There really was no excuse for my behavior. Obviously I knew better by now. And yet I couldn’t seem to stop from reacting exactly as I had the first time. Instead of keeping safely motionless, my arms reached up to twine tightly around his neck, and I was suddenly welded to his stone figure. I sighed, and my lips parted.

He staggered back, breaking my grip effortlessly.

“Damn it, Bella!” he broke off, gasping. “You’ll be the death of me, I swear you will.”

I leaned over, bracing my hands against my knees for support.

“You’re indestructible,” I mumbled, trying to catch my breath.

“I might have believed that before I met you. Now let’s get out of here before I do something really stupid,” he growled.

He threw me across his back as he had before, and I could see the extra effort it took for him to be as gentle as he was. I locked my legs around his waist and secured my arms in a choke hold around his neck.

“Don’t forget to close your eyes,” he warned severely.

I quickly tucked my face into his shoulder blade, under my own arm, and squeezed my eyes shut.

And I could hardly tell we were moving. I could feel him gliding along beneath me, but he could have been strolling down the sidewalk, the movement was so smooth. I was tempted to peek, just to see if he was really flying through the forest like before, but I resisted. It wasn’t worth that awful dizziness. I contented myself with listening to his breath come and go evenly.

I wasn’t quite sure we had stopped until he reached back and touched my hair.

“It’s over, Bella.”

I dared to open my eyes, and, sure enough, we were at a standstill. I stiffly unlocked my stranglehold on his body and slipped to the ground, landing on my backside.

“Oh!” I huffed as I hit the wet ground.

He stared at me incredulously, evidently not sure whether he was still too mad to find me funny. But my bewildered expression pushed him over the edge, and he broke into a roar of laughter.

I picked myself up, ignoring him as I brushed the mud and bracken off the back of my jacket. That only made him laugh harder. Annoyed, I began to stride off into the forest.

I felt his arm around my waist.

“Where are you going, Bella?”

“To watch a baseball game. You don’t seem to be interested in playing anymore, but I’m sure the others will have fun without you.”

“You’re going the wrong way.”

I turned around without looking at him, and stalked off in the opposite direction. He caught me again.

“Don’t be mad, I couldn’t help myself. You should have seen your face.” He chuckled before he could stop himself.

“Oh, you’re the only one who’s allowed to get mad?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

“I wasn’t mad at you.”

“‘Bella, you’ll be the death of me’?” I quoted sourly.

“That was simply a statement of fact.”

I tried to turn away from him again, but he held me fast.

“You were mad,” I insisted.

“Yes.”

“But you just said —”

“That I wasn’t mad at you. Can’t you see that, Bella?” He was suddenly intense, all trace of teasing gone. “Don’t you understand?”

“See what?” I demanded, confused by his sudden mood swing as much as his words.

“I’m never angry with you — how could I be? Brave, trusting . . . warm as you are.”

“Then why?” I whispered, remembering the black moods that pulled him away from me, that I’d always interpreted as well-justified frustration — frustration at my weakness, my slowness, my unruly human reactions. . . .

He put his hands carefully on both sides of my face. “I infuriate myself,” he said gently. “The way I can’t seem to keep from putting you in danger. My very existence puts you at risk. Sometimes I truly hate myself. I should be stronger, I should be able to —”

I placed my hand over his mouth. “Don’t.”

He took my hand, moving it from his lips, but holding it to his face.

“I love you,” he said. “It’s a poor excuse for what I’m doing, but it’s still true.”

It was the first time he’d said he loved me — in so many words. He might not realize it, but I certainly did.

“Now, please try to behave yourself,” he continued, and he bent to softly brush his lips against mine.

I held properly still. Then I sighed.

“You promised Chief Swan that you would have me home early, remember? We’d better get going.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He smiled wistfully and released all of me but one hand. He led me a few feet through the tall, wet ferns and draping moss, around a massive hemlock tree, and we were there, on the edge of an enormous open field in the lap of the Olympic peaks. It was twice the size of any baseball stadium.

I could see the others all there; Esme, Emmett, and Rosalie, sitting on a bare outcropping of rock, were the closest to us, maybe a hundred yards away. Much farther out I could see Jasper and Alice, at least a quarter of a mile apart, appearing to throw something back and forth, but I never saw any ball. It looked like Carlisle was marking bases, but could they really be that far apart?

When we came into view, the three on the rocks rose. Esme started toward us. Emmett followed after a long look at Rosalie’s back; Rosalie had risen gracefully and strode off toward the field without a glance in our direction. My stomach quivered uneasily in response.

“Was that you we heard, Edward?” Esme asked as she approached.

“It sounded like a bear choking,” Emmett clarified.

I smiled hesitantly at Esme. “That was him.”

“Bella was being unintentionally funny,” Edward explained, quickly settling the score.

Alice had left her position and was running, or dancing, toward us. She hurtled to a fluid stop at our feet. “It’s time,” she announced.

As soon as she spoke, a deep rumble of thunder shook the forest beyond us, and then crashed westward toward town.

“Eerie, isn’t it?” Emmett said with easy familiarity, winking at me.

“Let’s go.” Alice reached for Emmett’s hand and they darted toward the oversized field; she ran like a gazelle. He was nearly as graceful and just as fast — yet Emmett could never be compared to a gazelle.

“Are you ready for some ball?” Edward asked, his eyes eager, bright.

I tried to sound appropriately enthusiastic. “Go team!”

He snickered and, after mussing my hair, bounded off after the other two. His run was more aggressive, a cheetah rather than a gazelle, and he quickly overtook them. The grace and power took my breath away.

“Shall we go down?” Esme asked in her soft, melodic voice, and I realized I was staring openmouthed after him. I quickly reassembled my expression and nodded. Esme kept a few feet between us, and I wondered if she was still being careful not to frighten me. She matched her stride to mine without seeming impatient at the pace.

“You don’t play with them?” I asked shyly.

“No, I prefer to referee — I like keeping them honest,” she explained.

“Do they like to cheat, then?”

“Oh yes — you should hear the arguments they get into! Actually, I hope you don’t, you would think they were raised by a pack of wolves.”

“You sound like my mom,” I laughed, surprised.

She laughed, too. “Well, I do think of them as my children in most ways. I never could get over my mothering instincts — did Edward tell you I had lost a child?”

“No,” I murmured, stunned, scrambling to understand what lifetime she was remembering.

“Yes, my first and only baby. He died just a few days after he was born, the poor tiny thing,” she sighed. “It broke my heart — that’s why I jumped off the cliff, you know,” she added matter-of-factly.

“Edward just said you f-fell,” I stammered.

“Always the gentleman.” She smiled. “Edward was the first of my new sons. I’ve always thought of him that way, even though he’s older than I, in one way at least.” She smiled at me warmly. “That’s why I’m so happy that he’s found you, dear.” The endearment sounded very natural on her lips. “He’s been the odd man out for far too long; it’s hurt me to see him alone.”

“You don’t mind, then?” I asked, hesitant again. “That I’m . . . all wrong for him?”

“No.” She was thoughtful. “You’re what he wants. It will work out, somehow,” she said, though her forehead creased with worry. Another peal of thunder began.

Esme stopped then; apparently, we’d reached the edge of the field. It looked as if they had formed teams. Edward was far out in left field, Carlisle stood between the first and second bases, and Alice held the ball, positioned on the spot that must be the pitcher’s mound.

Emmett was swinging an aluminum bat; it whistled almost untraceably through the air. I waited for him to approach home plate, but then I realized, as he took his stance, that he was already there — farther from the pitcher’s mound than I would have thought possible. Jasper stood several feet behind him, catching for the other team. Of course, none of them had gloves.

“All right,” Esme called in a clear voice, which I knew even Edward would hear, as far out as he was. “Batter up.”

Alice stood straight, deceptively motionless. Her style seemed to be stealth rather than an intimidating windup. She held the ball in both hands at her waist, and then, like the strike of a cobra, her right hand flicked out and the ball smacked into Jasper’s hand.

“Was that a strike?” I whispered to Esme.

“If they don’t hit it, it’s a strike,” she told me.

Jasper hurled the ball back to Alice’s waiting hand. She permitted herself a brief grin. And then her hand spun out again.

This time the bat somehow made it around in time to smash into the invisible ball. The crack of impact was shattering, thunderous; it echoed off the mountains — I immediately understood the necessity of the thunderstorm.

The ball shot like a meteor above the field, flying deep into the surrounding forest.

“Home run,” I murmured.

“Wait,” Esme cautioned, listening intently, one hand raised. Emmett was a blur around the bases, Carlisle shadowing him. I realized Edward was missing.

“Out!” Esme cried in a clear voice. I stared in disbelief as Edward sprang from the fringe of the trees, ball in his upraised hand, his wide grin visible even to me.

“Emmett hits the hardest,” Esme explained, “but Edward runs the fastest.”

The inning continued before my incredulous eyes. It was impossible to keep up with the speed at which the ball flew, the rate at which their bodies raced around the field.

I learned the other reason they waited for a thunderstorm to play when Jasper, trying to avoid Edward’s infallible fielding, hit a ground ball toward Carlisle. Carlisle ran into the ball, and then raced Jasper to first base. When they collided, the sound was like the crash of two massive falling boulders. I jumped up in concern, but they were somehow unscathed.

“Safe,” Esme called in a calm voice.

Emmett’s team was up by one — Rosalie managed to flit around the bases after tagging up on one of Emmett’s long flies — when Edward caught the third out. He sprinted to my side, sparkling with excitement.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“One thing’s for sure, I’ll never be able to sit through dull old Major League Baseball again.”

“And it sounds like you did so much of that before,” he laughed.

“I am a little disappointed,” I teased.

“Why?” he asked, puzzled.

“Well, it would be nice if I could find just one thing you didn’t do better than everyone else on the planet.”

He flashed his special crooked smile, leaving me breathless.

“I’m up,” he said, heading for the plate.

He played intelligently, keeping the ball low, out of the reach of Rosalie’s always-ready hand in the outfield, gaining two bases like lightning before Emmett could get the ball back in play. Carlisle knocked one so far out of the field — with a boom that hurt my ears — that he and Edward both made it in. Alice slapped them dainty high fives.

The score constantly changed as the game continued, and they razzed each other like any street ballplayers as they took turns with the lead. Occasionally Esme would call them to order. The thunder rumbled on, but we stayed dry, as Alice had predicted.

Carlisle was up to bat, Edward catching, when Alice suddenly gasped. My eyes were on Edward, as usual, and I saw his head snap up to look at her. Their eyes met and something flowed between them in an instant. He was at my side before the others could ask Alice what was wrong.

“Alice?” Esme’s voice was tense.

“I didn’t see — I couldn’t tell,” she whispered.

All the others were gathered by this time.

“What is it, Alice?” Carlisle asked with the calm voice of authority.

“They were traveling much quicker than I thought. I can see I had the perspective wrong before,” she murmured.

Jasper leaned over her, his posture protective. “What changed?” he asked.

“They heard us playing, and it changed their path,” she said, contrite, as if she felt responsible for whatever had frightened her.

Seven pairs of quick eyes flashed to my face and away.

“How soon?” Carlisle said, turning toward Edward.

A look of intense concentration crossed his face.

“Less than five minutes. They’re running — they want to play.” He scowled.

“Can you make it?” Carlisle asked him, his eyes flicking toward me again.

“No, not carrying —” He cut short. “Besides, the last thing we need is for them to catch the scent and start hunting.”

“How many?” Emmett asked Alice.

“Three,” she answered tersely.

“Three!” he scoffed. “Let them come.” The steel bands of muscle flexed along his massive arms.

For a split second that seemed much longer than it really was, Carlisle deliberated. Only Emmett seemed unperturbed; the rest stared at Carlisle’s face with anxious eyes.

“Let’s just continue the game,” Carlisle finally decided. His voice was cool and level. “Alice said they were simply curious.”

All this was said in a flurry of words that lasted only a few seconds. I had listened carefully and caught most of it, though I couldn’t hear what Esme now asked Edward with a silent vibration of her lips. I only saw the slight shake of his head and the look of relief on her face.

“You catch, Esme,” he said. “I’ll call it now.” And he planted himself in front of me.

The others returned to the field, warily sweeping the dark forest with their sharp eyes. Alice and Esme seemed to orient themselves around where I stood.

“Take your hair down,” Edward said in a low, even voice.

I obediently slid the rubber band out of my hair and shook it out around me.

I stated the obvious. “The others are coming now.”

“Yes, stay very still, keep quiet, and don’t move from my side, please.” He hid the stress in his voice well, but I could hear it. He pulled my long hair forward, around my face.

“That won’t help,” Alice said softly. “I could smell her across the field.”

“I know.” A hint of frustration colored his tone.

Carlisle stood at the plate, and the others joined the game halfheartedly.

“What did Esme ask you?” I whispered.

He hesitated for a second before he answered. “Whether they were thirsty,” he muttered unwillingly.

The seconds ticked by; the game progressed with apathy now. No one dared to hit harder than a bunt, and Emmett, Rosalie, and Jasper hovered in the infield. Now and again, despite the fear that numbed my brain, I was aware of Rosalie’s eyes on me. They were expressionless, but something about the way she held her mouth made me think she was angry.

Edward paid no attention to the game at all, eyes and mind ranging the forest.

“I’m sorry, Bella,” he muttered fiercely. “It was stupid, irresponsible, to expose you like this. I’m so sorry.”

I heard his breath stop, and his eyes zeroed in on right field. He took a half step, angling himself between me and what was coming.

Carlisle, Emmett, and the others turned in the same direction, hearing sounds of passage much too faint for my ears.