He made a face of mock horror. “Please, not a fit!”
“If you don’t let me see your hand, a fit is guaranteed.”
He inhaled deeply, and then let out a gusty sigh. “Fine.”
“I heal fast.”
“I’ll say,” I mouthed.
“Sure, sure. Why not?”
I pulled the plug, and let the dirty water drain from the sink.
He unwound the towel and, when I reached out to take the cloth, he laid his hand in mine.
It took me a few seconds. I even flipped his hand over, though I was sure he’d cut his palm. I turned his hand back up, finally realizing that the angry pink, puckered line was all that was left of his wound.
“But . . . you were bleeding . . . so much.”
He pulled his hand back, his eyes steady and somber on mine.
“Can I ask you something, Bella?”
I sighed.
“What’s it like — having a werewolf for a best friend?”
The question caught me off guard. I laughed out loud.
“Does it creep you out?” he pressed before I could answer.
“No. When the werewolf is being nice,” I qualified, “it’s the best.”
He grinned widely, his teeth bright against his russet skin. “Thanks, Bella,” he said, and then he grabbed my hand and wrenched me into one of his bone-crushing hugs.
Before I had time to react, he dropped his arms and stepped away.
“Ugh,” he said, his nose wrinkling. “Your hair stinks worse than your room.”
“Sorry,” I muttered. I suddenly understood what Edward had been laughing about earlier, after breathing on me.
“One of the many hazards of socializing with vampires,” Jacob said, shrugging. “It makes you smell bad. A minor hazard, comparatively.”
I glared at him. “I only smell bad to you, Jake.”
He grinned. “See you around, Bells.”
“Are you leaving?”
“He’s waiting for me to go. I can hear him outside.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll go out the back,” he said, and then he paused. “Hold up a sec — hey, do you think you can come to La Push tonight? We’re having a bonfire party. Emily will be there, and you could meet Kim . . . And I know Quil wants to see you, too. He’s pretty peeved that you found out before he did.”
I grinned at that. I could just imagine how that would have irked Quil — Jacob’s little human gal pal down with the werewolves while he was still clueless. And then I sighed. “Yeah, Jake, I don’t know about that. See, it’s a little tense right now. . . .”
“C’mon, you think somebody’s going to get past all — all six of us?”
There was a strange pause as he stuttered over the end of his question. I wondered if he had trouble saying the word werewolf aloud, the way I often had difficulty with vampire.
His big dark eyes were full of unashamed pleading.
“I’ll ask,” I said doubtfully.
He made a noise in the back of his throat. “Is he your warden, now, too? You know, I saw this story on the news last week about controlling, abusive teenage relationships and —”
“Okay!” I cut him off, and then shoved his arm. “Time for the werewolf to get out!”
He grinned. “Bye, Bells. Be sure you ask permission.”
He ducked out the back door before I could find something to throw at him. I growled incoherently at the empty room.
Seconds after he was gone, Edward walked slowly into the kitchen, raindrops glistening like diamonds set into the bronze of his hair. His eyes were wary.
“Did you two get into a fight?” he asked.
“Edward!” I sang, throwing myself at him.
“Hi, there.” He laughed and wrapped his arms around me. “Are you trying to distract me? It’s working.”
“No, I didn’t fight with Jacob. Much. Why?”
“I was just wondering why you stabbed him. Not that I object.” With his chin, he gestured to the knife on the counter.
“Dang! I thought I got everything.”
I pulled away from him and ran to put the knife in the sink before I doused it with bleach.
“I didn’t stab him,” I explained as I worked. “He forgot he had a knife in his hand.”
Edward chuckled. “That’s not nearly as fun as the way I imagined it.”
“Be nice.”
He took a big envelope from his jacket pocket and tossed it on the counter. “I got your mail.”
“Anything good?”
“I think so.”
My eyes narrowed suspiciously at his tone. I went to investigate.
He’d folded the legal-sized envelope in half. I smoothed it open, surprised at the weight of the expensive paper, and read the return address.
“Dartmouth? Is this a joke?”
“I’m sure it’s an acceptance. It looks exactly like mine.”
“Good grief, Edward — what did you do?”
“I sent in your application, that’s all.”
“I may not be Dartmouth material, but I’m not stupid enough to believe that.”
“Dartmouth seems to think that you’re Dartmouth material.”
I took a deep breath and counted slowly to ten. “That’s very generous of them,” I finally said. “However, accepted or not, there is still the minor matter of tuition. I can’t afford it, and I’m not letting you throw away enough money to buy yourself another sports car just so that I can pretend to go to Dartmouth next year.”
“I don’t need another sports car. And you don’t have to pretend anything,” he murmured. “One year of college wouldn’t kill you. Maybe you’d even like it. Just think about it, Bella. Imagine how excited Charlie and Renée would be. . . .”
His velvet voice painted the picture in my head before I could block it. Of course Charlie would explode with pride — no one in the town of Forks would be able to escape the fallout from his excitement. And Renée would be hysterical with joy at my triumph — though she’d swear she wasn’t at all surprised. . . .
I tried to shake the image out of my head. “Edward. I’m worried about living through graduation, let alone this summer or next fall.”
His arms wrapped around me again. “No one is going to hurt you. You have all the time in the world.”
I sighed. “I’m mailing the contents of my bank account to Alaska tomorrow. It’s all the alibi I need. It’s far enough away that Charlie won’t expect a visit until Christmas at the earliest. And I’m sure I’ll think of some excuse by then. You know,” I teased halfheartedly, “this whole secrecy and deception thing is kind of a pain.”
Edward’s expression hardened. “It gets easier. After a few decades, everyone you know is dead. Problem solved.”
I flinched.
“Sorry, that was harsh.”
I stared down at the big white envelope, not seeing it. “But still true.”
“If I get this resolved, whatever it is we’re dealing with, will you please consider waiting?”
“Nope.”
“Always so stubborn.”
“Yep.”
The washing machine thumped and stuttered to a halt.
“Stupid piece of junk,” I muttered as I pulled away from him. I moved the one small towel that had unbalanced the otherwise empty machine, and started it again.
“This reminds me,” I said. “Could you ask Alice what she did with my stuff when she cleaned my room? I can’t find it anywhere.”
He looked at me with confused eyes. “Alice cleaned your room?”
“Yeah, I guess that’s what she was doing. When she came to get my pajamas and pillow and stuff to hold me hostage.” I glowered at him briefly. “She picked up everything that was lying around, my shirts, my socks, and I don’t know where she put them.”
Edward continued to look confused for one short moment, and then, abruptly, he was rigid.
“When did you notice your things were missing?”
“When I got back from the fake slumber party. Why?”
“I don’t think Alice took anything. Not your clothes, or your pillow. The things that were taken, these were things you’d worn . . . and touched . . . and slept on?”
“Yes. What is it, Edward?”
His expression was strained. “Things with your scent.”
“Oh!”
We stared into each others eyes for a long moment.
“My visitor,” I muttered.
“He was gathering traces . . . evidence. To prove that he’d found you?”
“Why?” I whispered.
“I don’t know. But, Bella, I swear I will find out. I will.”
“I know you will,” I said, laying my head against his chest. Leaning there, I felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.
He pulled out his phone and glanced at the number. “Just the person I need to talk to,” he murmured, and then he flipped it open. “Carlisle, I —” He broke off and listened, his face taut with concentration for a few minutes. “I’ll check it out. Listen . . .”
He explained about my missing things, but from the side I was hearing, it sounded like Carlisle had no insights for us.