Time skip of about a few weeks...Closing in on Thanksgiving...Nearing another Full Moon.
The meeting at the beach will be addressed as a flash back.
Shall we begin...
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The drive to Seattle was always quiet, but today, it felt even quieter. Grace sat beside Esme, watching the world blur past them. Esme's steady presence, as always, offered a quiet comfort, but Grace couldn't help the nervousness that gnawed at her as they neared the hospital.
Esme seemed to sense the shift in Grace's mood, her calm voice breaking the silence. "You're doing everything you can for your father, Grace. He knows that."
Grace glanced at Esme, offering a faint, uncertain smile. "I just… I don't want him to feel like he's a burden. It's hard seeing him so helpless."
Esme reached out, resting a hand on Grace's arm. "I understand. But your father is strong. And he has you by his side. That's what matters most."
Grace nodded, but the weight in her chest didn't lift. "I just wish he could get better faster. I don't know what I'd do if—" Her voice faltered as she caught herself, the unspoken fear hanging between them.
"He's getting stronger every day, Grace," Esme said, her voice soft but firm. "And you've helped him, in ways you might not even realize. Your strength has carried him through more than you think." She paused, her golden eyes meeting Grace's. "I know it's hard, but think about this: You'll have him home for Christmas. This year, he'll be there. You'll make new memories together, ones that will last forever."
A small, hopeful smile tugged at Grace's lips at Esme's words. "You really think so?"
"I do," Esme assured her. "Christmas is about family. And your father—he's already halfway there."
Grace allowed herself to lean into Esme's comfort, her heart still heavy, but the light in Esme's words giving her a flicker of hope. For the first time since Connor's accident, she believed that maybe—just maybe—this Christmas could be different.
As Grace stepped into her dad's hospital room, she was greeted by his familiar grin—though it was a little weaker than it used to be. He propped himself up in the bed, doing his best to look more alert than he felt. "Well, if it isn't my favorite troublemaker," he said with a wink. "I think I've finally figured out what's worse than this hospital food—they want me to eat something called 'green gelatin.' You know, the kind of thing they give to prisoners?"
Grace chuckled, the sound of her laugh easing some of the tension in her chest. "I thought you liked jello, Dad."
"Yeah, not the kind that makes you question whether it's a food group or a science experiment." He shifted a little in the bed, his eyes softening as he looked at her. "How's everything going with you, kid? You look... different. More grown-up somehow."
Grace felt a flicker of something in her chest at his words. She'd heard that before—people noticing her change. But it was different coming from him. He'd been her anchor for so long, and now, she wasn't sure if he could fully grasp what she was becoming.
"Yeah… things are different, Dad," she said quietly. "But good, I think."
Connor smiled, his gaze a mix of pride and concern. "I'm glad, sweetheart. You've always had a way of figuring things out. I can tell you're not the same girl you were when I first took you in. You're stronger."
Grace felt a lump form in her throat. She wanted to tell him everything—about the Cullens, about the shifters, about Esme. But she hesitated. Could he understand? Would he be able to accept it?
The conversation with her dad shifted as Connor gave her a knowing look, his eyes narrowing in that way he did whenever he was about to press her for details. "So," he began, his voice laced with teasing, "I keep hearing about this mysterious 'friend' of yours, this 'beautiful' woman who's always driving you around. Little Miss 'I don't need to drive' " Her father chuckled.
Grace's cheeks flushed instantly, a deep crimson spreading across her face. She stammered, trying to come up with some kind of answer, but her words got caught in her throat. "I—I—I mean, it's not like that, Dad," she muttered, her gaze dropping to her lap, hoping her blush wasn't as obvious as it felt.
Connor raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the reaction. "Not like that? Hmm... because, you know, I've seen the way you talk about her. You've never been this shy about anyone before." He leaned back against his pillow, a slight smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "So, what's the deal? Spill the beans, kid."
Grace could barely meet his eyes, but she found herself fighting the rising tide of nerves. The moment she'd been dreading had arrived—her father was pressing her for answers. Her heart raced, her mind scrambling for how to respond without revealing everything all at once.
But then, the thought of Esme, standing outside the door, waiting patiently for her to find the courage, steadied her. Grace's heartbeat quickened, but this time it wasn't from anxiety—it was from resolve.
Taking a deep breath, Grace lifted her head, her eyes meeting her father's with newfound determination. "You want to know?" she said, her voice steadying despite the nervous flutter in her stomach. "I think it's time you met her. You deserve to know the truth." She paused, feeling the weight of the moment. "Her name is Esme, and... she's the one who's been helping me through all of this. She's been... there for me, in ways no one else could be."
Connor blinked in surprise, his teasing expression softening, but still filled with curiosity. "Esme, huh?" He gave a low whistle. "And here I thought you were just going to blame all your driving issues on me."
Grace couldn't help the laugh that escaped her, though it was tinged with nervousness. She stood up, wiping her palms on her jeans, and looked toward the door. "One second."
Grace stood at the door, her hand on the knob, before turning to look back at her dad. His eyes were fixed on her, a question in his gaze, but also something more—something that told her he could sense this moment was about to shift in a big way.
She swallowed hard before calling softly through the door, "Esme?"
The soft click of heels echoed down the hallway as Esme stepped into view, her serene, graceful presence filling the room. The moment Connor laid eyes on her, his expression froze. Recognition flickered in his gaze as his eyes widened. He looked from Esme to Grace and back again, a mix of confusion and disbelief slowly settling over his face.
It didn't take long for him to piece it together. His voice was low, filled with suspicion and concern. "Wait a minute," he said, his gaze sharpening. "You're the one who helped with the house. The woman who... helped Grace get settled when we moved in. What are you doing here?"
Grace stiffened, her heart racing as the weight of her father's question hung in the air. She could see the protective instinct flashing in his eyes, the immediate tension rising between them. He was trying to piece together the impossible: Esme was a woman, fully grown, and she was with his daughter, a 17-year-old girl.
"Esme," Connor said, his voice hardening slightly. "You're… what, in your thirties, maybe? And you're... with her?" He gestured toward Grace, his concern growing. "I know you're an adult, Grace, but this—this doesn't sit right with me. What's going on here?"
Grace's heart thudded painfully against her ribs, but she didn't hesitate. She stepped forward, facing her father with a newfound confidence. "Dad," she said softly, but firmly, her voice steady despite the tension. "I know it seems impossible. But Esme... she's been there for me in ways I can't explain right now. She's not like anyone else. What we have is real, and it's not something I'm just going to walk away from. Please, just... trust me."
Connor's protective instincts flared up again, but the concern in his eyes shifted. He didn't want to lose his daughter to something he couldn't understand, but he also knew Grace. He could see the conviction in her face, and that was something he couldn't ignore.
Esme, standing quietly to the side, didn't speak just yet, letting Grace find her voice. But her calm presence in the room spoke volumes, the way she stood—tall, dignified, unruffled—communicating that she wasn't here to fight. She was here for Grace.
Connor took a slow breath, his brow furrowing as he processed it all. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice softer but still filled with caution. "I don't understand this. But if she makes you happy, Grace… if she truly makes you happy…" He trailed off, looking at Esme once more. "I'll have to trust you on this."
The tension in the room slowly began to ease as Grace let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Thank you, Dad," she whispered, her heart swelling with both relief and love for him. "It's not easy for me to explain either, but I promise, she's everything I need."
Esme smiled gently, her eyes warm and understanding as she looked from Grace to Connor. "Your daughter is a remarkable young woman, Mr. Parker. I care deeply for her, and I will always protect her, just as you do."
Connor gave a small nod, still wary but accepting the truth in their words. "I'll take your word for it," he said, his protective instincts still there but tempered by Grace's trust in Esme. "But this doesn't mean I'm going to stop worrying. You'll always be my little girl."
Grace smiled, a mix of gratitude and affection. "I know, Dad. And I'll always be your little girl."
The door to the room creaked open as a nurse stepped in, clipboard in hand. "Mr. Parker, just here to check your levels and change your IV," she said with a bright smile. She moved with practiced ease, adjusting the machines and taking notes on her clipboard.
Grace stepped back slightly, giving the nurse space to do her work. As the nurse hummed a quiet tune while performing her duties, Grace turned her attention back to her dad and Esme, who had started talking more casually now that the tension had passed.
"So," Esme began, her voice warm and inviting. "Thanksgiving's coming up, and I'm sure your daughter has been keeping you busy with all the preparations." She gave Grace a gentle smile, her eyes filled with affection for both of them.
Connor chuckled softly, leaning back against his pillow. "Oh, she's been a whirlwind. I'm just hoping she doesn't try to cook everything herself this year. Last time, I'm pretty sure we all got food poisoning from one of her experiments." He winked at Grace, a familiar glint of mischief in his eyes.
Grace blushed, playfully rolling her eyes. "Dad, it wasn't that bad."
"Oh, it was, sweetheart," he teased. "But I'm sure the Cullens will take care of it all this time. And who else is coming over? The boys?"
Esme nodded. "Yes, they'll be there. And Bella and Charlie, of course. It will be a bit of a mix, but I'm sure it will be nice. Grace and I are planning to go get a few last-minute things this afternoon."
Connor's eyes softened as he looked at Esme. "Sounds like a full house," he said, his voice lighter now. "But I'm sure you've got it all under control. You seem like someone who knows how to make things work." He paused, his expression thoughtful. "I think Grace is in good hands."
Esme smiled again, a bit more seriously now. "I care about her deeply, Mr. Parker. I always will."
At that, the nurse finished her check-up and left the room. Grace lingered for a moment before turning to speak to the nurse in the hallway.
As she stepped out into the quiet corridor, Grace found the nurse chatting with another staff member, but she quickly caught the nurse's attention. "Hey, I just wanted to ask—how's my dad really doing? Is everything looking good for his recovery?"
The nurse's expression softened into a reassuring smile. "Actually, Ms. Parker, your dad is doing better than great. His recovery is ahead of schedule, and as long as there are no setbacks, he should be released before Christmas." She glanced down at her notes, confirming her words. "He's going to make a full recovery, and it won't be long before he's back to his old self."
Grace felt a rush of relief fill her chest, the weight she hadn't realized was there lifting. She smiled, nodding gratefully. "That's wonderful news. Thank you so much."
The nurse gave her a kind, understanding smile. "Of course. Take care of him, Ms. Parker. He's a fighter."
Grace nodded again, her heart light with happiness as she returned to her father's room, where Esme and Connor were still chatting comfortably.
As Grace stepped back into her father's room, she felt a renewed sense of lightness, a calmness she hadn't realized she was missing. In her hands, she held a card, a small bouquet of flowers, and the one thing that never failed to bring a smile to her dad's face: a bar of chocolate from the vending machine down the hall. She set the card and flowers gently on the side table, then handed him the chocolate with a grin.
"Figured I'd break the rules a little," she said, winking. "This can stay our little secret. I know you're supposed to be on a strict diet, but hey—who can resist this?" She held up the chocolate, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Connor chuckled, the sound warm and genuine despite his weakened state. "You spoil me, kid. But I won't tell if you won't."
Grace smiled softly, her heart swelling with love for him. "Deal," she said, squeezing his hand before stepping back.
Esme, who had been quietly standing by the door, watched the exchange with affection. "We should let him rest now, Grace," she said gently, her voice calm and comforting.
Grace nodded, taking one last look at her dad, who was already tearing into the chocolate with a wink of approval. "I'll see you soon, Dad. Take care of yourself. We'll be back before you know it."
"Make sure to save me some Thanksgiving leftovers," Connor called after them with a grin.
Grace gave him a playful salute. "You bet."
As Esme and Grace stepped out into the hallway, Grace felt a deep sense of peace settle over her. The visit had gone better than she'd hoped, and her dad's recovery seemed to be heading in the right direction.
She glanced up at Esme, her smile genuine. "Thanks for being here today," she said softly. "I don't know how I'd do this without you."
Esme placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, her golden eyes full of warmth. "I'll always be here, Grace. Always."
And with that, the two of them walked out of the hospital, leaving behind the sterile scent of the halls and the uncertainty that had once clouded Grace's mind. They had faced one challenge together, and Grace knew that no matter what the future held, they would face it as one
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The drive back to Forks felt strangely different, the usual peacefulness now replaced with an odd sense of tension. They had finished the shopping for produce and any other ingredients that were on the list Esme had made. Grace was happy to be there, pushing the cart around to follow her mate like a lost puppy.
Grace sat quietly beside Esme, but her instincts—those heightened senses of hers—were on alert. The world outside the car blurred, rain drizzling down the windshield as Esme's car sped along the wet, winding roads.
But something wasn't quite right. Grace could feel it.
It was as if there was something—or someone—following them. It wasn't just a random sensation; it was the distinct feeling of being watched. She glanced out the side window, her golden eyes scanning the trees lining the road, the shadows deepening as the sun dipped lower in the sky. Nothing seemed out of place. No cars, no figures in the distance.
Yet, the feeling lingered, like a silent presence just behind them. It was subtle but persistent, almost as if whoever—or whatever—was tailing them was keeping pace with Esme's swift driving, easily matching the speed of their car, maneuvering through the forest with unnatural precision.
Grace shifted uneasily in her seat, her senses heightening. She couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't alone on this road. Her hand instinctively gripped the edge of her seat, her muscles tensing. She let out a slow breath, narrowing her eyes as she tried to focus, to make sense of the sensation. It wasn't a feeling she was unfamiliar with—there had been times before when her instincts told her something was amiss, times when the shadows held more than just the night. But this... this was different. It wasn't a fleeting thought. It was as if something was actively observing them, watching from the dark, waiting for something.
Grace rolled the window down a smidge, hoping to catch a scent, something—anything—that might explain the nagging sensation crawling up her spine. The cool night air rushed in, mingling with the scent of wet earth and pine, but there was something else. Faint. Almost indistinguishable. Something unnatural. Her nose flared as she tried to focus on it, but it was like chasing smoke in the wind—there, but just out of reach.
Esme's voice broke the silence, her tone light and calm. "Everything okay, Grace? You seem a bit distracted."
Grace hesitated, still scanning the trees outside. "Yeah, just... something feels off. Like we're being followed."
Esme glanced at her, her golden eyes narrowing slightly. "Followed?"
"Not by a car or anything," Grace said quickly, her gaze flicking from the rearview mirror to the side mirror. "It's more like... like someone's watching us. Keeping up with us, even though there's no one there."
Esme was quiet for a moment, her eyes flicking to the rearview mirror, then the side mirror. She then seemed to relax slightly, her voice calm. "I'll keep an eye out."
But Grace could hear the tension beneath Esme's words, the same way she could feel her own instincts twitching, alert to the unseen presence. The drive seemed to stretch on longer than usual, the sensation of being observed growing stronger, the shadowy presence almost tangible in the air.
Grace couldn't help but feel that, no matter how fast they drove, this watcher would always be there. Watching. Waiting.
As Esme's car continued its steady pace down the familiar roads, the sensation of being watched began to fade, slowly but unmistakably. Grace's shoulders relaxed as they passed the "Welcome to Forks" sign, its faded letters a familiar sight. It was as if the presence following them had stopped, unable or unwilling to cross the invisible line that separated the forest from the town.
Grace let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, her mind settling for a moment. The tension that had wound itself so tightly in her chest unwound, if only slightly. She glanced out the window, watching as the trees thickened once more, the road bending around the familiar curves leading into town.
But even as she felt the presence recede, her thoughts shifted back to her father. The warmth in her chest from the drive's end faltered. She couldn't shake the nagging worry. Her father, still recovering, still vulnerable—what if whatever had been following them turned its attention toward him? The thought made her stomach twist, and for a moment, she found herself wishing she could protect him from whatever was lurking in the shadows, just out of sight.
"Esme," she said softly, the words catching in her throat. "I hope it doesn't go after him. I hope whatever that was, is gone for good."
Esme's voice was gentle but firm as she gave a brief glance to Grace. "We'll keep an eye on him, Grace. I can make a call home and have the boys go to Seattle tonight."
Grace nodded, comforted but still restless. Her thoughts lingered on the shadow, knowing it might be watching but unsure of its intentions.
"Thank you," she murmured, her voice soft, as the car rolled further into the town of Forks.
As the car passed through Forks' familiar streets, Grace felt a quiet tension in her chest. The surroundings were so ordinary, so unchanged, but something inside her had shifted. The quiet hum of the tires on the road only seemed to make her feel more distant from the world she had once known.
She blinked, trying to process the situation. "Wait... Esme, where are we going?" she asked, her voice tinged with confusion.
Esme glanced at her for a brief moment, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "We're heading to your house, Grace."
"My house?" Grace repeated, her brow furrowing. "But... I thought we were going to yours?"
Esme's smile deepened, her gaze softening. "I was, but I thought you might want to go back to your place for a bit. You'll need to pack some clothes and toiletries if you're going to stay more nights at my home." She added under her breath, "..I'd like you to sleep in my room..."
I don't think I was supposed to hear that. I'll pretend I didn't. Right?
The words felt like they came from someone else, not someone who had always been afraid of staying away for too long. But the more Esme spoke, the more it sank in. The Cullens, the shifters, they had become like her family. More so than the home she had grown up in, filled with old memories and silence. They were breaking through the walls she had built around herself, walls that had once been her only protection.
Her body shuddered.
It felt foreign, but it was also a relief, something she hadn't realized she needed until now.
Grace stayed quiet for a moment, watching the town unfold around her. As much as she longed for a return to some semblance of normalcy, she couldn't deny that the past few weeks had been the most at peace she had felt in ages. The Cullens—Esme, most of all—had this way of making her feel like she truly belonged. It was more than just love; it was acceptance, without question, without hesitation. They had become the family she had always yearned for.
Esme's voice broke the silence, soft but steady. "Grace," she said, her tone warm, "I know this is all happening fast, and I want you to know you're not obligated to stay with us. I'll always want you close, but if you feel the need to be on your own, I understand." Her hand reached over, brushing against Grace's arm in a gentle gesture. "You'll always have a place with us, but I don't want you to feel trapped. I just want you to feel at home—wherever that is for you."
Grace's heart fluttered at Esme's words. It was exactly what she needed to hear. Her newfound family wasn't just about being surrounded by them—it was about the freedom to choose, to feel safe in her own decisions. They weren't trying to force anything on her, but they were offering something more valuable than she could have ever imagined: unconditional love.
She swallowed hard, trying to steady herself before answering. "I… I think I'd like to stay. With you. With all of you." Her voice was quiet, but there was no hesitation. The fortress around her heart had been crumbling for a while now, and in that moment, she realized it was okay to let it happen. It was okay to let them in.
Esme pulled up in front of Grace's house just moments after their conversation had come to an end. If Grace didn't know any better, she'd swear Esme had some sort of radar in the car, perfectly timed to avoid the parked cruisers that were always waiting for speeders like herself. There was no way she'd be that lucky when it was her turn behind the wheel.
Esme and Grace stepped out of the car, the cool evening air greeting them as they walked toward the front door of Grace's home. Grace felt a strange, bittersweet tug in her chest as she glanced at her house—so familiar, yet it felt a little different now, like it belonged to someone else.
She paused for a moment before opening the door. "I won't be long," she said softly to Esme, who nodded understandingly followed Grace inside but took to standing in the hallway.
Grace made her way up the stairs, the creak of the old wood echoing in the silence. Her bedroom door was slightly ajar, and she pushed it open, stepping into the space she had called her own for months now. The room was a calm blend of blue hues, with ships painted around the bottom of the walls, each one carefully detailed in shades of red, white, and soft blues. It had always been a space of comfort for her, with its large bed nestled against one wall and the soft, familiar scent of the room filling her senses.
But something felt off tonight. The window was open, the slight breeze ruffling the curtains, as though someone had been there before her. A chill ran down her spine, but she brushed it off, telling herself it was nothing. Still, the uneasy feeling lingered.
Grace crossed the room and closed the window, her gaze lingering on the stillness outside. Her heart gave an involuntary thump—she couldn't shake the feeling that someone, or something, had been in here. But who? And why?
She quickly moved to her dresser, collecting a few items—clothes, DVDs, and a couple of books for good measure—and stuffed them into a bag. As she moved around the room, she stole a few more glances at the window, trying to push the lingering sense of unease from her mind.
But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching.
As Grace finished gathering her things and prepared to head back downstairs, something caught her eye from the corner of her room. Her gaze drifted toward the bathroom door across the hall.
She hesitated, a strange sensation crawling up her spine. It wasn't like she usually felt when she was alone—this felt different. Something was off.
The moment she opened the bathroom door, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Her eyes scanned the small space, but it didn't take long for her to notice it: one of the towels was missing. She knew exactly where it had been, hanging neatly on the rack just an hour ago.
A thick, sickly-sweet scent lingered in the air, one that she immediately recognized. It made her stomach churn in discomfort. The same scent she had caught during the car ride—the one that had been watching her.
Her voice, sharp with recognition and unease, rang out loud enough for Esme to hear downstairs. "Victoria was here."
The words hung in the air, thick with the unspoken threat that came with them. Grace's pulse quickened, her instincts alert. She didn't need to be told twice—someone was getting far too close for comfort.