A/N: Okay, so here's Chapter 8 - only two more to go. I'm sort of sad about this tho, because I really like this story - but one the tale is told there's nothing else to say, right? Right. So here you go, feel free to review, thanks to all who have in the past, and to everyone who's followed and favorited. Anything you recognize isn't mine. Enjoy!
Chapter 8
She sleeps nine hours, deeply and soundly. I get up at a reasonable hour, glad for the fact that I don't have to work today. I cook a big breakfast for her since she looks so underfed. I sit at the table and wait for her as I think about how to help her, letting the breakfast stay warm in the oven. Though my stomach growls with the aroma of bacon, French toast, sausage, and scrambled eggs, I wait for her.
As near as I can figure, Bella isn't happy in her stupid joke of a marriage. I have two options: one - try to help her get out of it; or two – help her make the marriage happy and stay in it. The question is, which would Bella want more? And that's really all I'm thinking about – her happiness. My feelings are completely secondary, as much as it kills me to admit it. I could convince her to leave him, I'm sure of it. It wouldn't be easy, and it would take some time, but I could do it. I'd probably go the concerned friend route. I'd extol the virtues of the husband, but deep down I'd steer her toward leaving him. I'd show her what life could be like with me – natural, easy as breathing. Happy. Not all this drama, angst…heartache. A life completely devoid of all the bullshit he puts her through on a daily basis.
But I have a sinking feeling that what she'll ask for is the opposite. She will want to stay in the marriage, try to make it work. She loves that fuckin vampire, for whatever reason. Again, I think he has some supernatural hold on her – some type of vampire voodoo that makes her moon after him like some lovesick puppy, always chasing what isn't good for her.
I know that's what she'll want. Because of this, when I hear her stirring, I almost make up my mind not to talk to her about it at all. I want to save the bliss. I want to keep the feeling I have right now - the feeling of comfort and stability I'm experiencing with her here, under my roof, sleeping in my bed and eating my food - forever.
It's not gonna happen. I have to get the info directly from her and then act on it. It's gonna kill me, I know it. My heart pounds as she enters the room, still dressed in my t-shirt – nothing underneath it – and the jeans she was wearing last night when I took her away from Charlie's.
"Hey," she greets me.
"Hey," I answer. "Did you sleep okay?"
She stretches, raising her arms up over her head and giving me a nice view of her boobs. I watch her hungrily, but I know there's nothing I can do with her. First of all, she's traumatized by the treatment she's getting from Cullen. Secondly, she's fuckin married. Throws a little damper on things.
"Better than I have in months," she answers, sighing. "God, it felt so good." She smiles at me.
"You hungry?" I ask, returning her grin halfheartedly. This is gonna suck. I so don't want to discuss this with her.
"I'm starving. You cooked?" She glances around, but I've already washed the dishes and put them away, and breakfast is waiting in the oven. "Or did you already eat? I smell food but I don't see it."
I get up and pull the dishes out of the oven. She watches with a look of anticipation, then jumps into action by pulling out the butter and syrup from where she knows they're stowed. She's been here enough that she's pretty familiar with our kitchen. "Milk?" she asks, pulling out the jug. She knows me well. Along with my coffee I always have a big glass of milk with my breakfast. I nod and she fills a glass that she fetches from the cabinet over the sink.
We get breakfast on the table and sit down to eat. The food is piping hot and hasn't lost anything from its stay in the oven. She takes a big bite of French toast and moans with pleasure. "God, it's been so long since anyone cooked anything for me. This tastes like heaven."
I chuckle, more because I'm so happy than from anything actually being funny. God, I hate the idea that I'm going to have to ruin this mood. I scarf down a plate of eggs and bacon, and grab a few slices of French toast myself along with some sausage links. I douse the whole thing in syrup and spear a big bite. I know what I'm doing - I'm avoiding the inevitable. But I don't care. I want a few more minutes of happiness before I'm plunged into despair again.
I'm amazed by how satisfying it is for me to watch her enjoying the breakfast I've made her. Who knew that cooking for someone could be so gratifying? It feels so right, I can't fathom why she'd pick that motherfucker over me. The whole thing is so confusing.
Finally I slurp the last of my milk from the bottom of the glass and wipe my forearm across my mouth like a six-year-old. I stand and gather the dishes, but she's having none of that. "Jake, no. You cooked, that means I clean up," she protests, trying to take the pile of sticky plates from me.
"Naw, you're a guest," I say, putting her off easily.
She continues to try to protest, but I won't let her lift a finger. "Sit down, Bells. We have to talk," I tell her. She sits back in her chair with an exasperated eyeroll.
"What now?" she asks.
I run the sink full of hot soapy water and, with my back to her, start the conversation.
"I've been thinking about what you told me last night," I say. I've got to swallow back the fury, the nausea that threatens when I think about it, but I force myself to make my voice neutral. I don't want her closing herself off to me.
"Yeah?" she asks with trepidation.
"Well, Bells, as far as I can tell, you've got two choices."
"And what are those?" she asks skeptically.
I rinse a plate and stack it in the drainer, buying myself a little time. "You can try to make this marriage work..." I run the water again, splashing myself in the process. "Or you can leave."
I hear nothing from behind me as I continue to wash the dishes. So I keep going. "I'll help you, honey - no matter what you decide," I say.
Bella doesn't say a word, so I finally turn to look at her. There are silent tears running down her face. "What's wrong?" I ask, defeated.
"You're too...nice, Jake. It just - it breaks my heart," she weeps quietly.
I'm done with the dishes, since I did most of them before she got up, so I sit next to her at the table and grab her hand. She takes the opportunity to rest her head on my shoulder. My t-shirt gets wet with her tears as she continues crying. I know what her answer is.
"It's okay, Bells," I say, like the pushover I am. "I get it. You want to make it work. So I'll help you make it work."
"And how will you do that?" she asks through her tears.
"I don't know," I say honestly. "I don't have a clue. It's not like I can Google it. But I'm willing to try anything."
"Oh, Jake," she moans, burying her face in my shirt. "Stop! It makes me feel ten times worse that you're so nice to me!"
"It's okay," I tell her, though my chest is burning with pain. I completely miss the irony - which is that I feel the same way about Shea. I feel like an absolute shit for not being as nice to her as she is to me. That doesn't cross my mind though. "Just tell me what you think would help."
She looks at me with those big puppy dog eyes, her mouth working like something's caught in her throat. "I...I don't know," she finally chokes out.
I look at her intensely. She wants to tell me something, but she is hesitating for some reason. What is it? She's already told me probably the most personal thing she could have told anyone besides her husband. What's holding her back now?
I put a finger under her chin and lift her face to look at me. "Hey, Bella," I say, staring directly into her eyes. "I'm gonna tell you this again. Nothing you say to me is gonna make me think any different of you, baby. Just tell me what you think will help. I promise, I'll do my best to make you happy."
Her eyes fill with tears anew, and her face goes red with the effort of keeping her sobs in check. She struggles to compose herself. Finally, after a few minutes, she hides her face again and says in a strangled voice, "Okay, here goes. We've been...trying...since the wedding." She cuts off again, burrowing further into me.
"Trying to...um...do it?" I ask uncertainly.
"Yes," she sighs gratefully. "Yes, we've been trying to do it. But he's afraid, like I said. He's afraid he'll lose control and...I guess, kill me."
"Great," I say with unenthusiastic sarcasm.
She elbows me and says, "Shut up."
"Sorry," I say, even though I'm not and I'm sure she knows it from my tone.
"Okay, so... the main problem, I think...," she says, trailing off. Then suddenly in a rush, she covers her eyes with her hands and says, "Ugh, this sucks! It's so awkward!"
I sigh theatrically. "Come on, Bells," I say, exasperated. "Just tell me already." Yeah. I'm begging her to tell me how to help her stay in her marriage with my mortal enemy. I've gone completely insane. But I hate that look on her face. I don't care what I have to do to remove it.
"Okay," she sighs. "Okay. What I think happened is that I lost trust in him when he betrayed me like that." She says this quickly, as if she's hurrying to get through an unpleasant task. I can't say I blame her. "And I don't think I can be that...vulnerable around him."
I digest this slowly, rolling my eyes at my own stupidity. What I've done, essentially, is ask her to let me help her surrender herself to him. Jesus, could I be any dumber? "So you need to be able to be vulnerable with him?" I ask, hoping she'll tell me otherwise.
She shrugs and nods, embarrassed at the admission.
Fuck. This is gonna kill me, I just know it.
I sigh. "Okay," I say, pulling her closer. All that matters is that she get what she needs, right? I just want her to be happy. Right? My feelings don't matter here, do they? When I feel her settle against me, the tension melting away from her skinny little frame, I realize that it's true. My feelings mean nothing. If I can make her feel better, I'll be happy too. Somewhat. "So you basically need me to get you to the point where you're...less inhibited...when you guys are trying." I can't bring myself to say what they're trying.
And evidently she can't bring herself to actually verbalize her answer. She tucks her head beneath my chin and I feel rather than see her nod. I stroke her hair absently, thinking. How the fuck do I go about doing this? The only thing my perverted mind can come up with is to coax her to make love with me, though I don't know how well that will translate. And I don't know if it will actually work. But I do know she still trusts me, so at least there's that. I can take a little comfort in it.
"Bells, all I can think of is to...kind of...persuade you somehow to let your guard down with me, and maybe that will get you to let him in." God, it absolutely kills me to do this for him. That motherfucker wouldn't give me a sip of water if I were dying in the desert, and here I am, trying to fix his marriage for him. It's like a razor sharp knife slicing right through my gut.
"That's all I can think of too," she whispers. "And it sounds insane."
I hug her harder. "I know," I say. And now I have to add this little pearl. "And we somehow have to convince the bl-...your husband to allow it."
"I should be able to do that," she says uncertainly.
"Are you sure?" I ask, doubtful.
"No," she answers.
I chuckle slightly, though nothing is funny at all. "Do you want to call him?" I ask. "Or would you rather I took you home?"
"To Charlie's?" she asks, sounding hopeful and surprised at once. Aw, Bells.
"No, honey. To your husband."
"Oh." I remember how she called where she currently lives 'the Cullen's house.' She's been living there two months and she doesn't even consider it her home. She still thinks of Charlie's house as home, and that's just sad. "Yeah, this is probably a conversation I have to have in person, right?"
I shake my head, chuckling again. Still nothing is funny, but I can't help it. The thought of her asking Cullen if this will be okay with him just strikes me as completely absurd. What's she going to say? 'Oh, Edward, I hope you don't mind, but I've decided to let Jake make love to me several times to make me more comfortable with the whole process. That okay with you?' And what will his answer be? 'Sure, Bella, go nuts. I'll be here when you're ready. Have fun'? Good God, I was going crazy.
"Yeah, I guess," I answer with a little grin in my voice. She looks up and frowns at me.
"It's not funny, Jake," she says moodily.
"I know, Bells. Sorry," I say contritely. "It isn't funny, you're right. But it is ridiculous."
She shrugs. "Everything about this situation is ridiculous." she says, sighing.
Something occurs to me suddenly. "Hey, uh...he doesn't know you're not a virgin, does he?" I ask.
She shakes her head, looking up at me regretfully. "No, he'd feel even worse if he knew I'd done it before, especially with you." Now she lets out a little chuckle. "I'm pretty sure he thinks half the problem is the fact that I'm still a virgin." She stops to think for a minute. "You don't think he'll be able to figure it out, do you?" she asks fearfully.
I shake my head. "I don't think so. He's never done it before, has he?" I ask.
"He says he hasn't," she says.
"So he's got nothing to compare it to," I say. "Don't worry." But the thought sticks at the back of my mind. I think of Shea again, and the thought takes me completely by surprise. I guess the reason she pops to mind is because Bella was a virgin - well, we both were - the first time we went all the way, but Shea wasn't. I try to think if there was a noticeable difference, but can't really come up with one.
I guess my face changes, because Bella suddenly asks accusingly, "What are you thinking about?" It pulls me out of the moment, and I blink back to the present.
"Nothing," I answer, only a little guiltily.
She stares into my eyes for a minute, then, seemingly satisfied, she puts her head back on my shoulder. "Well, we should probably get going. I'm sure he's waiting for me."
"You know he is," I agree. "You wanna shower? I'm going to take one, and you can go after me if you want."
"Then I'll go first," she says, getting up and heading for the bathroom.
"Ohhh-kay," I say quietly to the empty room. I hear the water start and the bathroom door close.
It's the first time I've really been alone since Shea left. I take the opportunity to think about her and how shitty the breakup was. It seemed like it was almost a surprise to her, and I feel like a complete tool because of it. I want to call her, but I don't want Bella to hear. On the other hand, if our idiotic plan works, I'll be with Bells a lot more, and now might be the only time I'll have a chance to talk to Shea. But what would I say? I've already apologized. I can't really say anything to make Shea feel better. I realize that I want to call her more for me than for her - it will make me feel better, but might not do a thing for her. Might even make her feel worse. I can't think of anything I can say that would help the situation. In the end, I don't call her. I might feel worse, but at least she won't.
I do text Seth, though. I have him come over and he gets there just as Bella gets out of the bathroom. He and Bella sit down at the kitchen table and commiserate as I take my shower. I'm in and out pretty quick, not wanting to linger because when I get in, I remember how Shea and I used to shower together every day. It makes me kind of sad, so I get out of there fast.
When I get back into the kitchen, Bella and Seth seem tense. "What's up?" I ask curiously. Seth looks at me guiltily and Bella turns on me, angry.
"Why didn't you tell me you saw Edward last night, Jacob?" she demands.
Immediately, my gaze shifts to Seth and I stare daggers at him. "Thanks, Seth," I spit, annoyance clear in my tone.
"Sorry!" he rushes to say. "How'd I know you didn't say anything?"
I give him a dirty look and turn to Bells. "Okay, so I saw the leech last night. What's the big deal?" I ask belligerently.
"I just wish you would've told me," she says, dejected. The room is quiet for a few beats, then she looks up at me. "Was he okay?" she asks, her eyes huge.
I look away, shaking my head. I can't look at her, can't see that expression of longing and despair on her face. Before I think, I bite out the first words that enter my head. "No, he looks like shit Bells. He was about like you'd expect." My words trail off as I look back at her. She's staring at me, horrified, and Seth's face shows how disgusted he is with me, too. Rather than apologize for the umpteenth time today, I decide to try a different tack. With a jesting tone, I grin and say, "But I'm sure he'll be waiting so we should get a move on."
Her look says she knows I'm trying to put her off, but she lets it go and I breathe a sigh of relief as she says, "Okay. Am I going wolf-back riding again or are we driving?" She gives me a little smile.
"No, we'll take my ride," I say. I take the motorcycle keys off the hook on the wall and follow Bella and Seth out the door. As we walk, I grab Seth's arm. "Hey, don't go too far. I still haven't heard the conversation between Charlie and the leech from last night. I'm gonna want you around after I drop Bells at the crypt, okay?" I tell him softly.
He nods silently, keeping an eye on Bella as he walks. She's waiting by my cycle, and I straddle it and settle my helmet as she climbs on behind me. I try not to think about how amazing it feels to have her wrapped around me like this. Her arms hug my sides as her hands absently stroke my stomach, feeling the ripples of muscle there. She always does this when she's on the back of my bike. I guess I just thought that after she was married, it would stop. I'm incredibly thankful that it hasn't.
I take the curves much faster than I normally would with a passenger, only because I know it will drive her to embrace me tighter, press herself more firmly into my back. It's a poor excuse for a real embrace, but I take what I can get. Just like a dog begging for scraps.
I toy with the idea of taking the long way to the mausoleum, but I know Bella would figure it out right away, and probably get mad. Instead I just take my time, hiking myself back on the bike periodically so she's forced to squeeze into me tighter. I'm blissful as I ride, but in the back of my mind there's a melancholy, a bittersweetness. I'm thinking about what we have planned, and how I'm almost positive that the bloodsucker will put the kibosh on it. I mean, I'd never let my wife go off with some horny shifter, let alone one who looked and acted like me. The thought gives me a little grin, even though there isn't anything really amusing about it.
After what seems like only a few minutes, we pull into the ridiculously long drive of the Cullen coven. I approach the house nervously; according to the treaty, this isn't acceptable or allowed. And of course, just as I suspected, there stands Cullen in the clearing, still pacing like an expectant father with the clap.
"Bella!" he calls desperately. Jeez, dramatic much? I roll my eyes as Bella carefully climbs off the bike. "Love, I was so worried..." As he speaks, he moves toward her as if to catch her up in a hug.
She stops him with a palm-out hand gesture. "Hold on, Edward," she says in a warning tone. "There are some ground rules here that we need to follow."
I want to cheer. This is the Bella I know and love: feisty and sassy, not taking shit from anyone. That's the way she behaves with me - why should he get special treatment? I feel my face stretch into a grin, watching as Bella scowls at him. It's like seeing a kitten stare down a gorilla.
"Ground rules?" he asks incredulously. "Bella, you've been gone all night! This is highly inappropriate behavior for a married woman!"
Bella doesn't bat an eye. "I'll decide what's inappropriate," she says mildly. "I think you telling my father that you have the right to choose my friends is inappropriate. You don't have that right. No one does."
I watch him carefully. He's furious, but he's doing a good job of trying not to show it. I wonder if Bella can see it. It's in the very subtle way he holds his frame so tensely, the way his mouth is set. I want to warn her, but I can't really say anything.
His eyes flick to me, disgusted. He hears my thoughts and I can see his effort as he visibly relaxes. I continue to watch, and think at him that he should watch himself, because I'm not leaving until Bella tells me to. He nods once; he hears me.
If Bella notices the exchange, she doesn't acknowledge it. She brushes her hair out of her eyes, and in this gesture I see how vulnerable she is, how young and innocent. I want to take her away, far away, and hide her from that son of a bitch forever. I have to try - really hard - not to move toward her. It goes against everything in me not to protect her, and I know her bloodsucker husband can read my thoughts. He ignores me, though. He stares straight at her while I work on blanking my mind.
"Bella, I'm very sorry I said that," he says. He sounds sincere. "I know that's not my right. But you know how I feel about the dog." He looks at me maliciously.
"Don't call him that!" she cries, suddenly angry. I love that she's defending me, and I can't help but notice that she allows me to call that douche whatever disparaging name I can think of, but she objects if he calls me a dog. It's only a vague feeling of approval though. I know I can't put the thought into words or he'll be able to read it. He doesn't seems confused by my cocksureness, though. He seems to know why I'm pleased by Bella's declaration.
She continues. "That's part of the problem, Edward! You have to let me have my friends! Jake and I have been close for years. He's a friend of the family. We'll always be close, no matter what you do."
Okay, I guess I should come clean on one little point. See, when the tool standing in front of my girl left, supposedly to 'protect' her, and she and I got together, we kept a few things secret from the coven. And while it's extremely difficult to keep things from this particular leech, it's not impossible. Charlie never really knew how deep our relationship had grown, so Cullen couldn't pull it out of his head. And if any of the pack members thought of my relationship with Bella, I'm pretty sure the parasite would think it was all very one sided - on my side only. Cullen never knew of the extent of our affair, either emotionally or physically. This is why Bella is now able to facetiously explain away our friendship without Cullen catching on that what we really had was true love. I know it sounds lame, but there it is.
"I understand that, Bella," he says wearily. "And I will agree to it, but I'd like to set a few guidelines myself." He turns to me. "Can my wife and I possibly have a few moments of privacy, d...Jacob?" He says this in a tortured tone, as if I've somehow offended his elite vampire sensibilities. I chuckle derisively.
"You gonna be okay, Bells?" I ask.
"I'll call you in a few hours," she tells me. I can tell the leech doesn't like this, but he doesn't protest now.
"Okay," I say. I turn and mount the bike, spraying a fantail of gravel at him as I peel down the driveway.
As I ride home, I think about the fact that I don't really like that I have to leave her there, but I guess there's no other way to do this. Again, I'm afraid to hope for the outcome we've planned - I think to myself that it will be both amazingly cathartic and heartbreakingly tortuous. Cathartic because maybe if I have the opportunity to make love to her again, knowing it's limited, I can begin to let go of her and heal. Tortuous, because I know it will be agonizing for me to make love to her knowing it's all for him and that she's going back to him. UGH! But...it's for Bella. I can't deny her anything. But I also can't even stomach this. I pull to the side of the road just in time to yank the helmet off my head and puke violently in the gravel. After I'm through, I lean wearily against the bike at the side of the road. Man, this is gonna suck.
I still haven't talked to Seth about the encounter between Charlie and Bella last night – or Charlie and the leech, for that matter - and thinking this might give me some insight into the relationship so I'm better equipped to help her, I send a terse text to Seth asking, 'You home?'
It only takes him a second to answer. 'Yep,' he replies. 'Come on by.'
I drag myself to my feet and grab my helmet off the shoulder of the road where I tossed it just before I tossed my cookies. I go slow as I ride to Seth's, not wanting to hurl again. I think if I just got a glass of water, it would help settle my stomach. When I pull up in front of the little house where the Clearwaters live, I'm relieved to see that Leah, Seth's sister and the only female pack member, and Sue, his mom, aren't home.
I pull the door open and find Seth waiting for me at the kitchen table. His eyes cloud with concern as he looks up at me. "Jesus, dude, you look like shit," he says.
I sit heavily in a chair and rest my elbows on the table. "I know," I say. "I just left Bella at the Cullen crypt."
"Oh," he says knowingly. "Boy, she's pretty fucked up, huh?"
"Yeah, what did you hear anyway?" I don't really want to know, but I feel like I need to. So to torture myself further, I ask.
He sighs, one corner of his mouth twisting in a sneer. "Well, she talked to Charlie when you were confronting Cullen," he says. "She didn't come out and say that he was beating her or anything, but you'd never know from the way Charlie was reacting."
"Why is that?" I ask listlessly.
He gets up and fetches me a glass of water without even asking. "Well," he says, "he asked her how things were going and she said, 'Okay, I guess.' He latched on to that, wanting to know what that was supposed to mean. He directly asked her if he was hurting her and of course she got all cranky and said no. But he kept on pushing and told her finally that he wanted to hear from her at least every other day and see her at least once a week. But she seemed to think that Cullen wouldn't let that happen."
"What!?" I'm annoyed, to put it mildly. Where the fuck does that bloodsucker get off telling her who she can call and when? God, he is so controlling!
"That was right before you came back. That's why Charlie was so pissed when you joined us again. He was losing it, Jake, I swear."
"Who wouldn't be?" I mutter. We're silent for a few minutes. I feel better after I down the water and get that dank taste out of my mouth. Then I say, "So then what happened? After Bells ran out?"
"Charlie started in on Edward, and he wouldn't let Cullen get a word in. He was more pissed off than I've ever seen him, seriously, Jake. Swear to God, if he'd had his gun, the vamp would have a hole in his chest as we speak."
"Good," I say shortly, wishing fervently that Charlie had pulled his gun on him.
"Yeah, so he told Cullen that Bella has a right to see him and to see you. He specifically named you, because when Bella was talking to Charlie, she said she misses you." He looks at me carefully, watching for my reaction.
"I know she misses me," I say. "Why do you think she calls me so much?"
"Well, Charlie told him to let her see you if she wants to. Told him it wasn't healthy to keep her all locked away, no matter what they were doing."
I shake my head. "What they're doing," I mutter, "is so disturbing, Charlie would yank her out of there if he knew about it."
Seth looks disgusted. "Did she share anything else? Tell you exactly what he's…doing to her?"
"No, and I honestly don't want to know any more details, Seth. The whole thing is so disturbing I can't even think about it. Fuckin Cullen."
There's a prolonged silence. Finally Seth asks, "So you took her back there, huh?"
I scrub a palm over my face, frustrated. "Yeah," I answer with a sigh. "She's got a…proposal for him."
One of Seth's eyebrows raises quizzically. "Proposal?" he asks.
"Aw, God, Seth, you don't wanna know," I say.
"That's what's got you so fucked up, isn't it?" he rightly concludes. I just look at him with a slow blink. "What are you gonna do, Jake?"
I huff a humorless chuckle. "Well, she says she can't fuck the guy because she doesn't trust him. So, like the sap I am, I offered to…try to get her to that point where she can trust him again. So she can love her vampire all the way, y'know?"
Seth's mouth drops open and he stares at me like I'm crazy. Oh, Seth, you don't know the half of it. "Wait, what are you saying?" he asks. He shakes his head fast, like he doesn't get it. "Are you telling me what I think you're telling me? You're gonna try to get her used to fucking a vampire?"
I shrug.
"You gotta be fuckin kidding me," he says. I can't tell what's disgusted him more; the actual plan or the fact that I'm such a chump. "You...you..." He can't put a sentence together, he's so flabbergasted at my admission. Finally he looks up at me and says, "What?!"
I shrug again, making a helpless gesture with my hands. "What can I do?" I ask him. "She needs me."
Seth is pissed, and that isn't something that happens easily. He erupts violently, standing up and letting the chair fall behind him. "What she needs is to cut the shit!" he yells, banging the table for emphasis. "What the fuck, Jake? She left, she married that bloodsucker. I don't have anything against the guy as a person, but...Jesus, Jake!" He stands over me, his chest heaving. He's really wound up. He shakes his head again, his eyes furious. "And what about Shea? How d'ya think she'll feel about this?"
"We broke up," I tell him without meeting his eyes, even though he already knows this.
"Yeah?" he snorts. "Does she know that? Because I saw her yesterday afternoon, before I called you, and she didn't seem to know about any breakup."
"There was a misunderstanding," I say, feeling like a piece of dog shit stuck to the bottom of a shoe. "She knows now."
"Really now," he says sarcastically. "Yeah, I guess she does, since we saw her leaving last night while we were guarding the border against your new girlfriend's husband."
"You saw Shea?" I ask. I remember how broken up she looked when she left last night and the guilty feeling comes back.
"Oh, yeah," he says, sarcastic now. "She looked like she was having the time of her life. Sobbing, hysterical. She could barely drive."
I put my head down on the table. "Fuck," I mutter.
Seth rights the chair and sits back down with a long sigh. "God damn, Jake," he says. "You are one fucked up dude."
"Tell me something I don't know," I say. My cell phone buzzes, and I see that it's a text from Shea. 'Can I call u?'
Instead of texting her, I call her back, taking the phone outside and huddling over it so Seth won't be able to hear me. "Hey," I say when she picks up.
"Hey," she answers, and it sounds like a sigh.
"How you doing?" I ask, not knowing what else to say.
"Not great, Jake," she says.
"Sorry," I say regretfully.
"Are you?" she asks. "Because I don't know about that."
"Look, Shea, I don't know what to say," I tell her. "I mean this, it's not fair to you. That's the bottom line. I had to let you go, y'know?"
"Yeah?" she says sarcastically. "You sure it doesn't have something to do with this Bella?"
"Well, it does, in a way. She…kinda needs some help."
"Oh, doesn't that sound convenient!" Shea says sarcastically. "And I guess you're the only one who can help her, right?" I don't say anything. "What about her husband? Why doesn't she ask him for help?"
"He's kind of the problem," I say quietly.
Shea doesn't say anything for a couple of minutes, and I think she might have hung up. "Shea?" I say.
"I'm here. Are…are you saying she's in an abusive relationship?" she asks.
"Um…I don't know if I'd say that," I protest, knowing I can't tell her everything. "I mean, he's controlling, sure. He doesn't want her to see me. He doesn't want her to see her dad because he thinks I might come over while she's there. But I guess that's to be expected with his…type. He's always been kinda possessive."
"Jake! Listen to yourself! You're using words like controlling and possessive! Those are words that describe abusive relationships. Baby, you're in over your head here. Get her some real help and let her heal!"
"She wants me to help her heal," I insist.
Shea's quiet again. "I see," she says in a muted tone. "And what Bella wants, Bella gets - is that it?"
When it comes to me, yeah, I think – but I don't say it. "It's not what she wants, Shea. It's what she needs. And she's close to me. She can't just share her problems with anyone. Even a professional." Wow, is that an understatement.
"Jake, you're just a kid! You can't be expected to help her!"
My face grimaces, perplexed and disturbed all at once. "I'm just a kid?" I ask, dumbfounded. "Is that what you just said?"
"What?" she demands. "You're nineteen years old! You aren't equipped to deal with this!"
If only she knew. If only she knew what I 'deal with' on a daily basis. "Shea," I say quietly, "I know you mean well, but to be honest, you don't really know the real me. I can deal with a lot more than you give me credit for. I lost my mom when I was nine. I've been caring for my dad, mostly by myself, since I was twelve. I take care of…a lot of problems here on the rez. You think of me as this brooding guy who you met on the beach and who you're trying to fix, a guy who works in an auto shop because he can't do anything else - but you don't know me, honey. You don't know the real me." I say this nicely, though I want to spit the words. She truly doesn't know. Because I've never shown her the real me. It's not her fault.
She doesn't answer. Finally she says, "Okay, so when you're done helping her, then what?" She asks this despondently, and if possible, I feel even lower.
I sigh. "I don't know, Shea. I can't see the future."
"Well," she exhales. "I still need to come by and get my stuff. What's your schedule look like tomorrow? I can come by while you're at work."
"It's the same schedule I've had as long as I've known you, Shea. I get to work around 8:30. I come home around five."
"Okay," she says. "I'll be out of there before you come home. I'll leave your key on the table. Okay?"
"You sure you don't need any help?" I ask. I don't know if I'm ready to say goodbye yet.
"I think you have your hands full in the 'help' department," she says acerbically. "I'll see you around, Jake." She doesn't even wait for me to say goodbye. She hangs up and I'm left holding the phone to my ear like a jackass.
My hands fall to my sides as I let my head lean back and look up at the sky, letting out an elongated breath. "Fuck!" I yell, hearing it echo back to me through the trees – 'fuck, fuck, fuck…' I don't understand why I'm so upset. I'm finished with Shea, right? Is it because I know now that Bella is unattainable, and I want to keep Shea in reserve for when Bella is back with the leech?
I drag myself back into Seth's house, and he sneers up at me. "You through dumping the prettiest girl in the area for the fucked up vamp lover?" he asks.
"Shut up, Seth," I answer shortly, sitting down. "I can't help it; you know that."
"I know," he sighs. "So now what?"
"Now I wait. I wait until Bella calls. And I hope she doesn't let me help her. Or else I hope she does. I don't know what to hope."
"God damn, dude."
"I know."
