Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer

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Where the Lines Overlap

Final Season - We are Broken

I'll Give My All to You

Siblings' night out had started as Rosalie's idea.

In the weeks after Mark died, when I barely left the house unless it was for the kids, she'd show up and drag me out—sometimes for dinner, sometimes just for a drink, always with the promise that it wasn't about anything other than giving me a moment to breathe. At first, I knew it was her way of looking out for me, making sure I didn't drown in grief. But as time went on, it became something else. A ritual. Just the two of us, unwinding, catching up, letting the world outside shrink down to a familiar rhythm that had existed between us since we were kids.

"So," Rosalie started as she leaned against the bar, dragging the word out as she turned toward me. "How are things with Edward?"

Her gaze was sharp and expectant as she stirred the ice in her drink with her straw.

I huffed a quiet laugh, already bracing for whatever she had to say next.

"We're taking it slow."

She scoffed.

"Slow? Seriously? You're not getting any younger, Jay. What the hell are you waiting for? It's been, what—three months?"

"Two," I corrected, tipping my glass slightly in her direction before taking a sip. "If we're counting from the day we kissed."

Rosalie's brows shot up.

"On Mark's birthday."

I sighed, shaking my head.

"That doesn't mean anything. It's not going to be our anniversary or something. We're not even official yet."

"Oh my god." She groaned, dragging a hand down her face like I was personally exhausting her. Then she turned, jabbing a finger at me. "Are you teenagers? Jayjay, for God's sake, just make it official already."

I laughed at that, shaking my head.

"We're taking our time. We don't want to rush things."

"Taking your time?" she repeated, her voice pitching higher in disbelief. "Jasper. This thing between you two has been going on since you were eighteen—sixteen, in Edward's case. You're not rushing, you're dragging. It's not like you're—" She stopped mid-sentence, eyes widening as a new thought visibly struck her. "Oh my god," she breathed, turning fully toward me, her expression both scandalized and gleeful. "Big bro. Tell me you have already—"

I chuckled, seeing exactly where she was going, and shook my head.

Rosalie gasped so loudly that a guy two seats down turned to look.

"You didn't have sex yet?" she shrieked.

I burst out laughing, the sheer absurdity of her reaction cutting through the noise of the bar.

She gawked at me, then threw her hands up.

"Jasper, you two are forty! Forty! Stop this nonsense and close the fucking deal."

Still laughing, I waved her off.

"Wow, you're spending way too much time at Bella's house. You're talking like Emmett. Crude."

Rosalie rolled her eyes but smirked, swirling the ice in her glass.

"Seriously, Jay, what is with the delay? You and Edward have been circling each other for years."

I gave her a look.

"We weren't circling each other when I was with Mark."

She held up her hands in concession.

"I know. That's not what I meant. But ever since you and Edward found your way back to each other, it's been this slow-burn build-up. And now you're finally doing something about it, and you're—what? Taking it slow?" She shook her head. "I mean, I get it, but also, I don't get it."

I sighed, tapping my fingers against my glass.

"It's not just about time, Rosie. It's… I don't know, it's different now."

Her brow furrowed slightly, but she didn't jump in right away. She just waited, letting me find the words.

I glanced at her, appreciating that.

"I think for a long time, I felt like moving on meant… leaving Mark behind. And I didn't want that. I still don't. But lately, it's been—easier." I exhaled, rolling my glass between my palms. "Not because I love him any less. That hasn't changed, and it won't. But I've realized that moving forward doesn't mean losing him."

Rosalie reached over, resting a warm hand on my arm.

"Because you know he'd want this for you."

I nodded.

"Yeah. And because Edward respects that, too."

Her expression softened, something understanding settling in her features.

"That's important."

"It is," I said, and I meant it. "That's why this doesn't feel like it did when we were younger. Back then, we had all this love and no idea what to do with it. We hurt each other because we didn't know how to be what the other needed. But now… it's different. We're different. We're not just grasping at something because it feels big and overwhelming. We're choosing it, carefully, fully aware of what it means."

Rosalie studied me for a moment, then nodded approvingly.

"So what you're saying is… you're a mature adult now?" She teased.

I snorted.

"Debatable."

She laughed.

"Okay, but for real—this is good, Jay. You sound good."

I smiled at her.

"I feel good."

She squeezed my arm before picking up her drink again.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop giving you a hard time. But just know, I will be judging you if you're still 'taking it slow' three months from now."

I chuckled, shaking my head.

"Noted."

We lingered at the bar a while longer before finally calling it a night, stepping out into the cool evening air. Rosalie gave me a tight hug before heading to her car, and I pulled out my phone as I walked toward mine.

Edward picked up after the second ring.

"Hey, you."

I could hear the smile in his voice, and it made my own tug at the corners of my lips.

"Hey, yourself." I sighed, feeling a soft tug in my heart. "How's the shift?"

"Slow for now. Just a minor surgery tonight. But I'm in the on-call room, about to take a nap. Still got eighteen hours to go." He exhaled heavily. "How was your night out with Rosalie?"

"Good. She bullied me the entire time."

Edward laughed.

"I'd expect nothing less."

I unlocked my car, leaning against the door for a moment.

"She did have some strong opinions about us taking it slow."

"Oh?" His voice was all innocent curiosity, but I could practically hear the smirk. "And what did you tell her?"

"That I'm still thinking about it."

Edward scoffed, amused.

"Thinking about it?"

"Mm-hmm." I bit back a smile. "Still weighing my options."

There was a pause, then a low hum.

"Guess I'll just have to be very persuasive, then."

A pleasant warmth curled in my chest. I huffed a soft laugh, shaking my head.

"Go to sleep, Edward."

A chuckle this time, his teasing still lingering.

"Kids with your mom tonight?"

"Yeah. She picked them up after dinner. They were excited to sleep over."

Edward hummed, a smile in his voice.

"Good. You should get some rest too. Call me when you get home?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Drive safe, love."

"You have a good nap. Dream of me."

"I will."

I hung up, sliding into my car, and it felt like everything was moving exactly the way it should be.

.

.

.

A few days later, the hospital cafeteria was its usual hum of voices and movement as I walked in with Keira, a coffee break doubling as a chance to go over some administrative details. My usual table was empty, but as we headed over, something caught my eye.

Edward was across the room, sitting with four other doctors. I recognized three of them instantly—Dr. Miller, Dr. Carter, and Dr. Silva, all from the ER. But the fourth one, the one sitting a little too close and a little too focused on Edward, wasn't familiar.

I frowned, tilting my head toward Keira as we sat.

"Who's that sitting next to Dr. Cullen?"

Keira followed my gaze, her smile turning a little too knowing before she looked back at me, like she already knew exactly what I was thinking.

"That's Dr. Mathew Parker. Dr. Carlisle Cullen's new assistant. You probably don't remember him—he was part of that big group of twenty-one new hires."

Right. That massive introductory meeting. No wonder I didn't remember him.

I nodded, my gaze lingering.

Keira, still watching me, tilted her head.

"Would you like me to call Dr. Cullen over here?" she asked, always perceptive.

I huffed a quiet laugh, shaking my head.

"Thank you, Keira, but no. I can handle it myself." I shot her a wink, and she just smiled knowingly. "Hang on for a minute."

She nodded, and I stood, making my way toward the table. As soon as I got close, the atmosphere shifted—the doctors straightened up, their casual postures shifting into something a little more formal, their conversations paused.

"Dr. Hale," they greeted almost in unison.

Edward, who had his back to me, turned at the sound of my name. He looked slightly surprised to see me but pleased all the same.

I gave a nod to the group.

"Good afternoon, doctors." Then, shifting my focus to Edward, I added, "Can I have a minute?"

Edward nodded, pushing back his chair and excusing himself. I led him a few steps away, stopping in the open space at the center of the cafeteria where no one else was at the moment.

"You on a break?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said.

I nodded, fully aware that Dr. Parker's attention hadn't shifted from across the room.

"How well do you know Dr. Parker?"

Edward's brows lifted slightly.

"A little. He's my father's assistant, but you know that."

I barely registered his words because my eyes were still locked on Parker.

The words left my mouth before I fully processed them.

"He's staring," I muttered before I could stop myself.

Edward's response was immediate, dry amusement lacing his tone.

"And you're glaring." He let out a quiet chuckle.

I turned back to him, catching the teasing curve of his lips.

"What's with the grin, Cullen?"

He studied me for a moment, eyes glinting with amusement.

"Say it," he demanded softly.

I narrowed my eyes.

"Say what?"

His smirk grew, and he tilted his head, watching me with a patience that was far too smug.

"Come on, just admit it."

I exhaled, almost exasperated, but there was no point denying it. I shook my head, unable to keep the smile off my face.

"Fine. I'm jealous. And this is amusing to you why?"

Edward chuckled.

"Because it is." But his teasing softened into something gentler as he added, "You have nothing to worry about."

I nodded, but my gaze flickered back to Parker.

"Yeah. But he's still staring."

Edward hummed, eyes gleaming, then leaned in slightly.

"Maybe at you." his voice full of mock thoughtfulness.

I gave him a flat look.

"He wasn't hitting on me a minute ago."

Edward raised an eyebrow.

"He wasn't hitting on me."

"Uh-huh," I murmured.

"He wasn't," he insisted in another chuckle.

I shrugged.

"Not a problem anyway. Let me give him a hint."

Before Edward could respond, I closed the distance between us, my hand curling around the back of his neck as I kissed him right then and there, in the middle of the cafeteria. It wasn't rushed, wasn't anything inappropriate—just firm, deliberate, and unmistakable.

When I pulled back, just enough to smirk at him, Edward blinked at me, looking half-surprised, half-dazed—like the kiss had knocked something loose in him before he even had the chance to brace for it.

"Dr. Hale. We're in the middle of the cafeteria," he said with a soft laugh.

I grinned, unapologetic.

"So what? I can kiss my boyfriend whenever and wherever I want."

His expression flickered—surprise, then something warmer and pleased. But he downplayed it, raising a brow.

"Boyfriend, huh?"

"Yeah," I smirked smugly. "Now go back to your colleagues and let them know you're taken."

Edward huffed a laugh, shaking his head but looking entirely too pleased.

"Okay then."

I nodded.

"Okay then," I echoed, just as confident.

Edward shot me one last amused glance before turning back to his table. I returned to mine, meeting Keira's gaze as I sat. She didn't say anything, just smirked knowingly over her coffee.

…

I leaned against the wall outside the doctors' locker room, arms crossed, waiting. It wasn't long before the door swung open and Edward stepped out, his hair slightly mussed like he'd run a hand through it before leaving. His gaze landed on me immediately, and his lips twitched into something caught between amusement and exasperation.

He stopped in front of me, tilting his head.

"Tell me, Dr. Hale—" His voice was full of mock seriousness. "Is it appropriate for an ER doctor to kiss the Director of Operations right in the hospital corridor?"

I smirked.

"I think I might've spoiled you when I outed us." I let that settle before adding, "But since the Director of Operations happens to be your boyfriend? Yes, you can kiss him. Just keep it appropriate."

Edward hummed, like he was weighing my words, then leaned in, brushing his lips against mine—just the barest, teasing touch before pulling back.

"Appropriate enough?"

"For the environment? Sure." I let my smirk widen. "For the boyfriend? Not even close."

Edward chuckled, and I pushed off the wall, nudging him toward the elevators. We fell into step side by side, a quiet sort of ease between us, the buzz of the hospital fading as we walked.

By the time we reached the garage, I gestured to his car.

"Leave it."

Edward didn't question it, just followed me to mine. He knew better than to ask when I had that tone. Still, as I pulled out onto the road, he turned to me with a slow smile.

"We're going to yours or mine?"

"Yours."

The drive was filled with easy conversation, the kind that came effortlessly between us. By the time we stepped into the elevator, the teasing didn't let up. It flowed easily, back and forth, like second nature.

Edward leaned against the handrail, arms loosely crossed, watching me with that amused glint in his eyes.

"You know," he mused, tilting his head, "for someone who was just a little jealous, you sure went all in on ordering me around."

I scoffed, shifting my weight onto one leg, arms still folded.

"Ordering you around?" I echoed, raising an eyebrow. "I gave you a simple directive."

He huffed a quiet laugh.

"You basically told me to march back to my table and announce that I'm taken."

"Well," I said, smirking as I glanced at the elevator doors, watching the numbers tick higher, "You are. It's as simple as that. And Dr. Parker needed to be properly informed of the matter."

Edward let out a full laugh at that, shaking his head as he pushed off the railing.

"You really don't like Parker, huh?"

I met his gaze, my smirk lingering.

"I don't care about Parker." My smirk didn't waver, but my voice dropped just enough. "I care about you."

That wiped the teasing off his face for half a second—long enough for something softer to slip through before he masked it again.

The elevator dinged, and I gestured for him to lead the way. He did, though he shot me a look as he pulled out his keys.

"So, just to be clear," he said as we reached his door, "you're saying you weren't bossing me around?"

I leaned against the doorframe as he unlocked the door.

"No, I was."

He stopped, giving me a slow, deliberate once-over.

"Mm. You seem to like doing that."

I shrugged, the smirk in my tone unmistakable.

"You seem to like when I do."

Edward inhaled sharply, but before he could open his mouth, the realization settled between us at the same time.

I knew what I'd just said.

He knew what I'd just said.

It sat there, humming between us, stretching back years.

Edward swallowed, his voice quieter now.

"That didn't change."

No, it hadn't. And we both knew it.

I closed the door behind me, the soft click cutting through the charged air between us. When I turned, Edward was already watching me, his expression unreadable but his expectation unmistakable.

I took a slow step forward, then another, closing the space between us until only a few inches remained. I didn't touch him. Just stared.

Edward's breath hitched. I saw the shift in his posture, the subtle tension in his shoulders, the way his chest rose a little faster, his fingers flexing like he was resisting the urge to reach for me.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips before he spoke.

"So, I'm really your boyfriend now?" His voice was lighter than his eyes, like he was trying to break through the thick, humming tension between us.

I didn't let him.

"I thought that was pretty much clear."

Edward exhaled a soft, short laugh.

"It became clear today." He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. "When you kissed me in the middle of the cafeteria."

I chuckled, but I didn't ease up, didn't smooth over the way I was looking at him. And I knew, by the way he shifted under my gaze, by the way his lips parted just slightly, that he was feeling it.

I tilted my head, my voice teasing but low, serious.

"Are you weak on the knees?"

Edward's breath stuttered. When he answered, it was barely audible.

"Yes."

I smirked.

"Damn you," he murmured, his voice rough, like he was fighting against something inevitable. "You make me fucking melt when you do that."

I finally touched him, one hand wrapping around his neck, the other gripping his upper arm. He let out the softest exhale, like relief, like surrender. I let my stare soften, let my voice drop.

"What am I doing, Edward?"

He gasped quietly.

"Undoing me… just with your stare." He confessed in a barely-there voice. "Do you want this as much as I do?"

I huffed softly, my lips curling just slightly, showing him I couldn't believe he'd ask.

"You really have to ask?"

Edward's eyes searched mine, his breath unsteady, like he was holding something back. I felt the way he tensed beneath my hands, not in hesitation, but in restraint—like he wanted to give me everything and wasn't sure if he was allowed to.

His fingers curled slightly at my waist before smoothing over my sides, tentative, reverent.

I let my grip on him firm just a little, grounding him.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his voice quieter this time.

"I need to hear you say it."

I traced my thumb over the side of his neck, my voice softer now, but no less certain.

"I want this." My hands pressed against his skin, fingertips digging in just slightly. "I want you."

Edward's fingers tensed slightly against my sides, his breath hitching. For a moment, his gaze burned into mine, something raw flickering beneath the heat—something that wasn't just desire but desperation, something deeper.

His expression tightened.

"I promise you… I'll never hurt you again, Jasper." His voice was quiet but firm. "I will never do anything that will put this at risk again." His fingers brushed my ribs, barely there, like he was grounding himself. "I won't lose you ever again. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for how things ended before, for everything I put you through when we were in college. I—"

I kissed him before he could say another word. Before he could keep dragging us backward.

Edward made a sound against my lips, something between a sigh and a moan, his fingers tightening around my shirt. I kept the kiss firm but steady, pressing into it until his breath stuttered, until he gave in fully, melting against me.

When I pulled back, I didn't let go.

"That's the past," I murmured. "We'll write a different story. Starting now."

I kissed him again, and this time, it wasn't careful. It wasn't controlled.

Edward responded immediately, his hands threading into my hair, pulling me closer, pressing into me like he needed more.

I let him take, let him chase it, let him lose himself for a moment before tilting my head and deepening the kiss, shifting control without effort. A quiet shudder ran through him, his body molding into mine like he belonged there.

Sliding my hands down his back, I gripped his waist and pushed him gently, guiding him until his back met the wall. The sound he made at that—soft, breathy, desperate—shot straight through me.

I didn't hesitate. I leaned in, pressing a slow, deep kiss to the side of his jaw before trailing lower, the warmth of his skin beneath my lips making my own breath uneven. His fingers curled into my shoulders, his body arching into every touch, every press of my mouth against his skin.

"Jasper—" The way he whispered my name, half-plea, half-surrender, made my blood run hot.

I pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, my voice certain.

"Come on."

I took his hand, guiding him toward the bedroom without waiting for a response. He followed without question, his grip tight, his breathing uneven.

Inside, I turned him, pressing him back against the wall, my hands framing his face as I kissed him again, slow and deliberate, until he was putty under my mouth. His hands fisted in my shirt, his breath coming in unsteady pulls, his body shifting like he was chasing more, but I didn't rush.

Not yet.

Instead, I pulled him toward the bed, coaxing him to sit on the edge. His legs spread easily when I stepped between them, my thighs pressing against the inside of his.

Edward's lips parted, his hands trailing up my sides, his fingers lingering at my ribs.

I reached for the hem of his shirt, dragging it up with deliberate slowness before finally pulling it over his head and tossing it away.

And then I stilled.

My fingers traced over the tattoo above his heart, following the ink with quiet reverence. The weight of it—of what it meant—settled thick between us.

Edward watched me, his chest rising and falling, but he didn't say anything.

I leaned forward, pressing my lips to it slowly, letting my mouth linger before trailing up, across his collarbone, then to the soft, sensitive spot beneath his jaw.

Edward exhaled sharply, his hands tightening on my sides, before tugging at my shirt.

I let him.

Straightening, I peeled it off and let it fall, my gaze never leaving his.

Edward's eyes dragged down my chest, his fingers following, tracing the lines of muscle, his touch reverent in a way that made something deep in my chest ache.

I let him look, let him touch, let him take in whatever he needed before leaning in again, capturing his mouth with mine as I worked open the button of his jeans.

His breath hitched as my fingers dipped just beneath the waistband, but before I could push them lower, his hands found my belt, fingers curling around the leather as he tugged.

I stilled, lips barely parted from his, my breath mingling with his.

His grip on my belt tightened as he met my gaze.

"Are we doing this tonight?" His voice was low.

My pulse was anything but.

And my answer was immediate.

"Yes."

I kissed him, swallowing whatever he might have said, but he pulled back just enough to breathe against my lips, his voice rough.

"Take me."

I paused for half a second, watching the certainty in his eyes, the way his body leaned into mine without hesitation.

I tilted my head slightly, a silent question.

Edward understood.

His hands fisted in the front of my suit pants as he exhaled, deep and certain.

"Top me."

I let the words settle between us, let their weight sink in. Then, with a slow, deliberate nod, I leaned in and kissed him again.

I took my time stripping him down, peeling away layers until there was nothing left between us. Edward let me, his body pliant under my touch, his breath uneven. But when I reached for my own belt, he stopped me—fingers brushing mine, a silent tap against the back of my hand.

I let him take over.

Slowly, deliberately, Edward undid my belt, unbuttoned my pants, and dragged them down, his gaze following every inch of revealed skin like he was memorizing me. From my face to my toes, he took his time, his fingers tracing over my hips, my thighs, before finally meeting my eyes again.

And then he wrapped his hand around me and leaned in.

The second I felt his mouth, hot and wet and soft around me, my whole fucking world shifted.

A sharp groan tore from my throat, my body tightening, my fingers flexing where they gripped at his hair. The slow drag of his lips, the way his tongue teased, the unrelenting pull—it was intoxicating.

But nothing, nothing compared to his eyes on me.

Edward's gaze stayed locked onto mine, unwavering, deliberate, watching me unravel under him, watching every sound I made, every breath I lost to the feel of him.

I couldn't contain it, couldn't hold back the rough, desperate sounds spilling from my lips, and it only seemed to push him further.

Then, just for a moment, he pulled back. Just enough to breathe against me, lips barely parted, voice rough.

"The sounds you make are driving me crazy."

I let out a sharp, breathless laugh, threading my fingers deeper into his hair as I nudged him back.

"I'm the one getting crazy." My voice was raw, already wrecked—I didn't even try to hide it as I pushed him onto the mattress.

Edward fell back, letting me take control, letting me press into him, my mouth finding his with a desperate kind of hunger. His hands roamed over my skin, up my back, down my arms, pulling me closer, like he needed me just as much as I needed him.

I didn't rush. I kissed him, kissed down his chest, over his stomach, took my time memorizing every inch of him before coming back to his mouth.

There, with my mouth grazing his skin, I softened.

"Lube," I murmured, pressing a slow kiss to his jaw. "Condoms?"

Edward didn't hesitate. He stretched toward the bedside table, fingers brushing over the handle before pulling the drawer open. He grabbed both, pressing them into my hand without breaking eye contact.

I took them, setting them aside for a moment as I traced my fingers along his ribs, feeling the rise and fall of his breath beneath my touch.

The shift in the air was almost tangible. Still heavy with heat, but softer now.

I leaned down, pressing my lips to his again, slow and steady, my hands roaming over his skin as I reached for the lube. Edward exhaled against my mouth, his breath warm, uneven, but he didn't pull away—he let me take my time.

I moved carefully, easing him open, watching the way his body adjusted, how he reacted to the careful press of my fingers. At first, there was tension—his breath hitching, his muscles tensing—but then something shifted. His body softened, opening up, and I felt the exact moment he stopped bracing and started leaning into it instead.

The more I touched him, the more he melted, and fuck, the way he responded to my care—tilting his head back, lips parting, a slow, blissed-out haze overtaking his expression—it did something to me. Something deep, something beyond just physical.

But the hunger between us was impossible to ignore. The tension coiled tighter, heat building between us, sharper, more demanding, until Edward's breath turned ragged, his fingers gripping at my shoulders.

"Jazz," he whispered, his voice barely there. "I'm ready."

I pressed my lips to the hollow of his throat, exhaling against his skin as I reached for the condom. But before I could roll it on, Edward took it from my hands.

I didn't stop him.

He moved deliberately, unrolling it over my length, his fingers steady, but his breath just a little uneven. The feel of his hands on me, the way his touch sent a shiver straight down my spine, had me hissing through my teeth, my whole body tightening in response.

Edward smirked—just a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes before he lay back, open for me, waiting.

I took my time settling over him, bracing myself with one hand beside his head, the other guiding myself to his entrance.

Then, finally, I pressed in.

The sensation was immediate, searing, a slow drag of heat so intense it felt like my whole body was catching fire. My breath stilled, my muscles locked, and for a second, I couldn't do anything but feel—feel the impossible tightness around me, the way he clenched and shuddered beneath me, the way every inch I pushed inside sent a devastating wave of pleasure straight through me.

It wasn't just physical. Wasn't just emotional. It was both, tangled together into something overwhelming, something that stole the air straight from my lungs.

I forced myself to pause once I was fully inside him, my head dropping against his shoulder as I took a shuddering breath. My pulse pounded in my ears, my body threatening to give in too fast.

Fuck. He was too tight. Too much.

I clenched my jaw, willing myself to hold still, to let him adjust, to not lose it right then and there.

Edward shifted beneath me, his breath uneven, but when he spoke, his voice was soft.

"Move," he whispered.

So I did.

Our rhythm built naturally, effortlessly, like instinct. Each roll of my hips met with his, every movement fluid. It was like music, a harmony of bodies and breath, building into something devastating, something undeniable.

And as I moved inside him, feeling the way he took me in, surrounded me, I realized—this was perfect… our connection… the way we just fit.

We were perfect together.

Our rhythm deepened, every slow thrust sending another wave of pleasure rolling through us, building, intensifying. Edward's hands clutched at my shoulders, his fingers digging into my skin, pulling me closer with every movement. His body met mine instinctively, every roll of his hips perfectly in sync, like we were moving to something unspoken, something inevitable.

I angled myself just slightly, shifting to push deeper, and the sound he made—sharp, breathless—shot straight through me. His head tipped back against the pillows, his lips parting, his body arching, like I had unraveled something in him he couldn't control.

Fuck, he was stunning like this.

I couldn't get enough of it—of the way he moved under me, of the raw need in his expression, of the heat wrapping around me, pulling me deeper into him.

I lifted one of his legs higher, adjusting the angle, and the way he gasped at the shift sent a pulse of satisfaction straight to my core. My movements grew a little faster, more deliberate, and Edward met every one of them with a desperate, wanting roll of his hips.

The tension between us coiled tighter, burning hotter, the need to push further clawing at me. I wanted more. I wanted to see how far he'd let me take him.

I slowed for just a second, pressing my forehead to his, catching his gaze.

"Can I go a little harder?" I murmured against his lips.

Edward didn't even hesitate. He nodded, his breath catching, his fingers tightening in my hair.

I groaned, my grip on his hips firming as I thrust deeper, harder, swallowing the wrecked sound that escaped him. His body trembled, his thighs tightening around my waist, his back arching as he took everything I gave him.

I felt him everywhere—around me, against me, his every breath, every movement, every sound sinking under my skin, making my head spin.

Then, because I needed to see it, needed to watch him unravel completely, I whispered against his mouth.

"Touch yourself."

Edward let out a shaky breath as I straightened up, my gaze locking onto his hand slipping between us, wrapping around himself. And fuck—fuck—the sight sent a violent wave of heat tearing through me.

The way his fingers worked himself in time with my thrusts. The way his lips parted, his breath stuttering, his whole body taut with pleasure. The way his eyes never left mine, like he wanted me to see every single second of what I was doing to him.

It was impossibly hot.

Too fucking much.

I couldn't have held back if I wanted to.

My climax hit hard, tearing through me like a fire breaking loose, my entire body locking as I spilled into him. My gaze locked onto his, and I saw the exact second it crashed over him, too—the way his brows pulled together, the way his lips parted around a gasping moan, the way his whole body shuddered as he followed me over the edge, coming hard between us.

He was breathtaking.

I didn't move right away. Didn't let go.

Instead, I leaned in, pressing my forehead to his as our breaths tangled in the space between us. His pulse thudded against my palm where it rested over his chest, fast and unsteady, matching the aftershocks still rolling through me.

Slowly, I eased out of him, a quiet sigh slipping past his lips. I traced slow, absentminded strokes along his side, grounding both of us in the quiet that followed.

As I started to straighten up Edward moved to follow, but I stopped him with a gentle hand on his chest.

"Wait," I murmured, pressing him softly back against the mattress.

He let me guide him without resistance, his gaze following me as I slipped off the bed and into the ensuite.

I discarded the condom, cleaned myself quickly, then wet a cloth, bringing it back to him.

Edward's breath was still uneven, his body relaxed against the sheets. As I ran the warm cloth over him, cleaning him with careful, deliberate touches, I felt his eyes on me—quiet, something almost amazed in the way he watched me.

I didn't say anything, and neither did he.

When I was done, I set the cloth aside and lay back down, reaching for him. He came willingly, curling against me, tucking himself into my chest. I wrapped an arm around him, holding him close, letting the warmth between us settle into something softer.

After a long moment, Edward spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I finally had the first I always wanted. The one I never thought I'd have."

I blinked, my fingers stilling against his back.

"What?"

He shifted, resting his chin lightly on my chest, looking up at me.

"Back in college, I wanted you to be my first," he said, his voice quiet, certain. "Remember?"

I pulled back slightly, just enough to turn us so we were facing each other.

"What do you mean?"

His lips curled faintly.

"I mean exactly what I said. I finally had the first I always wanted."

The realization hit like a shock to the system, my breath catching.

"That was the first time you ever—" I hesitated, searching his face, needing confirmation. "That was your first time bottoming?"

Edward nodded, the openness in his gaze making my chest ache.

"If it weren't you, it never would've been anyone."

Something swelled inside me, too big to name. I was completely, utterly speechless for a moment, my mind replaying everything—every touch, every sound, every second of it—seeing it now in a different light.

And then concern crept in.

"Shit, Edward," I said, searching his face. "I was a little rough—did I hurt you?"

He laughed, shaking his head, his cheeks tinting pink.

"It was perfect," he assured me. "You were so careful preparing me." He hesitated, his blush deepening as he admitted, "And the roughness… I, uh—" He swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I have a weak spot for your dominant side. It makes me weak all over. But you know that well enough."

I chuckled, unable to resist brushing a kiss against his lips.

"It was perfect for me too."

I leaned in again, this time pressing my chest closer to his, my hand sliding up to his neck, fingers tracing the edge of his jaw. The warmth between us shifted as I held him there, letting the moment linger just a little longer than before.

Edward's breath hitched, and something shifted in his expression—his eyes darkened, and his fingers curled against my side, a sudden tension threading through him. I smirked, tilting his chin up slightly, feeling the heat between us rise.

"Brace yourself," I murmured. "Because you're about to experience your second time."

His lips parted, his pupils widening. Then he grinned, his hands sliding over my skin.

"Can't wait."

I kissed him again, and this time, I didn't stop.

.

.

.

I stepped into Mark's office for the first time in… I didn't even know how long.

It smelled like him.

That was the first thing that hit me, a scent so familiar it stopped me cold. The room was neat, untouched, the way he had left it, the way Rosalie had carefully maintained it, knowing I couldn't. I hardly ever came in here. I couldn't.

But I needed his death certificate.

I swallowed hard and forced myself forward, heading for the desk.

Rosalie had told me the documents were in a file inside the main drawer. I pulled at the handle, but the file inside was stuck. Frowning, I tugged harder.

It wouldn't budge.

I sighed, crouching down to remove the entire drawer.

That was when I saw it—a small box wedged at the back, keeping the file from sliding out. A white small envelope rested on top of it, catching the light.

I hesitated, my chest tightening.

Slowly, I reached for the envelope first.

My Moony,

For our twenty years together.

I love you always.

Your Sunny.

My breath stilled.

I stared at the words. At the way he had signed his name. At the realization slamming into me all at once—

He had died months before our twentieth dating anniversary… he'd never gotten to give it to me.

The box in my other hand felt heavier than it should have. My fingers trembled as I lifted the lid.

Inside, nestled in soft fabric, lay a white gold chain with a locket, its surface engraved with a sun encircling a crescent moon—two halves of a whole, eternally intertwined.

I exhaled shakily and opened it.

Two small spaces for photos. One was empty. The other was already filled—a picture of Mark with the kids, smiling.

A broken sound escaped my throat.

I pressed the locket into my palm, gripping it too tightly as something in me unraveled all at once.

The grief I had kept contained for so long—grief I thought I was past—crashed over me with brutal, crushing force, dragging me under.

My vision blurred. I gasped in a breath that never quite came and broke, sobbing, curling in on myself in Mark's chair.

I didn't know how long I stayed like that.

At some point, warm arms wrapped around me. A grounding presence.

Edward.

He didn't say anything. He just held me.

I clung to him, breath hitching, unable to stop the tears, unable to do anything but shake against him until the storm started to quiet.

When I could finally speak, I told him—everything. About the drawer. The box. The locket. How Mark had probably planned to give it to me and never got the chance.

Edward listened, his hand moving in slow, soothing strokes along my back.

Then, in a quiet, thoughtful motion, he reached for the locket, lifting it from my palm.

I watched, still raw, still overwhelmed, as he unclasped it and, with gentle care, fastened it around my neck. The cool metal settled against my skin, light, reassuring.

Edward smiled softly.

"It's like he left you something to find," he murmured, his voice soft, kind. "A last token of his love." He brushed his fingers over the locket once before meeting my gaze. "You should cherish it."

The tenderness in his words, the way he was so unflinchingly understanding of everything I had lost, made my chest ache with a depth I hadn't expected.

Something in my heart twisted, too full, too much. The intensity, the significance of it finally breaking through.

Before I even realized I was moving, I was cradling his face in my hands, my thumb gently brushing his cheek.

"I love you, Edward." My voice wavered as the truth poured out. "I'm in love with you." I swallowed thickly, the words so heavy and long overdue. "I've been in love with you for a while now, but I couldn't voice it before. I'm sorry it took me this long to say it. But I've felt it. I've been feeling it all along, since we started making our way back to each other."

Edward's breath hitched. His eyes shone, his lips parting, something breaking open in his expression.

Then he moved, climbing into my lap, his arms winding around my shoulders, his face pressing into the crook of my neck.

His voice was barely above a whisper.

"I never stopped loving you." His breath shuddered. "Since we were kids. Through all these years. I've been in love with you, and I always will be."

My chest ached, full and raw and endless.

I wrapped my arms around him, holding him tightly, grounding us both in the warmth between us.

We stayed like that for a long time.

.

.

.

The months that followed had been good—quiet, peaceful, and gradually settling. Things were falling into place, slowly but naturally. We'd let friends and family in on what was happening between us, taking our time with it. The response had been warm and heartfelt, some even seeming to have expected it for a while. The tension had faded, replaced by something softer.

That afternoon I led Edward upstairs, guiding him into my room. As soon as we stepped inside, he glanced around before his gaze settled on the bed. His lips quirked into a smirk as he turned to me.

"Did you bring me here to make out?" he asked, amusement lacing his voice.

I huffed a quiet laugh, shaking my head.

"No. I wanted to show you something."

"Ohhh," he teased.

I scoffed, shaking my head again.

"The kids are home," I reminded him, crossing my arms. "Awake. And just downstairs."

Edward sighed dramatically, as if I had just shattered all his hopes and dreams.

"Fine," he drawled, turning to the mattress again. "If I must behave, at least tell me what I'm looking at."

I hesitated, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically nervous.

"I know it's been five months," I said, stepping closer, "and I don't want you to think that I don't want you here."

Edward blinked, turning his body fully to me.

"Jazz," he said, confused. "I'm here all the time. I spend more time at your house than I do at my own apartment."

I exhaled, shifting my weight.

"That's not what I mean."

He frowned slightly, watching me carefully.

"For our moments together," I continued, "we've only ever gone to your place."

Understanding dawned on his face.

"I don't mind," he said softly. "I get it. Because of the kids. And because…" He trailed off, his expression turning cautious. "this is Mark's house."

I gently cut him off before he could go on.

"It isn't Mark's house anymore." My voice came out quieter than I intended, almost pained. "He isn't here anymore." I swallowed, forcing myself to say it, to lay it bare. "This is my house now. Mine and the kids'." I met his gaze, certain. "And I want you here."

Edward straightened up slightly, as if jolted by a surge of energy or surprise. He studied me, something deep and unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

I sighed, running a hand over my jaw.

"I haven't brought you in here before because…" My throat tightened for a second, but I pushed through it. "Because the bed was still the one I shared with Mark." I let out a slow breath. "And I didn't think it would be fair. To him. To me. To you." My gaze dropped for a moment before I looked back at Edward. "That's why I bought a new one."

Edward stilled.

"You bought a new bed," he repeated, as if he needed to hear it again to believe it.

I shrugged.

"Yeah."

He glanced at the bed, then back at me.

"This is a new bed, and you bought it—"

"For us," I finished, my voice gentle but certain. "Yes."

For a moment, he didn't say anything. Then, before I could react, his hands cupped my face as he kissed me—deep, soft, full of something I didn't have a name for.

I smiled against his lips.

"Happy?" I murmured.

Edward pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes bright.

"Jasper, you make me stupidly happy."

I huffed a small laugh before he tilted his head slightly, his expression shifting into something more serious.

"Are you happy?" he asked, his voice quieter.

"Very much so."

His lips parted slightly, something tender flickering across his face before he kissed me again.

Then, when he pulled back, he smirked.

"So… can we try the bed?" His voice was warm with amusement. "We have to break it in, after all."

I chuckled, shaking my head.

"Later. After the kids are asleep." Then, with a mock warning tone, I added, "And you better keep it down, because they wake easy."

Edward let out a soft, knowing chuckle.

"I can be quiet," he murmured, his fingers brushing lightly along my wrist, sending a shiver through me. "If you take it slow."

I narrowed my eyes, heat rising in my chest as his touch lingered.

"Stop teasing," I warned, stepping closer to him, "or I won't be responsible for what happens next."

Before he could reply, Noah's voice rang from downstairs, loud and insistent.

"Daddy!"

I shot Edward a pointed look.

He burst into laughter.

Still shaking my head, I reached for his hand, interlacing our fingers as I pulled him with me.

We had all the time in the world.

.

A/N: This is the penultimate chapter, people. See you soon with the conclusion of Jasper's and Edward's story.