“I demand that you take me home.” I tried to sound firm. Edward pressed his fingers to his temples and squeezed his eyes shut. “Please,” I said in a much smaller voice. He didn’t look up. When he spoke, his voice sounded worn. “You’re leaving tonight, whether the tracker sees or not. You tell Charlie that you can’t stand another minute in Forks. Tell him whatever story works. Pack the first things your hands touch, and then get in your truck. I don’t care what he says to you. You have fifteen minutes. Do you hear me? Fifteen minutes from the time you cross the doorstep.”
