We left the airport lobby, grateful there was no luggage to claim, everything we'd brought was small enough to carry. Esme's expression turned stricken the moment she looked at Bella. No one could disagree with her. Bella was out on her feet; only her stubbornness was keeping her upright.
As we stepped into the parking garage, two familiar figures waited by Carlisle's Mercedes and Esme's SUV. The uncharacteristic shame on Rosalie's face told me why they hadn't come inside.
Surprisingly, it was Emmett who spoke first, breaking the silence before it could stretch too long.
He stepped forward, collecting Bella's small carry-on from Edward's hand. "How about Rose and I take Bella and Edward to Charlie's," he suggested. "It'll give us some time to… work out some stuff." His voice faltered slightly as he glanced toward Rosalie, but she didn't look away.
No one objected. Edward only nodded stiffly, ushering Bella into the back seat of Carlisle's car. The gratitude in his eyes didn't quite reach his expression, but the relief was there.
I grabbed Edythe's bag, and Jasper took Alice's. We followed Esme to the rear of her SUV as she opened the hatch from the driver's seat. The echo of our steps was the only sound in the concrete stillness.
When I tossed my pack inside and reached to close the hatch, Jasper's voice stopped me.
"Thomas," he said quietly.
I turned, half expecting another tactical suggestion about the drive ahead. But his posture was tense, shoulders squared, eyes down.
"I can't apologize enough for losing control at Bella's birthday party," he said. "Everything that's happened since… it feels like the fallout of that one mistake. My weakness."
He paused, glancing toward Alice where she sat in the SUV, her hands folded neatly in her lap. "When I heard you'd gone to Volterra to meet them, I was—" He hesitated, then smiled faintly. "—I was relieved. Because I knew you'd tear through that city to keep them safe, even if you were really there for Bella."
I didn't interrupt, though I could feel the sincerity radiating off him, that soldier's honesty that never quite shakes the habit of confession.
He went on, voice quieter. "I'll never stop feeling like I owe you for that. For both those days."
I studied him for a long moment before speaking. "You don't owe me anything, Jasper. We all make mistakes that ripple farther than we mean. What matters is what you do after."
His eyes lifted, golden and clear. For the first time since we'd landed, he looked lighter.
"I'll try to remember that," he said.
Edythe's voice drifted from the passenger seat, dry but affectionate. "Are you two finished competing over who is more emotionally oppressed?"
Jasper's mouth quirked. "Almost."
I shut the hatch and climbed in beside Edythe and Jasper sat next to Alice. Esme glanced back through the mirror, her face soft with a mix of relief and peace.
"I don't think I've ever been so grateful to have everyone home in one piece," she said.
The SUV hummed to life, headlights cutting through the dim light of the garage as we followed the others out into the cool Seattle morning.
The city gave way to forest in slow, dissolving stretches, the gray light of morning softening into mist over the trees. Seattle fell behind us, its hum replaced by the rhythmic whisper of tires over wet asphalt.
Esme drove with steady hands and the calm of someone who'd spent decades carrying the weight of others and somehow never faltered beneath it. Her gaze flicked to the mirror occasionally, not for traffic, but to look at us, to make sure we were still there.
The quiet inside the SUV wasn't awkward or strained. It was the silence of people who had run out of fear but hadn't yet found words for relief. The kind of stillness that settles in after a storm, fragile but welcome.
For a long time, the only sounds were the faint hum of the road and the soft breath of rain against the windshield. Then Esme spoke, her voice low and reflective.
"You know," she said, "I sometimes forget how fragile peace can feel. How easily it slips away, and how fiercely I want to hold on to it when it returns."
Her eyes met mine briefly in the mirror before sweeping across the others. "You brought my family home safe," she said softly. "For that, I'll always be grateful."
I didn't reply, partially out of discomfort, but also because I didn't do it alone. But knowing now wasn't the time to object, I let her words hang in the air, filling the space between us with something almost warm.
Edythe reached for my hand, her fingers cold but steady. The gesture didn't need words.
Outside, the forest thickened around the highway. Fog clung low between the trees, silver in the early light. The sound of the rain deepened, steady, rhythmic, familiar.
No one spoke again for the rest of the drive. We didn't need to.
By the time the "Welcome to Forks" sign flashed by the headlights, the world felt smaller, quieter, like it was holding its breath along with us.
The drive up the long gravel road to the Cullen house was quiet. The forest seemed to close in around us, mist curling between the pines like something alive. The rain had settled into a light drizzle by the time Esme turned into the drive.
The house waited ahead, tall, glass, and shadowed under the heavy canopy. Even through the rain-streaked windshield, I could tell something felt off. The place looked… still. Too still.
When Esme unlocked the front door and pushed it open, the reason became clear.
White sheets covered nearly everything. The couches, the piano, even the framed photographs had been veiled in dustless cloth. The air smelled faintly of cedar and emptiness, a home that had been waiting too long for its family to return.
Carlisle stepped inside first, his gaze sweeping the room with quiet reverence. "It feels like it's been years," he murmured.
Esme moved past him, pulling one of the sheets from the sofa. The motion sent a small cloud of dust dancing through the sunlight that filtered weakly through the rain. "Let's fix that," she said softly.
Edythe followed me in, brushing my arm as I set my pack down by the stairs. The thud of it against the wood felt loud in the stillness.
Jasper hesitated in the doorway, his eyes shadowed. "It's strange," he said. "The house looks the same, but it feels different."
Before anyone could answer, the crunch of tires broke the silence. The Mercedes rolled to a stop outside.
Emmett came in first, shoulders hunched against the drizzle. Rosalie followed a step behind him, expression carefully neutral but not cold.
"Well," Emmett said, rubbing the back of his neck, "That went about as well as we could hope. Which isn't saying much."
Carlisle looked up from where he was removing another sheet from a chair. "Charlie?"
Emmett huffed out a laugh that carried no humor. "Pissed doesn't even start to cover it. He took one look at Bella in Edward's arms and nearly had a coronary. I think if she hadn't been half-dead on her feet, he'd have thrown Edward straight out the door."
I winced softly, "Maybe I should have gone with them."
Emmett shrugged, "Bella woke up enough to say a few things to Charlie and Edward convinced him to let him carry Bella to her bed. But as soon as Bella was out cold and Edward let her go, he marched him right out the door. No yelling, no threats, just pure, cop-grade authority".
Edythe exhaled softly. "That sounds like Charlie."
"Yeah," Emmett said, "but don't worry, Edward didn't go far. He's probably sitting under her window right now like a lovesick raccoon."
Rosalie rolled her eyes but didn't contradict him. "At least this time, Charlie knows she's alive and safe. That's more than we had twenty-four hours ago."
I had to agree there, not knowing has got to be the worst.
Rosalie lingered near the doorway as Emmett spoke, her arms crossed tight over her chest. For a moment, I thought that was all she intended to say, her silence had always been her armor.
But when the others began to move deeper into the house, she didn't follow. Instead, her eyes flicked toward me.
"Thomas," she said quietly.
I turned, not sure what to expect.
Her voice was steady but soft. "I owe you an apology."
That alone was enough to make the room go still. Even Emmett glanced over, eyebrows raised.
Rosalie's gaze didn't waver. "When Edward called, if I hadn't told him what I heard as if it were fact, none of this would've happened. You wouldn't have been dragged into it. Bella wouldn't have had to…" She stopped, shaking her head once. "I was wrong. And I'm sorry."
I studied her for a moment, recognizing how much those words cost her. "There's nothing to apologize for. You just didn't have all the facts."
She frowned, but not in anger, more like disbelief that I'd made it sound that simple. "Still," she said, her voice quieter now, "thank you. For going after him. For saving them. For… all of it."
Emmett walked back to Rosalie, his hand settled lightly on her shoulder. "Told you he's too decent to hold a grudge," he said with a grin that softened the edges of the moment.
Rosalie gave a faint, almost reluctant smile in return, then turned away, brushing past him toward the stairs.
The house was quiet again, except for the soft patter of rain against the windows.
Edythe slipped her hand into mine. "That was rare," she murmured.
"What, Rosalie apologizing?"
Her lips curved faintly. "No. You letting it go that easily."
I smiled and squeezed her hand gently. "We've all had enough blame for one lifetime."
Outside, the forest whispered under the rain, alive again, but waiting.
And for the first time since walking through the door, the house felt like home.