It rains a great deal in New Hampshire. It was pouring down evening when Carlisle was at work. Esme and Rosalie were working on some sewing project I wasn’t interested in, and Jasper and Emmett were battling it out at some new Parker Brothers game.
Muffled music from the second floor told me Edward was in his room.
As soon as I decided I should go find him, a framed photo went flying at my head and the glass shattered.
“Get out!” he screamed.
And then the world swung. Edward ran after me, laughing. He was in a field somewhere, with the mist of what might have been a pretty girl. We were sitting so close our knees touched.
He whispered.
I whispered back.
We both laughed.
So, I got up from my chair, and I went to find him.
He was sitting in the middle of his bedroom, reading from a little black book. I didn’t know what it was.
“What are you reading?” I asked.
He leapt to his feet—had I surprised him somehow?—slammed the little book closed, and wrapped his hand around the nearest item he could find, which happened to be a framed photograph of a couple and their baby. I wanted to catch it, but I couldn’t—it had to smash.
The smashing lead to the whispering. And the laughing.
“Get out!” he screamed.
I nodded. I picked up the photo and handed it back to him.
The woman in the photo had Edward’s eyes.