Falling, Catching

"You and Jacob seem to be getting pretty close these days."

The slight hunch of her shoulders, already burning under the weight of this day's significance, stiffens; her hands freeze mid arranging the forks and plates and napkins and knives on opposite ends of a table meant for four but set for two. With a blank glance over her shoulder, Bella Swan shrugs indifferently.

"I suppose."

But his statement sinks in, bubbling beneath her skin, further than she would have liked, and it forms an infestation like a question brews an answer. The many nights spent awake after nightmares, her mind leads her places, to different wonders, such as how it is conceivably possible for her to be growing so close to Jacob and being able to redistribute or trust so easily after Edward had taken it with his leaving. It bothers her.

"So, is he coming over tonight? Or are you headin' over there?" It's routine, he knows.

She's startled out of her thoughts by Charlie's question and recovers by offering another shrug, fingers skewing the slightly crooked fork and knife so that they lay perfectly straight.

With a shift of her feet, a scratch of linoleum from the chair she's bumped, Bella replies, "He should be stopping by later," and tries not to make it sound desperate. The 5:05 on the microwave flashes a little too brightly, telling of the two more hours on top of the ten she'd gone and would continue to go until he can save her from herself.

Today is one of those days she doesn't have the kindest of feelings towards Sam and the time of Jacob's he takes in which she needs.

Charlie makes a Hmph noise in the depths of his throat and transfers the metal pot from stove to table – Bella sighs, hasn't he learned his lesson? – and corrects him by placing two pot holders between the hot pan and the wooden table, thinking the many burn marks already there don't need any more, and if so, it would begin to create some sort of picture.

As they sit for dinner, Bella is full of great heaviness, because she knows why her father is asking the question about Jacob's whereabouts he usually never pays mind to. That, alone, reminds her of today, and thankfully Charlie isn't looking to see her blink back tears.

The conversation isn't over, though. Charlie seemed to be working up the fragile words. "I'm glad you two aren't fighting anymore and figured things out. He's"—she senses the words and feels her straight-lined lips collapse into a frown—"he's right for you, sweetie."

A well-known burning creeps back to her eyes and she nods weakly because how can she not know that's true?

Her lack of response is good enough to please the always awkward Charlie, who shovels meatballs and noodles onto their plates and begins digging in, complimenting about the taste. Bella's portion, so small and staring blankly up at her, is much too big for the appetite she woke not having. For the duration of the meal, she alternates between pushing her food around her plate and cutting up the meatballs.

The next conversation is that of Charlie discussing Spring Break plans with Bella.

"If you want, we can head up to Cedar Creek this weekend. I'll take Thursday and Friday off; we can rent out one of those cabins I'd always take you to with Billy when we went out fishin' when you were younger. Maybe it'd be nice to get out of town for awhile."

She nods despite not liking being forced to be away from Jacob for that long of time and even thinks about asking if he could tag along if the idea becomes more serious.

Later, they sit in the living room, Charlie on the recliner and Bella at the far end of the couch. Her eyes concentrate on the steady rainfall outside while the television plays mute in the background and only does she look away when the resounding 'knock-knock!' lets her know Jacob is here, right on time with the growing darkness.

After Charlie lets him in and they both come to stand at the entrance of the dimmed living room, the two most important people in her life share a look of understanding upon seeing her curled on the couch, knees to her chest. It's not all that hard to figure out what's wrong or even why. Perhaps they've even been anticipating it in the days before. Now that she thinks about the idea, she's sure they have. Jacob's call woke her up this morning. Charlie was late to work greeting her for breakfast. Both concerned.

It's the first Monday of Spring Break, March 14th, but more importantly a six month marking on a calendar in shape of a hole that is always growing or shrinking.

"Hey, Bells," Jacob greets as he settles into the space next her, the smile in his voice, she discovers, is also on his lips, but only momentarily.

Her reply comes as a breathless, "Hi, Jake."

He frowns, feels the sadness he's carrying for her slip to his eyes, tosses an arm over her shoulders to pull her to his side, whispers into her ear, "Do you need me to stick around tonight?"

She nods quickly and takes his hand, moves the arm at her shoulders so that it's snug around her midsection and her head is tucked into his neck, his thumb brushing against her ribs.

Charlie, having heard or somehow understanding, goes to bed a few hours later after the movie they settled on watching ended, says nothing but a yawned "Night, kids" while stomping up the stairs.

They fall in and out of sleep afterwards, Bella more than the exhausted Jacob, who sleeps a restless sleep with her head in his lap to fingers through her hair.

When he leaves early in the dawn for another round of patrol, she walks him to the door. Before she can say Thank you for taking away the pain, his lips are on hers, his hands cradling her face, stepping closer so their bodies are touching, causing her head to tilt back and accommodate his height. It's only a few seconds of his lips brushing hers; so short a time that she's still stuck in a shocked daze when he pulls away.

"Something else for you to think about on these days, honey," he offers, landing another one to her forehead before backing away with a warming smile, half naked by the time he's hidden in the trees.

In her bed, minutes later, it turns out to be all she can think about; the pain with the thought of Edward's abandonment to this date six months ago dwindling to less and then more less, until it becomes bearable.