AN: I'm sorry for those who thought this was a Love Is update...I AM working on it, promise, but in the meantime, I've been doing a bunch of one-shots for other projects. So here's one of them to tide you over until I finally get the next chapter written.
Four Secrets Leah Clearwater Never Told (And One She Did)
When Sam imprinted on her cousin, she hated Emily – not Sam. Leah didn't understand.
"Leah, please, listen to me," Emily begged. "I didn't come here to steal your boyfriend. I didn't even talk to him."
Leah refused to see reason. "They why won't he even look at me anymore?" she challenged. "Apparently all he can see is you." The insinuation is heavy in the air, but Emily doesn't know what else to say.
She ignores him for as long as she can, but fate, or whatever was in charge in a town where werewolves and vampires exist, forces her to see him.
Leah had almost forgiven her. Especially after she heard Sam had scarred her. But the day she went to talk to her cousin, Sam was there. Sitting across from Emily with a light in his eyes that had never been there when he looked at her.
The betrayal cut deeper than any balm could heal.
--
She'd never admit it, but she loves being a part of the pack. At least some part of something wants her.
The first time she wore her wolf form, she was alone. Both physically and mentally; there had been no voices in her head then. She'd been in her room, finally ripping up those old pictures that had been staring at her from a shoebox in her closet, when an overwhelming sick anger consumed her and she exploded.
The feeling of belonging was intoxicating. She breathed in the unity, its musky fragrance weaving her into her place among the pack. She didn't know then that Sam was a part of that pack. She didn't know that he'd be thrust back into her life in a way she couldn't ignore.
All she knew then was that she was a part of something bigger, something that went down to her very roots. New roots sprang up around her soul and planted her firmly in the rich legends of the tribe, roots that could not be severed by anything of this world.
So she didn't fight it. She'd never felt so wanted. She would enjoy it while she still could; inevitably it too would be ripped from her fingertips.
--
She's jealous of Bella Swan. To have not one, but two men (in the loosest sense of the word) want her unconditionally…Leah can't even imagine what that would feel like.
"Just kill the bloodsucker and get it over with," she muttered bitterly as she was forced to watch yet another slew of lovesick memories in Jacob's mind, shedding her wolf form.
She didn't have any real clothing, but she couldn't bring herself to care at the moment. Maybe the sight of her skin would distract him. The lack of privacy would worth it if she could stop Jacob from torturing the pack with his miseries.
But he didn't even look at her. She tried to ignore the sting, not sure why it's there in the first place. It's not like she wants him.
Still, the ego boost would have been nice.
--
As annoying as Jacob is, a part of her wishes they'd imprint on each other. They both know rejection, and as much as either hate to admit it, have more than broken hearts in common.
They were circling the bloodsuckers' home for what felt the millionth time when she finally let herself ask him in her thoughts.
"Are you ever going to let her go, Jake?" Annoyance tinged her "voice," but the sentiment was genuine.
He was silent for a long moment. "I don't think I can. I've told myself over and over again that I need to quit this game, but I keep coming back to play."
"Even though she's married now? And with a mutant baby-thing?"
"Are you ever going to completely let go of Sam?"
She didn't answer, and didn't bring it up again.
--
She thought it was impossible, but there it was. She sympathized with a vampire. Two dead-ends trying to make a roundabout.
When she realized she understood what the blonde pin-up was thinking, she knew she'd truly become desperate.
Jacob was disgusted with her, but she didn't care. She didn't become who she was by caring what other people thought.
Once upon time she'd imagined a future with dark haired children. She'd pack up their school lunches, teach them tribal legends (when they'd been only that – legends), hold them as they cried over playground disputes.
But as soon as her life took a turn for the fantastical, her fairytale was hopelessly and utterly lost.
Her bedtime stories don't have happy endings.