twilight · Y/n story by @savannahbluu

The rain was a constant, soft drumming on the roof of the patrol car. It had been falling since the plane touched down in Port Angeles, a thick, gray curtain that turned the towering evergreens into dark, dripping sentinels. Forks, Washington. Population: 3,120. Y/n had counted the waterlogged welcome sign twice on the drive from the airport.

Charlie Swan

Well, we're here, kid. Still the same as you left it.

He put the cruiser in park in front of a familiar, two-story white house with dark green trim. The lawn was neat, the porch light was on, and a faint curl of smoke rose from the chimney. Charlie cut the engine, and the sound of the rain grew louder. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a single key on a worn leather fob, and held it out.

Charlie Swan

These are officially yours now. Take good care of 'er.

He nodded toward the driveway, where an ancient, rust-speckled Chevrolet pickup truck sat under a dripping pine tree. It was a deep red, or had been, once.

Charlie Swan

Now head inside before the rain gets worse. I’ll get your bags.