Recommence ° Edward Cullen[Rewriting]

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Chapter Nine | The Edges of Normal

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The house was quiet in a way Alex hadn't expected. Big, open rooms and high ceilings, but somehow it didn't feel empty. She noticed the neatness first, then the faint trace of something floral lingering in the air, like whoever lived here made an effort to keep the quiet from feeling cold.

Edward moved easily around the kitchen, sleeves rolled to his elbows as he studied a slip of paper on the counter. The handwriting was cursive, careful and elegant, representing something written with affection, not function. Alex wondered absently if it was his mother's, or a recipe he had acquired himself just because she'd mentioned the meal as a craving in passing. The thought left a strange warmth in her chest she didn't care to name.

"Y'know," she drawled, chin resting on her folded arms atop the island, "you're taking on the role of jealous boyfriend like a champ." Edward's hand stilled on the spoon. His shoulders dropped, as if miming an exhale—his chest didn't show the movement—before glancing over his shoulder. "Alex, have you not noticed anything off since you started talking to Luke?"

She blinked, surprised by the sharpness in his tone, and then, amused. "Mm, sure, maybe he's trying to recruit me to his secret cult." Edward's jaw flexed. "I'm serious." Alex tilted her head at him, her eyes gleaming. "Yeah," she said, lips twitching into a smirk. "I can tell by the way you spit his name out like it's poison." That earned her a look—steady, unamused, and just a little too intense. It should've made her feel guilty, but it didn't. Mostly, it just made her heart beat faster for reasons she didn't want to unpack.

Alex's smirk lingered, but Edward didn't bite this time. He stirred the sauce slowly, jaw tight with thought. The silence stretched, heavy but not uncomfortable—at least, not for her. When Edward finally spoke, it was quieter than before. "Do you know what happens every time you take those pills Luke gave you?" Her brow arched. "Headache goes away. Why?" His gaze lifted, amber and sharp. "Your heart starts racing." She frowned, unsure if he was teasing her. "That's. . . normal?"

"No," he said softly, shaking his head. "Not like that. It spikes fast. Too fast. Sometimes I think it might give out." Alex blinked, her jest dying in her throat. "You've been listening to my heart?" His lips curved faintly, but not in amusement. "It's hard not to when it sounds like it's trying to break through your ribs." The words shouldn't have unsettled her, but something about the way he said it—like he was memorizing the rhythm—made her chest feel tight. She leaned her chin on her hand, trying for nonchalance. "So what, you think Luke's drugging me?"

"I think," Edward said, voice measured, "that he's not what he seems. And I don't like the thought of you taking something neither of us can name." Alex studied him for a long moment. His hands were steady as he stirred, but she could see the tension in his shoulders, the faint twitch of his jaw. He was worried. And, quite frankly, she liked it. Not just the jealousy threaded between his words, but the care underneath—the quiet, protective kind that didn't demand, just existed.