A/N: So I took a decade long break between chapters? Life happens. This story never left my brain and I finally found some time to hammer out the next chapter.

A/N: Per usual, I don't own Twilight, it is the property of Stephanie Meyer. Anya Simms is all mine.

Chapter Three: Edward Won't Stop

JPOV

My mind buzzed with questions as I followed the car from a distance, my feet moving silently over the damp earth, ensuring I was nothing more than a shadow in the forest. I kept a careful pace, ensuring I was far enough away not to be noticed but close enough to keep an eye on the situation. The emotions rolling off Anya, even from this distance, were a confusing mix—something I wasn't truly used to. Remember, human emotions are inherently excitement or anger. With a healthy dash of fear thrown in for good measure. Typically, I can sense the dominant emotion clearly, but with Anya, it was like trying to read a book with the pages constantly shifting.

The rain continued to lash down, a relentless cascade but soon Esme turned onto a nondescript, quiet residential street on the outskirts of Forks, where the houses were spaced just far enough apart to offer a sense of privacy while still being part of a close-knit community. The house she stopped in front of was modest in size, a charming example of early 20th-century Craftsman architecture.

The house had clearly been renovated recently, though it retained much of its original character. The deep-seated wooden porch extended across the front of the house, providing a sheltered space that invited visitors to sit and enjoy the peaceful surroundings. The porch was framed by thick stone pillars, their rugged surfaces a testament to the skilled craftsmanship of an earlier time. Each pillar was topped with a simple wooden beam, supporting the gently sloping roof that extended out, offering protection from the ever-present Washington rain.

Beneath the roof, the porch was wide and inviting, with a dark-stained wooden floor that gleamed even in the dim light of the rainy evening. The porch railings, also made of wood, were low and solid, their design echoing the straightforward, no-nonsense aesthetic of the Craftsman style. A single porch swing hung to one side, its chains creaking softly as the wind nudged it back and forth.

The exterior of the house was clad in cedar shingles, their warm, earthy tones blending harmoniously with the surrounding trees and foliage. The windows were large and symmetrical, each framed with wide, white trim that contrasted sharply with the darker tones of the house. Above the porch, a trio of dormer windows peeked out from the roof, their glass panes reflecting the silvery sheen of the rain-soaked world outside.

A large oak tree stood on the corner of the property, its broad branches extending over part of the porch and providing additional shade and protection. The tree's leaves rustled in the wind, adding to the symphony of sounds that filled the night—the patter of rain on the roof, the soft creaking of the porch swing. I quickly shimmied up the oak and watched as Esme helped Anya out of the car, their voices soft but the underlying emotions unmistakable. My coven's matriarch per usual was concerned, almost motherly in her worry, while Anya seemed… bemused, like someone who had been caught in a rainstorm and was trying to figure out how they'd ended up soaking wet. But beneath that bemusement was that strange, persistent happiness, as if something deep within her refused to let her feel anything else for too long.

This was most perplexing as deep-seated happiness is not the typical cocktail of human emotion. I settled in more comfortably to determine if I could pick apart the layers of her emotional state, wondering what exactly it was. Did she have some odd defence mechanism? Was this the result of too much yoga or mindfulness that young adults in this nation seemed to prattle on about if Rose's gossip rags were an indicator. Hey, don't judge. We all have our quirks to keep Edward out of our thoughts, Rose's were cars and celebrity gossip. I could appreciate a good defence when I saw one. Perhaps Anya had discovered this was a method to shield herself from the more negative feelings? Adrenaline perhaps? I took a careful inhale and no, there was nothing to suggest that her body was burning off access adrenaline.

So, what the fuck was it about this woman that was fundamentally different from anyone I had encountered before? Anyone human that is? I closed my eyes and stilled myself to check if the heartbeat was still present – yes, one steadily thumping heartbeat was still coming from the front porch. From the tone of her voice, she was trying to shuffle Esme along. I had to chuckle at that. It wasn't fear that was driving Anya to get ride of the vampire, but rather, is that a trace of annoyance? Hunh, a human annoyed by a vampire. Very odd. Esme graciously took the hint and turn around and headed down the porch as Carlisle pulled up; she dashed out in the rain at a respectable human speed and...

I had to blink.

Anya waved them off, a bright smile on her face, her happiness once more shining through the annoyance.

Again, very odd.

Carlisle backed out of the drive and headed off towards home, but not before quietly asking if I wanted a ride. I declined deciding to run home instead. I needed time to think over what I'd just witnessed.

By the time I reached home, the frustration rolling off Edward was deafening, a near-tangible force that made the air thick with tension. His head snapped up the moment he sensed my approach, his emotional aura a chaotic swirl of impatience and anxiety. I knew immediately that there was no escaping the interrogation that was sure to follow. There would be no retreat to my room, no quiet moment to savour the lingering effects of the emotional cocktail that was Anya Simms.

Give me a few to get changed, I thought to Edward, sending the message his way as I headed up the stairs. The rain had soaked through my clothes, and I needed to dry off and change if I was going to survive the barrage of questions that was coming.

"It's going to be a long night," I muttered to myself as I stripped off the wet clothing and quickly donned a dry shirt and jeans.

When I finally returned to the living room, Edward was pacing furiously, his mind a relentless loop of frustration and curiosity. The sight of him reminded me of a caged animal, desperate for answers but unable to reach them.

"About damn time, Jasper," he hissed, his voice sharp, though it barely concealed the underlying concern.

"Yes, brother?" I replied calmly, settling onto the couch with deliberate ease. I knew my composed demeanour would only irk him further, but it was my way of keeping control of the situation.

Edward stopped pacing; his intense gaze fixed on me. "I need to know everything. What did Esme and the human talk about? What did you feel from her?"

I met his eyes, sensing his desperation as he struggled to make sense of the enigma that was Anya Simms. Edward had always been able to rely on his gift to decode the thoughts of those around him, and to be faced with someone he couldn't read was maddening to him. His frustration was rooted in fear—fear of the unknown, fear of not being in control. Vampires like humans also dabble in fear, although his wouldn't be a healthy dose of fear. I would say his was more a deep well of dread. Yes, dread and fear to be precise.

But I digress, Edward's impatience was starting to take over. "Esme was her usual caring self," I began, keeping my tone even. "She was concerned, of course, but Anya… well, she was hard to pin down. Her emotions are unlike anything I've encountered before."

Edward's frown deepened, and he leaned forward slightly, urging me to continue.

"At first, she seemed bemused," I explained. "As if she couldn't quite understand how she'd ended up in her situation. But beneath that, there was this strange, persistent happiness. It's as if she's anchored to it somehow, like it's a part of her core. Even when she was confused or uncertain, that happiness remained."

Alice, who had been watching us quietly, spoke up. "That doesn't sound like the typical human reaction to a car accident. Most people would be scared, disoriented."

I nodded seeing the truth as Alice saw it. "True, but with her, I don't know. There's a steadiness to her emotions, even when they should be fluctuating." I quickly decided to keep the rest of my thoughts to myself.

Unfortunately, my dear brother wouldn't let it go. His frustration simmered just below the surface as he absorbed this information. "And she looked Carlisle square in the eye," he said, more to himself than to us, his voice edged with disbelief.

"Exactly," Carlisle added as he entered the room, his expression pensive. "Most humans tend to avert their eyes, especially when confronted with the intensity of our gaze. But Anya… she didn't even flinch. She looked me straight in the eye, without fear, without hesitation. It was almost as if she didn't register the danger—or didn't care."

Edward's eyes narrowed with uncertainty. "That doesn't make sense. She's either completely oblivious to what we are, or… she's something else entirely."

Esme, who had been quietly observing from the corner of the room, stepped forward. "In the car, she was… compliant, almost unnervingly so," she said, her voice soft but with an edge of concern. "She was very polite and answered my questions. But then, out of nowhere, she asked me if I sat on the PTA." Esme frowned slightly, shaking her head. "It caught me off guard. It was unexpected, almost as if she was trying to piece together something that didn't quite fit."

Carlisle exchanged a glance with Esme, his brow furrowed in thought. "Interesting, why is she so… unfazed by everything?"

At this point my other siblings arrived, although there was no mistaking what they had been up to, the mismatched buttons on Em's shirt were a dead giveaway. His wife spoke first, her voice tinged with skepticism. "Wait a minute, are you telling me she wasn't bothered by someone else driving her car? And not just any car—a BMW E46 M3 that is part of the 3 Series lineup and is highly regarded for its performance, especially with its 3.2-liter inline-six engine."

What can I say, Rosalie loves her cars.

Oblivious to my amusement, my sister continued, "I don't know about you, but I'd be livid if a stranger took the wheel without a second thought." That statement she directed at her cherubic husband. Despite the communing with nature, he was still most definitely in the doghouse. I lightly chuckled to myself as I listened to Esme's response.

"That's the strange part. She handed over the keys without hesitation. It's as if she didn't care, or maybe it just didn't register as important to her. She was far more concerned with the GPS working than with who was driving."

Rosalie shook her head in disbelief. "That's just… odd. I don't care how confused she might have been; most people are protective of their cars, especially one like that."

Emmett by this point, still aroused from his quickie with Rose couldn't resist to add in his own wildly inappropriate opinion while waggly his eyebrows, "Maybe she was just hoping for a little more action in the passenger seat, if you know what I mean."

Oh, I think we all know what you're thinking brother dearest I thought to myself just as Edward shot him a withering glare, and Carlisle's expression tightened, but Emmett just shrugged, unrepentant. "What? It's a possibility."

Rosalie rolled her eyes, her irritation evident. "Emmett, seriously. This isn't the time for your crude jokes."

Emmett raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Just trying to lighten the mood."

Esme sighed, her concern deepening. "Regardless of her reasons, it's another thing that doesn't add up. Why was she so unbothered by everything? What's really going on with her?"

Apparently, my light chuckle wasn't so quiet as soon I found myself at the receiving end of six sets of honey-coloured eyes boring into me.

"What?" I nonchalantly asked. "Do you think that perhaps we're all just over thinking this a tad." I hastily gathered my thoughts picking up steam and injecting a healthy dose of compliance to the air, "Ok sure she wasn't reacting how we would typically expect her to react. That doesn't mean it's wrong necessarily. Humans have been known to behave in all manners of ways. You heard what she said at the site, she was overtired and probably shouldn't have been driving. Carlisle, you're the doctor, aren't humans' judgments affected by lack of sleep?"

Carlisle nodded thoughtfully, his gaze shifting as he considered my words. "You're right, Jasper. Lack of sleep can certainly impair judgment and affect how people respond to situations. It's possible that her odd reactions were simply due to exhaustion."

The tension in the room began to ease slightly, thanks to the calm I'd subtly infused into the air. I could feel Edward's frustration simmering down, though it hadn't completely dissipated. Rosalie still looked skeptical, but her irritation was no longer as sharp. Even Emmett, for all his usual bravado, seemed to take a step back, letting the conversation shift to a more rational tone.

"Maybe we are overthinking this," Alice chimed in, her voice light and hopeful. "We should keep an eye on her, of course, but maybe it's just as simple as that—she was tired and out of sorts."

Esme nodded, her worry giving way to a softer expression. "Yes, we don't want to jump to conclusions. But I agree, we should watch her, just in case."

Edward finally let out a long breath, though I could tell he wasn't entirely convinced. "Fine. But we'll keep monitoring her closely. I don't like not knowing, but you're right—there's no need to make this into something bigger than it might be."

The consensus around the room was enough for me. I had steered them in the direction I needed, and now, with everyone more or less in agreement, I could slip away without drawing too much attention.

"Well, if everyone's on the same page, I think I'll head up to my room," I said, pushing myself up from the couch. "It's been a long night."

Carlisle gave me a small nod, and Esme smiled warmly. "Indeed, Jasper. We'll regroup in the morning if anything else comes up."

Turning to head upstairs, I could feel Edward's eyes on me, still uneasy, but resigned. I knew he'd keep turning this over in his mind, but for now, he'd let it go.

Once I was alone in my room, I shut the door behind me and leaned against it, letting out a slow breath. The emotions in the living room had been manageable, but the complexity of what I'd sensed from Anya still lingered, pulling at the edges of my thoughts.

I walked over to the window, peering out into the dark forest as the rain fell in a steady, soothing rhythm. But my mind was anything but calm. Anya's emotions… they were unlike anything I'd ever encountered before. That persistent happiness, that deep-seated contentment—it was intriguing, almost intoxicating in its intensity. And fuck if there wasn't something about her that stirred a sense of excitement in me, a curiosity I hadn't felt in a long time. Humans were usually so predictable, their emotions running the same tired patterns—excitement, anger, fear, a little mix of other emotions, but wash rinse repeat —but Anya was different. Her emotions were layered, complex, and that persistent undercurrent of happiness was like a puzzle I couldn't wait to solve.

I couldn't quite grasp what made her so unique. It was as if she was in tune with something beyond the ordinary, something that kept her steady even in the face of confusion and uncertainty A part of me was excited by the challenge she presented, eager to unravel the mystery of who she really was and why she felt the way she did.

And for the first time in a long while, I found myself genuinely looking forward to what might come next.