The Breakers Chapter 6

~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~

Chapter 6

EPOV

What?

The?

Hell?

Was that?

Seth, Emmett, Jasper, and I are all staring at the door that Bella has just fled out of. I have no idea what looks they have on their faces because I can't take my eyes off the space she just occupied. My hand, the one that moments ago held hers, curls and stretches beside me and I swear I can still feel the warmth of her touch.

Voices are speaking beside me, but the words are muted because every part of my mind is replaying the past few minutes in incredibly vivid detail. She didn't say much, six words in total, but I know I'll be replaying them over and over again.

While I'm working, while I'm sleeping … in the shower.

I wish she would've said my name; then I'd really have something to think about. Hearing her say it, in that breathless, sexy voice she has, would surely give my dreams even more freedom to go places they really shouldn't go.

"What the hell's the matter with Bella?" Jasper asks. I don't wait to hear if either Emmett or Seth answer him. I'm heading toward the door and through it before I can talk myself out of following her.

It's obvious I make her as skittish as a kitten, and the thought that she's afraid of me makes me uneasy.

"Bella, wait!" I holler when I see her heading toward a bright red Blazer.

The fact that she drives a beast of a truck like that is hot … really fucking hot. I know it's not really the time or the place to think about such things, but I can't help it. A hot woman that drives an even hotter car is a surefire way to get any man's blood pumping and I'm no different.

She whips around and her eyes widen as she watches me approach. I'm not running, but I'm walking fast because I want to make sure I catch her before she leaves. Noticing the way her eyes dart around, I purposely slow down.

I try not to let my own eyes wander but I can't help it as I take a good look at her. The first time I saw her I was so overwhelmed from meeting Peyton and worrying about Charlie I couldn't really concentrate. What happened just a few minutes ago is still too confusing to even think about, so that certainly doesn't count.

As I slow my steps, I look her over from head to foot and holy fucking hell is she ever something else to look at. The brown hair I do remember from the other day is even more gorgeous out in the sunlight rather than filtered through a window. I'm not even sure brown is the right color to describe it because it seems to have just as much red in it as anything. Right now it's up, and even though it lets me stare at her neck, I want to see it down. To be really honest, I want it wrapped around my fingers as I pull her head to the side and feast on her skin with my mouth.

She's got the same navy blue t-shirt on as she had the other day, but instead of jeans like the first time I saw her, this time she's in white shorts. White shorts that show off lots of smooth, tanned skin. A mouthwateringly large amount of it. Because she's facing me I can't see her ass, but there's no question that it has to look as good in her tight shorts as it did in a pair of blue jeans.

My eyes travel back up over the shirt. I have to bite my tongue to keep from groaning out loud at the way it pulls just enough across her chest to show off her perfect and perky tits ... not to mention that I can see the faintest outline of her nipples.

Jesus.

I pull my gaze away from her chest, though I think I could stare at it for hours, and look at her face. She's fucking beautiful. I already knew that, but standing this close to her gives me a whole different perspective. Eyes that I'd assumed were brown are swirled with gold making them like no shade of brown I've ever seen. Peyton obviously got her freckles from her mother because Bella has the same faint smattering of them across her cheeks. I'd like to say Peyton got her smile from Bella as well, but as she's scowling instead of smiling, I can't really tell. I do know one thing though ... if Peyton grows up to look like Bella, she's going to make some man very, very happy.

As soon as that thought enters my mind, I'd like to bleach it from my brain. The kid is seven-years-old for fuck's sake, and I sure as hell don't want to picture her as anything other than the pretty little sprite that's wormed her way into my heart without even trying.

"Well?" Bella snaps and breaks me out of my trance.

"Oh, um," I stammer and mentally hit myself upside the head for sounding like such a fucking pussy.

She huffs and when I step forward, she steps back just a bit. That automatic reaction from her reminds me of why I chased after her in the first place. I take a deep breath. "I just wanted to ... I mean ... fuck ..." I wince and then decide to just spit it out. "I get the feeling you don't like me and I just wanted to tell you I am sorry if I make you uncomfortable."

Her breath hitches in her throat and it's sexy as hell. I know she didn't mean for me to notice it and I'm sure she has no idea that the sound makes me want to step even closer to her just to see if she does it again.

She opens her mouth and then snaps it closed. The space between her eyebrows dips and when she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, my hand shoots into my hair. It's the only thing I can do to keep myself from reaching out and pulling her lip with my thumb. She looks up at me from beneath her eyelashes and I hold in the groan that's just begging to be released.

"I don't even know you, so how can I not like you?" she whispers as her eyes flit around and look at everything but me. Her voice is a mixture of hesitation, wariness, and ... surprisingly, something that sounds a lot like excitement. Like maybe, just possibly, she might want to get to know me.

I take a chance and move closer to her. The urge to say something, some sort of lame ass line like 'well, we can fix that problem when you go out with me on Friday night' is on the tip of my tongue, but there's no way in hell I'm letting those words out of my mouth. It's been more than seven years since I've talked to a woman, much less tried to flirt with one, and I'm not starting with Bella ... at least not right this moment.

I'd like for the woman to be able to stay in the same room as me for more than two minutes before I start thinking about anything like that.

I chuckle a little bit and her eyes blaze when she looks at me. I raise my hands and try not to let my smirk get me in any more trouble than I'm already in. Peyton most definitely gets her feistiness from her mother. "Well, you could have fooled me," I tease ... sort of.

She sure hasn't given any indication that she'd like for anything to happen other than for me to just disappear.

"Hmmm," she says and then I see the corners of her lips lift in what appears to be the beginning of a smile. It's a small one, but I'll take it. She lifts her eyes to mine, and like before, we're stuck in some sort of silent tug of war.

Figuring I don't have anything to lose and because for some reason I don't even want to think about right at the moment, I really want Bella to like me, I try for charming. Holding my hand out, I say, "How about we try this again? I'm Edward Masen and you are?" I quirk my eyebrow and make sure my voice is as teasing as I can make it, while giving her a crooked grin.

I watch as her cheeks flush pink. I haven't made a woman blush in like ... well, ever as far as I can remember. The fact that I've made Bella do it makes me give myself a silent fist bump. Pushing my luck, I step a bit closer and wiggle my fingers that are itching to hold her hand again. She makes this sound that's part growl and part groan and even though I'm trying not to give her any more reason not to like me, I let out a groan of my own. I have to shift a bit because my jeans have gotten uncomfortably tight. Christ, I hope and pray she can't see how hard I am, but it's not like I can help it.

I'm concentrating so hard on not letting my dick push its way through my jeans that it startles me when she slips her hand into mine. "Bella Swan," she says and gives me a genuine smile. "It's nice to meet you, Edward."

And ... there it is.

My name coming from her lips is definitely going to play on a loop in my brain.

We stand there, kind of holding hands and honestly it's awkward as hell, but it doesn't seem like she wants to let go any more than I do. At least that's what I'm telling myself. She lets out this little squeak when she looks down at our hands and then pulls hers from mine. When she looks at me, the blush is there again and her lip is back between her teeth, too.

This whole conversation has been about the most bizarre, painful, and truthfully downright confusing thing I've ever been through. I clear my throat and say, "Well, I just wanted to ... I don't know, say hi or something and hope we could start over. I mean ..." I stammer. "Shit. I mean I'm going to be working for your dad and with your brother so we're bound to run into each other and I didn't want it to be awkward or make you feel uncomfortable."

I hear her gasp a little and when she looks at me I can tell her brain is going about a million miles a minute. I have no idea what she's thinking about, but her face is an open book. Surprise, confusion, resignation, and then embarrassment ... and that look stuns me the most. What the hell could she possibly be embarrassed about, I wonder, but don't have time to think about it because she sighs and our eyes meet, again.

"You don't make me uncomfortable," she says and I snort; I can't help it.

"Yes, I do."

"Well, I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings or made it seem like I was scared of you or something." Again there's a hint of embarrassment lacing her words and I don't understand it ... nor do I like it.

Trying to put her at ease because the agitation she's still feeling is starting to give me a complex, I say, "Well, Peyton's sure as hell not scared of me."

This strangled, squeaky sound comes from her and immediately I'm mentally kicking my ass for bringing up her daughter. For all I know, Peyton hasn't said anything about me and Bella's thinking I'm a kid snatcher or something. I'm shocked when she takes a deep breath and this time when she looks at me, she finally looks calmer, like she's made some kind of decision in the past few seconds.

"She's certainly your biggest fan," she tells me and my face breaks out into a huge smile. So big I can feel it. I know I have to look like a fucking idiot but I don't care.

"Well, she's a great kid," I tell her. "I mean I know I only spent a few minutes with her and honestly she talked and I just listened, but she's something else."

I have no idea if what I'm saying is appropriate or not, but I can't help it. Besides, I'm hoping that if Bella sees that I really don't mean any harm to her or Peyton, she'll let me talk to Peyton from time to time. The fact that I want that as badly as I do is seriously fucking with my mind and I know I should leave her be ... both of them if I'm honest ... but I can't.

Bella chuckles a bit at my comment and I relax for the first time since we've started talking. "That's usually the way it is with Peyton. You must have some experience with kids if you were able to keep up with her ramblings. When she gets on a roll, you really just have to wait for her to run out of breath before you can get a word in edgewise."

I can't help but laugh at that because I thought the exact thing. I feel like I should address her passing kid comment though. "Um, no. I haven't ever been around kids."

Her comment makes me uneasy. I realize Charlie hasn't told her anything about me ... or at least not where I've been for the last seven years. I can't decide if that's a good thing or not and then I wonder why he didn't tell her and if there's something significant about that. Part of me feels like I'm lying to her by not telling her right here, right now, and the other knows if I do, she'll run so fast my head would spin. The thought of that happening keeps the words from spilling out.

"You obviously did something right if Peyton decided you two were going to be friends," Bella says. Her mouth curves into a smile and her eyes have softened enough so that they aren't pinched. She's even more beautiful when she's relaxed.

Taking complete advantage of the fact that we seem to be having a somewhat normal conversation, I turn and lean my back against her Blazer, crossing my arms over my chest. She stares at me for a few moments and then does the same, only she leans on her shoulder so she can face me. The sun is beating down on us as it's late afternoon and I can see the faintest traces of perspiration that dots across her upper lip. The urge to lean into her and swipe my tongue along the skin flares hot and intense inside me. I pinch the inside of my arm hard enough to break the skin in order to keep myself under control.

It's not easy and I'm going out of my mind standing this close to her ... so close I can smell her. She smells a little salty, whether that's from the sea air outside or because she was busy earlier in the restaurant, I have no idea. Beneath that is the subtle scent of citrus. Lemon, tangerine ... grapefruit ... I don't have the first clue. I just know it smells fucking mouthwatering and is making me crave a big, juicy orange. Between the salty and the tangy mixed with the heat that's bouncing off her truck, I'm in sensory overload, but I can't move, even if I wanted to.

I'm staring at her, I know I am, but for some reason she lets me ... probably because she's doing the same to me. That push and pull instinct that has spread from my stomach, and let's be honest, from my dick, is still very much present and accounted for. I don't understand at all what's going on right now, only that I don't want it to stop.

Finally, she opens her mouth, only to close it again.

"What?" I ask because I'm dying to know what she was going to say.

"How are you enjoying working on the boat?" She rolls her eyes at me and I grin. Damn, Peyton looks just like Bella when she does that. I'm not convinced that that is really what she wanted to ask me, but seeing as how we're making casual conversation, I don't hesitate to answer.

"It's tough. It's not what I expected, but I'm really enjoying it." I'm not lying ... not exactly.

The work is hard as hell - back-breaking and muscle-aching - and it's about a hundred times more complicated than I ever imagined it would be, but that doesn't mean I'm not happy to be doing it. I've never been afraid of hard work and this is no different. Well, except for the fact that my hands are a mangled mess and it hurts to move them. Between lobster claws, the cold water, and the traps, my fingers feel like they could fall off at any moment. It's only been a few days but I've learned so much ... not that I've had much choice.

Charlie, Emmett, and Jasper all have the same sink or swim mentality when it comes to showing me how to do things on the boat. I've definitely had a trial by fire initiation to the ins and outs of lobster fishing and it's been rather eye-opening to say the least.

"Liar," she taunts.

I chuckle a bit and shake my head. "I do like it," I tell her. "It's been a long time since I've done anything that ... feels as satisfying."

I know my words are cryptic, especially when she tips her head at me and her eyes narrow just a bit as she tries to interpret what I mean.

She raises her eyebrows when I don't elaborate. I don't think now is the time to go into what exactly has brought me to Corea - not when we're managing to have a fairly friendly conversation for the first time. I just hope it's the first of many.

I open my mouth to try to say something without getting into much of anything, but am cut off when someone pokes their head out the back door of the restaurant and hollers, "Bella, Peyton's on the phone for you."

Bella sucks in a sharp breath and looks confused as hell for a second before she starts patting her pockets. "Shit, I left my phone in the restaurant," she mumbles and then turns to walk off.

I fall in step beside her and I can tell she's flustered about the fact that she ran off without grabbing her things. When we reach the back door of the kitchen, I walk in front of her and grab the door.

"Sorry I made you run off without your phone," I say as I hold the door open so she can pass through.

She stops and once again her cheeks are pink. "You didn't." When I humph she rolls her eyes. "Fine, you did, but only because I overreacted. That's not on you, that's on me."

I try to figure out what to say to that, but before I can come up with anything, she softly says, "Excuse me," and walks past me to go talk to Peyton.

I follow her into the restaurant a few seconds later and make my way back through the kitchen and into the seating area. Emmett, Jasper, and Seth are sitting at a table with two women, whom I assume to be Rose and Alice from the way Emmett and Jasper have described them.

When I approach the table the five of them are looking at me expectantly. I don't say anything, mostly because I don't know what they want me to say, and an uncomfortable silence fills the air. Finally, the woman I assume to be Rose holds her hand out. "We haven't been introduced," she starts and shoots Emmett a pointed look, "but I'm Rosalie Swan. You must be the Edward we've all heard so much about."

I take her hand and answer, "Edward Masen, it's nice to meet you." I purposely don't acknowledge what she said about hearing things because I'm not sure I want to know what she means.

Jasper, not wanting to get looked at like Rose is looking at Emmett, opens his mouth, but his wife is much faster than he is. "I'm Alice Whitlock." Her smile immediately puts me at ease.

"I've heard a lot about both of you," I tell her and then look at her and Rose.

Alice is sitting on Jasper's lap and she turns around and kisses him on the cheek. "It better all be good things," she says and raises an eyebrow in question.

"Of course, darlin'," he tells her.

The familiarity between them all is palpable and it makes me feel awkward and left out. I'm still standing, still unsure of what to do. I followed Jasper and Emmett to The Breakers when we got done on the boat today, only because they asked me to come along.

I'm about to excuse myself when Alice jumps off Jasper's lap like something's bit her on the ass. "Oh, Edward, I'm sorry. Have a seat," she orders me, "and I'll bring you something to drink."

Apparently I'm the only one taken aback by the suddenness of her actions because none of them even bat an eye. She has her hands on her hips and it's not until I do as I'm told and sit that she moves. "What would you like?"

I look around the table and all the guys have beers. As much as I'd like to join them, and though there isn't anything that says I can't, I ask for a Coke instead. I glance quickly around the restaurant and notice that with the exception of a few tables, it's empty. It's late enough in the afternoon that the lunch crowd is gone and early enough that the dinner rush hasn't started yet.

"So, Edward, why don't you tell us a bit about yourself," Rose says once my eyes stop wandering around the room.

"Oh, wait for me!" Alice yells out, hurrying to the table and sets my drink in front of me.

When she pats me on the shoulder in a friendly, casual manner, I'm once again struggling with feelings I'd thought were long gone. To have people go out of their way to be nice, to extend courtesy and be genuinely pleasant, is something I'm still trying to get used to. Living in a house with Esme Cullen is fast-tracking that learning curve, however. The woman epitomizes both genuine and pleasant and from the vibe I'm getting from the others at the table, it seems as they all do as well … even Seth, I think.

Alice is once again perched on Jasper's lap and she waves her hand in my direction and says, "Okay. Go."

I splutter a bit at her bluntness and wipe off my mouth with the back of my hand. I look at Rose and Em. "You better get on with it, Edward," Rose tells me with a grin. "She'll keep us at this table all damn day until you talk."

Clearing my throat and shifting a bit in my seat because they're all looking at me, I grab my glass between my hands and begin. "Um ... well ... I, ah ..." I swallow. I feel as though I'm going to be sick, which is totally ridiculous. Sucking it up, I forge ahead. "I was born and raised in Boston. My parents died when I was just a kid and my grandparents took me in. When I was growing up, we used to come here to visit during the summer but stopped about fifteen years ago. I needed a change and when I thought about where I wanted to come, this was the first place that came to mind."

"What were your grandparents' names? I wonder if I remember them?" Emmett asks me.

"Thomas and Lillian Masen."

Emmett stares off into space as he thinks and then he shakes his head. "Nope, doesn't ring any bells."

"I'm not surprised. We kept pretty much to ourselves," I say. "Though I do remember coming here a few times."

I'm looking around the restaurant seeing how much I remember when Rose asks, "Will your grandparents be coming to visit? Corea has changed if it's been fifteen years since the last time you were here."

"My ... um," I begin, fighting to keep my voice level. "My grandmother died when I was twelve and my grandfather passed away about three years ago." My voice is barely above a whisper and my eyes sting as I finish talking.

"Oh, Edward," Alice says and reaches across the table to rub my hand. "Do you have any other family, any brothers or sisters?"

I shake my head, not looking up at her until I take a deep breath. When I lift my head, all of them are looking at me with a mixture of sadness and sympathy. While normally I'd be pissed as hell at being pitied by anyone, I realize these people are trying to get to know me and the only way they can do that is to ask questions. They have no way of knowing that the fact that the only two people in the world that have ever given two shits about me are dead makes me want to curl up in a ball and cry for days, so I can't be angry at them for asking questions I don't want to think about.

The five of them look back and forth at one another and I want to try to assure them that their questions didn't upset me, but it's pretty fucking obvious they did. I wish that wasn't the case, but it is, and there's not a whole hell of a lot I can do about it. I know I haven't even started coming to grips with the deaths of my grandparents, my grandfather's especially. The fact that I wasn't able to attend his funeral, because he wasn't immediate family according to the assholes at Old Colony, still eats away at my gut.

That was probably the worst day of the entire seven plus years I spent behind bars. I'd never hated him more than I did when that 'no' was given in a cold, unfeeling manner. If I could've gotten my hands on him, I swear I would've killed him. The anger, the bitterness at being in that hellhole because of what he'd done to me was never more out of control than on that day.

I shiver as I remember it all, and it's not until I feel a warm hand on my shoulder that I'm reminded of where I am.

"Edward, are you okay?" Bella asks.

I raise my eyes to hers. For a moment, we're locked in a gaze that I'm sure I don't ever want to break out of. Her eyes are warm and inviting, though there's worry hidden just beneath the depth. A throat clears from across the table, but I have no idea whose it is because I haven't torn my eyes away from Bella's. I give her a small smile and the dip between her eyebrows is gone immediately.

I nod my head at her and when she removes her hand from my shoulder, I want to beg her to put it back. I try to chalk up the flood of need I feel race through me to being inundated with memories of my grandparents, but even I'm not stupid enough to not recognize that there's more to it than just that.

She sits beside me and without looking at anyone else, I lean in and whisper, "Is Peyton okay?"

She trembles when my breath hits her skin and I notice the goosebumps up and down her arms. "She's fine," she tells me and her voice is so soft that I have to lean in even closer so that I can hear her.

"That's good." My voice shakes and though every cell in my body is screaming for me to run my nose down the side of her neck, I very reluctantly pull myself away.

I hear her sigh and when I look up, Alice is staring at me, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. She shoots Bella a look and out of the corner of my eye I see a rush of delicious pink spread across her face.

I chuckle a bit and try to hide it when I take a drink of my Coke. My eyes meet Seth's over my glass and I hold his stare. Again, he's not being hostile but there is some warning there. I'm sure of it. I have no idea what he's warning me about but right at this moment, I'm not sure I care all that much. Especially when Bella glances at me and shoots me a quick but sexy as fuck smile.

Conversation picks up again. Thankfully I'm not the focus any longer and when a few families walk in all at the same time, the girls get up to get back to work. Bella is tying her apron back around her waist as she walks off but suddenly turns around.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Edward," she says, though it sounds more like a question.

"Sure thing, Bella," I tell her and chance flashing her a smile. "Say hi to Peyton for me."

She stares at me for a moment then nods before heading to a table and taking an order. Once I step outside, I can't help but feel things have definitely taken a turn for the better.

~~~~OOO~~~~OOO~~~~

"Morning, Edward," I hear as soon as I turn my bike off.

Turning, I give a half smirk. "Morning, Charlie."

He inhales deeply. "It's going to be a good day; I can feel it," he tells me as he steps beside me.

I don't answer him and neither one of us say anything further. The silence should be uncomfortable, but it isn't. Both of us stare out at the water. It's still early enough in the morning that the sky is dark, though it's changed from inky black to something that resembles burnt charcoal. The air is thick so early in the morning. Even though I've been in Corea only a little more than a week, I already can't remember what air that's not saturated with salt and humidity feels like ... smells like. The ocean ebbs and flows as far as my eyes can see and I hear it as it swishes and slaps against the docks.

For the past seven days, I've been the first one here. Sleep doesn't come easily at night, but it's getting better. The littlest sounds still wake me up and I find myself straining to hear every creak and squeak, every branch that scratches against the side of the house, every leaf that rustles through my open window. I listen for footsteps heading toward Carlisle's office, toward his safe where I've stored my backpack. My mind never calms, no matter how much I wish it would. I know I'm adjusting to my new life and every day that passes I can feel myself settling into a routine: wake up before the first light of day, grab a cup of coffee that Esme always has ready, along with the breakfast she's made the night before, and arrive at the dock before anyone else.

I've found the place I belong, and each day I feel it more and more. From the way my heart rate speeds up the closer I get to the water, to the way the first, deep inhale of moist, salty water invades my senses ... I know Corea is home now. I've found a sense of purpose working for Charlie, I've found people in Carlisle and Esme that I want to make proud of me, and in Emmett, Jasper, Rose, Alice, Seth ... and, I hope Bella ... people that I might someday soon call friends.

Not to mention Peyton ... my best friend.

Since apologizing and clearing the air with Bella those few days ago, things are ... better. We're not finishing each other's sentences or any shit like that, but at least now when I see her when the guys and I go by the restaurant after we're done working for the day, she doesn't run out of the room like something just jumped up and bit her. I've even managed a few conversations with the effervescent Miss Peyton as well.

She's given me the rundown on all the comings and goings of every seven-year-old in Corea, not to mention a play by play of the now famous Race Heard Round The World ... or at least the Gouldsboro Peninsula. Days later and the kid is still talking about beating Brody's ass. She's told me all about the book she and Bella read every night before bed, explained in great detail why Tim Wakefield is a much better pitcher than CC Sabathia, and how sometimes at night, when she can't sleep, she wakes up and hears Bella crying. I had to pinky swear I wouldn't tell anyone that little secret.

Knowing that little tidbit might be one of the main reasons I don't sleep so well at night, either.

I hear myself chuckle a bit and when I cough to try to cover it up, I hear Charlie snicker.

I look at him and his left eyebrow is quirked in a silent question. I throw my leg over my bike and stand up beside him. "Just remembering something Peyton told me yesterday," I tell him as we begin to walk toward where the Isabella Marie is moored.

He doesn't say anything but I can sure as hell feel his eyes on me as we continue walking. Once we step on deck, I turn and am not the least bit surprised to find him still staring at me.

"What?" I ask him, fidgeting a little under his scrutiny.

"You really do like my granddaughter, don't you?"

I balk at his question and suddenly the coffee I drank before leaving the boarding house tastes like acid.

"Bella said I could talk to her," I quickly say, trying to figure out what his point is. Does he not want me to talk to Peyton because of what he knows about me? Is he worried I'll hurt her in some way? My mind is conjuring up every worst case scenario imaginable until he laughs and shakes his head.

"Relax, Edward. I didn't mean to give you a heart attack," he tells me. "Forgive me if I find it a bit ... odd, that someone like you enjoys the company of a seven-year-old so much."

I feel my lips lift in a smile and I want to be embarrassed but I can't be ... not about Peyton. "She's something else," I say and even I can hear the way my voice changes when I talk about her.

"Damnedest thing I've ever seen," I hear Charlie mumble before he turns and walks toward the wheelhouse just as Emmett and Jasper climb aboard.

"Hey, Edward," Jasper says once we're under way and heading toward the open water of the Atlantic Ocean.

"Jasper," I answer him, but don't look up from what I'm doing.

I've been given the totally greenhorn job of getting the bait ready to put in the traps. It sucks ass and smells so rancid that I'm in a constant state of wanting to throw the hell up, but I get it. I've got to prove myself, so I do my job with minimal fuss. Grind, scoop, then start over again, in a continuous loop.

"We're going to drop about a hundred traps today," he tells me and eyes what I've done so far.

It's not like it's rocket science, but there is a certain way it has to be done. Though I kind of hate him looking over my shoulder, I've only been working on the boat for a week, so I get the fact that I need to be supervised. I suppose it's better than the ribbing they gave me the first few days out when I spent more time hurling over the side of the boat than working because I was so seasick. A week in and though my knees still feel like rubber by the time we're done for the day and my stomach feels like it might never settle again, at least I can manage to eat the dinner Esme cooks every night. The first couple nights, at the first whiff of food, I was running full steam ahead for the toilet.

We work through the morning, setting the bait, lowering the traps, and then marking them with the buoys. I watch everything, knowing that I have to learn as we go. Jasper and Emmett spend the time keeping up a steady stream of conversation and only very rarely do I interject anything. I don't know either one of them well enough to comment on the things that Rose and Alice say and do and honestly ... I don't know how to kid and joke around either. I mean, of course I know how to, but when it comes to practical experience ... yeah, it's practically nonexistent.

By the time afternoon rolls around, my stomach has somewhat stopped feeling like an alien is going to eat its way out of my guts and we take a short break to drink some water or coffee. Talk is mostly about how the catch is going, what else needs to be done, where the next day's traps are going to be dropped and I soak it all up, trying not to miss a word. Break time allows me to stretch my legs, to try to keep my hands from becoming permanently disfigured, and to relax muscles I didn't even know I had. I can tell that I've already gotten used to my back, arms, and legs being in a perpetual state of aches and pains and I don't really see that letting up anytime soon ... at least not until January when lobster season ends.

"Okay, boys, let's finish up for the day," Charlie says and startles me from my reverie.

Emmett and Jasper groan a little; sitting after standing and moving for hours makes getting up the first time more than a little painful. I follow suit and we all make it back to the deck and assume the same positions as before.

I'm putting my gloves back on when I hear, "Edward, son, it's good to see you finally getting your sea legs," in Charlie's gruff and very amused voice.

"Fucking finally." I smirk back at him, taking the good-natured ribbing the way it's supposed to be taken.

"No shit, dude," Emmett throws in his two cents. "I thought we were going to have to throw you overboard just to put you out of your misery."

I laugh as I reach for the tub with the bait in it. "Well, thank Christ it didn't come down to that. I can just see you three leaving my ass in the middle of the ocean and making me swim all the way back to Corea."

"Nah, man, we like you too much to let you swim back. Poor Evan." Emmett laughs heartily. "Dad, do you remember when we actually threw his ass overboard?"

Charlie smiles, but it dies as quickly as it appears. Jasper just coughs and looks anywhere but at me or Emmett and Charlie, and Emmett … fuck, the man looks like he'd like to be the one thrown overboard.

We're in the middle of the ocean, but I swear it feels like the air is suffocating us. The tension is so thick I can feel it slither its way down my shirt and no one says a fucking word for what feels like forever. No one moves, either, until I can't take the uncomfortable silence any longer. I bend down and start attaching the bait to the traps, all the while my mind is replaying every conversation I've ever been privy to so I can try to remember if anyone has ever mentioned someone named Evan.

"Fucking hell," I hear Emmett mumble and he and Charlie share a look that says more than any words ever could.

Jasper doesn't look a whole lot better to be honest, though he sure as hell isn't as haunted in the same way as Emmett and Charlie seem to be.

"Emmett, son," Charlie says and his voice is as soft as a man that's lived so many years breathing salty sea air can manage to make it.

Emmett waves him off and in jerky motions, begins moving the rest of the traps. With each clang of metal as he harshly throws them on top of one another, it looks like he's getting closer and closer to completely fucking losing it.

Charlie gives him one last concerned look and then sighs deeply before turning around and stalking silently back to the wheelhouse.

Jasper and I stare at each other and it's on the tip of my tongue to ask what the fucking hell is going on, but I say nothing. Realizing that it's none of my business, I resign myself to the fact that I'm an outsider and more than likely it will always be that way. It's been such a long damn time since I've had people I consider friends in my life, a little more than seven years to be exact, and that didn't turn out quite the way it was supposed to.

The rest of the day passes by in a blur and by the time we arrive back at the docks, I'm ready to fucking scream and then get the hell out of there. Hell, even going back to the boarding house and helping Esme with dinner is better than what I've had to go through for the past few hours. We get the catch of the day unloaded. When Seth walks up to take the lobsters that will be shipped out back to the processors, the smile he usually greets us with slides off his face as soon as he spies Emmett.

Jasper and I are holding a tub of freshly-caught lobsters and in a strained rasp Seth merely says, "Evan?"

I watch Jasper nod his head quickly one time and they share another one of those damn looks and inside I do scream. Without another word we finish. Charlie passes by me on the way to his truck and leaves me with a simple, "Later, kid."

I straddle my bike, taking a moment to appreciate the way it rumbles beneath my legs. The vibrations shake my body, leaving my stomach in a jumbled mess ... only the bike really has nothing to do with why it feels like I might be sick. No, it's the fact that deep in my bones I know that whoever this Evan person is, he's responsible for the ghosts that plague Bella.

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