hold off all night.
He rarely cried for her anymore, but when he showered, he found himself grieving once again. Missing the way she'd slip in behind him, her hands gripping his hips after a long night at the hospital.
"I missed you," she'd whisper before placing a kiss in the middle of his back. "Busy shift?"
Sometimes, he'd lie and tell her they were slow; other times, he'd talk about the people who came in with upset stomachs, broken bones, and headaches. Mostly, he enjoyed the feeling of her touch, the love she gave so freely.
But he'd been selfish, and now she was gone. He was alone, and he only had himself to blame.
Welcome to my newest story! Huge thank you to Sunflower Fran for being an amazing beta!
