Ebb and Flow (Twilight x Reader)

Chapter 11

When I woke up I was confused. My thoughts were hazy, still twisted up in dreams and nightmares; it took me longer than it should have to realize where I was.

This room was too bland to belong anywhere but in a hotel. The bedside lamps, bolted to the tables, were a dead giveaway, as were the long drapes made from the same fabric as the bedspread, and the generic watercolor prints on the walls. I was on the pullout couch, and Bella was still sleeping on the bed.

The memories came in thick, slow waves, like drops of honey.

I did remember the sleek black car, the glass in the windows darker than that on a limousine. The engine was almost silent, though we'd raced across the black freeways at more than twice the legal speed.

And I remembered sitting with Bella on the dark leather backseat. Somehowher head had ended up against my neck. The front of Esme's thin cotton shirt was cold, damp with the tears that streamed from her eyes until, red and sore, they ran dry, and she eventually fell asleep against me.

Sleep had evaded me; my aching eyes strained open even though the night finally ended and dawn broke over a low peak somewhere in California. The gray light, streaking across the cloudless sky, stung my eyes.

I was still awake when we came through a shallow mountain pass and the sun, behind us now, reflected off the tiled rooftops of the Valley of the Sun. I was surprised that we'd made a three-day journey in one, but I probably shouldn't have been after everything that had already happened. I had stared at the wide, flat expanse laid out in front of me.

Phoenix—the palm trees, the scrubby creosote, the haphazard lines of the intersecting freeways, the green swaths of golf courses and turquoise splotches of swimming pools, all submerged in a thin smog and embraced by the short, rocky ridges that weren't really big enough to be called mountains. The shadows of the palm trees slanted across the freeway—defined, sharper than I remembered, paler than they should be. Nothing could hide in these shadows. The bright, open freeway seemed benign enough. But I felt no relief, no sense of homecoming.

"Which way to the airport, Y/n?" Jasper had asked, and I flinched, though his voice was quite soft and unalarming. It was the first sound, besides the purr of the car, to break the long night's silence. I didn't ask how he knew my name.

"Stay on the I-ten," I'd answered automatically. "We'll pass right by it, but. . . are we flying somewhere?"

"No, but it's better to be close, just in case," Alice answered from the passenger seat.

I remembered beginning the loop around Sky Harbor International. . . getting to the hotel. . . Jasper carrying Bella inside. . .

I sat forward, elbows on my thighs, and rose my hands to cover my face. I sighed into my palms.

Just yesterday I had found out about the Cullens and what they were, and now two of them were accompanying us in Arizona because my sister's life was in danger. How had that happened?

Edward. He was the root of all of it. If he hadn't gotten together with Bella, then none of this would have happened. We would still be in Forks. We would still be with Dad.

Things would still be normal.

I looked at the digital clock on the nightstand. The red numbers claimed it was three o'clock, but they gave no indication if it was night or day. No edge of light escaped the thick curtains, but the room was bright with the light from the lamps.

I rose stiffly and staggered to the window, pulling back the drapes. It was dark outside. Three in the morning, then. The room looked out on a deserted section of the freeway and the new long-term parking garage for the airport. It was slightly comforting to be able to pinpoint time and place.