Happy New Year everyone! I'd thought I'd post a new chapter to celebrate. Hope everyone is enjoying their holiday! Love all the reviews I'm getting! Glad everyone is enjoying this so much! :)

"Why are we having them over again?" JJ asked.

Mom turned around from the stove, spatula in hand. "Because, JJ," she explained with a sigh. "Everyone's been so hospitable and welcoming these past couple of days, I figured it was our turn to return the favour."

"Not everyone," JJ muttered under his breath, casting a glance in my direction.

Mom heard him, of course. She spun around again, her expression slightly more than unimpressed. "Since you're so opinionated this morning, JJ, why don't you make yourself useful and get the plates from the cupboard and set them around the dining table, please?"

I giggled under my breath at my brother's lack of enthusiasm. He got up from his stool, sticking his tongue out childishly at my mother's back. My laughter became stronger at this and he advanced towards me, his eyebrows raised. "You think that's funny?" he asked.

I gasped in pain as he reached over and tickled me, resulting in my sore, nearly healed ribs to contract painfully. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry as he continued his torture, and soon I was doing both. I clutched the counter top in support, all the while trying to push him away with my other hand. It proved to be difficult, as I had little control over the hand enclosed in the cast.

A wooden spoon came down on the top of JJ's head. "JJ, you leave your sister alone, right now," my mother ordered. "She is in no position for you to be tickling her like that and unless you want dish duty for a week, I suggest you go get the plates like I asked."

JJ rolled his eyes, but walked away from me. He grabbed a massive pile of plates and headed out of the kitchen. He paused in the doorway, glancing back at me. "I'll get you," he promised, his eyes twinkling.

Behind my mother's back, I flipped him off.

"JJ, dishes, now," Mom yelled.

My brother disappeared from the kitchen, his laughter resounding through the walls of the house. I loved when my family acted this way; like a normal family would on a Saturday morning. It was a known fact that my eldest brother got a kick out of pushing my mother's buttons and it was always amusing to watch. He always seemed to forget the fact that my mother always seemed to get him back just as good.

Footsteps pounded down the grand staircase and in a moment, Bronson was in the kitchen. He pulled me into a strong hug, resting his chin on the top of my head as he held me. I leaned against him, closing my eyes.

"Morning," I said.

My twin brother kissed the top of my head. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

While everyone had stopped bringing up the incident that had happened two days ago, Bronson was having a hard time letting it go. He had been ordered to stay at our house while I had spent the night at the Uleys'; he had been too emotionally unstable for it to be safe for me to be around him. He was severely upset about the whole thing and no matter how many times I assured him that I was okay and that it had all been a complete misunderstanding, he wouldn't let it go.

"I'm fine," I assured him, pulling out of his embrace.

He sat down next to me, his eyes wide behind his glasses. "Did you take your pain meds?"

"Yes."

"Are you—?"

I sighed, loudly. "Aren't you supposed to be helping Dad set up the chairs out back?"

"Yes, but—"

I shot him a look. "Then go," I told him.

"Elissa," Bronson protested, reaching for me.

"No," I said. "I am perfectly fine without you hovering over me like some mother hen, Bronson. So please, don't."

I hated fighting with him, but this was starting to become ridiculous. I understood why he was so worried, but there was no need to walk on egg shells around me. I wasn't going to break into a million pieces if someone looked at me. I was half vampire, for goodness sakes. He needed to start remembering that.

"Whatever," he said, storming out of the room.

The screen door to the backyard opened and then slammed shut and I cringed. I took a deep breath, shaking my head. I wasn't going to let his moodiness ruin my morning. After all, he was a territorial, teenage werewolf.

"He's just worried about you," Mom said over the sound of sizzling bacon.

I sighed. "Well, he doesn't need to be."

Mom placed the cooked bacon on a big plate, before coming over and hugging me softly. "Cut him some slack," she said. "He comes from a line of genes where worrying over your family members tends to mess with your good sense."

Dad decided that it was the perfect moment to join us then. He kissed Mom's cheek, subtly tossing some bacon into his mouth. He swallowed, before turning his attention to me. "How are you feeling, baby?" he asked.

"Ugh," I shouted.

I hopped off my stool, keeping all the weight on my good foot, before storming out of the room the best I could with a hugely noticeable limp. After falling on my face so many times I had lost count, thanks to my stupid crutches, Uncle Embry had upgraded me to a chunky black walking cast. Though, he made me swear to take it easy. I caved; anything was better than having to use crutches. At least I could move around the house freely on my own…sort of.

I slammed my bedroom door behind me. I wasn't really mad; my parents knew this. But, I needed some space. Everyone had been so careful around me in the last couple days. I was so sick of them asking how I was feeling. Because, truth be told; I didn't know how to answer.

I mean, how was I supposed to be feeling? How were you supposed to feel after your imprint, your soul mate, the person you were supposed to love for the rest of your life, had tried to kill you? I wasn't sure. And I wasn't sure that there was anyone who could tell me either.

With a sigh, I walked over to my unnecessarily massive closet. Despite it being the end of August, the weather was surprisingly cool. With the constant drizzle of rain that seemed to exist outside, I decided on a pair of black cropped yoga pants and a soft pink t-shirt. I had a hard time putting on clothing that wasn't loose, due to all my injuries. And with all the nervousness I was feeling with having so many people over at our house, I decided comfortable clothes were allowed.

I brushed my hair, leaving it down and wavy in hopes of covering up some bruising I still had. My navy blue eyes were surrounded by swirls of black and purple, courtesy of my swollen nose. Much to my dismay, I couldn't put any makeup on without wanting to claw my eyes out, so I would have to go all natural today.

As I glanced at myself in the mirror, I felt gross. My face was swollen and my skin was pale. My long, mid-back length hair did little to help hiding the miscolouring of my skin. It was no wonder everyone was acting so weird; I looked like hell.

"Sure, Mom," I grumbled under my breath, glaring at my reflection. "Invite everyone over while I look like I got ran over by a truck. That's just a fantastic idea."

"You know, talking to yourself is a sign of insanity."

I jumped.

Standing in the doorway of my bedroom was none other than Noah Uley. My breath caught in my throat and my hair brush fell onto the linoleum floor of my ensuite bathroom. I didn't know what to do. What was he doing here? How did he think this was okay?

"Well, maybe I am insane," I said. My voice was painfully quiet, but the sound of it had me cringing.

He laughed softly; it was a beautiful sound. "Aren't we all?" he whispered.

I picked up my hairbrush, putting it away, before I closed the bathroom door. My arms wrapped around my stomach nervously. My walking cast felt unbelievably heavy and loud. Noah's gaze seemed glued to it as I moved around my room, fiddling with stuff nervously.

"Your mom sent me up," he explained suddenly. "To see if you needed a hand."

"I don't," I replied, without even meaning to. I regretted the words as soon as I said them.

But, Noah didn't leave. Instead, he focused his attention on my room, looking around at everything. He didn't move from the doorframe; his hand clutching the wood so tightly I was scared he would snap it in half.

I allowed myself to study him. As much as I didn't want to admit it to myself, he was unbelievably attractive. The way his short hair stood up in random directions, but still managed to look as if he had spent an hour in front of the mirror to get it to look that way; maybe he had. His bright green eyes lit up the whole room. He wore a shirt this time and the black material made his tanned skin stand out more than ever. God, he was so beautiful.

But, as I looked at him closer, I realized that he too, looked absolutely exhausted. There were bags underneath his eyes and his skin seemed to stick to his cheekbones more tightly. His hands twitched constantly.

I was glad he didn't move from the doorway. I was scared of him; scared he would hurt me again. I didn't know how to act around him. I didn't know what to say. So I just stood there, leaning against the bottom of my canopy bed.

He sighed, finally meeting my gaze. He took a deep breath, before he moved into my room a little. His eyes were on my face the whole time, calculating my reaction to his close proximity. When he sat down crossed legged on the area rug right in front of me, I had stopped breathing completely.

He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry," he said.

I stood completely still for a moment before I allowed myself to meet his gaze. "I'm not mad at you," I told him truthfully.

Noah's eyes shined with victory. "You aren't?"

No, I wasn't angry at him. He hadn't injured me knowing that I was his imprint, but knowing that I was a vampire. I knew I should have been mad at him, but I wasn't.

Scared of him? Yes, I was definitely terrified of him.

"No, I'm not," I answered.

He stood up eagerly. "Well, that's great."

I took a measurable step away from him. My eyes met the hardwood floor beneath my feet. "But, I am scared of you."

He sighed. "I deserve that, I guess."

"Yeah, you do."

I spun around quickly to see Taylor standing in the door way. He was shirtless—no surprise there—and his arms were crossed tightly across his chest. He was glaring at Noah.

I hadn't spoken much with Andy's older brother since I had met him that night at the bonfire. He was quiet around me, but he always seemed to be there. The only other time we had seen each other was when he had come over to Sam and Emily's the afternoon following the accident. He had taken one look at me and had started to shake and growl so badly that I had started to cry. In my defense, I had been doped up on a lot of pain medication and wasn't in control of my emotions. In the end, Jared's oldest son, Connor—who I had later found out was the Alpha of the entire pack—had dragged him out of the living room and into the backyard just in time for him to phase.

"You aren't supposed to be up here," Taylor hissed.

Noah tensed. "Nessie told me I could come up and—"

"That's not what I'm talking about and you know it," Taylor said.

I crossed my arms. "If you want to have a private conversation, don't let me stop you," I snapped. "But you could do it somewhere besides my bedroom."

Taylor looked me up and down, his expression softened slightly. Then it changed as he looked back at Noah. "Perfect idea," he said. "Let's go, Noah."

I thought that he was going to protest, but to my surprise, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He followed Taylor out of my room with his head hung down sullenly. He paused in front of my door, looking back at me. "I'll see you later, okay?"

I nodded, tight-lipped. I waited for him to follow Taylor down the stairs and out the back door of my house. When I heard the door shut behind them, I flopped back onto my bed in exhaustion.

What am I going to do with him?

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