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Chapter 7

Bella

"All six seven of this?"

"Bring it."

Jake pursed his lips to keep from smiling and I didn't even try to hide my own smile, I just narrowed my eyes and squared my shoulders.

The smile spread on Jake's face and he came barreling at me.

I shrieked and turned to run, but he had already caught me. Jacob curled over me and we somersaulted, all twisted together in the long grass behind the house.

We'd been staying close to home a lot lately—Jacob didn't like me to leave when it wasn't absolutely necessary, and I was okay with that.

If I was home, I wouldn't risk running into Edward Cullen around town and I wouldn't be plagued by his face and his smell and his voice for days later while I tried to shake all of it for the sake of the pack and Jake and myself.

I loved playing with Jacob around the house.

I loved when it was very late and we were both quiet and wrapped together in bed. Out loud I'd read passages from my favorite books and he'd close his eyes but listen and sometimes he'd talk about how worried he was for Billy's health or sometimes we'd talk about having babies someday or sometimes we watched awful made-for-TV movies, but mostly we laughed.

But even then.

Something was always nagging me.

Gnawing at my stomach with razor-sharp teeth and deep-set black eyes.

I was always shadowed by that plague now, even when I was laughing.

And that's what Edward Cullen was—a plague.

Unwanted—not welcome in my thoughts or my life—but still.

He was somehow ingrained there now, ghosting each breath and each smile and a part of me hated him for that, because every time I saw his face behind my eyelids—he was stealing something from Jacob.

So, I put all of me into trying to replace it— all of the depleting things— I poured myself into loving Jacob— because I did love Jacob.

And I was happy doing it— more than happy. I was downright blissful.

Jacob rolled us over, so I was pinned underneath him.

"Say you'll marry me."

"Ew. Jake—you know how I—"

"Say it," he said, poking my ribs with his fingers.

I squealed and squirmed and made threats I'd never be able to carry out.

"Say 'Jake—my one and only true love, I know I don't deserve you and your utter awesomeness, but please, please let me marry you.'"

"Hah!"

"That's funny?" he asked, and I writhed underneath him while his fingers attacked.

"Stop, stop," I managed, gasping for breath.

"What's that? 'Jake, you handsome bastard, I want to marry you as soon as you'll let me?'"

I shook my head no and braced myself for the next attack, but it never came.

"Jacob."

He was looking down- to my shoulder, not my eyes- and I pulled at his chin to bring him back.

"I'm not going anywhere. You're not going anywhere. You know I hate dress shopping—"

"You can wear jeans."

"Why does it mean so much? I mean, you have me forever. And after that, too. So—"

"If that's the case, then why not just get married?"

"Because it's a formality and a hassle."

"Marrying me would be a hassle?"

"Everything about you is a hassle," I said, and lifted my neck to kiss the tip of his nose.

He mocked a growl and rolled me over and over and once again I deflected the subject of holy matrimony.

And not because I was going anywhere.

But because I was confident that I wasn't.

"I'd do cartwheels for you," Jacob said, once I was sitting on top of him. He was starting our favorite game.

"I'd climb a tree for you," I said, and he reached up and used one finger to move a few strands of hair from the crease at my lips.

"I'd run to Texas for you."

"I'd… learn to walk a tight rope for you."

"You used that already."

"Okay. I'd give up cake for you."

"I'd learn how to fly for you."

"I'd swim with hungry sharks for you."

"You know what, Bella?"

"What?"

"There's nothing I wouldn't do. Nothing."

For a split second, my insides turned to ice under his hot skin. I shivered and shook it off with a smile.

"Jake?"

"What?"

"I think I'd like to see those cartwheels."

Sometime later, after we'd eaten and showered and our day was full, I went to bed and left Jake downstairs with the pack.

I fell asleep fitfully and right before I drifted off, my lips uttered a curse as my mind imagined Edward Cullen.

My eyes opened in the pitch black— so black, I had to rub my eyes to be sure they were open at all— yet somehow I got the very distinct feeling I wasn't alone.

I didn't feel the familiar heat from Jacob's body next to mine. Quite the opposite; I felt a rush of ice sweep over my shoulders and through my hair and into my lungs.

"Say something," I whispered, frozen in my sheets, and already I knew it wasn't my hero.

It wasn't my Jacob here by my bed.

A rumble of low, soft laughter rolled over my ears and into my head.

"How did you get in here?" I whispered in a hoarse panic. "They're all watching. You shouldn't have been able to get in here. It should be impossible."

"But it wasn't. Which can only mean one thing. My desire to get in is much stronger than his desire to keep me out. I want it more," he said, his voice smooth and sliding and hypnotizing.

"He'll kill you," I whispered again, unable to move, unable to wish him gone.

The laughter came again.

"You haven't been taught well…or at least you've been taught wrong. In my world, the vampire always bests the werewolf."