Feels good to be back, sobbb. But see you in two weeks (April 7th!). If I can swing an earlier update, I will. Thxxx for reading and all the support!

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thirty-eight
labyrinth
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Waking up beside a warm, shirtless Edward is my new favorite way to start the day.

He's facing away from me, so I scoot closer and pepper soft kisses along his strong shoulders and the light freckles dotting his back.

Stirring, he rolls over to face me.

"Mmm," he hums, low and deep. "You're a nice way to wake up."

I smile. "No, you are."

"Is this our first fight?"

My heart is giddy. "You're not a fighter. You're a lover."

He just smiles and drapes an arm over my waist. "How'd you sleep?"

"So good." I shiver from the chilly room, and he pulls the blanket higher around our naked bodies.

"Did you dream about me?" he asks.

"I don't remember what I dreamed about."

"I dreamed about you."

I playfully narrow my gaze. "Really?"

His green gaze burns with bright affection. "Yeah."

"Sex dream?" I tease.

His grin is cheeky. "Why would I dream about that with you when I can get it in real life?"

"And is sex what you're aiming for by being so damn charming this morning?"

"No. Just wanna be sweet to you." He nuzzles his face in my neck, inhaling and exhaling. "What time is it?"

"No clue." I reach for my phone on the nightstand and look at it, finding a text from Jane. "It's just after eight. Also, Jane said they survived the night without illness, so we're still on for noon."

Edward kisses my neck before lifting his head. "Good."

I set my phone back on the wobbly nightstand. "Yeah, I guess."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"It is," I agree. "But I also would've been okay if Jane canceled, and we stayed in bed all day."

He groans like he wants that, too, then leans in for a kiss.

"Hey," he pouts, frowning when I turn my head.

"Morning breath."

"Don't care. It's not like we didn't brush our teeth last night."

He's right, we did. We stumbled down the dark hallway to the bathroom, using his phone as a flashlight. Then we stood beside each other and brushed our teeth, giving each other goofy grins in the mirror.

Afterward, he sat on the edge of the tub and kept me company for my ten-step skincare routine.

With my head still turned, he kisses a sweet trail from my cheek to my mouth, and I smile.

"You're so fucking pretty," he whispers.

"That's all my skincare products working their overnight magic."

"Mmm, I don't think so," he counters. "It's just you. You look happy."

"I am. I feel content. Like things are falling into place, and I'm where I'm supposed to be."

"Like you belong in a haunted attic," he offers, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"No," I stress, laughing. "Not physically where I'm supposed to be, but in every other sense. I just feel lucky and whole and cared for by you."

His gaze softens. "Well, good. I want you to feel all of that and more."

"More?" I echo, my lower belly buzzing with arousal, which is insane because we indulged in each other a lot last night.

The second time was just an hour after our first, and the third was in the middle of the night. His naked body pressed closely behind mine, and I woke up to him kissing my bare shoulder. I felt him grow hard against my ass, and I couldn't help but push against him, making him groan.

Every time was better than the last. And imagining how much better it'll be right now makes desire burn between my legs.

I slide a hand between us, gripping his hardening length. I stroke him until he's fully hard, making him gasp into my mouth.

"Want you," he grunts. "From behind."

"Okay."

I lie flat with my belly against the mattress, and he lies on top of me, his chest to my back. He nudges my legs wide with his calf, and I oblige, already anticipating him pushing into me.

First, he uses his fingers. They dip into me from behind, making sure I'm good. I press my face into the mattress and moan his name.

His fingers are gone, and he tells me to lift my hips a bit. And then he slides into me from behind.

Slowly.

Deliciously.

We're quiet. Too quiet for how good he's making me feel. It's deeper like this. More sensual.

He thrusts into me, a shuddering breath falling from his lips.

"You feel so fucking good," he exhales, his breath hot on my cheek.

"Touch me."

He slides a hand between me and the mattress, feeling for where I want him to rub.

When he does, I die. Nothing feels better than this. Filled by him, touched by him, adored by him.

Him, him, him.

His mouth moves to my neck. He kisses, licks, sucks. Marks me.

I don't care. I want to be branded by him. I want little reminders that I'm his. Like when I look in the mirror and see love bites. Or when I walk later and feel the ache between my legs from our night of intense lovemaking.

Our bodies move together, so in sync. So effortlessly. I wasn't lying when I said it's never like this for me. There's zero ounce of worry—no awkward moments or second-guessing. And I've never been this insatiable. I usually can't wait to get away after I sleep with someone. I never let myself be vulnerable the way I have been with Edward.

"So fucking close," he groans. "Come with me."

His plea alone is enough to make me let go.

He curses and pumps harder, breathing heavier while thrusting erratically.

The delicious feeling he's coaxing is there, bubbling beneath the surface.

"God, you're so good," I purr. "So, so good."

"That's it," he pants in my ear before biting my lobe. "Fuck yes. I can feel you. I can feel you. Come, baby."

I start to moan too loud, then press my face against the mattress so it's muffled.

He groans as he comes, too, filling me.

When we're finished, he pulls out of me and rolls off but stays close. I should get dressed and clean up, but I'm putty now.

"Why is it so good?" I ask, turning to face him, my head propped on a pillow.

"How good?" he taunts.

I scoff. "Like you don't know."

He bites back a soft, sexy grin. "Because it's us, Bell." His words warm me from the inside out as his fingers caress my neck where he left a mark. "Sorry."

"Don't be. I love it. It's like a secret language saying I'm yours."

"Hickies aren't so secret," he points out.

"So what?"

"We should buy new sheets. I don't think I can sleep on these another night."

I laugh. "Why stop at sheets? Let's buy a whole new bed. Dresser, too. Redecorate the place. Could use some new floors and paint."

He grins. "You think you're so funny."

"I do. The sheets are fine."

"Fifty thread count doesn't do it for me."

"Fifty?" I laugh, holding up the top sheet to inspect it. "There's no way you know what the thread count is."

"I do. I can see them. All fifty," he jokes. "I worry about your skin. It must be protected at all costs—not roughed up by this goddamn sandpaper."

"Oh, it's my skin you're worried about? Not yours?"

"Yes," he insists, giving me a playful look.

"My favorite snob," I tease, moving closer and tangling my legs with his.

He sighs, burying his face in my neck. "My favorite."

"Favorite what?"

"Everything."

XXX

"You miss your glory days, Mr. Quarterback?" I ask as we pass the high school and then the stadium.

We grabbed a bite to eat in Port Angeles and are now driving around Forks and killing time until we meet Jane. We only have half an hour to go, and I'm buzzing with nerves but trying to stay cool.

Edward snorts a laugh but shakes his head in denial. "Not really. I was good, but I didn't love it."

"Why'd you play?"

He shrugs. "It was something my stepdad wanted me to do because it was something he did in high school. Back then, I was desperate for his approval. I think I just… missed my dad and always felt that part of my life was lacking. Carlisle was my closest thing to a father, but it never felt right."

I frown, my heart aching for him. "Why not?"

He hesitates but says, "I've never told anyone this before, but I think he resented me a little bit."

His admission shocks me. "What? Why?"

"Long story short, my mom didn't want more kids." I watch him while he drives. "I'd hear them fighting about it sometimes when I was younger, but I guess she didn't feel the need for more kids after me, and it was just something she wanted to share with my late father."

"Because you're the most perfect son ever," I tease, earning a small laugh from him. But then I add more seriously, "She was still in love with your father."

"I mean, yeah, maybe. He was taken too soon and was her person," he agrees, his voice tinged with familiar fondness. "I think since Carlisle couldn't be mad at my father, he took it out on me."

"How so?"

"He didn't hit me or anything like that. It was always little things that would go unnoticed by my mom. Little remarks here and there. So, I tried to be perfect. Stay on his good side, as far as he knew. I mean, now, I don't give a fuck. I call him out on stuff," he admits. "I let go of that idea that we'd all be close. But I'm still close with my mom. She's all I have. If he's a dick, she doesn't see it. And I'm not about to get between them and have him turn her against me. So I keep the peace."

"I bet if it came down to it, Edward, she'd choose you over him."

"Yeah, but I'd never put her in that position."

"And you think he would?" I ask, and he just shrugs. "That sucks. I'm sorry."

"It is what it is," he says, simple and resigned. "It's almost noon. Can you put in Jane's address?"

"Yeah." I type it into his GPS and see it's only ten minutes away.

Even though we drive in comfortable silence, his words repeat in my mind, and something gnaws at me.

I get what he means about giving up on familial expectations and ideals. I'm so grateful to my aunt and uncle for adopting me and keeping me out of foster care after my parents passed away. But sometimes, I felt like I wasn't part of their true family. And it wasn't anything they ever said or did. They made me feel so loved, safe and included. Maybe it's just something that occurs when you know you're supposed to fit into a different puzzle. It wasn't ever quite right. Something was always missing.

I could tell Edward all of this—relate to him on yet another level than I have with anyone else—but I don't want to make any of this about me right now. So instead, I reach for his hand, the one that's not on the wheel, and silently decide that we can make our own puzzle together. Add our own jagged pieces that fit with ease.

Be our own sort of family.

XXX

Standing on Jane's doorstep, I have no idea what to expect.

Edward must sense my nerves because he presses a quick, sweet kiss to my temple after I ring the bell.

Seconds later, Jane opens the door.

"Hi," she greets cautiously, her eyes darting behind us like she's making sure we're alone. "Please, come in." We walk into the small entryway, and the house is quiet. "My husband, Mike, took the kids to the park. I didn't want them around in case they overheard anything."

"Right," I agree, smiling awkwardly. "Is your kiddo okay after being sick?"

"Oh, yeah." She waves me off. "He bounced back like no other."

"Kids," I chuckle, even though I don't know. "Well, thank you again for meeting with us."

"We can go sit in the living room," she suggests, leading the way.

She leaves the couch open for Edward and me to sit on together and chooses a fabric armchair for herself.

The three of us sit in awkward silence.

"Can I get you two anything to drink?" she offers, but we shake our heads. "Where are y'all staying?"

"The bed and breakfast near the library," Edward tells her.

"Oh, yeah. My kids think that place is haunted."

"Your kids and I have that in common," I joke, and Edward chuckles while Jane smiles.

Another stalled silence happens.

Even though I want to get right down to the Rosalie stuff, I feel Jane needs a little more small talk to be comfortable. Or maybe I'm the one who needs it. So I share a little about my life and what I'm doing in Seattle, and Edward tells her about himself, too.

"I know what you're thinking," Jane starts after she mentions what she's been up to after all this time. "Lame townie who never did much with her life other than pop out some babies and stayed stuck in the past."

I frown, shocked. "I promise you neither of us thinks that, Jane. You've made a beautiful life for yourself." I gesture toward the family photos on the wall. "I'd even say it's enviable," I add, and I can feel Edward's eyes on me.

"Well, thank you." She tucks a piece of blonde bob behind her ear. "The two times I talked to Jackson, he insulted me and my life, but I think he thought he was being sly about it. Like I was too stupid to catch on. That's why I refused to talk to him again. My husband wanted to junkpunch him."

"Your husband needs to take a number," Edward mutters, making Jane smile ruefully. "We aren't associated with him; I have issues with him, too."

She nods, and another silence falls upon us.

"So, should we get down to it?" Jane asks straightforwardly. "I'll let you start."

"Sure. I know it was a long time ago, but we'd like to know your version of the night Rosalie disappeared," I say.

She takes a deep breath. "It was a long time ago, but it's not a night I'd forget, considering everything. After the homecoming game, Rosalie and I went to a party at Ben Cheney's. That's where most parties happened because his parents split, and his dad was way more lenient than his mom. It was a normal night: beer pong, loud music, too much underage drinking. I could tell something was up with Rosalie. It felt like she was avoiding me, and I guess that was because…"

"Because what?" I prompt.

"Because a week before that, she'd told me she was pregnant," Jane admits.

My heart halts. "She did? The pregnancy isn't news to us because Edward knew, too, but we weren't sure anyone else was aware."

"Yeah. I was the one who bought the pregnancy tests," she confesses, looking remorseful. "I went two towns over to get them because I was worried people would talk or think I was pregnant."

"Did she tell you who the father was?" Edward asks. "Because we never slept together."

"No, but I assumed it was you since you two were dating."

"You never told the police she was pregnant," I point out. "Or if you did, that's not something they made public knowledge."

"No, I didn't tell them. And I regret that. Which is why I sent in an anonymous tip to the podcast revealing Rosalie's pregnancy."

"It was you," I say, stunned, another piece falling into place.

"It was my penance, I guess, for not coming clean about it in the past," she says with a somber smile. "Please don't tell Jackson it was me, though. I don't need him hitting me up for more information. I gave him all I knew; now, he can do what he wants with it. Although, I'm surprised he hasn't mentioned it yet on the podcast."

"I think he was trying to ensure it was a legit tip, which is hilarious because the man has no integrity or morals if the episode he dropped about us yesterday is any indication," I say, salty.

"I heard." Jane shakes her head in disgust. "I'm not sure who would believe that vile bullshit, though."

"Unfortunately, the world is full of assholes who blindly believe other assholes," Edward mutters.

Jane laughs humorlessly. "Well, please sue that asshole and shut him up."

Edward exhales a laugh. "On it."

"Don't worry about Jackson, though. Whatever we talk about today stays between us," I promise Jane. "I'm curious why you didn't tell the police she was pregnant?"

She shrugs. "I was scared. At first, I thought Rosalie was freaked about the baby and left to clear her head and figure out her situation or whatever. And then the more time passed, and she never returned, I just got worried it would look bad that I never said anything."

"But you showed them an old text from Rosalie where she was venting about wanting to leave town, and they deemed her a runaway instead of missing," I recall. "Why did you do that?"

"That text came up when they questioned me a month after she disappeared. I said one thing, and they practically ran with it," Jane admits. "It's almost as if they were thrilled to find an excuse to close the case. But what can you expect from a shitty small-town police station?

"A little more effort," Edward says with a scoff. "They barely questioned me. They were so fucking lazy with it all."

I glance at him, touched that he wanted the police to try harder even though he was initially a suspect.

"It was embarrassing," Jane agrees. "It also makes sense why the Forks Police won't work with the podcast because they don't want to draw attention to how poorly they handled everything."

"Maybe we could talk to someone at the station later?" I say absently, and Edward hums in agreement before I circle back. "So, that night—you thought Rosalie was avoiding you?" I prompt Jane.

"Yeah, things felt a little strained. She was in another world. I confronted her, and she broke down and admitted she was bleeding a little and thought she was miscarrying. So she went to the upstairs bathroom to test again but wanted to be alone."

"That's why I found her in there," Edward realizes. "That was when I learned she was pregnant."

Jane nods. "When I found her again, she begged me to take her home, so I did. She just cried the whole way there. I was too scared to ask her anything because I thought maybe she was losing the baby. It's selfish, but I wasn't equipped for that. And after I dropped her off, that was the last time I saw her."

"Did you go back to the party?" I ask.

"Yeah. I told her to call me if she needed me, but she didn't. I stayed at the party until two-ish, then spent the night with my other friend Angela," she adds. "I remember Edward left around eleven, before most people. Is that when you went to pick up Rosalie?"

"I didn't pick her up. I went straight home," he insists.

"Oh. I always thought the Hales said you were the last person to see her," Jane recalls.

"I mean, I don't think I was. That's the thing—there's an entire part of the night that I don't remember," Edward says. "But if I were blacked out, I wouldn't have been able to drive."

"Which part of the night don't you remember?" Jane asks.

Edward's knee bounces. "Things go black around an hour after I got home."

"Do you think you drank a spiked beer, and it kicked in later?" she suggests. "Unfortunately, that happened to a few girls I knew."

"I mean, I was drinking from the keg and don't remember setting my cup down, so not unless the keg was spiked and everyone got drugged," he replies.

Jane shakes her head. "I was drinking from the keg and remember everything, so probably not likely. It's pretty ironic that your memory loss is the part of the night when Rosalie went missing."

He groans. "I know it looks bad. But I swear I didn't see her after she left the party. I didn't go pick her up like her parents said. I didn't want to see her again that night. I was pissed."

"I know, I believe you," Jane says reassuringly. "So, did they actually see your car roll up to get her, or did she just tell them she was leaving with you?"

They both look to me for that answer.

"I guess I'd have to ask my dad that question," I reply. "I always assumed they saw your car, but that doesn't make sense if you weren't able to drive."

"Unless someone else was driving the car," Jane offers, and until now, that never crossed my mind.

"But who?" I ask, letting the question hang in the air.

"Maybe one of Edward's buddies?"

Edward shakes his head. "I didn't lend out my car, so unless they came by my place after I was passed out, but that seems less likely."

"We need to figure out who Rosalie was cheating with," I say after a brief silence. "Do you have any ideas?"

"No," Jane says apologetically. "Other than Edward, she didn't show much interest in the guys in town. But she also didn't have much time between class, cheer, and working to save for college," she offers, then brightens. "Oh! That's right—she worked at your stepdad's clinic."

"Yeah," Edward agrees, his eyes narrowing a bit like something feels off to him. "She did. She was working there before we started dating."

He looks pensive, and I want to ask him where his head is, but Jane says, "I tried getting a job there so Rosalie and I could hang out, but didn't make the cut. What pissed me off is that Jessica Stanley got hired after I applied. But maybe they didn't want friends working together or something."

"Jessica Stanley?" Hearing her name makes me pause, and my eyes shift to Edward. "We ran into her at the bookstore yesterday."

"Yeah, she's still here," Jane tells us. "She used to live closer to Seattle, but her mom's sick, so she moved back."

"That's awful," I say, hating that for her but unwilling to let it distract from the whole necklace ordeal. "So she worked with Rosalie at the clinic."

Jane nods. "Yeah, for a few months before Rosalie's disappearance."

"And they weren't friends," I state.

"Friendly, but not friends," Jane clarifies.

"Was Jessica at the party that night?" I ask.

"She wasn't part of the popular crowd, so no," Jane tells me. "Sorry, do we think she's a suspect?"

"No, I'm just trying to make sure I'm not missing anything." I keep the necklace information close to my heart. "Do you know if Rosalie told anyone else she was pregnant?"

"No clue. Honestly, I didn't even know you knew until now," she says to Edward. "But you didn't tell the police about the baby, either?" she clarifies, and he ruefully shakes his head.

"I just can't shake the idea that the pregnancy had something to do with her disappearance," I say, standing to pace. "Who for sure knew Rosalie was pregnant?"

"Edward and me," Jane lists off. "And I swear I didn't tell anyone else other than sending the anonymous tip to Jackson."

"Yeah, I—" Edward says, then pauses, his face blanching. "Other than Bella, I only told one other person."

"Who?" Jane asks, looking between us.

For a second, I'm confused, too, until it dawns on me.

"Carlisle."