(Thomas POV)
Renee's house always felt like her, bright, busy, and slightly over-committed to the current fad.
Even at seven in the morning, there was music playing somewhere in the background and a large pot of the latest "oriental" tea to catch Renee's fancy, next to a small pot of coffee for Phil. Phil moved through the kitchen like a man who had learned how to support the chaos without becoming part of it, mug in hand, calm smile, no visible panic.
Renee, on the other hand, had already switched from Explosion Mode to Hostess Mode so fast it made my neck hurt.
"You're going to eat," she announced, as if it were a legal requirement. "All of you. I will not have anyone fainting dramatically on my watch. It's emotionally exhausting."
She was already pulling plates out like she was setting up for a holiday dinner instead of an ambush breakfast.
"Eggs? Pancakes? We can do both," Renee declared. "Philip, tell them we can do both."
Phil lifted his mug in surrender. "We can do both."
Edward's expression stayed perfectly polite. "Thank you, Renee, but we've already eaten."
Renee's eyes narrowed. "At four in the morning?"
"Something like that," Edward said smoothly.
Renee looked to Edythe, clearly expecting a crack in the story. "And you?"
Edythe's smile was mild. "I'm fine."
Renee's suspicion sharpened. "Sweetheart, you look like you could float away if a strong breeze hit you."
Bella's shoulders tensed at that, a tiny flinch she tried to hide by reaching for a glass of water.
Edythe's voice stayed gentle, but there was a softness threaded through it that felt… deliberate. "Renee," she said, catching both Renee and Phil in her gaze, "Edward and I don't need to eat the way you do. We're still healthy. We're still fine. Please don't worry about it."
The air shifted, subtle as a pressure change before a storm. Renee blinked once, the fight in her face stuttering like a skipped heartbeat.
"Well," Renee said suddenly brisk, as if she'd just remembered an appointment, "fine. Okay. If you're fine, you're fine. I'm not..." she waved a hand like she was swatting away her own anxiety, "...I'm not going to police anyone's metabolism."
Phil nodded along a beat too easily. "Yeah. They're fine." He took another sip of coffee, calm as ever, as if the question had never mattered.
Bella's fingers tightened around her glass. Not enough to crack it, because she was human, but enough that I heard the faintest squeak of skin on glass. Her eyes flicked to Edythe for half a second, then away. Uncomfortable. Not angry. Just… aware.
Edythe didn't look smug. She didn't even look relieved. She just let the moment pass and turned it back into normal conversation like she was smoothing a wrinkle out of fabric.
"Thank you," she said softly. "We appreciate you feeding everyone else, especially this glutton." She tipped her chin toward me.
Renee snapped back into motion, the way she always did when her emotions got too close to the surface. "Exactly. I will feed Bella and Thomas. That is my role." She jabbed a finger toward Bella. "You. Eat." She turned to me, "You eating is a given."
Bella gave a small, resigned nod, then glanced at me with a look that said, Necessary, even if it didn't feel good.
Edward's mouth twitched, like he was trying not to smile, and Bella shot him a look that was half warning, half exhaustion.
Edythe's fingers threaded through mine at my side, cool, steady, grounding, like she knew exactly what I was thinking.
Because I did know.
That hadn't been normal.
Not for Renee. Not for Phil.
It hadn't felt like Edythe had taken something away from them, exactly. More like she'd reached in and turned down the volume on the part of their brains that wanted to panic.
Part of me was grateful.
Part of me wasn't sure what to call it.
Across the table, Renee had already pivoted back to Bella, chatter resuming at full speed like nothing strange had happened.
"Now," Renee said brightly, "tell me everything. I want details. All the details. And if anyone says 'it's complicated,' I will throw a pancake."
Bella made a small noise of dread.
Phil, now at the stove, chuckled and started flipping something in a pan like he'd been waiting his whole life for the chance to weaponize breakfast.
After breakfast, after Bella and I had done our duty and Renee had accepted it as proof that her children were not wasting away in the cold north, Renee vanished down the hall with the intensity of someone on a mission.
"Bella," she called, "bedroom. Two minutes. I have a thing."
Bella's shoulders tensed. "Mom..."
"No arguing," Renee cut in. "This is a gift, and I will not be denied. I am a mother. I am terrifying. Move."
Bella shot Edward one helpless look, see what I mean, and trudged down the hallway.
Edythe's eyes flicked to mine with a hint of amusement. "She's efficient."
"That's one word for it," I murmured.
Phil took a sip of coffee and nodded like he agreed with Edythe's assessment. "Renee runs on momentum. Fighting it just makes it worse."
From down the hall came the sound of a closet door sliding open and Renee's voice rising with triumph.
"Aha!"
A minute later, Bella reappeared holding a folded blanket.
Not store-bought. Handmade.
It was a quilt made of old T-shirts, bright squares, faded logos, worn seams stitched into something sturdy. I recognized more than a few: the ridiculous tourist shirts Renee and Bella used to collect on our trips, like souvenirs were proof the world was still reachable.
Bella's face had changed in the way it only did when something got past her defenses.
"You made this?" she asked, quiet.
Renee lifted her chin like she was daring anyone to call her sentimental. "Trip shirts," she said, like it explained everything. "They were taking up space and I refuse to be haunted by clutter this year. So… Blanket. It's practical."
Bella ran her fingers over one of the squares and swallowed. "Thank you."
Renee's expression softened for half a second, real mother, real love, before she snapped back into motion like softness embarrassed her.
"Okay," she said briskly. "Now. Serious question."
Bella froze again. "Here it comes."
Renee didn't even pretend not to be looking past Bella. Her eyes went straight to Edward, who stood by the doorway like a polite statue, giving them space while also being very clearly present.
"How serious is this," Renee asked, voice lowered but still sharp, "with him?"
Bella's cheeks flushed. "Mom…"
"No," Renee said, cutting her off. "Listen. I'm not asking because I don't like him. I'm asking because you look at him like he's oxygen, and I need to know you understand what that means."
The kitchen felt smaller suddenly. Even Phil stopped moving for a beat.
Edward didn't speak. Didn't shift. But his eyes softened, barely, like the question hit somewhere tender.
Bella's fingers tightened around the blanket. "It's serious," she said, quiet and certain. "It's real."
Renee held her gaze. "Is it the kind of serious where you're still Bella when he walks out of the room?" she pressed. "Or is it still the kind where you stop existing when he's not there?"
Bella's throat worked. "I'm still me."
Renee exhaled hard like she'd been bracing for a different answer. "Good." Then, softer, almost to herself: "I just don't want you disappearing inside someone else. Not even someone good."
Bella looked down at the quilt in her hands. "I'm not disappearing."
For a moment, Renee just stared at her daughter, all the noise in her head quieting long enough to let love show.
Then she flicked her gaze to Edward, narrowed her eyes, and pointed one finger like a warning sign.
"And you," she said. "If you break her heart again, I will bury you in my backyard."
Edward's voice came out mild and respectful. "Yes, ma'am."
Renee blinked, thrown off by the calm agreement.
Phil coughed into his mug like he was hiding a laugh.
Bella groaned. "Mom."
Renee waved a hand. "Play with your blanket."
I turned my head slightly toward Edythe. Her expression was composed, but her eyes were attentive in that way she had when she was watching something important unfold. Not jealous. Not threatened. Just… measuring the shape of the love in the room.
It hit me then, Renee's storms weren't about control.
They were about fear of loss dressed up as loud opinions.
Edythe's hand slid into mine under the edge of the counter, cool and steady.
"Your aunt will relax soon," she murmured.
I snorted softly. "That's a lie and we both know it."
Her mouth curved. "It's optimism."
Renee clapped her hands again like she was resetting the universe. "Okay! Plans! Since we're all here and I'm obviously the captain now..."
Phil leaned his hip against the counter and cleared his throat. "Actually, I'm stealing Thomas for a few hours."
Renee blinked. "What?"
Phil's smile turned just slightly smug. "Double-A practice. I'm short a pair of hands and your nephew looks like he can throw without dislocating something."
Renee's eyes narrowed. "You are not using my nephew as free labor."
Phil lifted one eyebrow. "It's character building."
Renee opened her mouth to argue.
Phil kept going, completely unbothered. "Besides, you'll have Bella and Edward, plus Edythe. You can… do whatever it is you do when you get into planning mode."
Renee's gaze flicked to Edythe, then back to Phil, then to me.
Her tone went suspiciously sweet. "Fine. Go play baseball. But if you come back sunburned, I will personally sue Florida."
"I'll survive," I said, already regretting every choice that put me outside in this humidity.
Edythe's thumb brushed my knuckles once, quiet reassurance.
"I'll keep him in the shade," Phil promised, deadpan.
Renee snorted. "Good luck with that."
(Break)
Phil's world was different from mine in a way that felt almost surreal.
The field smelled like cut grass and dirt and sweat, the air buzzing with energy that had nothing to do with predators or treaties or immortal grudges. Players moved with purpose, laughing, cursing, shouting across the diamond. It was loud and human and alive.
Phil wasn't the hurricane here.
He was the anchor.
He called out corrections without humiliating anyone. He joked without losing authority. He saw everything.
At one point, he tossed me a ball and said, "Show me."
I did. A clean throw, a little too hard, because I hadn't thrown anything for fun in a while.
Phil whistled. "Okay. Forks has been feeding you something besides mushrooms."
I laughed despite myself. "Don't encourage Renee with talk like that."
Phil's grin softened. "Renee's scary," he said, and there was no complaint in it. "But she loves hard. That's why I love her."
I watched him for a beat, watching the way the team responded to him.
Then I asked the thing I'd been holding back since the airport.
"How do you do it?" I said quietly. "The… whiplash."
Phil's smile turned wry. "You don't fight the storm head-on," he said. "You steer around it. And when it passes, you make coffee."
"That's it?"
Phil shrugged. "It's enough."
By the time we got back to Renee's house, the clouds had thickened into a steady grey blanket over the city.
Renee was in the back yard room with everyone, talking a mile a minute about wedding logistics like she'd been planning this her whole life and was only now being informed.
Bella looked exhausted. Edythe looked politely entertained.
Renee saw me and pointed. "There you are. Tell me he didn't force you to run laps."
Phil called from behind me, "Only the slow ones."
Renee made an offended noise. "Philip!"
Phil kissed her cheek and headed to the kitchen like that ended the argument.
Renee spun back toward me. "Okay. Timeline. Who is coming? What do I wear? Do I need a hat? I look good in hats..."
"Mom," Bella said, voice tight. "Breathe."
Renee blinked like she'd forgotten that was optional. Then she laughed once, bright and real.
"I'm breathing," she insisted. "I'm just… excited."
Edythe smiled, "Just be there, everything else will be taken care of."
She looked at Edythe after she spoke, studying her like she was still trying to solve a puzzle.
Then she surprised me.
"You're good," Renee said to Edythe, blunt. "You don't get defensive."
Edythe smiled, small and controlled. "There isn't anything to defend," she replied. "You love him. So do I."
Renee stared at her for a beat, then gave a single sharp nod like she'd just accepted a deal with terms she didn't like but couldn't argue with.
"Fine," she said. "But if you hurt him, I will also bury you in my backyard."
Edythe's voice stayed gentle. "Noted."
Edward, from the edge of the patio, murmured, "There's a theme."
Bella groaned.
I laughed, and it felt… normal.
A couple of days later, we were back at the airport, moving through security and terminal crowds with the strange heaviness that came from leaving family behind, even the loud ones.
Renee hugged Bella like she was trying to pack a year's worth of affection into ten seconds. She hugged me almost as hard, even after I reminded her, she would see me in less than two weeks.
Then she hugged Edythe, which startled me, but Edythe accepted it with the same calm she gave everything else.
"Be safe," Renee said, voice rougher than she'd allow herself to admit. "All of you."
Phil shook my hand again, firm. "See you at the wedding."
"Yes, sir."
Phil's grin turned amused. "Don't call me sir. Makes me feel old."
"Sorry, Coach."
Phil laughed. "That's worse."
We boarded. We settled. We lifted off.
And just like that, Florida started shrinking behind us.
When we landed in Seattle, the air felt different the moment we stepped off the plane, cooler, cleaner, familiar in the way the Northwest now was for me. Like the world had edges again.
We moved through the terminal toward baggage claim, and that was when I saw it.
A newspaper box near one of the kiosks. The headline was big enough to catch the eye even in passing.
SEATTLE POLICE SEEK LEADS IN STRING OF BRUTAL KILLINGS
Under it, smaller text I didn't need to read to feel my stomach tighten.
"Possible serial killer," I muttered without meaning to.
Edythe's head turned, fast, too fast to be human, then she caught herself. Edward's gaze sharpened like a blade.
Bella followed my eyes and frowned. "What?"
I stared at the headline, the words suddenly heavy.
It wasn't the normal kind of fear, the human kind, dark alleys and locked doors.
It was the other kind.
The kind that didn't leave fingerprints.
The kind that came in threes and fours and dozens.
The kind that didn't stop because the police asked nicely.
I kept walking, but the headline stayed in my head like a splinter.
Somewhere behind the clouds over Seattle, something was moving.
And the worst part was that I couldn't tell yet if it was coincidence…
…or the first ripple of a wave we were about to be slammed by.