A/N: There seems to be some confusion that I'd like to clear up before we continue. One question asked often is "Is Edward a human now?" While he is still a supernatural being (he is a male who can birth babies, after all), his vampire traits have lessened in order to accommodate new life. This happened to some degree in Consequence of Heat, but now that he's had two more children, humanity has overtaken vampirism. Jacob is still a shifter, though he (usually) chooses not to phase anymore. Which leads me to the second most asked question: "Doesn't Alice See they need help?" The short answer is, no, she cannot. Jacob may not phase much anymore, but he is still a shifter. Not only that, the children are each half-shifter as well, so Edward's future is just as obscured to her visions as ever. Thirdly, there is some confusion about Edward's aging. He ages at a very gradual pace. He will live longer than the average human, but he will die one day. He does still have some of the strength and "health" (for lack of a better word) of a vampire, and that will help his longevity. Of course, this whole situation is unprecedented in their world, so no one really knows how long he will live for. This story will resolve itself long before that ever happens. Their deaths are not the focus, nor do I ever want to write about it! Too sad to kill off my dear boys!

Hope that helps clear things up! I'm leaving today until Sunday and will have limited internet access, so sorry about any late review replies. On with the story.

Chapter 3

EPOV

I had been instant messaging with Jacob since one in the afternoon. As usual, he was complaining about his workday, about how his coworkers hated him and his bosses definitely had it out for him, and the debtors were just so damned depressing. It was a shitty job, to be sure. But I didn't want to hear about it every three seconds all day long. I had responsibilities to my—our—kids. When Sarah came home from preschool and Billy woke up from his nap, I had plunked them down in front of their favorite video on a beautiful summer afternoon, all to be there for my husband when he needed me.

I knew it was stupid, because actually remaining there was only encouraging the action that I didn't want to happen. But I felt like I had to sit in front of the computer and give an answer to everything or risk Jacob accusing me later of not being there for him and then freezing me out.

Finally, the video was coming to an end, and I had to end our chat session.

Edward: Listen Jake, I hate to do this to you, but the video is over. I gtg.

Jacob: But you're the only one i can talk to.

Edward: But we've been over and over this tiff with your coworkers for almost four hours. Seriously, I have to go now.

Jacob: listen, Imagine your mom is dead. Imagine your dear old dad is dead.

Jacob: Imagine Alice and Jasper, your dearest friends, distant and never fucking pick up the phone when I call anymore.

The grammar police in my mind was going haywire, but I did my best to ignore it.

Jacob: Imagine Rosalie and Emmett never calling to check in on their nephews.

Edward: Emmett never calls. Only Rosalie does that.

Jacob: God Edward! That's not the point. Just forget it. ttyl.

He signed off abruptly, and I pushed what Jacob said aside for the rest of the afternoon, trying to focus all of my attention on the neglected kids. I took them out in the yard, filled up the little kiddie pool and watched them splash and play.

When he finally got home, we did our usual dance of ignoring the tension surrounding us while getting the kids washed and in bed. Thankfully, I didn't have to guilt him into helping me that evening. Once they were down, he gravitated to the computer, and I went to take a shower.

While I was in there, I began to really imagine what it must be like to be Jacob at this moment in time, just as he had suggested over instant messaging earlier that afternoon. As the warm spray jettisoned over my body, I thought about the conversation we'd had over chat. He'd asked me to imagine my life if I were in his shoes. So I closed my eyes and, for the first time, really tried. Images of Esme burning to ash and Carlisle getting decapitated ricocheted in my mind, and a lump formed in my throat that wasn't easily swallowed. I imagined what it would be like if our roles were reversed and I was the one who had to work all day at a job I hated and only got to see my kids for an hour a day, five days a week. And then, to come home to a harried and probably nagging husband, and being too exhausted from the shitty workday that I didn't even have the energy to play with the kids I rarely got to see.

It was fucking terrible, and I wished I had put myself in his shoes sooner.

But there was another side to this story. I could empathize with him, but he couldn't empathize with me. He did not recognize that I also had a job, but mine was twenty-four/seven. I didn't have the luxury of being able to get on a train and leave for the evening. Jacob thought he knew what I dealt with every day, but he really had no fucking clue. If I ever complained about it, he would dismiss my feelings, always believing that he had it worse, like it was some kind of contest. He seemed to forget that I had emotions and needed to be paid attention to. I needed him to ask about what I did all day. When he didn't show an interest in what went on in my life, I felt like I didn't matter to him anymore. It felt like he didn't care. And I was finally going to tell him.

I stepped out of the shower and toweled off, throwing on a pair of boxers. Squaring my shoulders in anticipation for the conversation I was about to start, I walked out into the family room where Jacob was still seated at the computer. He didn't look up from his game, but I stood right next to him anyway.

"I imagined what you mentioned earlier in chat," I began.

He knew immediately what I was talking about and took his hands off the keyboard. He looked at me warily from the corner of his eye, as if I was trying to trick him.

"Okay…"

"It was fucking awful."

He narrowed his eyes and nodded slowly. How I wished I could still read his mind then. He smirked slightly as if he knew what I was thinking. I probably looked like I was concentrating too hard. Which, of course, I was.

I continued, "I'm truly sorry that I try to fix everything. Loss can't be fixed. Nothing can be done. Everyone grieves differently, and you are grieving for a lot of things."

He nodded with a look at satisfaction that I'd finally given in. But I wasn't done yet.

"But, Jacob, you have to remember that I'm a person too. Things happen to me, and I would think you'd be interested enough to ask about them. Especially since you know that they are happening! Don't you want to know how Sarah's therapy goes every Tuesday? You never, ever ask."

He opened his mouth to interject, but I steamrolled over him. "No, I have to elect to tell you about it. But I don't have to tell you, and I don't always. You need to show an interest in my life, our kids' lives, because I feel like this relationship is becoming very one-sided. It's like I've been…dismissed. Unimportant. Replaceable."

I sucked in a breath after my speech, both relieved to have gotten all of that off my chest and anxious about how Jacob would react to it. I hadn't really intended to go off like that.

Jacob just stared at me for a long moment. He looked properly cowed, and yet his belligerence still came through.

"Yeah, but my parents are dead. Nothing tops that."

I shut my eyes and turned my face from him. Of course nothing topped that. Nothing in a million years could top that. But I knew that his father would want better for his son; Billy would want Jacob to live free of his worries and start a new life, not dwell on his losses. In any case, I didn't know why I expected him to hear me this time. He never heard me. Jacob needed help and he was refusing to get it from me, so I tried another tactic.

"Maybe I haven't been through this specifically, but there are a lot of people who have and they have groups, Jacob! All these people who are grieving get together and talk about how shitty life is. You need an alternate place to talk about this stuff with people who can relate. They too are living with hellish grief. Please call a Bereaved Anonymous group. I don't know exactly what they call it, but I know it exists, and I'll find out for you. You know it helps to talk about it, and you hate that I try to help when you tell me. Those people would listen and not try to fix everything. I can recognize now that I do it, but it's so ingrained in me at this point that it just happens before I can really think about it. That's the level of my love, my protectiveness of you."

Jacob's crossed arms relaxed a fraction. He was listening, so I kept talking.

"You could go in there and say, 'My stupid asshole husband won't stop badgering me,' or whatever! 'I fucked a porcupine.' You could literally say whatever you want to this group of total strangers you will never see again. Who gives two shits what they think? Drive out to one, like in Manchester. You'll never see those people again, and you can just unload without consequence."

Jacob's rigid stance softened, and he even smiled a little.

"Okay, Edward. I'll try it."

~SOD~

The next day, Jacob's chat window was unusually silent, which was a little disconcerting. As much as I hated him bugging me all day with complaints, at least I knew where he stood emotionally for the day when he did that. When he didn't try to contact me, I wasn't sure what to make of it. Was he trying to abide by our conversation the night before and save his misery for a group therapy session? Or was he so dejected that he didn't even have the energy to type at me? If it was the latter, it made me nervous for what he might be like when he came home.

Late in the day, the laptop pinged. I rushed over, helplessly curious.

Jacob: Dad died a year ago today.

Oh shit. I had completely forgotten the date. It happened when you spent every day at home—days blended together. Jacob was bound to hurt something awful today, and I had selfishly railed on him about talking about his feelings to someone else last night. I felt like a terrible husband.

Edward: I'm so sorry, Jake.

He never responded. At the end of his workday, his bubble went grey, and I knew he was heading home.

When Jake got home, he greeted the kids with false happiness. He didn't say a word to me after they'd been satisfied; he just went straight for the computer and pulled up one of his forum web pages. Sarah didn't have the wherewithal to realize her papa wanted space, however, and she climbed up onto his lap with a book.

Jacob sighed. "Oh, you want to read?"

Our little girl nodded and began to read in her halting, endearing way. Jacob was only half-listening, the hand not holding Sarah to his lap typing away in response to something on the forum. I watched silently as Sarah kept glancing back at him. She was frowning, but Jake didn't notice. He wasn't really paying attention, and Sarah was completely aware of it. I couldn't stay silent, watching dejection creep onto my daughter's pretty face.

"You're being very rude," I said under my breath.

Jake paused, glancing between my quiet anger and Sarah's sad little pout, and heaved a sigh, taking his hand off the keyboard. I shouldn't have to tell him to stop. He should want to hear his angelic daughter's voice reading to him. Satisfied that her papa was paying her adequate attention, Sarah continued to read, hopping off his lap to play with something else when she was done.

Once she was out of earshot, I said to Jacob, "She won't want to do that forever, you know. You should embrace these moments."

Jacob frowned deeply. "Don't tell me what I should do, Edward."

"You know, Jacob, Billy wouldn't want you to be this way. He'd want you to live your life to the fullest, to be happy, to enjoy your kids. To not dwell on his death, but rather, celebrate life."

Jacob rolled his eyes. "And how can I do that, stuck in a job I hate, with no friends or family to talk to?" I tried not to bristle at that. What was I, chopped liver? "Dad was my connection to the tribe."

"Leah is your connection now."

Jacob scoffed. "Some connection. She never wants to talk when Anthony calls."

"Do you ask him to put her on?"

"That's not the point."

With difficulty, I refrained from commenting on his utter two-facedness. "Well, she and Anthony will be here in a few days. Maybe you'll feel differently after."

"I doubt it. It will only serve to remind me what I'm missing. No pack, no tribe, and our oldest son living far away from us, wrapped up in his own life with no time for his parents."

He looked so sad when he said that, I couldn't help but want to comfort my mate. I stood up and moved behind him, drawing him back against my chest and hugging him around the shoulders, and kissing his soft black hair.

"That's the way of things, Jacob. Kids grow up and move on. He has his own family now. It hurts me too, but that's the conundrum of being a parent. You want to keep your babies forever, but you need to set them free eventually."

Jacob jerked away and turned to face me. His eyes flashed with anger, and I stood there, shocked by his reaction.

"Shut up, Edward. You can't possibly understand how I feel about this, so stop trying. I have no one. A packless wolf doesn't go far in life. We're social animals."

I probably should have stopped talking, but my mouth moved faster than my brain in that moment.

"The pack is no more, Jacob. They've let their wolves go now that there isn't a threat. Vampires live on synthetic blood now. There's no need for the tribal wolves. They want to live a normal life, like you and me. You need to let it go."

Jacob's puffed-up, angry stance deflated a little. He looked away from me, closing his eyes.

"You can't understand what it's like to have no friends and family to talk to. Rachel and Rebecca are like ghosts. You have your mom and dad. You have Alice. I don't have anyone but you."

"And I'm not good enough, is that it?"

Jacob huffed. "No, no, that's not what I mean. You just can't understand what I'm going through, that's all. You think you understand, but you don't. You can't."

My own anger was barely controlled as I seethed, "Do you wish I did? Do you wish that Esme and Carlisle were dead too, so I could know what you're feeling?"

"Of course not, Edward."

"Oh really? Because it sure sounds like it."

"I don't! God!"

"It seems to me that you resent me for having them in my life."

"I don't resent you, Edward. I envy you."

I sighed. "There's no need. They love you like you were their own."

"But I'm not," he said, shaking his head. "I'm not one of you. They aren't my parents."

"They aren't mine either," I pointed out.

"Come on, Edward. Yes, they are. They might not be your blood parents, but they ARE your parents."

He was so insistent; I knew there was no arguing with him about it.

"Fine. Whatever. But they aren't here either. They're across the country, just like everyone else. I'm just as alone as you are."

Through clenched teeth, Jacob seethed, "Esme calls you every fucking day, Edward."

Again, he backed me into a corner. I just couldn't win with him. I threw my hands up in frustration. "I don't know what to say to you anymore."

"Good. I don't want to hear you anymore anyway. Just shut the fuck up."

My heart sank, but I wasn't done yet. I needed to try one more time to get him to see reason, to find a way to cope with all these emotions he was having, like a cancer, eating away at the Jacob I once knew.

Softening my tone, I asked, "Have you given the idea of going to group any more thought?"

Jacob smirked knowingly, his lips tight. "Nah, I don't think I'm gonna do that after all."

"What do you mean?" I asked, my exasperation unchecked.

Jacob looked annoyed. "I meant what I said," he replied firmly. "I'm not going to go."

"Why?"

"Because it's fucking far and will take up my whole night? Because I don't want to bore those fucking random people with my ranting? Because I should be able to resolve this by my fucking self? Pick one!" he bellowed.

"Obviously, you can't resolve it on your own," I said quietly. "Neither can they. That is why there's a group."

"Edward, just stop. You don't know how I feel about my dad. You can't know."

"I might have known, once."

"Even if you were still able to read my mind, you wouldn't know how it feels to be me. Stop trying to fix me, Edward. You can't!"

With that, Jacob stormed off into the kitchen, pulling on his sneakers and opening the back door.

"Please, don't go phase." I don't know why I said that. I didn't really care if he phased. I guess I just wanted to see if he would listen to me.

Jacob hesitated at the door and looked back at me. He studied me sternly for a moment, eyes narrowed. I imagined that he was thinking about going off to phase just to spite me, but then he smiled in a way that was meant to be reassuring.

"I'm just going to jog. Don't worry, okay? I'll come back. I just need to think in peace."

His mood swings were making my head spin. "Okay."

And then, he was gone.

A/N: How are we feeling out there? Poor boys are a mess. Like any relationship on the rocks – it's an odd mix of good moments and bad.