Unexpected ~•Edward Cullen•~

°•35•°

🌛CHAPTER 35🌜

*°Third Person's POV°*

The meadow was too green—unnaturally so, like someone had dialed the world's saturation to maximum. Eden stood barefoot in the grass, the blades frozen mid-sway beneath her toes. She knew this place. Knew it was a dream. Knew what—who—she would find before she turned her head. 

Edward stood beneath their oak, sunlight fracturing through the leaves to paint gold across his marble skin. Not the hollow-eyed ghost who'd left her, but the boy who'd kissed her here when the world was simpler. His smile was a knife to her ribs. 

"You're late," he said, voice smooth as bourbon. 

Her breath hitched. The dream let her run to him. 

She reached for him—only for her fingers to pass through his chest like mist. Edward's smile didn't waver. 

"Missed you," he murmured, as if her hand wasn't currently occupying the space where his heart should be. 

"Tell me about the wolves," he said, tucking an imaginary strand of hair behind her ear. Eden only stared up at him, knowing if he was real he'd do everything to have her spend less time with the pack.

The dream let her press her forehead to his shoulder. Let his cold hands frame her face. Let him whisper "I'm here" as the shadows swallowed them whole— 

Eden jerked upright with a gasp, her claws shredding the sheets. 

Paul stood silhouetted in the doorway, arms crossed over his bare chest. Moonlight caught the fresh scars across his ribs—gifts from last night's patrol. 

"You were crying," he said. 

She touched her cheeks. Frozen tears. 

Paul tossed a bundle of fabric at her face. His sweatshirt, reeking of gasoline and pine. "Training in ten." 

He left without asking. 

She wore it anyway. 

During breakfast, her ice somehow shattered three pairs of gloves, it was thanks to Paul splashing her with water did she snap out of the daze she was in, but it didn't take the pain away.

"You're not patrolling today," Sam said as she reached for her car keys. 

 The spoon in Eden's hand froze solid. "Excuse me?" 

Paul slammed the fridge hard enough to rattle the photos. "Let her fight." 

"Not when she's like this." Sam's eyes flicked to Eden's trembling hands. 

They ended up putting her on perimeter duty with strict orders to "stay the hell away from the action."

That night, she found Paul on her porch sharpening a hunting knife. 

For a long time, there was only the shink-shink of steel on whetstone. Then: "Tell me about him." 

The stars blurred overhead. Eden dug her nails into the porch step. 

"He used to hum when he thought I was asleep," she said. "Never any real song. Just... pieces." 

Paul's knife stilled. 

"And his hands were always cold, but mine were colder, so he—" Her voice cracked. "He'd hold them anyway." 

The whetstone clattered to the ground. 

Paul's warmth settled beside her, close but not touching. "Sounds like an idiot." 

A laugh punched out of her. "Yeah. He was my idiot." 

They watched the moon rise in silence. 

The forgotten memory came like a struck match—harsh, sudden, burning itself into her vision as she stood frozen in her porch.

That last night I saw him.

Edward's piano sat silent for the first time in months. Moonlight bled through the glass walls, painting his sharp cheekbones in silver as he packed his sheet music with military precision. 

"You're really leaving." Eden's voice sounded foreign to her own ears—too flat, too hollow. 

His fingers hesitated over Chopin's Nocturnes. "It's not safe for you if I stay." 

A laugh clawed up her throat. "You don't get to decide what's safe for me." 

Edward turned then, his golden eyes reflecting the frost creeping up her boots. "You think I want this?" The words came out razor-edged. "Every second I'm near you, I can hear your heartbeat slowing. Your blood thickening. You're becoming something even Carlisle doesn't understand—" 

"And whose fault is that?" She stepped forward, the ice cracking underfoot. "You were the one who didn't suck all the venom out." 

A flinch. The first crack in his marble composure. "I was trying to save your life." 

"Funny way of showing it." 

The grandfather clock ticked loudly in the silence. Somewhere upstairs, a floorboard creaked—Alice watching, always watching. 

Edward reached for her then, his cold fingers hovering over her clavicle where James' teeth had torn through skin. "This will help you heal," he whispered. "I won't let it claim you." 

She caught his wrist, feeling his pulse jump under her frozen fingertips. "You don't get to make that call." 

For one breathless moment, the world narrowed to the space between them—then Edward wrenched away with a vampire's speed. 

"Goodbye, Eden." 

The door didn't slam. That was the worst part. It clicked shut like a coffin lid. 

"Eden!" Paul's bark snapped her back to the present. His fingers dug into her shoulder, shaking her slightly. "You with us?" 

The patrol circle stared—Sam's brow furrowed, Embry's nostrils flaring as he scented her distress. 

She blinked away the memory, flexing her claws to dispel the frost coating her jacket sleeves. "Yeah. Let's move." 

Paul didn't let go. His thumb brushed the scar on her collarbone—the one Edward had been staring at that night. A silent question. 

Eden pulled away. 

Some ghosts couldn't be outrun. 

*🌛Unedited🌜*