By the time noon rolled around, the Cullen house looked almost alive again. The white sheets were mostly gone, the air smelled faintly of cedar polish and rain, and the quiet hum of conversation filled the rooms.

Carlisle had retreated to his study, Esme was reorganizing the kitchen, and Emmett and Rosalie were out in the garage, the low murmur of their voices barely audible over the faint clink of metal.

It felt… peaceful. For the first time since Italy, there was no tension pressing me forward at a panicked pace.

That was my cue to leave.

I found Esme near the stairs, carefully rehanging one of her framed photographs. "I think you're winning the battle," I said, nodding toward the now-spotless living room.

She smiled, soft and content. "It feels good to put things back where they belong."

"Then I'll get out of your way. I should check on my place before I start growing roots here."

Edythe's voice drifted from behind me. "You mean our place," she corrected lightly.

I turned, and she was standing there with her arms folded, her expression equal parts teasing and expectant.

"Right," I said with a small grin. "Our place."

Esme's smile widened knowingly. "Go on, you two. You've both earned some quiet."

The drive through the forest was calm, Carlisle had offered up his car as the others other than the Escalade, were all still in New York. The drizzle had lightened to a soft mist, and the damp road stretched out in front of me. Edythe sat beside me, her presence quiet but unmistakably warm — her gaze flicking between the passing trees and my face as though she couldn't decide which she preferred watching.

When we pulled up the narrow dirt drive that led to my house, I noticed the porch light was still intact, though coated with a thin layer of dust. The rain had kept the air clean but left the windows faintly streaked.

The place looked exactly how I'd left it — only… neater.

"You've been here," I said, stepping onto the porch.

Edythe smiled faintly, brushing her fingers along the railing. "Of course. I couldn't just leave it as it was. You'd never forgive me for letting the house return to rusting away."

Inside, the air carried her faint scent — pine, ozone, something crisp and faintly electric. Everything was in perfect order. However, it was like the Cullen's house, covered in sheets and waiting for my return.

"I only closed things down," she said casually, moving toward the kitchen. "Drained the water lines, unplugged the appliances, aired it out, then covered what I could before we left. I wanted it to be ready when you came back."

I set my pack by the door and turned toward her. "You really thought I would?"

She looked over her shoulder, eyes bright. "I knew you would."

For a moment, I didn't know what to say. Once Esme finished her renovations, the house had been quiet, functional, a place to rest between everything else. But standing here with Edythe now, it actually felt like a home.

Edythe leaned against the counter, arms folded, watching me. "You should sleep," she said softly. "You haven't closed your eyes since yesterday morning's flight."

"I'm fine."

She tilted her head, smiling like she'd already called my bluff. "You're human, Thomas. That means you need sleep. Unless you plan to spend the next day stumbling through Forks like a zombie."

I smirked. "Pretty sure I could still outrun everyone in town."

"Mm," she said, taking a small step closer. "And yet, even tigers have to rest."

She was right, and we both knew it. My body was beginning to feel it — the ache behind my eyes, the heaviness in my shoulders. I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. "I'll go to bed in a couple of hours."

She arched a brow, unconvinced. "You said that an hour ago."

I chuckled quietly. "I need to stay up at least until eight or nine. Remember, I am used to only sleeping around five to six hours.

Her smile softened, and she brushed a hand against my chest. "Fine… Let's pull the dust sheets off and put them away."

She held up my backpack that had held my whole life these last 6 months, "Should I take this up to our room?"

I smiled at her use of 'Our.' At every turn, as if she needed to stake more of a claim than she already had.

"There are some books in there that I brought for Billy Black, they were written by his… grand aunt, I think would be the proper term. It may be important to the Tribe one day, so I felt like I had to bring it back."

Edythe opened the bag and pulled the three books out, and quickly thumbed through them. "Hope you don't mind if I read them, they look interesting."

I just shrugged and indicated the sheet covering the couch. "You get one side, I'll get the other. Should be no time at all before we are done."

Later that evening, I finally collapsed onto the bed. Edythe had gone still near the window, the faint outline of her form haloed by the last light before dark. I watched her for a moment — that impossible stillness that no human could ever hold — before exhaustion finally pulled me under.

The rain deepened outside, steady and calm before finally breaking.

And then, somewhere near two am, the sharp buzz of my phone on the nightstand pulled me from sleep.

I blinked, groggy, and reached for it.

"Thomas?" Bella's voice came through the line — quiet, tense.

I sat up, instantly awake. "Bella? What's wrong?"

Her hesitation was brief but heavy. "Can you meet me at the Cullen house? There's something I need to talk to everyone about. It's important."

I rubbed a hand over my face. "You mean now?"

"Yes," she said. "Now."

Her tone left no room for argument.

I glanced toward the window. Edythe was already watching me, eyes sharp, like she'd known before I did that the call would come. I noticed one of Elaraim's books in her hand

"We will be there as quickly as we can," I said into the phone.

She nodded once, already moving for the door.

"Looks like peace didn't last long," I murmured.

Edythe's faint smile was half amusement, half resignation. "It never does."

I ended the call and put the phone back on the bedside table. "You heard?" I asked Edythe, who was sitting next to me with the book still in her hand.

"I heard." She got up and moved to the dresser, pulling out sweats and a shirt. "Are you wearing these and driving, or are you running and I'm carrying them?"

Bella said it was important, so I decided to run, besides I could show Edythe one of my new forms.

I stood, stretching the stiffness from my shoulders. "Running's faster," I said. "And I want to show you something new."

Edythe's brow lifted slightly, a spark of curiosity flickering behind her composed expression. "New?"

"Yeah," I said, grinning faintly. "You've seen the full tiger. This one's… smaller. A little more discreet."

Her lips curved. "You? Discreet?"

"Relatively speaking," I said, "Just—remember to bring the clothes. I'm not walking back through the forest naked again."

She smirked, voice a velvet whisper. "I wouldn't complain."

"Maybe not, but Charlie might if someone sees me and calls him."

That earned a soft laugh before she crossed to the door, after placing my clothes in a new backpack, she slung it over her shoulder. "Alright, then. Let's see it."

I stepped out onto the porch, the night air cool and damp from the rain. The forest beyond was a stretch of silver mist and shifting shadow, the scent of pine heavy in the air.

Edythe stood just beyond the threshold, her golden eyes gleaming faintly in the low light. She didn't move, she never did when I shifted, but her focus was absolute, the scientist and the lover both watching the lines blur between human and something more.

The fire rose in me instantly, not burning, not painful, just alive. My pulse thundered once, then my body folded in on itself. The ground met me in silence.

When the shift settled, I stood lower to the earth — smaller, leaner. A half-sized version of the tiger, built for stealth instead of pure power.

Edythe's eyes widened, her lips parting in surprise. "You weren't exaggerating," she whispered. "You're… beautiful."

I rumbled low in my chest — and thought, {"Thanks, gorgeous, but it's just the usual colors, only smaller."}

She knelt and brushed her hand through the fur at my neck. "Efficient," she added, and I could hear the note of admiration that slipped through her tone. "Alright, tiger. Let's see how fast you can get there."

I nudged her hand once, then bounded into the trees.

She was right behind me, her movements so smooth she barely disturbed the rain that clung to the leaves. The forest whipped past in a blur of motion and scent — wet soil, cedar, the faint trace of the Cullen's' home ahead like static in the air.

Every stride came easy, the world sharp and focused through this form. Edythe stayed just to my right, her gaze flicking toward me every so often — part curiosity, part quiet awe.

When the Cullen house finally came into view, its windows glowing faintly against the dark, I slowed. The shift back came easier now, a ripple, a breath, and then I was kneeling in the wet grass, human again, rain cold against my skin.

Edythe appeared at my side almost instantly, holding out the folded clothes with that same faint, knowing smile.

I took the bundle with a grin. "Thanks, love."

A few minutes later, dressed and human again, we crossed the clearing together. The rain had softened to a whisper. Through the window, I could see the family gathered.

Edythe reached for the door handle, pausing just long enough to meet my eyes. "Ready?"

"Sure, let's see if they know what this is about."

She pushed the door open. The soft hum of voices cut off, and all attention shifted toward us.