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Many thanks to my prereader Isecretlyliketwilight and betas Madmum and SqueakyZorro! I own nothing.

-Jake-

It'd been a while since I'd heard the sound of crunching cartilage. I had to give Paul credit; he hadn't lost his touch over the years. And if I hadn't completely deserved it, I would have returned the favor.

I'd decided it would probably be rude of me to just walk in since I hadn't lived there for years, so I knocked and waited, and Paul's fist was the first thing I saw after the door swung open. Not exactly the welcome home I'd been expecting.

"You think you can just show back up here like nothing has changed?" he fumed, standing at the doorway of my dad's house.

I guess I should have known he would be there. A couple of years after I'd left, he and Rachel had moved in when my dad's health began to decline. I was grateful for that. Paul had been around to help keep up the house, which otherwise would've been in bad shape by now. From the outside, it looked exactly like it had the day I ran. The paint had obviously been touched up since then, but the color was still the same burnt red. That was one thing about my dad; he didn't like to change things much, and I could probably assume that the inside of the house hadn't changed either.

Once I'd set my nose back in place, I looked over at Paul, who was very obviously guarding the front door. "Where's my dad?"

"Rachel took him to dialysis."

"Dialysis? Why? Is something wrong?"

"Of course something's wrong, Jake," Paul hissed, anger clearly evident in his voice. "He's sick, just like he was when you left. Only now, he's old, too, and his body's giving out on him. Where the hell have you been, man?"

I just stood there and shook my head. I had no answer for him. I didn't even have an answer for myself. "Can I come in?"

Paul took a step forward, blocking my way even more. "No."

"It's my house."

"No, it's not. It hasn't been your house for eighteen years." A low growl rumbled deep in his chest, and I was sure he was going to phase on me, but he just clenched his fists at his sides and locked his jaw. "The fuck if I'm gonna let you back in here. You've caused enough pain."

Who the hell hired the guard dog? Paul had always been a hard-ass, but I couldn't believe the fucker wasn't going to let me into my own house. But I reluctantly bit back my anger and conceded. "Fine," I growled, stepping back and taking a seat on the front step. "I'll just wait then. What time will they be back?"

"The center's in Port Angeles. I'd say you got a good two hours – at least." I couldn't see him with my back turned, but I swear I could hear the bastard smirk.

"I got nowhere to be, man, nowhere at all."

Paul huffed a breath before slamming the door behind me. The fucker. Who did he think he was, keeping me out of my own house? I could hear him stomping around inside, having some sort of temper tantrum. The vibrations traveled through the wood floor and all the way out to the front steps, so of course, I couldn't resist messing with him a little. "What the hell, Paul? What are you doing, redecorating?"

The commotion inside stopped, and I waited for some sort of response from him but heard nothing. He obviously wasn't going to let me in, and there really was no sense in just sitting there for two hours. Maybe Quil would be happy to see me. Or maybe he wouldn't, but I could at least hope he wouldn't break my nose.

I stood up and made it halfway to the road when I heard the door open, and Paul came charging up behind me, slamming me to the ground. I flipped myself over just to be met with another one of his fists, this time right below my left eye.

"Get off me!"

"Not until you admit it!"

"Admit…what?" I grunted, pushing him off of me and jumping to my feet before he could get at me again.

"Admit that you fucked up. That you were wrong to just leave while the rest of us had to hold the bag for you."

"Paul, I get it, okay. I was wrong. I fucked up. Why do you think I came back?"

"No, Jake, I don't think you do get it. You didn't just fuck up, man; you hurt people. You hurt your family, your dad, your sisters. You let them down, and you let the tribe down." Paul began to walk away before turning back and shoving me with all of his weight, causing me to stumble back. "Fuck you, man! Do you know how much shit I've had to deal with because of you? I have my own family to take care of; I shouldn't have to take care of yours, too. And you missed our wedding – do you know how much that hurt Rachel? I don't like to see her in pain, man. And all because of what? Because some dumb bitch broke your heart? And you're still hung up on her. She's dead and fucking gone. Why can't you accept that?"

The rage was beginning to build up in me, and I worked to fight it back. "She's not dead."

"Bella Swan is dead, Jake! And Bella Cullen is a vampire." Paul turned and headed back toward the house. "You really need to come to grips with that shit before you lose the rest of what little you have left."

"Ha! What little I have left. You wanna know what I have left, Paul? Nothing. I have nothing! What I had left was my family, but you seem to have taken over my place in it just fine."

Paul turned back toward me and snickered. "That's what you think, Jake? I'm pretty sure Billy would disagree with you on that."

"Well, I wouldn't know since you won't let me in my own house!"

Paul let out a long sigh and shook his head. "Fine. Do whatever the hell you want. I give up."

I slowly followed Paul into the house, and just as I'd figured, the inside hadn't changed much, either. It was strange being back, though. It still looked like my home, but it didn't feel like it. I felt like a stranger and that I didn't belong there.

Paul proceeded to ignore me, grabbing a can of beer from the fridge and plopping down on the couch in front of the TV, so I made my way down the hall to my bedroom. I gave the door a little push and it squeaked open the rest of the way.

I froze. Every poster, every picture, every piece of crap that littered my walls and dresser was in the same spot I had left it. I could tell that it had been dusted regularly, but otherwise it remained seemingly untouched.

I walked over to my dresser and picked up the unfinished wood carving I had been working on before I left. The wolf looked up at me happily while a faceless teenage girl stood next to him. The face that belonged on it immediately popped into my head, and I haphazardly threw the carving in the corner and then fell back onto my bed.

The room still smelled the same. The woodsy scent of the house combined with that of sweaty, teenage boy lingered in the stale air, and I wondered how I could stand it back then. Of course, back then, I probably hadn't even noticed.

I rolled over to open the window to air out the room when I glanced across the yard to the garage, and the memories of all of the time I had spent in there with Bella came rushing at me. I swallowed back the lump that was beginning to form in my throat and quickly turned away. I definitely wasn't ready to go back to that place just yet, so I headed out to the living room and sat down on the couch next to Paul. We silently watched a soccer game that was playing on some satellite sports channel. I knew satellite TV had to have been Paul's doing. No way would my dad ever have gone for that himself. He'd always been happy with his plain old rabbit ears.

I looked over at Paul and studied him for a minute. I couldn't believe how much he had changed since the last time I'd seen him. "Dude, you look all old and shit."

"So do you, fuckwad. What's up with that anyway? I thought you kept phasing for a while?"

"I did, but it catches up with you fast once you stop, almost like it had never even happened."

"But you decided to go back?"

I shrugged. "Guess it wasn't so easy giving up the wolf when I didn't actually have a reason to." I stopped, remembering what Paul had said earlier about his and Rachel's wedding. My dad had told me about it back when it happened, but I guess I was too self-absorbed at the time to really care about anything that didn't involve myself. "So, I guess we're brothers-in-law now, huh?"

Paul nodded. "Yup. Some brother you turned out to be." He grabbed his can of cheap beer sitting on the table next to him and slurped down a sip. Still as classy as ever.

I shook my head. I didn't know what it was exactly my sister saw in him. He might not have had a choice when it came to the imprint, but she sure did. She'd fought tooth and nail against the imprint at first, wanting nothing to do with him. And really, no one could blame her; he was Paul after all. Who'd want to spend the rest of her life with him? But somehow he'd done something to convince her, and soon she'd fallen just as bad for him, the wedding pictures lining the walls around me proof.

I wondered if I had imprinted on Bella, would she have fought it as well, or would she have eventually come around, leaving that leech of hers to throw himself into the flaming embers of hell where he so rightfully belonged. I tried to focus my attention back on the game, but the more I tried not to think about him, the more he popped into my head, smirking at me like he had just won the prize. Soon enough, I could feel the heat growing inside of me, and I wasn't the only one.

"Dude, go the fuck outside if you're gonna do that shit. I don't want to have to clean up anymore of your mess."

I quickly pulled myself together, and Paul and I sat in silence after that for most of the afternoon, watching the rest of the game, when finally an old, noisy engine rumbled outside as my dad's old pickup truck pulled into the yard. I suddenly wanted to puke. This was it, the moment I had been dreading the most...time to face my family.

The first truck door slammed shut followed by the second a minute later, and my dad's chair squeaked as it rolled up the old wooden ramp I had built for him so many years ago.

I sunk even deeper into the couch, and Paul turned to me and smiled. "I'm gonna enjoy this."

Bastard.

Taking one last deep breath, I stood up and moved over to the small kitchen table, standing to the side of it just as the front door swung open and my dad rolled in, a paper bag full of groceries sitting in his lap. He kept his eyes on the floor as he maneuvered his way inside, not looking up until I nervously cleared my throat, making my presence known. When he finally did look up at me, his mouth dropping open in shock, I couldn't help but gasp at his appearance. I'd seen it in the minds of Leah and Embry, but in person it was even harder to take.

He was an old man, frail and gaunt. His hair, once the same color as mine, had turned almost completely white. But what hurt me the most were his eyes. Once they had displayed his youth and happiness; now they looked tired and sad. And I knew in an instant it was my fault.

"Here, let me help with that," I said, quickly pulling myself out of my thoughts and reaching for the bag on his lap.

"Jacob?"

"Hi, Dad." I placed the grocery bag on the table and knelt down in front of him. He instantly reached for me, pulling me into a hug.

"How are you, son?"

"Uh, I'm okay," I answered as we both loosened out grips on each other. The front door swung open again and Rachel walked in, carrying another grocery bag in her arm. She stopped as soon as she saw me, and I stood up to greet her. "Hey, Rach."

Her glare told me everything I needed to know. She walked over to the kitchen table, threw the bag down, and stormed off down the hallway, slamming her bedroom door behind her. Paul sighed and quickly stood up, sending me a glare of his own as he went after her.

I looked back at my dad, and he just shook his head. "You know how your sister gets sometimes. She'll come around."

Yeah. I wasn't so sure about that.

"Come, son. Sit. I'll make us some coffee."

I took a seat at the kitchen table and waited for my dad to finish with the coffee pot. He always preferred to make his own coffee – said no one else ever got it right – so we learned not to fight with him when it came to brewing his cup of joe. Finally, he pushed the on button and wheeled back over.

"Should you really be drinking coffee? Paul told me about the dialysis."

"A cup of coffee every now and then isn't going to kill me, Jacob. The damage is already done."

I cringed at his words. I couldn't help but wonder if it had been because of me. "What is it?" I asked, though I wasn't sure I really wanted to know.

"Kidney failure, a complication from the diabetes. They wanted to add me to the organ recipient waiting list, but I refused."

"What? Why? Why would you refuse that, Dad?"

"Because I'm old, and I've lived a long and wonderful life, and it isn't fair for me to take that same opportunity away from someone else."

"How long?"

He shrugged. "The doctors don't really know. Some people can live for years on dialysis. And I may not look it, but I feel great. I'm gonna be around a while. No need to worry about that just yet, son." He reassuringly patted my hand on the table. "Now, how about that coffee?"

"Sure, sure. I'll get it." I got up, poured two cups, set one down in front of my dad, and took my seat, slumping over the kitchen table. After a minute of silence, I nervously began twisting the mug in front of me and waited for him to say something because I was too much of a coward to start the conversation.

"Jake?"

I stopped and looked across at him, and he motioned to my left hand. "I take it you're no longer with Hillary."

"Oh, no," I said, twisting my hand from around the coffee mug so I could see nothing but the faded mark on my now bare ring finger. "It didn't exactly work out. She wanted more than I could give her, I guess."

He nodded his head and gave me an understanding smile. "It happens."

The awkward silence returned, and even though I kept my eyes focused on my coffee, I could feel his burning a hole right through me. I took a sip before finally forcing myself to say something. "Dad, I-"

"Jacob, don't." His voice was hard, cutting me off. "I don't even want to hear it. I'm tired of hearing it. You seem to think you're the only person in the world who's ever suffered, who's ever been hurt. We all suffer, Jacob. At some point in our lives, we all lose. But what distinguishes us is how we choose to react to it. Because that's what it is, Jacob. It's a choice. When your mother died, I made a choice to go on and raise you and your sisters to the best of my ability. And when Bella died, you made a choice to leave your family behind. Even Charlie has managed to go on with his life, but you can't. Why?"

"Because she's not dead."

"But she is," he said, now with a softer tone in his voice. "That girl who used to come over and hang out with you in the garage, that girl you used to ride motorbikes with, she's dead. And that was her choice."

I hid my face in my arms on the table. I knew he was right. He was always right. And I was an idiot.

"I've tried to let her go, you know. I've really tried. I even got married, for Christ's sake, but nothing's worked."

"I know, son. I know."

"How did you let her go? Mom, I mean, when she died. How did you just let her go?"

"I had to, Jacob. If I hadn't, I would've ended up just like you are now. And with three kids, that wasn't an option."

We were both quiet again, but this time it was strangely comforting.

"So, how long are you back for?"

I lifted my head up and could see the hope in my dad's eyes that I was back for good this time. I didn't know the answer to that yet, so I gave him the only answer I could for the moment. "Leah said there's been a leech around. I can't leave until that's taken care of and I know the rez is safe again," I said, hopefully appeasing him for the time being.

"Well, you know you're welcome here, for as long as you need."

I wasn't sure what I was expecting to happen, coming back to La Push. I guess I'd thought someone would be happy to see me, but all I ended up with was a disappointed father, an angry sister, and one very annoying brother-in-law. But I was home, and when I woke up the next morning from the best night's sleep I'd had in years, even though my feet had hung over the edge of my bed all night, I slowly started to feel like maybe I had finally made the right choice.

This week's story rec is pretty much any story by todream. If you haven't read any of her Jake/Nessie fics, you have no idea what you're missing! She puts us all to shame with her stories. Her Hold On is one of my top three favorite stories of all time and one of the stories that inspired me to try writing my own. I'm a complete fangirl over her! You can find her on my favorites list.