Chapter 4: Quiet Places and Quieter Lies
"Some ghosts don't need to die to start haunting. Some just put on a uniform and forget who they were."
---
Wednesday dawned wet and quiet, the rain falling like the town was being gently erased.
Charlie was already in the kitchen when I came down, sleeves rolled to his elbows, half a grapefruit in one hand and a fork in the other.
"Morning, Bells," he said around a mouthful. "Cocoa or coffee?"
"Cocoa. I'm not ready to make eye contact with the adult world."
He slid a mug my way like a seasoned barista and grunted in agreement. "We've all been there."
We fell into an easy silence, punctuated only by the low murmur of the news playing in the background. Forks hadn't made headlines — not yet.
"You heading in early?" Charlie asked.
I nodded. "Gonna warm up the truck for half an hour so it doesn't scream at me the whole way."
"You're a good negotiator," he said, sounding proud.
I sipped my cocoa and decided not to mention that I also needed to arrive early to recalibrate myself after last night's dream.
Not that Charlie would judge me — he was far too steady for that. But there are some things a girl keeps to herself. Like just how real a stranger's hand can feel in a dream.
---
The Cullen's were already in the parking lot when I pulled in.
Rosalie looked like a runway model slumming it in a small-town fever dream. Emmett laughed at something Alice said — a big, rolling sound that echoed across the lot. Jasper hovered nearby like he was avoiding sudden movements.
Still no Edward.
Which was good. The canon plot was holding.
I kept my head down and made a show of fumbling with my locker combo, the picture of awkward new girl energy.
Inside, classes blurred together.
Angela asked if I wanted to hang out this weekend. Mike invited me to a movie night I had no intention of attending. Jessica gave me a sideways glance every time someone male spoke to me for more than three seconds.
Just like in the books or was it the movie.
But under the mask, I kept watching the Cullen's. I studied the subtle glances, the way Alice always seemed to know when someone was about to round a corner, or how Jasper walked like he was pretending to be used to gravity.
They weren't hunting.
Not yet.
But they were watching.
Especially her.
Alice.
During third period, I caught her watching me from across the quad — not with suspicion. With... curiosity. Like something about me didn't sit quite right in her visions.
I smiled at her.
She blinked.
Then turned away.
---
Biology came after lunch, just as it should.
I slipped into the lab and took my seat at the table I now occupied alone. Mr. Banner greeted me with a nod, then launched into a speech about mitosis and cell structure.
No one asked about Edward's absence.
No one cared.
Which made sense. He was just another pretty face to most of them — the kind you remember in hindsight, not reality.
But to me? His absence was a flare in the sky.
Proof that he'd felt what I already knew.
---
After school, I headed straight home. Charlie was off shift early and had defrosted a pizza, which we shared in comfortable silence while watching a documentary about Bigfoot sightings in Oregon.
"You think he's real?" I asked between bites.
Charlie didn't look away from the screen. "I think people see what they need to see."
I chewed that over, both the pizza and the philosophy.
"Do you see what you need to see?"
Charlie finally glanced at me, a flicker of something behind his eyes. "I see you. That's enough."
I had to blink hard at that one.
"You're not supposed to be so good at this," I muttered.
"At what?"
"Being a dad."
He smirked. "Practice makes perfect."
I smiled into my soda.
---
That night, I went to bed early again — not because I was exhausted, but because something in me felt restless.
Like I was being pulled back into a chapter that hadn't finished turning its page.
---
When I opened my eyes, the world smelled like dust, sweat, and iron.
The Virginia sun was dimming, casting a long golden haze across the field.
Damon stood at the edge of a training camp. His coat was half-buttoned, sleeves rolled. A musket leaned against the tent beside him. His hands were wrapped in cloth, one of them smudged with dirt.
He didn't look injured this time.
But he looked tired.
Tired in the way a man looks when he's been trying to convince himself this is all worth it.
I stepped into the clearing, not hesitating.
He looked up the second I moved.
"You again," he said — not startled this time. Just resigned.
"You sound disappointed."
He cracked a smile. "Only in myself. Thought I dreamed you up to keep from going insane."
"You didn't."
"So you're real?"
"As real as dreams get."
He nodded once, like that settled something.
Then he turned his face toward the sky, eyes squinting against the fading light.
"My brother wrote," he said after a long pause. "Says Father's proud. Says I've made the family name shine."
"Does that matter to you?"
He shrugged, but it was all in the tension of his jaw. "Used to. I think I just wanted to belong somewhere."
I walked closer. The camp smelled like gun oil and fresh laundry — two scents that shouldn't coexist but did.
"Do you?" I asked.
"Belong?" He scoffed. "No. But I wear the uniform better than most. Makes people forget I'm not a believer."
"In the cause?"
"In anything."
I didn't say anything. I just stepped beside him and let the quiet settle.
He looked at me, then — sideways, thoughtful.
"You always show up when I'm at my worst."
"Maybe that's the only time you'll let someone see you."
That earned me a real laugh. Low. Honest.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Someone who's seen enough to know when a man's lying to himself."
"And am I?"
"Every time you smile."
He didn't argue.
Instead, he stepped forward, a little closer, and looked out over the hills beyond the camp.
"I keep thinking if I bleed enough for them, they'll let me come home as someone new."
"They won't."
He closed his eyes. "I know."
I moved beside him. Let my fingers graze his sleeve.
He flinched — not from me, but from the contact itself. Like it had meaning.
"Whatever you're becoming," I whispered, "it doesn't have to be the end of you."
He didn't look at me.
But he didn't step away either.
"I don't even know your name," he said.
"You will."
The dream blurred at the edges.
Time trying to reclaim him.
Me slipping away again.
His voice followed me like an echo:
"Next time you come back… don't go so fast."
---
I woke in the dark, breath caught in my throat.
I remembered the dust on his collar.
The weariness in his spine.
The part of him that still wanted to be loved — even if he didn't believe he deserved it.
---
Charlie was in the kitchen, pouring himself cereal at midnight.
"Trouble sleeping?" he asked without turning around.
"Dreams again."
He handed me a bowl wordlessly.
"You ever feel like you're watching someone fall, and you can't do anything to stop it?" I asked.
Charlie blinked.
"Every day I wear a badge," he said.
We sat in silence.
And for once, I didn't feel like I was falling alone.