Full Chapter Title: Rule Twenty-Two: Acceptance is Only the First Step


Rule Twenty-Two: Acceptance has always been one of the most important things concerning an imprint. Your relationship is made from acceptance, but in some instances it's easy to forget that people outside of yourself and your imprint must accept what nature has intended. It is also important to remember that everyone will not accept your imprint or the relationship you share. Sometimes you will be forced to choose. And that choice will not be easy.

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Jacob laid in his bed, stuck somewhere between being awake and being asleep. Even as he tried to hold on to the last vestiges of sleep that still clung to him. It was so very rare that he actually had a chance to sleep in, but something told him that he would today. If he could actually sleep.

Instead his mind was a jumbled mess. As it was last night. He couldn't stop thinking about him. He had even dreamed about him. Every thought was purely dedicated to his imprint and though he had last seen him a few hours ago, he felt the urge to see him again.

But he had left. Sometime in the middle of the night. Jacob was unsure of the exact time, but it was after that kiss. He struggled not to think about that kiss. The kiss that could so easily lead to other things...if only Edward were willing. After the kiss things had became so awkward between them. His imprint had left soon after, promising to return later the next day.

It was now morning and there was no sign of his imprint, though something inside of him pointed out (annoyingly so) that there was still a full day ahead and plenty of time for Edward to show up, but his imprint-addled heart refused to acknowledge that as he rolled over onto his back.

His brown eyes fluttered open and he stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying to calm his erratic mind, but it was no use. There was too much to think about. Sighing heavily he pushed himself into a sitting position and ran his hand through his hair, noticing (not for the first time) that it needed to be cut again, but he pushed that thought to the back of his mind when he heard his father's wheelchair roll down the hall.

Jacob blinked before glancing over at the alarm clock on his dresser, wondering what time it was. Normally his father slept in, but it seemed as though the old man had just as much trouble sleeping as he. Upon seeing the time (it was early, unthinkably so) he decided to stop trying to hold on to sleep. He threw the sheets off of his legs and swung his feet over the edge of the bed.

He stood from his bed and stretched with a soft groan, yawning widely before he bent down to retrieve his boxers from the night before. He had pulled them off sometime after Edward left. It was just too hot to sleep with clothes on anymore. That, and he had some...personal matters to attend to after his imprint had left.

He scratched the back of his head after he had pulled on his boxers, making his way to his bedroom door, pulling it open with his free hand before he made his way down the hall and into the living room. "Morning, pop," he said, grinning when his dad looked over his shoulder in surprise.

"You're up early," he stated obviously, his eyes following the teenager as he made his way into the kitchen. "Rough night?" He questioned, his lips pulling down into a frown as the shifter moved about the kitchen, making them breakfast.

Jacob shrugged in a noncommittal fashion. "Not as bad as you'd think," he replied, glancing at his father before he cracked an egg open and let the contents fall into a bowl. "Just...overwhelming..." he added after a moment of silently cracking more eggs. He picked up a fork to mix them together.

Billy Black watched his son for a long, hard moment. Jacob could feel the elder's gaze on him and couldn't help but to feel uncomfortable. "Overwhelming...? How?" He looked up at his father's question, frowning in thought before he shrugged and returned to the scrambled eggs in the bowl.

"Just...a lot happened," he answered after pulling out a cast iron skillet and setting it on the gas stove. He turned it on and turned away from it to look at his father, giving the skillet some time to heat up. "A lot of stuff that I didn't expect to happen...not necessarily bad..."

The eldest Black sighed and rolled his chair into the kitchen. "Are you going to tell me what happened?" He asked, eyeing his son as he picked up the bowl and turned back to the stove.

Jacob didn't answer right away, though he knew he would have to. His father deserved to know. More than his pack had, but it wasn't as though he could keep it from them. "It's about my imprint..."

He let the statement hang in the air between them, letting his father make what he wanted of his words before he told him what happened. "What about it?" His father's voice was careful and calculated. He was testing the waters before he dived in, but Jacob didn't answer until two plates were piled high with steaming scrambled eggs.

"He's accepted it," the younger replied as he set the two plates down at the table, sitting in the chair before he looked across the room at his father, looking for the tiniest bit of acceptance. "He's going to give me a chance."

For the longest of time his father said nothing and Jacob was beginning to think that his father would not accept Edward, which would...well, it would suck. Because if it came down to it...to him having to choose between his family or his imprint, well...he didn't even want to think about the outcome. Though it was so simple who he'd choose.

Edward was his destiny. His future. He couldn't walk away from that.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of silence, his father spoke, "You do realize that he could be using you?" he asked, not waiting for an answer, instead plowing on with his lecture. "He now holds your heart-your life, Jacob-in the palm of his hand. He could destroy you should he choose to do so. You understand that, don't you son? You have so much more to lose than him."

Jacob was, in a word, offended. Offended that his father would think something so low about Edward, but then he remembered...when it came down to it, Edward was still a vampire. Not everyone, including his father, would share the same opinion that he had. The same opinion that was forced upon him because of the imprint.

But, he realized, that didn't matter anymore. His feelings were no longer forced. They were genuine. And he genuinely thought that Edward wouldn't hurt him like that. "He wouldn't do that," he replied, feeling a stab of hurt when his father gave him a disbelieving look.

The meal continued on with neither Black speaking to the other, both coming to terms with either the news they had just heard or the reaction it had caused. The silence was deafening and Jacob yearned to break it, but he didn't. What more could he say? He'd defend Edward until he couldn't speak anymore and his father, as stubborn as he was, would never change his mind.

Even as he ate the last of the scrambled eggs scattered about his plate and gathered the dirty plates after he was finished he searched for something to say in order to break the tense silence. But nothing came. He started to wash the dishes that had been dirtied in the course of the morning and clean the kitchen...and, still he couldn't think of anything to say.

He listened to the sound of his father's wheelchair roll across the floor, entering the living room where his father would sit for the remainder of the morning, channel surfing until Charlie came to pick him up to watch the game that evening.

"You know it doesn't matter if you accept him or not..." Jacob said, his voice was soft and so filled with the hurt he felt. "...what happened between us...it's destiny."

Somehow the silence became tenser with his words, but they needed to be said. Jacob expected his father to say something back, he knew he would, but before the elder man could say anything there was a knock at the front door, the sound echoing through the house and shattering the tension in the room.

Jacob knew his father didn't have the slightest clue of who was standing at their front door, but one inhale told him who it was. He knew that sweet, intoxicating scent from anywhere.