complications

Beau and I walked silently to Biology. I was trying to focus myself on the moment, on the boy beside me, on what was real and solid, on anything that would keep Alice's deceitful, meaningless visions out of my head.

We passed Angela Weber, lingering on the sidewalk, discussing an assignment with a boy from her Trigonometry class. I scanned her thoughts perfunctorily, expecting more disappointment, only to be surprised by their wistful tenor.

Ah, so there was something Angela wanted. Unfortunately, it wasn't something that could be easily gift-wrapped.

I felt strangely comforted for a moment, hearing Angela's hopeless yearning. A sense of kinship that Angela would never know about passed through me, and I was, in that second, at one with the kind human girl.

It was oddly consoling to know that I wasn't the only one living out a tragic love story. Heartbreak was everywhere.

In the next second, I was abruptly and thoroughly irritated. Because Angela's story didn't have to be tragic. She was human and he was human and the difference that seemed so insurmountable in her head was ridiculous, truly ridiculous compared to my own situation. There was no point in her broken heart. What a wasteful sadness, when there was no valid reason for her not to be with the one she wanted. Why shouldn't she have what she wanted? Why shouldn't this one story have a happy ending?

I wanted to give her a gift… Well, I could give her what she wanted. Knowing what I did of human nature, it probably wouldn't be very difficult. I sifted through the consciousness of the boy beside her, the object of her affections, and he did not seem unwilling, he was just stymied by the same difficulty she was. Hopeless and resigned, the way she was.

All I would have to do was plant the suggestion…

The plan formed easily, the script wrote itself without effort on my part. I would need Emmett's help—getting him to go along with this was the only real difficulty. Human nature was so much easier to manipulate than vampire nature.

I was pleased with my solution, with my gift for Angela. It was a nice diversion from my own problems. Would that mine were as easily fixed.

My mood was slightly improved as Beau and I took our seats. Maybe I should be more positive. Maybe there was some solution out there for us that was escaping me, the way Angela's obvious solution was so invisible to her. Not likely… But why waste time with hopelessness? I didn't have time to waste when it came to Beau. Each second mattered.

Mrs. Banner entered pulling an ancient TV and VCR. She was skipping through a section she wasn't particularly interested in—genetic disorders—by showing a movie for the next three days. Lorenzo's Oil was not a very cheerful piece, but that didn't stop the excitement in the room. No notes, no test-able material. Three free days. The humans exulted.

It didn't matter to me, either way. I hadn't been planning on paying any attention to anything but Beau.

I did not pull my chair away from his today, to give myself space to breathe. Instead, I sat close beside him like any normal human would. Closer than we sat inside my car, close enough that the left side of my body felt submerged in the heat from his skin.

It was a strange experience, both enjoyable and nerve-racking, but I preferred this to sitting across the table from him. It was more than I was used to, and yet I quickly realized that it was not enough. I was not satisfied. Being this close to him only made me want to be closer still. The pull was stronger the closer I got.

I had accused him of being a magnet for danger. Right now, it felt like that was the literal truth. I was danger, and, with every inch I allowed myself nearer to him, his attraction grew in force.

And then Mrs. Banner turned the lights out.

It was odd how much of a difference this made, considering that the lack of light meant little to my eyes. I could still see just as perfectly as before. Every detail of the room was clear.

So why the sudden shock of electricity in the air, in this dark that was not dark to me? Was it because I knew that I was the only one who could see clearly? That both Beau and I were invisible to the others? Like we were alone, just the two of us, hidden in the dark room, sitting so close beside one another…

My hand moved toward him without my permission. Just to touch his hand, to hold it in the darkness. Would that be such a horrific mistake? If my skin bothered him, he only had to pull away…

I yanked my hand back, folded my arms tightly across my chest and clenched my hands closed. No mistakes. I'd promised myself that I would make no mistakes, no matter how minimal they seemed. If I held his hand, I would only want more—another insignificant touch, another move closer to him. I could feel that. A new kind of desire was growing in me, working to override my self-control.

No mistakes.

Beau folded his arms securely across his own chest, and his hands balled up into fists, just like mine.

What are you thinking? I was dying to whisper the words to him, but the room was too quiet to get away with even a whispered conversation.

The movie began, lightening the darkness just a bit. Beau glanced up at me. He noted the rigid way I held my body—just like his—and smiled. His lips parted slightly, and his eyes seemed full of warm invitations.

Or perhaps I was seeing what I wanted to see.

I smiled back; his breathing caught slightly and he looked quickly away.

That made it worse. I didn't know his thoughts, but I was suddenly positive that I had been right before, and that he wanted me to touch him. He felt this dangerous desire just as I did.

Between his body and mine, the electricity hummed.

He didn't move at all through the hour, holding his stiff, controlled pose as I held mine. Occasionally he would peek at me again, and the humming current would jolt through me with a sudden shock.

The hour passed—slowly, and yet not slowly not enough. This was so new, I could have sat like this with him for days, just to experience the feeling fully.

I had a dozen different arguments with myself while the minutes passed, rationally struggling with desire as I tried to justify touching him.

Finally, Mrs. Banner turned the lights on again.

In the bright fluorescent light, the atmosphere of the room returned to normal. Beau sighed and stretched, flexing his fingers in front of him. It must have been uncomfortable for him to hold that position for so long. It was easier for me—stillness came naturally.

I chuckled at the relieved expression on his face. "Well, that was interesting."

"Umm, yeah," he murmured, clearly understanding what I referred to, but making no comment. What I wouldn't give to hear what he was thinking right now.

I sighed. No amount of wishing was going to help with that.

"Shall we?" I asked, standing.

He made a face and got unsteadily to his feet, his hands splayed out as if he were afraid he was going to fall.

I could offer him my hand. Or I could place that hand underneath his elbow—just lightly—and steady him. Surely that wouldn't be such a horrible infraction.

No mistakes.

He was very quiet as we walked toward the gym. The crease was evident between his eyes, a sign that he was deep in thought. I, too, was thinking deeply.

One touch of his skin wouldn't hurt him, my selfish side contended.

I could easily moderate the pressure of my hand. It wasn't exactly difficult, as long as I was firmly in control of myself. My tactile sense was better developed than a human's; I could juggle a dozen crystal goblets without breaking any of them; I could stroke a soap bubble without popping it. As long as I was firmly in control.

Beau was like a soap bubble—fragile and ephemeral. Temporary.

How long would I be able to justify my presence in his life? How much time did I have? Would I have another chance like this chance, like this moment, like this second? He would not always be within my arm's reach…

Beau turned to face me at the gym's door, and his eyes widened at the expression on my face. He didn't speak. I looked at myself in the reflection of his eyes and saw the conflict raging in my own. I watched my face change as my better side lost the argument.

My hand lifted without a conscious command for it to do so. As gently as if he were made of the thinnest glass, as if he were as fragile as a bubble, my fingers stroked the warm skin that covered his cheekbone. It heated under my touch, and I could feel the pulse of blood speed beneath his transparent skin.

Enough, I ordered, though my hand was aching to shape itself to the side of his face. Enough.

It was difficult to pull my hand back, to stop myself from moving closer to him than I already was. A thousand different possibilities ran through my mind in an instant—a thousand different ways to touch him. The tip of my finger tracing the shape of his lips. My palms cupping under his chin. Running my hand through his thick brown hair. My arms winding around his waist, holding him against the length of my body.

Enough.

I forced myself to turn, to move away from him. My body moved stiffly—unwilling.

I let my mind linger behind to watch him as I walked swiftly away, almost running from the temptation. I caught Mike Newton's thoughts—they were the loudest—while he watched Beau walk past him in oblivion, his eyes unfocused and his cheeks red. Mike glowered and suddenly my name was mingled with curses in his head; I couldn't help grinning slightly in response.

My hand was tingling. I flexed it and then curled it into a fist, but it continued to sting painlessly.

No, I hadn't hurt Beau—but touching him had still been a mistake.

It felt like fire—like the thirsting burn of my throat had spread throughout my entire body.

The next time I was close to him, would I be able to stop myself from touching him again? And if I touched him once, would I be able to stop at that?

No more mistakes. That was it. Savor the memory, Edward, I told myself grimly, and keep your hands to yourself. That, or I would have to force myself to leave… somehow. Because I wouldn't allow myself near him if I insisted on making errors.

I took a deep breath and tried to steady my thoughts.

Emmett caught up with me outside the English building.

"Hey, Edward." He's looking better. Weird, but better. Happy.

"Hey, Em." Did I look happy? I supposed, despite the chaos in my head, I felt that way.

Way to keep your mouth shut, kid. Royal wants to rip your tongue out.

I sighed. "Sorry I left you to deal with that. Are you angry with me?"

"Naw. Roy'll get over it. It was bound to happen anyway." With what Alice sees coming…

Alice's visions were not what I wanted to think about right now. I stared forward, my teeth locking together.

As I searched for a distraction, I caught sight of Ben Cheney entering the Spanish room ahead of us. Ah—here was my chance to give Angela Weber her gift.

I stopped walking and caught Emmett's arm. "Hold on a second."

What's up?

"I know I don't deserve it, but would you do me a favor anyway?"

"What is it?" he asked, curious.

Under my breath—and at a speed that would have made the words incomprehensible to a human no matter how loud they'd been spoken—I explained to him what I wanted.

He stared at me blankly when I was done, his thoughts as blank as his face.

"So?" I prompted. "Will you help me do it?"

It took him a minute to respond. "But, why?"

"C'mon, Emmett. Why not?"

Who are you and what have you done with my brother?

"Aren't you the one who complains that school is always the same? This is something a little different, isn't it? Consider it an experiment—an experiment in human nature."

He stared at me for another moment before he caved. "Well, it is different, I'll give you that… Okay, fine." Emmett snorted and then shrugged. "I'll help you."

I grinned at him, feeling more enthusiastic about my plan now that he was on board. Royal was a pain, but I would always owe him one for choosing Emmett; no one had a better brother than mine.

Emmett didn't need practice. I whispered his lines to him once under my breath as we walked into the classroom.

Ben was already in his seat behind mine, assembling his homework to hand in. Emmett and I both sat and did the same thing. The classroom was not quiet yet; the murmur of subdued conversation would continue until Mrs. Goff called for attention. She was in no hurry, appraising the quizzes from the last class.

"So," Emmett said, his voice louder than necessary—if he were really speaking only to me. "Did you ask Angela Weber out yet?"

The sound of papers rustling behind me came to an abrupt stop as Ben froze, his attention suddenly riveted on our conversation.

Angela? They're talking about Angela?

Good. I had his interest.

"No," I said, shaking my head slowly to appear regretful.

"Why not?" Emmett improvised. "Are you chicken?"

I grimaced at him. "No. I heard that she was interested in someone else."

Edward Cullen was going to ask Angela out? But… No. I don't like that. I don't want him near her. He's… not right for her. Not… safe.

I hadn't anticipated the chivalry, the protective instinct. I'd been working for jealousy. But whatever worked.

"You're going to let that stop you?" Emmett asked scornfully, improvising again. "Not up for the competition?"

I glared at him, but made use of what he gave me. "Look, I guess she really likes this Ben person. I'm not going to try to convince her otherwise. There are others I could pursue."

The reaction in the chair behind me was electric.

"Who?" Emmett asked, back to the script.

"My lab partner said it was some kid named Cheney. I'm not sure I know who he is."

I bit back my smile. Only the haughty Cullens could get away with pretending not to know every student at this tiny school.

Ben's head was whirling with shock. Me? Over Edward Cullen? But why would she like me?

"Edward," Emmett muttered in a lower tone, rolling his eyes toward the boy. "He's right behind you," he mouthed, so obviously that the human could easily read the words.

"Oh," I muttered back.

I turned in my seat and glanced once at the boy behind me. For a second, the black eyes behind the glasses were frightened, but then he stiffened and squared his narrow shoulders, affronted by my clearly disparaging evaluation. His chin shot out and an angry flush darkened his golden-brown skin.

"Huh," I said arrogantly as I turned back to Emmett.

He thinks he's better than me. But Angela doesn't. I'll show him…

Perfect.

"Didn't you say she was taking some other guy to the dance, though?" Emmett asked.

"That was apparently a group decision." I wanted to be sure that Ben was clear on this. "Angela's shy. If B—well, if a guy doesn't have the nerve to ask her out, she'd never ask him."

"You like 'em shy," Emmett said, back to improvisation. And quiet. And boys. Boys like… hmm, I don't know. Maybe Beau Swan?

I grinned at him. "Exactly." Then I returned to the performance. "Maybe Angela will get tired of waiting. Maybe I'll ask her to the prom."

No, you won't, Ben thought, straightening up in his chair. So what if she's so much taller than me? If she doesn't care, then neither do I. She's the nicest, smartest, prettiest girl in this school… and she wants me.

I liked this Ben. He seemed bright and well-meaning. Maybe even worthy of a girl like Angela.

I gave Emmett a thumbs up under the desk as Mrs. Goff stood and greeted the class.

Okay, I'll admit it—that was sort of fun, Emmett thought.

I smiled to myself, pleased that I'd been able to shape one love story's happy ending. I was positive that Ben would follow through, and Angela would receive my anonymous gift. My debt was repaid.

How silly humans were, to let a six-inch height differential confound their happiness.

My success put me in a good mood. I smiled again as I settled into my chair and prepared to be entertained. Beau had mentioned that he was uncoordinated. And since he was in Gym, I decided it would be the perfect opportunity to see for myself.

Mike's thoughts were easy to pinpoint in the babble of the voices that swarmed through the gym. His mind had gotten far too familiar over the last few weeks. With a sigh, I resigned myself to listening through him. At least I could be sure that he would be paying attention to Beau.

I was just in time to hear him offer to be Beau's badminton partner; as he made the suggestion, other partnerings ran through his mind. My smile faded, my teeth clenched together, and I had to remind myself that murdering Mike Newton was not a permissible option.

"Thanks, Mike—you don't have to do this, you know."

"Don't worry, I'll keep out of your way."

They grinned at each other, and flashes of numerous accidents—always in some way connected to Beau—flashed through Mike's head.

Mike played alone at first, while Beau hesitated on the back half of the court, holding his racket gingerly, as if it were some kind of weapon. Then Coach Clapp amble by and ordered Mike to let Beau play.

Uh oh, Mike thought as Beau moved forward with a sigh, holding his racquet at an awkward angle.

Jennifer Ford served the birdie directly toward Beau with a smug twist to her thoughts. Mike saw Beau lurch toward it, swinging the racket yards wide of his target, and Mike rushed in to try to save the volley.

I watched the trajectory of Beau's racquet with alarm. Sure enough, it hit the taut net and sprung back at him, clipping his forehead before it spun out to strike Mike's shoulder with a resounding thwack.

Ow. Ow. Ungh. That's going to leave a bruise.

Beau was kneading his forehead. It was hard to stay in my seat where I belonged, knowing he was hurt. But what could I do, if I were there? And it didn't seem to be serious… I hesitated, watching. If he intended to continue to try to play, I was going to have to manufacture an excuse to pull him out of class.

The coach laughed. "Sorry, Newton." That Swan boy's the worst jinx I've ever seen. Shouldn't inflict him on the others…

He turned his back deliberately and moved to watch another game so that Beau could return to his former spectator's role.

Ow, Mike thought again, massaging his shoulder. He turned to Beau. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, are you?" he asked sheepishly, blushing.

"I think I'll make it." Don't want to sound like a crybaby. But, damn, that hurts!

Mike swung his arm in a circle, wincing.

"I'll just stay back here," Beau said, embarrassment and chagrin on his face rather than pain. Maybe Mike had got the worst of it. I certainly hoped that was the case. At least he wasn't playing anymore. He held his racquet so carefully behind his back, his eyes wide with remorse… I had to disguise my laugh as coughing.

What's funny? Emmett wanted to know.

"Tell you later," I muttered.

Beau didn't venture into the game again. The coach ignored him and let Mike play alone.

I breezed through the quiz at the end of the hour, and Mrs. Goff let me go early. I was listening intently to Mike as I walked across the campus. He'd decided to confront Beau about me.

Jessica swears they're dating. Why? Why did Cullen have to pick Beau?

He didn't recognize the real phenomenon—that Beau had picked me.

"So."

"So what?" he wondered.

"You and Cullen, huh?" You and the freak. I guess, if a rich guy is that important to you…

I gritted my teeth at his degrading assumption.

"Yeah, I guess." Beau responded shortly.

Defensive. So it's true. Crap. "I don't like it."

"You don't have to," Beau shrugged.

Why can't he see what a circus sideshow Cullen is? Like they all are? The way he stares at Beau. It gives me chills to watch. "He looks at you like… like you're something to eat."

I cringed, waiting for Beau's response.

Beau's face turned bright red, and his lips pressed together like he was holding his breath. Then, suddenly, a giggle burst through his lips.

Now he's laughing at me. Great.

Beau turned, suddenly, and hurried into the locker room to clean up.

I leaned against the gym wall and tried to compose myself.

How could Beau have laughed at Mike's accusation—so entirely on target that I began to worry that Forks was becoming too aware… Why would he laugh at the suggestion that I would kill him, when he knew that it was entirely true? Where was the humor in that?

What was wrong with him?

Did he have a morbid sense of humor? That didn't fit with my idea of his character, but how could I be sure? Or maybe my daydream of the giddy angel was true in the one respect, in that he had no sense of fear at all. Brave—that was one word for it. Others might stay stupid, but I knew how bright he was. No matter what the reason, though, this lack of fear or twisted sense of humor wasn't good for him. Was it this strange lack that put him in danger so constantly? Maybe he would always need me here…

Just like that, my mood was soaring.

If I could just discipline myself, make myself safe, then perhaps it would be right for me to stay with him.

When he walked through the gym doors, his shoulders were stiff and his lower lip was between his teeth again—a sign of anxiety. But as soon as his eyes met mine, his rigid shoulders relaxed and a wide smile spread across his face. It was an oddly peaceful expression. He walked right to my side without hesitation, only stopping when he was so close that his body heat crashed over me like a tidal wave.

"Hi," he whispered.

The happiness I felt in this moment was, again, without precedent.

"Hello," I said, and then—because with my mood suddenly so light I couldn't resist teasing him—I added, "How was gym?"

His smile wavered. "Fine."

He was a poor liar.

"Really?" I asked, about to press the issue---I was still concerned about his head; was he in pain?—but then Mike Newton's thoughts were so loud they broke my concentration.

I hate him. I wish he would die. I hope he drives that shiny car right off a cliff. Why couldn't he just leave Beau alone? Stick to his own kind—to the freaks.

"What?" Beau demanded.

My eyes refocused on his face. He looked at Mike's retreating back, and then at me again.

"Newton's getting on my nerves."

His mouth fell open, and his smile disappeared. He must have forgotten that I'd had the power to watch through his calamitous last hour, or hoped that I hadn't utilized it. "Edward, were you listening again?"

"How's your head?"

"You're unbelievable." He rolled his eyes, and then he turned away from me and walked in the direction of the parking lot. His skin flushed dark red—he was embarrassed.

I kept pace with him, hoping that his anger would pass soon. He was usually quick to forgive me.

"You were the one who mentioned how uncoordinated you were," I explained. "It made me curious."

He didn't answer; his eyebrows pulled together.

He came to a sudden halt in the parking lot when he realized that the way to my car was blocked by a crowd of students.

I wonder how fast they've got this thing…

Look at the SMG shift paddles. I've never seen those outside of a magazine…

Nice side grills…

Sure wish I had sixty thousand dollars laying around…

This was exactly why it was better for Royal to only use his car out of town.

I wound through the throng of lustful students to my car; after a second hesitation, Beau followed suit.

"Ostentatious," I muttered as he climbed in.

"What kind of car is that?" he wondered.

"An M3."

He shrugged. "Sorry, that doesn't mean anything to me."

"It's a BMW." I rolled my eyes and then focused on backing out without running anyone down. I had to lock eyes with a few idiots that didn't seem willing to move out of my way. A half-second meeting my gaze seemed to be enough to convince them.

He nodded, understanding lighting his face.

"Are you still angry?" I asked him. His frown had relaxed.

"I'm not happy," He said shortly.

I sighed. Maybe I shouldn't have brought it up. Oh well. I could try to make amends, I supposed. "Will you forgive me if I apologize?"

He thought about that for a moment. "Maybe… if you mean it," he decided. "And if you promise not to do it again."

I wasn't going to lie to him, and there was no way I was agreeing to that. Perhaps if I offered him a different exchange.

"How about if I mean it, and I agree to let you drive Saturday?"

The furrow popped into existence between his eyes and he considered the new bargain. "Deal," he said after a moment of thought.

Now for my apology… I'd never tried to dazzle Beau on purpose before, but now seemed like a good time. I stared deep into his eyes as I drove away from the school, wondering if I was doing it right.

"Then I'm very sorry I upset you."

I did mean it, sincerely. His heartbeat thudded louder than before, and the rhythm was abruptly staccato. His eyes widened, and he smiled a little.

I half-smiled. It seemed like I'd gotten it right. Of course, I was having a bit of difficultly looking away from his eyes, too. Equally dazzled. It was a good thing I had this road memorized.

"I'll be on your doorstep bright and early Saturday morning," I added, finishing the agreement.

He blinked swiftly, shaking his head as if to clear it. "Um," he said. "it doesn't help with the Charlie situation if an unexplained Volvo is left in the driveway."

Ah, how little he still knew me. "I wasn't intending to bring the car."

"How—" he started to ask.

I interrupted him. The answer would be hard to explain without a demonstration, and now was hardly the time. "Don't worry about it. I'll be there, no car."

He put his head on one side, and looked for a second like he was going to press for more, but then he seemed to change his mind.

"Is it later yet?" he asked, reminding me of our unfinished conversation in the cafeteria today; he'd let go of one difficult question just to return to another that was more unappealing.

"I suppose it is later," I agreed unwillingly.

I parked in front of his house, tensing as I tried to think of how to explain… without making my monstrous nature too evident, without frightening him again. Or was that wrong? To minimize my darkness?

He waited with the same politely interested mask he'd worn at lunch. If I'd been less anxious, his preposterous calm would have made me laugh.

"And you still want to know why you can't see me hunt?" I asked.

"Well, mostly I was wondering about your reaction," he said.

"Did I frighten you?" I asked, positive that he would deny it.

"A bit."

I hadn't expected that. Once again, he surprised me. "I apologize for scaring you." I said solemnly. "It was just the very thought of you being there… while we hunted."

"That would be bad?"

The mental picture was too much—Beau, so vulnerable in the empty darkness; myself, out of control… I tried to banish it from my head. "Extremely."

"Because…?"

I took a deep breath, concentrating for one moment on the burning thirst. Feeling it, managing it, proving my dominion over it. It would never control me again—I willed that to be true. I would be safe for Beau. I stared at the welcome clouds without seeing them, wishing I could believe that my determination would make any difference if I were hunting when I crossed his scent.

"When we hunt… we give ourselves over to our senses," I told him, thinking through each word before I spoke it. "Govern less with our minds. Especially our sense of smell. If you were anywhere near me when I lost control that way…"

I shook my head in agony at the thought of what would—not what could, but what would—surely happen then.

I listened to the spike in his heartbeat, and then turned, restless, to read his eyes.

Beau's face was composed, his eyes grave. His mouth was pursed just slightly in what I guessed was concern. But concern for what? His own safety? Or my anguish? I continued to stare at him, trying to translate his ambiguous expression into sure fact.

He gazed back. His eyes grew wider after a moment, and his pupils dilated, though the light had not changed.

My breathing accelerated, and suddenly the quiet in the car seemed to be humming just like in the darkened biology room this afternoon. The pulsing current raced between us again, and my desire to touch him was, briefly, stronger even than the demands of my thirst.

The throbbing electricity made it feel like I had a pulse again. My body sang with it. Like I was human. More than anything in the world, I wanted to feel the heat of his lips against mine. For one second, I struggled desperately to find the strength, the control, to be able to put my mouth so close to his skin…

He sucked in a ragged breath, and only then did I realize that when I had started breathing faster, he had stopped breathing altogether.

I closed my eyes, trying to break the connection between us.

No more mistakes.

Beau's existence was tied to a thousand delicately balanced chemical processes, all so easily disrupted. The rhythmic expansion of his lungs, the flow of oxygen, was life or death to him. The fluttering cadence of his fragile heart could be stopped by so many stupid accidents or illnesses or… by me.

I did not believe that any member of my family would hesitate if he or she were offered a chance back—if he or she could trade immortality for mortality again. Any one of us would stand in fire for it. Burn for as many days or centuries as were necessary.

Most of our kind prized immortality above anything else. There were even humans who craved this, who searched in dark places for those who could give them the blackest of gifts.

Not us. Not my family. We would trade anything to be human.

But none of us had ever been as desperate for a way back as I was now.

I stared at the microscopic pits and flaws in the windshield, and I had to concentrate to keep my hands on the wheel.

My right hand began to sting without pain again, from when I'd touched him before. I closed my eyes, trying to keep control.

"Beau, I think you should go inside now."

"Yeah, me too." He breathed.

Without another comment, he got out of the car and shut the door behind himself. Did he feel the potential for disaster as clearly as I did?

Did it hurt him to leave, as it hurt me to let him go? The only solace was that I would see him soon. Sooner than he would see me. I smiled at that, then rolled the window down and leaned across to speak to him one more time—it was safer now, with the heat of his body outside the car.

He turned to see what I wanted, curious.

Still curious, though he'd asked me so many questions today. My own curiosity was entirely unsatisfied; answering his questions today had only revealed my secrets—I'd gotten little from him but my own conjectures. That wasn't fair.

"Oh, Beau?"

"Yes?"

"Tomorrow it's my turn."

His forehead puckered. "Your turn to what?"

"Ask the questions." Tomorrow, when we were in a safer place, surrounded by witnesses, I would get my own answers. I grinned at the thought, and then I turned away because he made no move to leave. Even with him outside of the car, the echo of the electricity zinged in the air. I wanted to get out, too, to walk him to his door as an excuse to stay beside him…

No more mistakes. I hit the gas, and then sighed as he disappeared behind me. It seemed like I was always running toward Beau or running away from him, never staying in place. I would have to find some way to hold my ground if we were ever going to have peace.

Of course, if I had any hope for peace I would need to face my family first. When I arrived home, I braced myself for the confrontation. I knew Alice and Emmett wouldn't give me much trouble. Emmett seemed almost amused by it all, and Alice had made her feelings abundantly clear. Jasper was unhappy, that much was obvious, but his feelings paled in comparison to Royal's absolute fury.

I was relieved—if not surprised—to see that my Aston Martin sat unscathed in the garage. Royal may have been angry, but at least he wasn't that angry.

When I stepped into the house, it was Carlisle's voice that greeted me first.

"Edward, we're in the dining room."

I took a calming breath, and headed to where my family waited for me.

Idiot! Selfish! Jackass! Royal's stream of mental insults continued, seemingly unbroken, from the cafeteria.

When I reached the dining room, everyone was already sitting at the table. Carlisle at the head, Esme at his side. Alice sat next to her and I was somewhat pleased to see Jasper sitting next to her instead of standing like the last time. Emmett sat next to Royal opposite of Carlisle. Royal tapped his fingers impatiently against the wood of the table. If he wasn't careful he'd leave a dent.

Honesty is the best policy! Alice thought. It should be fine… probably.

I took another deep breath, I tried to get a read on everyone's mental state but it was hard to hear anyone else over Royal. I'd just have to jump in.

"First of all," I began, "I want to apologize. I've been acting very erratic lately. There's no excuse for that. I should also apologize for not talking to everyone about Beau—"

"Yes, you should!" Royal interrupted me. "You should apologizing for being completely irresponsible."

"C'mon, babe," Emmett put his hand on Royal's shoulder. "Calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down, Emmett." Royal snapped.

"I am sorry, Royal," I sighed. "Please believe me, I didn't mean to—"

"Do you have any idea what sort of a situation you've put us in, Edward?" Royal snarled. "Do you even comprehend how your selfishness has affected this entire family?"

"Royal, please," Carlisle's voice was soothing. "Let's not overreact."

"I'm not overreacting, Carlisle," Royal retorted. "If anything happens there's no quietly moving away. There's no way to sweep this under the rug. He's already been seen publicly with the boy. The entire school is talking about it."

"Is that true, Edward? Are you two…?" Esme asked, I could hear the hopefulness in her voice. The happiness. I felt guilty that it pleased me so much.

"Yes, we're…" I couldn't find the right words. 'Dating' didn't seem like enough, it didn't hold the weight of my feelings for Beau. "Yes, we are."

Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful! Esme's joy radiated from her thoughts and her smile.

Carlisle smiled as well, thought he didn't speak. I'm happy for you, Edward. You deserve to be happy.

Alice was practically vibrating with excitement.

"We're pleased that Edward has taken up with some human?" Royal rolled his eyes at the various reactions around the table. "That's he's gone public with it all?"

"He seems like a fine enough kid," Emmett said, surprising me by jumping to my defense against Royal.

"I couldn't care less what kind of a person he is, Emmett." Royal glowered. "I care that he's human and he knows everything."

"But he's not going to tell anyone, Roy," Emmett replied. "He saw Edward hold up a van and he didn't say anything. Edward spilled everything to him and he didn't say anything. I'm pretty sure the kid is going to keep our secret."

Like this afternoon, I was grateful to Emmett for always being the best I could ask for in a brother. Even in the face of Royal's fury he was willing to help me.

"And what happens if Edward kills him? What happens if Edward changes him?" Royal snarled.

The growls erupted from my throat before I could stop them.

"I won't. I will keep him alive no matter what." I hissed. "I'd sooner die than harm him."

"Alice has already seen it, Edward." Royal countered. "You're fighting a losing battle."

"I've seen a lot of things," Alice chimed in. "Beau's future is always changing, but dying isn't his only future."

And it was true. I could see the visions as they danced through her mind. The ones I hated, and new, unclear, shimmering futures that weren't quite formed—still undecided. Beau had many futures and I would make sure he stayed happy and alive to see them.

"Royal, I think we can all agree that Edward is entitled to some happiness." Carlisle said, his voice calm. "Would you deny him that?"

Royal fumed, his thoughts a cacophony of anger.

"Babe," Emmett sighed. "If it were the other way around, would you want Edward doing this to you? If you found me alive and not dying in the mountains?"

"I'd have had the common sense to stay away." Royal snapped, before pushing himself away from the table and stalking out of the room.

Emmett sighed, looked at me and shrugged. "I tried, kid."

"He didn't mean that." I said in a low voice. I felt wretched that Emmett should take the brunt of any of Royal's anger, given that he was only trying to help me. "He wouldn't have stayed away."

"I know," Emmett grinned. "and I don't need to read his mind to know it."

"I'm sorry, Em."

He stood and crossed the room to me and put his arm around my shoulder, clapping me on the chest. "I got your back, Edward. If this Swan kid makes you happy, then I'm happy for you."

"Thank you, Emmett."

I know how hard this is for you, to be around him. Trust me. If you haven't killed him yet—if you're trying this hard… You've got to be crazy about him. I don't get it, but it's your life, I guess.

He grinned, and followed after Royal to try and calm him down.

I looked back to Carlisle. "I am sorry I put us at risk, and I'm sorry I told Beau everything without talking to any of you."

Carlisle shook his head, smiling. "You know how I feel, Edward. I'm pleased that you've found happiness." He rose from his chair, taking Esme's hand as she rose from hers.

As they walked past, Carlisle squeezed my shoulder and Esme gave me a tight hug.

"It will all work out, Edward." Esme smiled. "It just has to."

Alice stood and crossed the room, she stopped at the doorway and looked back at me. "Esme's right," she said with confidence. "It'll be fine. Let me know when I can talk to him!" And she was gone.

Jasper didn't move. He seemed pensive, uncertain.

"You haven't said much." I broke the silence. "You haven't been thinking of much, either."

Jasper pursed his lips for a moment, then he sighed. "I'm just worried, Edward."

"I know you are."

"Royal has a point, that's all I'm going to say."

"I'm not ignorant of that," I sighed. "Thank you, by the way, for helping with the mood of the room there." I said dryly.

The corners of Jaspers mouth twitched as he fought a smile.

It's better to let Royal get all that anger out, unimpeded. It's worse if I temper it—just makes it fester and last longer.

"A fair point."

"Are you really serious about this human?" He asked, his eyes serious.

Was I serious? Could I have done everything I had up to this point if I wasn't serious? If I didn't love Beau so much, if he didn't mean so much to me, would I even be standing here having this conversation?

"Jasper," I met his gaze. "He means everything to me. I can't imagine my world without him in it. I'll never deserve him but… I love him."

Jasper finally smiled. Then good luck. I can't even begin to understand your obsession with the boy, but I'll do what I can to keep the peace. He stood and crossed the room, pausing at the door. But I'm also keeping my distance.

I could appreciate that. It saved me the trouble of asking him to. I knew Jasper wouldn't willingly hurt Beau, but being the magnet for trouble he was, I imagined Beau might be the one human to finally break Jasper's tenuous self-control. I shuddered at the thought and banished it from my mind.

"Jasper?"

"Hm?" He paused again, turning slightly to look back at me.

"Have you ever… Has there every been anyone who smelled better to you? Than any of the others?"

He thought about this for a moment, considering it. "Honestly, they all smell about the same to me." He shrugged. Every one of them is a challenge for me, you know that maybe better than anyone.

He was right, I knew what a challenge being around humans was for Jasper. But I didn't want to think about that now. I pushed everything out, I only wanted to think of Beau. I still had some time before he would be asleep. I sat down at the piano and played, waiting for the moment I could see him again.

Beau was restless that night as he slept. I had thought that some distance would help to calm the electric feeling between us, but the moment I crept in through the window the echo intensified into a full spark. Tonight, more than any other, I ached to be near him. But I had to be careful—I had to keep control. I said I would make no more mistakes.

Beau tossed about his bed frequently. Fitful and unable to relax. His brow would furrow and unfurrow. I longed to comfort him, but I didn't even know what was wrong.

He murmured my name several times. Nothing else, simply my name. Eventually he kicked off all his blankets. A few times, his breathing would speed up and his mumbling would turn into wordless groans. I was sure he woke up more than once, but he wouldn't be able to see me from my place on the rocking chair in the corner. The shadows hid me well enough.

As I watched him, so fragile, so beautiful, and so full of secrets, I felt that new hunger ache inside of me. I needed to know every facet of him, Not simply because he was a walking mystery, but because I loved him. Because he meant everything to me. I could not ask for his love if I didn't know him better than anyone else… and I would. Today, I would find out everything I so desperately wanted to know.

It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that he finally seemed to fall into a true sleep. He didn't speak anymore, most likely too exhausted. I reluctantly crept out of his window and hurried home to change for school.

As I drove to Beau's house, I was forming a comprehensive list of all the questions I had for him. No detail was too small or insignificant. I was slightly surprised when I passed Chief Swan's cruiser on my way. He had left later than usual today, and I wondered why. Charlie Swan was usually a very timely man. As we passed on the road, I could hear the muffled thoughts radiating from his mind—joy and pride, mixed with a deep love and a fierce protectiveness. All centered around his son. I wondered what had inspired these thoughts, or rather, what made them so loud today; louder than usual.

I parked my car in the driveway, listening for sounds of Beau inside the house. After a moment, I saw his face peek out of his window, a smile spreading across his face.

Would I ever not feel that swell of utter elation that filled me whenever he seemed excited to see me? I hoped I would not. It was bliss.

He bounded out the door, and I formulated my first question while simultaneously trying to calm myself down and appear relaxed.

"Good morning," I smiled at him as he climbed into the car. "How are you today?" I searched his face, trying to see if I could deduce the answer from his expression. His expression was especially radiant this morning. "You seem to be very happy?" I wondered if it had anything to do with Charlie's thoughts.

"I am." His smile was wide, effortless. "It was a good morning."

Perhaps it was, but the signs of his restless night were evident on his face. "But not a good night." It wasn't a question, I knew it hadn't been.

"I couldn't sleep," he shrugged, like it didn't matter in the slightest.

I smiled, feeling slightly mischievous. "Neither could I," I said as I started the engine.

He laughed at my joke, "I guess that's right. I suppose I slept just a little bit more than you did."

"I'd wager you did."

"So what did you do last night?" He smiled at me.

I watched you sleep and wished I could hold you in my arms and kiss you. Yes, that was a good, light topic of conversation. Best to avoid that. "Not a chance. It's my day to ask questions."

"Oh, that's right." He smiled, seeming unbothered by my deflection. Usually he didn't like it when I avoided his questions. "You're lucky I'm in such a good mood. Ask away."

He was in a very good mood. I knew he didn't like answering questions all about him—he didn't like being the center of conversation. I would have to be sure I took advantage of this situation and ask as many questions as I could.

"What's your favorite color?" I asked. I was eager to hear all his answers and my face betrayed my desperate need to know every answer in his private mind.

Beau simply stared at me for a moment, before laughing. "I don't know," he said, sounding amused, "it changes from day to day."

"What's your favorite color today?"

"Uh, probably brown." He said thoughtfully.

I snorted, caught off guard by his response. What an odd answer. Of course, he was dressed in mostly brown tones today, perhaps that had something to do with his answer?

"Brown?" I pushed.

"Sure. Brown is warm. I miss brown. Everything that's supposed to be brown—the trunks, rocks, dirt—is all covered up in green stuff here."

I stared into his eyes, engrossed in his answer. It wasn't the answer I would have expected from anyone and yet, it made perfect sense the way he explained it. In Arizona, brown would be the color most prevalent in his day to day life and he missed living in Arizona, the heat, the sun…

It also told me something new about him. He found the beauty in the unconventional. He looked beyond superficial ideas of beauty.

"You're right," I agreed, my voice serious. "Brown is warm." I could see the beauty in brown as well, like the beautiful deep brown of his hair. I noticed his hair was slightly disheveled this morning, like he hadn't paid much attention to it this morning. I could reach over and smooth his hair back. That was a normal, human gesture, right? An acceptable thing to do? I concentrated on being as gentle as I could, even then, I was hesitant to touch him. I could so easily hurt him. I smoothed out his hair, feeling proud of myself for doing it so gently.

He smiled in response, like he was amused. Had I done it wrong? Surely I had done it correctly. Why did he look so amused by it?

As I pulled into a parking space at the school, I turned to him, ready to ask my next question.

"What music is in your CD player right now?" It was a question that had been gnawing away at me the past several nights I had spent watching him sleep. I wanted to go look in his CD player myself, but that seemed like an invasion—well, more of an invasion than climbing into his room at night.

He thought about it for a moment, trying to remember. "Linkin Park." He said after a moment.

I hadn't expected that answer, but I knew the band well. My only frame of reference for his music taste was some classical music. I flipped open the compartment under my car's CD player, and pulled out the one I was looking for, handing it to him.

"Debussy to this?" I asked, amused by the stark difference.

He examined the cover art of the CD for a moment, his eyes bright with a sense of familiarity.

Always a surprise.

The rest of the day progressed much the same. I had my list of questions for him and asked them one after the other. Every detail was important to me. By the end of lunch I knew his favorite and least favorite films, where he had traveled—not very many places, I asked for a list of places he wanted to travel to and made a mental note of them for future reference—and an exhaustive list of every book he read and what he thought of each of them.

He seemed to feel self-conscious most of the time. I was sure he wasn't used to talking about himself so much, but I was absolutely fascinated by each of his answers. I would scrutinize his physical response to each question just as thoroughly as his answer. Each little blush or change in posture only compelled me to ask more questions to ascertain what had caused the response in the first place.

Like when I asked him his favorite gemstone, something I thought to be a simple enough question; mostly inconsequential, but still utterly fascinating to me.

"Topaz," he said immediately, and then his faced turned scarlet and his breathing caught for a moment. His eyes widened as they looked into mine, like he had said something he hadn't meant to.

"Why Topaz?" I asked, curious.

He shook his head, "Doesn't matter… just because."

That wasn't an acceptable answer; too vague. I focused my eyes on his, and used my most persuasive tone.

"You have to have a reason why it's your favorite."

He blushed deeper, and bit his lips.

How infuriating! Why wouldn't he tell me? It only made the truth more interesting.

"Tell me," I begged.

He reached his hand up and started twisting a curl around his finger. "It's the color of your eyes today," he sighed, staring at the ground. "I suppose if you asked me in two weeks I'd say onyx." He blushed even deeper, embarrassed for some strange reason.

I was thrilled. Something about me had inspired one of his favorite things. My joy was marred slightly by the fact that, again, the fact that my eyes changed their hue depending on how long it had been since I last fed didn't seemed to phase him in the slightest.

But I didn't want to waste time thinking about that. I had more questions.

"What kinds of flowers do you prefer?"

He sighed, with relief. "I think ruffled tulips are pretty."

And we continued with my questions as we walked to Biology, as we sat in our usual chairs, and even right up until Mrs. Banner wheeled in the audiovisual frame.

Ah, I had been so absorbed in my questions and his answers that I hadn't thought about this. We still had some of the film to finish. I braced myself for the oncoming hour, easing my chair as far away as I could from him. He leaned forward on the table, resting his chin on his folded arms. His hands hidden from my view.

The electric charge between us was not the same as the day before; it was even more intense. He didn't look at me today, his eyes stayed focused on the screen. I, despite feeling that it would only make the hour more difficult, was free to watch him. I wanted to test my own resolve—my own self-control—today.

How badly I wished I could touch him. It was more than a wish, it was a need. A need to stroke his cheek, to feel the warmth of his hands in my own… but I could not make mistakes. I could not give in to those desires. Beau needed me to be stronger than that for him.

When the hour was finally up, he looked up at me with wide eyes, I managed to keep my own expression even despite the strong desire to touch him still burning deep within me. It took every ounce of my effort and self-control to not reach out.

I couldn't bring myself to ask any questions as I walked him to the gym building. I was fiercely debating with myself. Why shouldn't I reach out and touch him? If I was careful, if I was as gentle as I could be, why shouldn't I permit myself a few, gentle touches?

When we reached the doors of the gym, he turned to face me. I finally permitted myself that touch, almost eager for that electric burning sensation I was sure it would cause. This time, though, I foolishly pushed myself. Instead of a finger, I ran the back of my hand along the side of his face, from his temple to his jaw. Sure enough, the touch burned. The heat of his skin burned into my own stony flesh, but there was no pain. Even as I pulled my hand away, like yesterday, it continued to burn.

His face was flushed as he watched me, his heartbeat irregular. His lips were slightly parted, and my resolve wavered. I wanted to touch his lips, I wanted to feel the velvety softness of them…

No mistakes.

I turned and hurried away to my own class, struggling to keep my pace human.

Emmett met me outside the building, whatever his thoughts were, he did his best to keep them to himself today, I was too preoccupied to truly pay attention anyway. I was cataloguing all the answers I had gotten today, filing them away for future reference, analyzing the unexpected ones, and deciding what to ask next. I had kept the topics fairly light so far. After school, I would push for the more complicated questions.

I occasionally would let myself check in with Mike Newton's thoughts to check on Beau. Mike's thoughts were unpleasant today; he was mad at Beau about their previous argument, and Beau's unfocused expression only enforced Mike's resolve to not speak to him. I tried not to watch for too long, after all, Beau would be upset if he knew I was watching him in Gym again and I wouldn't lie if he asked me if I had.

How's it going today? Emmett's thoughts finally reached out to me, as we walked out of class. He still okay with everything?

I nodded slightly.

Alice was telling me how great he is, he mused. Is he as great as she says?

I rolled my eyes. Alice hadn't even properly met Beau yet, and still she was talking about him like they were already great friends.

Emmett chuckled. It's how she is, Edward, don't get too mad.

Emmett hurried off to meet up with Royal, and I glared after him for a moment before crossing the campus to the gym building.

I was surprised that Alice met me there.

"Hello, Alice." I greeted her warily.

"Hello," she said, seeming distracted. "Don't be out too late today dropping off Beau. Best be home before it gets dark."

Cryptic, as usual. I scanned her thoughts for what she was seeing. Flashes of visitors to the Swan residence. It wasn't decided yet, but someone was thinking of visiting Beau today, vacillating between decisions.

I don't know who it is, I'm only looking at Beau's future, and he's probably going to have an unexpected visitor, but I don't know whose decisions to watch to tell you who it is. Another complication. So, be careful.

"Thanks, Alice." I nodded and she hurried off to meet the rest of my family.

Just a visitor, nothing overly complicated. Yet, it had been enough to make Alice warn me that I didn't want to be around for it. The tone of her vision, uncertain as it was, imparted a sense that I should not be there.

Beau walked out of the gym at that moment, his eyes searching for me. A wide smile spread across his face when he found me, and I couldn't help but smile in response. I wanted to ask how his hour was, but now I only had a few short hours with him so I needed to ask my questions while I could.

He still seemed game to answer me as we walked to the car and headed back to his house. We reached his home, but I was in no hurry to leave him. His answers had become more detailed, perhaps in response to the complexity of my questions. I was enthralled with every response. We sat in my car outside his house for hours, even as the sky darkened and the rain poured down.

He described to me, in stunning and descriptive detail—gesticulating widely—his memories of Phoenix. The smell of creosote, the sound of the cicadas, the delicately barren trees, and the sky. He spent most of his time describing the skies of Phoenix. I could hear his fascination with the beauty of it all.

Forks was beautiful; the tall green trees, the mossy ground, the gray watercolor skies, but as he described the vast expanse of Phoenix to me, the openness, the freedom of it all, the bright, sunlit iridescence, I almost felt like I was there myself… But it was a sight I would probably never see with my own eyes.

He was describing his mother's home, and his old room. I listened to every detail, but even then my mind still seemed preoccupied with his descriptions of sunny Phoenix. That was his world; warm, bright, and sunny. It was not my world, could not be my world. I lived in the shadows, the darkness, and the cold. Further reminders of the difference between us. I was so engrossed in my thoughts, that I failed to respond when he finished talking.

"Are you finished?" he asked, sounding relieved.

"Not even close," I replied, glancing at the time, "but your father will be home soon." And I had stayed later than I should have, given Alice's warning.

"Charlie!" He gasped, like he had forgotten where we were or what time it was. He sighed as he looked out at the dark skies. "How late is it?" He wondered aloud, glancing at the clock.

"It's twilight," I murmured, glancing to the west. It was a further reminder. This was where I belonged. Here in this place between day and night, living and dead. I turned to face him, and he was staring at me, his eyes full of curiosity.

"It's the safest time of day for us, the easiest time." My voice was somber. "But also the saddest, in a way… the end of another day, the return of the night. Darkness is so predictable, don't you think?"

So cold, so unwelcoming. The darkness was where monsters like myself belonged. We didn't deserve to walk in the light where creatures like him flourished. My world and his, in direct opposition with one another.

Yes, he belonged to the light and I belonged to the dark, and yet, there was the twilight. The place where those two worlds met, where it was light enough for him and dark enough for me. Where we could meet in the middle…

"I like the night." He said suddenly. "Without the dark, we'd never see the stars." Then he frowned. "Not that you see them here much."

A laugh broke through my lips. Of course this strange, beautiful boy would enjoy the night. He was some strange, divine being that dared to dance upon the cruel earth. Why should it surprise me that this creature of the light would find beauty in the dark? After all, he was here, with me.

But my time with him was up, for now.

"Charlie will be here in a few minutes. So, unless you want to tell him that you'll be with me Saturday…" I trailed off, hopeful.

"I don't think he's ready for that." He said, gathering his books and stretching. "So, is it my turn tomorrow, then?"

"Certainly not!" I said, teasing him with an outraged expression. "I told you I wasn't done, didn't I?"

"What more is there?"

"You'll find out tomorrow." I promised, reaching across him to open his door for him. It was a foolish, impulsive thing to do. I heard his heartbeat spasm, the heat radiating off of him. I froze, anxious. I was so close to him. I wanted to close the small distance between us. I stared into his wide eyes, my emotions and desires in chaos.

Beau already has a visitor… Damn, that's a nice car… A thought intruded into the moment, I tried to pay it no mind.

It can't be!

The second mind I could not ignore. I hadn't heard it before, but I recognized something in it. The ancient authority of it and the thoughts that raced through it.

I stiffened and my jaw clenched. My eyes were wild with sudden panic.

"Not good," I mumbled.

"What is it?" Beau breathed, examining my expression.

I glanced him up and down, desperate to stay with him, but, of course, I needed to be anywhere but here with him right now. "Another complication," I replied. Just as Alice had said.

The flash of the headlights reflected off of the rain as the dark car carrying Beau's unexpected visitors pulled up to the curb just a few feet from us.

As if to add to my troubles, I then caught the muffled thoughts of Chief Swan around the corner as well. "Charlie's around the corner," I told Beau, my eyes locked on the dark car.

Beau immediately jumped out of the car, the rain glancing off his jacket. He tried to make out the occupants of the car, but his eyes couldn't see through the rain. But mine could.

I paid no attention to the boy in the driver's seat, but the older man sitting in the passenger seat of the car, with his russet skin, long hair, and his deep black eyes, was unknown to me and yet perfectly familiar. I could see his resemblance to Ephraim Black.

All these years later, the memory of Ephraim Black's face was still perfectly preserved in my mind. The Quileutes had made quite the impression on us, after all. I recalled the name of the man now; Billy Black, grandson of Ephraim. His eyes were locked on my face, illuminated by the glow of the headlights. Worry and a sense of anger pulsing through his mind.

It was unfair that I should have to leave now. I had done nothing wrong. We had been meticulous about honoring the treaty. It had not been broken. A part of me wanted to stay, an act of defiance against this man. But that would be foolish of me.

It would be best if I made my exit. I revved the engine of the Volvo and pealed out of the driveway. Hurrying away. Retreating like the monster I was.

The Quileutes had a long memory, and now the grandson of Ephraim Black knew that I, a Cullen, was involved in some way with Beau Swan.

Another complication.