Bella didn't get to uphold her promise to go back and see Jacob.
Harry Clearwater died on June 2nd at 7:23 pm.
The house was empty when Bella stumbled through the door, fresh from her first tutoring session. Not that she'd been expecting Charlie to be there or anything. It's just that Bella didn't like empty. Empty was trouble. And right now trouble was whispering in Bella's ear: you knew this was coming, you could've stopped this, you could've saved him.
You should have known.
She pressed her hands to her temples and squeezed, hoping and praying that it wasn't true. After all, the Harry she knew had died when…well, it didn't matter. There were no wolves now. Her twisted logic had no basis here.
And still her conscience ate at her. In her mind's eye all Bella could see was Leah, Seth, Sue…their faces as she knew them, mournful and empty and pained. She could see her father and Billy, broken and tired.
You should have known.
"It doesn't work like that," she muttered to herself. "It's not the same…how could I have known? And even then, what could I have done?"
Her logic was flawless. But guilt and logic don't work on the same planes. Bella's brain and gut were turning in the same, sad circle that she was pacing. Round and round and round; by the time the tears began to flow she was too dizzy to know if they were for her father, for the Clearwaters, or for her own twisted existence.
The phone rang twice before a groggy voice answered, "Hello?"
"Mom?" Bella pressed the phone harder against her ear, straining to hear. The kitchen clock read 10:04 pm – it wasn't ithat/i late. "Did I wake you up?"
"Huh? Oh, no it's okay, honey. We're just in Virginia tonight. Its a few hours earlier here," Renee assured her, though the sleep was painfully evident in her thick voice. Quickly, though, the sleep gave way to carefully controlled panic. "Is everything alright?"
"I – yeah Mom, it's fine…" She twirled the phone cord around her finger. Mostly she was just relieved to hear another voice, one that wasn't her own, one that wasn't accusing her of being responsible for someone's death. "I just…I thought you might want to know…Mom, Harry died tonight."
There was a long pause on the end of the line, followed by what sounded like a door closing in the background. Bella imagined Renee standing on the balcony of some cheap motel in her bathrobe, whispering to avoid waking the baseball players sleeping behind the paper-thin walls on either side. "I know, baby," she said finally, breaking the silence. As Bella predicted she was still talking in that harsh, hushed whisper. "Jerry, down at the station, he called me earlier. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, it's just…" Again, she hesitated, trying to find the words to explain the emotions knotted up inside her. "I just…I wanted to hear your voice. I'm not sure why."
"Oh baby, it's okay." In her head, Bella could feel the gentle touch of her mother's hand on her shoulder, against her cheek, reinforcing the words. "Death does funny things to people. But I'm still here. So's Phil, and your father. We're still a family and we all love you."
"I know, I love you all too." Again, her feet began to trace the same circular path, this time on the kitchen tile. "I just…I don't know. I wanted to talk to you, wanted to ask you…you know…what am I supposed to be doing, I guess?" she finally said. "I mean…I'm not really good with funerals and all--"
"Honey," Renee interrupted her stumbling. "No one is good with funerals."
The relationship between Bella, her mother, and the real world had always been lopsided. Bella had carried an undue burden growing up – forced to be the mature one in the family, the practical one, the one with her feet on the ground. But bills and housework were one thing. They still couldn't make up for the life experiences she hadn't yet had, and in that regard Renee was much more well versed that she was. This was one of the rare times when Bella actually felt like a daughter, asking her older and wiser mother what to do.
It felt strange.
"Am I supposed to send flowers or, or--"
"Just be there," Renee interrupted her. "You don't have to do anything more than that. Be there for Sue and the family – let her know you're willing to help. But mostly just…be there."
Bella sighed, covering the receiver so Renee couldn't hear. She'd been looking for specifics, an itinerary of proper mourning procedures that she could walk through step by disinfected step. Something to keep her from getting caught up in all the pain around her, in her own swirling vacuum of loss.
But some situations in life didn't come with instructions, and Renee was making it quite clear this was one of them.
"Are you flying out for the funeral?" Bella asked, chewing on her lip when her mom didn't answer right away.
"I wish I could, baby," she finally said. "But, and I don't want you feeling guilty about this, I burned through all my frequent flier miles going out to Forks and having Phil come up all those times. And with school being out for the summer and all, money's a little too tight for me to fly."
Despite her mother's caveat, Bella couldn't stop the guilt that welled up in her chest. It was easy to forget just how much her parents had sacrificed for her. She knew Charlie was hiding the bills that were undoubtedly coming in.
"How's," Renee interrupted her latest guilt trip before she could say anything else. "…How's Charlie?"
"I don't know." Bella shrugged, though her mother couldn't see it. "He hasn't been home yet.
The quality of Renee's tone changed, her voice taking on a familiar timbre that Bella couldn't initially place. Weary, burdened under the weight of a chronic ache that had faded with time, but never really healed as it should. "Keep an eye on Char-- on your father, Bella," she added. "This is going to be hard on him – more so than he'll admit. And he…he doesn't handle loss well…"
That last line hung between them heavily, a venerable pink elephant that neither one of them wanted to acknowledge. But they both knew that what Renee really meant was that Charlie hadn't handled loss well since he'd lost her.
Bella hung up the phone, plagued by the feeling that everyone in her life was haunted by someone, and unwilling to admit it…
She had truly become her parents' child.
The next morning Bella woke up on the living room couch, where she'd fallen asleep waiting for her dad. The only indication that Charlie had been home was the quilt that he'd covered her up with as she slept. He'd arrived after she'd passed out, and departed before she was up. There was an empty bowl on the counter, fresh boot prints by the backdoor, but no actual signs of her father.
Which left Bella with limited options. She certainly couldn't be useful on the rez without a way to get there, but that didn't mean she couldn't help out from home. Charlie's suit hadn't been worn…well, in years probably. She found it hanging in the back of his closet, a wrinkled gray mess. Rather than hiking the four miles to the near dry cleaner, Bella hung the clothes in the shower and emptied the water heater, trying to steam the wrinkles out herself.
The dishes were washed.
The boot prints were scrubbed away.
And by the time the afternoon rolled around, she was out of things to do. Dinner was a ways off, but she felt like if she got started now, all she'd have to do was pop it in the oven when Charlie inevitably got home. She scrambled together what she had on hand, and set about making her dad's favorite lasagna. But the tomatoes were about to turn, so to use them up she made enough sauce for two pans worth. She planned on putting the other one in the freezer for later, but then figured that if the Black's house was anything like her own, they'd all be too busy too cook too. She'd send the extra casserole over there. But the Black's house was probably nothing compared to Sue's right now…
Which is why, four hours later, Bella had practically emptied the freezer and the fridge of all edible products. She had enough pre-made meals to feed the Clearwater's for a week, with a few left over for Billy and Jake. Ground beef. Pasta. Chicken. She even tried something called cheesy hamburger pie, the recipe for which she'd found in a cookbook that likely predated her own birth. She wrote out cooking instructions on tin foil, and covered each dish before shoving it into the busting fridge. Keeping things cool had become a lot like playing Jenga.
And yet, in the chaos and process of cooking, Bella managed to find some peace. When her hands were busy, it gave her rebellious mind less opportunity to wander into dark places, as it was prone to doing. She was a machine, blissfully lost in her work until a thunderous pound on the door brought Bella back into the present.
Afternoon had faded into late evening, and she was puzzled as to why someone would be at her house when it was pushing ten. Bella opened the door cautiously, wondering if perhaps Charlie had forgotten his keys. The porch light was burned out, so it took her eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. She recognized the orange truck parked on the street before she recognized the figure standing on her stoop.
"I'm sorry," Jake said stupidly, oblivious to the driving rain that had already soaked him to the bone. His ponytail was plastered wetly to the side of his face. "I didn't know where else to go. I…I had to get off the rez for a while and…" He shrugged sadly. "I just didn't know where else to go."
"Its okay," Bella assured him gently. She moved over and gestured for him to come inside. But Jacob just continued to hover on the threshold.
"I mean, I know you have enough on your plate. I don't want to add to it or--"
Bella grabbed him around the wrist and yanked him into the house. "Just get inside, Jake!" With a shove she slammed the door against the gale.
Standing there, dripping awkwardly on the living room carpet, Bella thought it was strange that she could now see herself reflected in Jacob's expression. Something inside him was broken too. Maybe not a badly or as permanently as it was in her, but evident nonetheless. It wasn't just that the corners of his mouth were turned down, it was the way that his whole body seemed to sag and droop. It was the way that the teasing light in his eyes seemed to have been extinguished by the rain and the loss and the burden he was carrying. It was how Bella felt like she was starting not at Jake the teenager, but at Jake the eight year old who didn't understand why that his mother was never coming home.
It was hard to look at.
It was why Bella hadn't looked in the bathroom mirror in weeks.
"I'm sorry," he finally said again.
"Stop apologizing," she told him insistently. "You're the one who keeps insisting we're friends. Well, friends get to help each other."
"Most friends aren't going through what you are," he whispered, even though they both knew they were alone in the house – Jake had parked in the cruiser's usual spot. "Most friends aren't--"
"Crazy?" Bella supplied helpfully, pleased when the glimmer of a sad smile crossed his face. "Doesn't change the fact that my door is always open."
"I…" Again he seemed to falter, like it was hard to find the words. "Thanks."
But he still looked worried and sad and because Bella wanted so badly to make it all better she reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck before she could stop herself. The fact that he was freezing sent an unpleasant shock through her system, but he was still tall, and he still smelled like grass and rain and sunshine and all the good thinks about Forks. She closed her eyes and buried herself under all those dangerously familiar things. And when Jake finally embraced her in return, she had to bite back against the contented sigh that tried to break through her lips.
Like the recovering alcoholic secreting a drink, Bella slipped into the fantasies in her head. And though she knew it was wrong…knew that it would hurt worse in the morning, for a second she closed her eyes and let herself get lost in the delusion that this was her Jake, hugging her like he always did, and that she'd open her eyes to find her world had righted itself in the process. She half expected to feel him bury his head in her hair, to feel his lips pressed against her forehead, to…
No.
With slow, painful deliberation Bella forced those thoughts from her mind. However badly she might want to feel whole again, Jacob needed her more now. This Jacob.
Her own pain would have to wait for once.
She unwound herself from Jake's lean body, shaking the water from her limbs.
"Sorry," he apologized again.
"What did I just say about that?" Bella demanded in mock exasperation. An embarrassed smile flickered briefly across his face, gone as quickly as it came. "C'mon. You must be hungry." She grabbed his hand again, and led him into the kitchen.
"Starved, actually. I--" He stopped short when his eyes fell on the massive pile of soiled cookware that seemed to cover every surface. "What the hell?"
Bella scratched at the back of her neck awkwardly. "We all have our coping mechanisms," she said by way of explanation. "I figured Sue could use a few extra meals. I cooked a few for you and Billy too." She popped the lasagna she'd made for herself and Charlie into the microwave to heat up, and grabbed a few plates. It wasn't until Jake mentioned it that she realized she was starving too – Charlie would just have to reheat his food later.
Jake took the plates from her hand before she could protest. "That's very thoughtful of you, but you know we can take care of our own. Sue's not going to have to cook for a month at this point."
"Well, now she won't have to cook for a month and an extra week, alright?" Bella said harshly, the ire rising in her tone. She whirled to look her friend in the eye. "I wasn't implying that Sue didn't have help from you or the community. I was just trying to do my part by being a decent human being. Why is it every time I try to do something nice you guys get all defensive?"
"What do you mean by 'you guys'?"
"You. Quil. Literally: you guys. What gives?"
"I…" Jake faltered. "Sorry, I'm just cranky. It's been--"
Bella cut him off. "No, I'm sorry I snapped at you." She doled out the now warm pasta, making sure to give Jake extra. "Go, sit in the living room. I'll go grab you some towels too."
When she came into the room, carrying her own plate and a pile of bath towels, Jake was hovering in front of the window, staring out absently into the dwindling storm. His food was sitting on the coffee table, untouched.
"You miss him," Bella said softly. It wasn't a question.
Jake shrugged. It wasn't an answer. "It's strange," he murmured, looking out into the night. "I mean, Harry was a role model for a lot of us. Tribal council, good job, good family. But, after my m…" he hesitated. "After everything that happened when I was little, it was like he became a part of my family. Charlie, too. It was like they made it their job to fill that void left by…losing her. I know it's twisted, but it feels like I lost a parent all over again…"
"It's not twisted." Bella touched his shoulder gently, and pushed the towels into his hands. "It's understandable. Of course he was part of your family. Of course…of course it's going to hurt like that all over again."
Jake took a long time drying his face off, and wringing out his hair. When he finally took the towel away, he looked down at Bella ruefully and said, "I'm just tired of losing people. That's all."
"I know," Bella said. What she really meant was me too. But she managed to muster up a smile, for his sake. "Look, what do you say we pop in a movie and just veg for a while, huh? You look like you could use it. I just rented this video last week and its more fun with company." She slipped the DVD in the player, and tossed Jake the box.
"You rented Field of Dreams?" he asked, puzzled.
"Yeah, I know it's not very girly. But my stepdad thinks it's vital that I see Kevin Costner in a baseball movie and this was all they had at the Pick-a-Flick." Jake's face was still twisted up in confusion. "What?" Bella demanded. "Is it bad or something?"
"No," he assured her. "It's fine. It's just…the subject matter doesn't really seem like…well, your thing."
"What? You think I can't watch a movie about baseball, men, and midlife crises? I may not have an interest in any of those things, but I think I can manage to keep up." She was teasing but Jake's expression was still stoic.
"Bella, it's a movie about a guy who hears a mysterious, disembodied voice telling him to build a baseball diamond in the middle of his corn field, while the rest of the world thinks he's gone crazy."
Bella's throat clenched suddenly, an unfortunate reflex. She coughed wildly, trying to catch her breath, as Jake pounded on her back. "See," he said. "It won't be good for your health."
"No," she rasped. "No, it's fine. Just hit play."
"Bella, I really don't think…"
"Start the damn movie, Jake!"
Jacob pressed closer on the couch, shoulder to shoulder. "Now I'm the one worried about you," he muttered.
Bella had a throw pillow clutched to her chest, obscuring everything but her eyes. She pulled it away to speak. "I'm fine…"
But it was a lie. There was a war taking place inside her mind. A battle between blind faith and the reality of the world around her. Was she just like Ray, a mundane portal to something extraordinary? Was she ignoring her call? Had she succumbed to pressures of the world around her to conform and act normal and think normal and try to be normal, when she was meant to be anything but? She tried to tell herself that Edward wasn't asking her to plow under her back forty and build a baseball field, and that when it came down to it, the only voices she ever heard were those of her own demonic intuition, her conscience. There was nothing she was supposed to do. There was nothing she could do.
And yet she felt as though maybe she'd failed.
"It's not the same, Bella." She jerked in surprise: surprise from the feeling of Jake's mouth pressed against her ear, surprise from what he'd said. "You're not Ray," he went on. "And you're still not crazy."
"I didn't say I was," she managed to squeak in a broken whisper. "How did you--"
"You're like an open book," he replied. "Easy to read."
"Only to you."
He shrugged absently, and the bubble of personal space grew between them as he finally drew back. "I'm just perceptive."
So was her Jacob, the one that only lived inside her mind. Bella found herself confusing them more readily now – their lines were starting to blur. Maybe, because the more time she spent with this Jacob, the more she realized they were one in the same. She'd been right about him all along. She peeked over the pillow and noticed he was watching her instead of the movie. "What?"
"You're doing it again. Getting lost in your head." In the light of the flickering movie screen she could see that his forehead was creased in worry. Her own inner turmoil faded into guilt for the umpteenth time in as many days.
"I'm sorry, I'm supposed to be here to help you," she apologized. "I'm not being very good company."
He bumped her shoulder again, and there was a world of comfort in that brief touch. "You're being fine company. You have no idea how much it helps just being here.
You-"
He stopped short as the doorknob began to turn back and forth with a metallic fluttering, blocked by the deadbolt in either direction. Something banged against the wood sharply, and Bella flinched with the sound. It took her a moment to remind herself that vampires don't need to use doors, and that short of them she could handle just about anything. She crept off the couch, but Jake stopped her before she could move far enough to peek out the front window. With a finger to his lips he crept towards the door, just as the knob gave another violent shudder.
But before he could get to the peephole, the knob turned all the way and the door exploded inwards. Jake leapt back in surprised as the door banged off the wall beside him.
"Oops," Charlie said, listing crookedly against the doorframe. His keys slipped from his grasp. Behind him, a cab peeled away from the curb and down the street. He peered into the room, unfocused eyes shifting back and forth between Bella and Jacob.
"D-dad?" Bella stuttered in disbelief. Charlie looked up and tried to take a step towards her, but teetered uneasily to the side. He clutched at the doorframe a second before he could fall. "I…" She looked at Jake desperately.
"Oooookay, Chief," Jacob said with more composure that Bella could muster. He threw one of Charlie's arms over his shoulder and grabbed the man around the waist. "What do you say we take a load off?"
Awkwardly, the duo crossed the room and Charlie landed in an unceremonious heap on the couch. "Yer a good kid, Jake," he muttered, blinking blearily. "You should go home to yer Dad though." He swayed unsteadily and Jake pushed him back against the cushions.
"Yes sir," he said, biting back the amusement in his tone. "Bella, can you come help me in the kitchen first?"
Bella followed him through the doorway. "Oh my God!" she said in a harsh whisper when they were finally out of earshot. "Is he drunk?"
"So it would seem." Jake was biting back silent heaves of laughter.
"Jacob Black! This is not funny!"
"It's a little funny," he protested, filling up a glass with water.
"Yeah, I'm sure you'll say the same thing when you see the state Billy's in at home. C'mon, you can't possibly think Charlie was drinking alone…"
His face fell noticeably. "I…well, shit."
"See, not so funny now," Bella gloated.
Jake just thrust the glass into her hands with a sour look. "Just make sure he drinks lots of water."
"I will," she promised, putting the glass down and retrieving the food she'd made earlier. She loaded up Jake's hands, then filled her own. "I need you to drop some of these off at Sue's on the way home too. "C'mon, I'll walk you out." And they crept out the backdoor and around the house in order to avoid disturbing Charlie.
"You want me to stay in case Charlie gets sick or something?" Jake asked, stashing the last of the dishes on the floor of the truck. "Crash on the floor?"
Bella was touched by the sincerity of the gesture, but felt he had enough to worry about. "Thanks, but we'll be fine. Besides, Billy probably needs you more right now."
He groaned. "You're probably right." Reaching across the passenger seat, he turned the key in the ignition, and the truck kicked to life. "As if tomorrow wasn't going to suck enough already..."
He turned to leave, and Bella flashed him a rueful smile. "You'll get through it," she assured him.
"Yeah." Jake suddenly appeared very awkward, rubbing the back of his head and trying to avoid her eyes. "Listen…thanks for tonight and all."
"You don't have to thank me," she assured him. "I mean, I seem to remember you trespassing on hospital property on my behalf. I owed you."
"We're even." And he leaned over and punctuated that statement with a brief hug. "Will I see you tomorrow?"
"Yeah. I'll be there."
"Good," Jake said. "I mean, it's not good at all. It'll just be good to have you there." He leapt into the truck and pulled the door shut before Bella could say anything else, and he waved as he pulled away from the curb. The rain started to fall again as he rounded the corner at the end of the street, forcing Bella back inside.
She locked the door behind herself, and collapsed into her dad's big easy chair, suddenly exhausted. Bella grabbed the faded quilt off the back and pulled it up to her chin, perfectly content to spend the night there. It wasn't as if she was able to sleep in her own bed anyway. After the first nightmare, she'd taken to sleeping hunched over in her old rocking chair, staring out the window into the darkness until exhaustion overcame her discomfort and she descended into an uneasy rest. The change in locale hadn't made the nightmares stop – it just made time spent awake that much less painful.
She allowed her head to list backwards, but just as her eyes were beginning to close…
"You have a bed upstairs, Bella," Charlie said thickly. Bella gasped and felt the adrenaline hit her system as his voice cut through the blackened silence around them. She'd thought he was asleep.
"I'm fine right here," she assured him breathlessly, trying to calm her palpitating heart. But her hands continued to shake as she smoothed the quilt over her lap. "Go back to sleep."
"I'm so sorry," Charlie continued, oblivious to her command. The sounds lay heavy on his tongue as he spoke. "You shouldn't have to see this, I'm so sorry." His voice cracked.
Through the darkness, Bella heard him pick up the glass of water she'd left for him. Moments later she heard it hit the table, empty. "I don't understand anymore…it just doesn't seem right. It's not right, I tell you…"
Bella squirmed in place, uncomfortably. This was a Charlie she'd never seen before. He was so much like her – surrounded by walls, and of the mindset that such walls were intended not to be breached. All her life her father had been tightly controlled, all responsibility and silence. It's not that he was particularly cold, just reserved and content to stay that way. But now, intoxicated and spewing his every thought…Bella didn't know how to react.
After all, she was just like him.
"I know life's not fair and all," he said. "But this…this is…I mean Harry was a good man. He is a good man! And we need more of 'em, not less. His family needs him, and his friends…Billy an' me…we need him too."
Bella felt the telltale stinging in the corners of her eyes. She didn't even have a best friend to lose and still she couldn't fathom what that would feel like. If it was anything like losing Ed…losing what she had lost…then there weren't words enough to explain the sympathy she felt for her father, for Billy, for the entire Clearwater family.
That was a tearing, ripping, searing pain that she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy. And Bella Swan knew a thing about enemies, too.
"I'm sorry, Dad," she finally whispered in response, her own voice weak. "I wish--"
But Charlie interrupted her. "That's the amazing thing about you, Bells: you came back." There was a shuffle, and for a second it seemed that he'd tried to get to his feet, only to fail. "Everyone…everyone who's anyone to me…I always lose them. Your Nana and Papa…your mother…my best friend…"
"I…" Bella didn't know what to say to that.
"But you, Bella. You always come back. After all those years in Phoenix you came back…and after…after all those weeks…" His voice cracked again. "After I thought we'd lost you too…you came back to me. At least…I have that to be thankful for…"
He was silent after that, silent and still. Heavy breathing descended into snoring as, for once, alcohol got the better of Charlie Swan. But rest wouldn't come so easily for Bella. She didn't know how long she sat there in the dark, tears cutting rivers down her cheeks. No matter how many she cried, there always seemed to be more waiting to fall.
Something had happened in the dark that night, and Bella knew it. Somewhere between the liquor and the grief, Bella had glimpsed the man her father truly was. The walls, his walls…they weren't just there because Charlie was reserved by nature. They were there because, starting from the age of five when lung cancer took his father, Charlie had gone through life expecting to lose everyone around him. His mother, the year after he graduated from the police academy, had gone so suddenly. An embolism. With Renee, his fear had been a self fulfilling prophecy. With Harry, the trend had just become the embodiment of Fate's cruel, killing joke.
Charlie had surrounded himself with walls, and each wall had a name and a face and a story. And through the slurred words and sudden pauses, tonight Bella had heard them all. She'd thought she understood her father, but tonight she'd finally glimpsed the man behind the mask.
He'd balled up his hurt and locked it away, and somehow through all that Charlie had managed to become a man of decency and duty instead of resentment. It was a testimony to the enduring nature of the human spirit. It was a testimony to the blood that ran through Bella's veins.
"I love you, Dad," she muttered inaudibly, knowing that he was beyond hearing. She knew that in the morning they wouldn't talk about it, and that it would never be brought up again, but for what it was worth, she was grateful. And as a restless sleep consumed her, Bella tried to understand how Charlie could function under a burden so much heavier than anything she'd imagined, when she could barely carry on beneath her own.
"Wait, stop!" Bella screamed, her breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. Still, she pumped her arms and legs faster, faster. Faster than she knew was safe. Brambles reached up and tore at her ankles, roots sent her crashing to the ground, only for her to get up again and continue the chase.
But still it was not fast enough. The figure flitted between the trees, always out of reach, always ignoring her desperate pleas. A liquid shadow, it moved black on black against the backdrop of the forest. Each stride was sure, each jump was true. The being moved with an uncanny grace, a lithe stride that never missed a step. It practically flew.
And yet Bella knew she had to catch her. "Stop," she screamed. "Stop! Alice!"
Then, as if by a miracle, the figure did. She froze in a patch of sunlight, filtering through the blackness of the canopy around them. She froze, and turned.
It was not Alice.
It was not her best friend.
And yet…the woman looked very familiar. Hauntingly familiar.
"Who are you?" Bella demanded. The strange woman took a step backwards.
Bella stepped forward. "What do you want?"
The woman stepped back again, into the darkening tree line. A metallic roar emanated from the other side
"Why me?" Bella screamed in frustration. She charged forward. The woman's only response was to smile sadly, before she flung herself backwards, through the trees, and into the middle of the highway…
A horn blared somewhere in the distance.
Then she was gone.
A/N:As always, thanks to my beta(s)
