Wayward ➳ Edward Cullen

18. Histories

The Impala roared through the streets of Forks. For once, the tape player was silent as Dean drove through the rain. With the radio quiet the only sound was the steady squeak and swish of the windshield wipers. Beside him was Sam, a shotgun in his lap. No one had bothered to tell him it wouldn't work against the tracker. Every so often, Dean would stare into the rear-view mirror, bottle-green eyes intense from an anger that was barely reigned in.

Beside me Edward sat unnaturally still and silent. I doubted he was even breathing. Behind us the huge headlights of Emmett's jeep shined into the car, brightening it up despite the dark afternoon storm. Edward had said Alice was driving. Emmett hadn't given up on catching James.

Hidden from Dean's stare were Edward and I's entwined hands. I wasn't sure who was trying to comfort who. Maybe both of us were reassuring the other.

As soon as we were past the Calawah River, Dean accelerated. The speedometer's meter began to slide to the right as the Impala sped past the houses. While I'd grown more or less used to Edward's bat out of hell driving, I wasn't used to Dean speeding. It was a testament to how determined he was to get us to the Cullens'.

As soon as the last house disappeared behind us, leaving nothing but woods ahead, Edward spoke up. "Twenty miles. You'll see an unpaved road off to the right. Take it."

Dean didn't bother acknowledging Edward, but his eyes did settle back onto the road and didn't waver back to the mirror again.

Edward warned him again as we approached the turn. Dean finally slowed, finding the road and guiding the impala onto the wet gravel. Sitting directly behind him, I could see his jaw flexing as rocks pelted the undercarriage. By the time the giant house appeared at the end of the winding road, I expected to see Dean relax.

He didn't, though. The opposite seemed to happen. The wheel creaked under his grip as the car settled. He stared at the long rectangular house with narrowed, wary eyes. Eyes that scanned the whole building. "This place will be a nightmare to defend," Dean muttered.

"Alice and I will know if James approaches," Edward said, pushing the door open and exiting.

Dean's eyes somehow managed to narrow even further.

"You've got to trust them, Dean," I said softly.

He snorted before shoving at his own door. Having climbed out, Dean slammed it shut behind him.

Sam and I shared a glance before I hurried after Dean. The less time he was alone with Edward and Alice, the better.

Dean was at the trunk, duffle bags spread out around him. The false bottom was up, and the array of guns and knives secured to it were in plain sight as he began sorting through weapons compartment below. Alice and Edward were watching from a safe distance, Edward's lips occasionally moving in that hyper-fast way of communicating they had. I was almost positive Dean could hear the hum. I doubt it was doing anything to put him at ease.

I approached Dean, hugging my arms around Alice's expensive jacket. "Do we have more machetes?" Sam's door creaked open a moment later.

"You think I gave you the only one?" His deep voice still rumbled with anger.

I frowned at the tone but probably deserved it. I'd been lying to him this whole time. "I hope not."

Dean shoved an ammunition box off to the side. "Well, I didn't. But even if I had, they aren't hard to make." He pulled a cooler that had been pushed to the back towards him. A click of the side button and the lid rolled down. Whatever ice there'd been was mostly water now. But I was more interested in the plastic container within. It was one of the cheap kinds you could find at any big box store, designed to hold water or juice, with a screw on lid that had a covered spout at the end.