Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
AN: Hello, all. Just a little timeline reminder here before heading into the chapter. Don't forget - in this, Leah phased BEFORE Sam imprinted and Emily came into the picture. This chapter starts off exploring one particular instant during that time, a time when Leah was herself, when the circumstances surrounding the "before" days she spent with the pack – when she was finding her place – were completely different than what you'd read in a canon fic. Hope you enjoy! :)
Suggested Listening: "Medicine" by Daughter, "Nobody Told Me" by Barzin, "Your Ghost" by Greg Laswell, "Slowly Freaking Out" by Skylar Grey
.
Seven Years Earlier
With a frustrated cry that reached the tops of the forest trees, Embry released an uncharacteristic fury, adrenaline ripping through every protesting muscle in his body as he threw his fist forward.
Releasing a violent shudder, he ignored the searing pain that shot up his arm when it connected with the bark of the weathered conifer in front of him.
Embry's breath caught in his throat, watching as shards of wood flew in what seemed like a hundred different directions.
He tried to swallow back the burning, ignoring the bleeding scrapes on his knuckles, knowing the wounds would be gone before he could give them another thought.
Trying to ignore how it hadn't made him feel much better.
Pushing his battered hand through his hair, Embry fisted the strands and tugged uselessly, hoping maybe a different kind of pain would get rid of the resentment crawling just beneath his skin.
It didn't.
It also wasn't enough to dull his senses, only taking a moment for him to register the scent behind him. A subtle but exhilarant mix of jasmine and sandalwood.
A scent that no one else in La Push had...
"Go easy on the tree, Call. What did it ever do to you?"
Swallowing, he tried to soften his features a little before he turned to face her. To push down the heavy, clawing anger sitting smack in the middle of his chest. The one still making it harder than hell to breathe.
"What are you doing here?"
That time, he felt his feet move. That time, he looked.
Leah was perched on the top of a large tree root, peering down at him skeptically. With a heavy breath she let her fingers trace over the moss weaving its way up the tree trunk, dropping her gaze from his as she stepped down, moving toward him.
"Umm...patrol? Or did you forget you're stuck with me this week?"
Embry held what little breath his lungs contained, and he could feel the tightness dissolve just slightly. It didn't, however, do much for the pounding in his head. The thoughts he always tried to push to the back of his mind – to ignore, because thinking them never did any good.
"I didn't forget," he admitted, swallowing hard as Leah looked up. She caught his eyes again, her face a mixture of detachment and a muted concern.
He stood there, watching her with parted lips, suddenly feeling stupid as she hitched her thumbs in the pockets of ratty cut-off shorts.
"So you want to talk about it?" she asked knowingly, brows high as she let her eyes flick to the damaged tree.
Gritting his teeth together, Embry tore his gaze away, focusing on his shoes instead. Making it a point to keep his eyes there when he stooped, fingers still shaking as he undid the laces.
"Not really," he grumbled, straightening as he lifted his leg, pulling off one shoe. Repeating the action with the other. "We should just get this shift over with..."
Leah sighed, yet she didn't move a muscle as Embry's bare feet pressed into the damp leaves, mud seeping between his toes.
"Well, the way I see it is you can tell me now or I can see it in your head later," she pressed on matter-of-factly. "Your choice. Either way, there's a reason you're putting your fist through full grown trees and walking around like that's perfectly normal."
He tried to keep it from showing on his face – a worn-down exhaustion from a battle he continued to fight, one that had nothing to do with her. One that had nothing to do with the others.
It was his burden to bear. The memories of it – tearful pleas, accusations that hit him in the worst places – floating effortlessly to the front of his mind. Reminding him why...
Suddenly making him painfully aware of the throbbing in his knuckles.
It had been his choice not to tell his mother about the pack's secret – to tell her the story, the legends, and explain to her the role he played. To tell her what he could turn into, thanks to a father he would never know and one she would never reveal. A part of him had wanted to, just to have someone to tell, but his mother was from a different tribe. She was an "outsider", as Sam once said, and protecting the pack's secret was important.
So Embry made the choice to not tell her, one he made for the same reason. A good reason.
At least it had been at the time.
Even if it was getting harder and harder to remember why, because ever since, he had spent almost every damn day dealing with the consequences of that choice.
It was becoming too much.
But it wasn't Leah's problem.
Still, the helplessness he felt buried just behind that dull, insistent ache in his chest wanted a voice. He could feel the words rising in his throat the longer Leah stared at him, her head cocked slightly. Almost like she was waiting for him to speak.
It wasn't her problem, but he wanted to tell her. He wanted her to be that person he could talk to.
Even if there wasn't a single thing she could do about it.
"It's my mom..."
If his barely-audible confession registered somewhere inside Leah, she kept a handle on it, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth holding his gaze with her steely brown eyes. "She giving you shit again?"
Embry could feel the clenching in his chest as he nodded, his blood suddenly burning. "Mostly, it's the same stuff...doesn't believe me when I tell her there's nothing to worry about. She's so fucking determined that there's more to it. That I stay out all night because I'm on drugs or something stupid like that, and it's always the same thing...because I don't listen to her when she grounds me, I don't respect her...all that."
He swore he could hear Leah swallow, despite the several feet that separated them. Still, he didn't wait for her to respond, the words surfacing with a startling insistence. Wanting out.
"But last night, after I got in from patrol, she just went...crazy. Screaming at me, crying...rambling on about losing me too," Embry pushed on, the words coming faster than he wanted. Noticing how with each one he spoke, a tiny amount of pressure lifted from his insides. "Telling me I was the one person in her life she never thought would disappoint her..."
He looked up in time to see Leah's pursed lips part, her brow pulling low between both eyes. "And you believe her, don't you?"
Embry couldn't contain the agitated groan that left his throat. "I don't...want to believe her, but fuck, Leah...a person can only be kicked so many times for the same thing before they start believing the reasons why..."
His words trailed off, and the silence hung thick between them. Embry's ragged, heavy breaths the only sound piercing through it.
After awhile, he couldn't help it. He brought his eyes up, finding Leah's. Searching through those dark irises for any indication that she understood what he was talking about.
She blinked, shutting him out for a split second. Long enough to speak.
Not giving him enough.
"It'll be okay."
Lips parting, the air left Embry's chest. "How do you know?" he asked, selfishly wanting more. Words of reassurance. An explanation of what she meant by such simple words.
Anything.
Leah shrugged lightly, fingers curled into her pockets. "I just...do."
The answer didn't make the emptiness go away, nor the hollowing anger inside him.
He'd wanted more – and it made him angry that she wouldn't give it.
And he hated it.
He hated how all the bullshit with his mother was making him feel. Bitter. Resentful. How despite only being sixteen years old, he was mourning the loss of a life that wasn't that great to begin with. He was never the kind of person who felt sorry for himself, but in the weeks leading up to that moment – even though most of it was done silently – it seemed to be all he knew how to do. The battles with the only person he could call family – someone who didn't understand and refused to trust him in addition to it – wearing him down to nothing.
Making him question what life had given him.
Making him question his role in it.
No one understood. They tried, but it was impossible. Everyone else knew why. Everyone else knew how. Everyone else had families that embraced it, celebrated it. Everyone else had families that knew it all.
And Embry knew Leah. He knew she wasn't very good at talking. At communicating and getting things to come out the way she intended.
It didn't matter though, and it killed him because deep down, he had desperately wanted Leah to understand.
"Nevermind," he whispered, unable to stop his feet as they moved. Turning his back on her. Taking a couple steps, hands moving to the button of his shorts. Preparing to phase without her. To leave her behind.
"Embry!"
The sound of his name falling from her lips made his footsteps fall short, his muscles arguing with a desire to leave. Refusing to let him move.
"Don't walk away from me..."
Closing his eyes, her words pulled at something inside him, twisting his stomach in knots. Sucking a slow, deep breath into his lungs, he held it there before letting it out in a silent rush. Before picking up his feet and turning, his eyes meeting hers.
The insistence on her expression caused his body to freeze in a different way. A concern she saved for very few. For her mother. For Seth. For Sam.
And in that moment, for him.
"I wasn't finished," she murmured, her expression assertive. Her eyes were wide with determination, but her features were set with an understanding that held him captive. "Listen, I know this sucks...I do. None of us asked for this. None of us wanted this life for ourselves, but you know as well as I do that life doesn't give a shit about what we want. It didn't give a shit when your dad decided not to man up and when mine decided to die..."
That time, she took a step forward, the sound of the brush beneath her feet loud in Embry's ears. Her eyes never left his, a strength he could only wish for resonating from them. One she shouldn't have but one she did anyway. It was indistinct, usually disguised by flecks of gold in those dark brown eyes, but in moments like the one they were in – moments where she wanted everyone to know she meant what she was saying – they screamed with sincerity.
"Things might not be the best right now, Embry...but this is what we do," Leah continued, letting her hands fall to her sides. "And it might feel like you're alone right now and fighting some kind of losing battle, but you're not. That's kind of the purpose of having a pack, you know? We can't do this without each other, and we're not supposed to...even if it's hard to let it be that way, and even if we drive each other fucking insane sometimes."
Embry could feel the grin pulling at his lips, fingers curling distractedly around his biceps as he let his gaze rise to the lush canopy covering them. Before letting it drop to once again meet Leah's.
Something in her words making sense. Giving him that reassurance he craved.
Reminding him there was a purpose – that he had a purpose – and even though it was hard to see at times, there were others waiting to remind him who he was.
And that he wasn't supposed to be doing it on his own.
"Did Sam tell you to tell me that?" he murmured tentatively.
Chuckling, Leah crossed her arms in front of her chest instead. "No," she admitted, taking another step forward, peering up at him and giving him a friendly nudge with her shoulder. "But I think you've got that part figured out already...don't think I've forgotten about the night I first decided to join this little freak show."
It was Embry's turn to laugh, the frustration finally dissipating in his chest. Lifting a weight from his body.
"Your mom will understand someday, you'll see," she said from behind him, her voice fading as she pushed farther into the forest. As he closed his eyes...
"But until then, just know what we're doing...you're meant to. And the people who matter get it. If she tosses you out on your ass, so be it...because we're still here and we'll pick you back up if she does. We'll remind you why it was worth it..."
.
Embry's fingers wrapped tightly around the small glass sitting on the counter in front of him. Releasing a destitute breath, he brought it to his lips, letting the flaming liquid fill his mouth before swallowing it. Letting it burn for a split second as the alcohol spread through his stomach.
It was a fire that disappeared much too soon.
One that felt similar to the night before...
It was safe to say he lost himself somewhere. Between a few gazes that lasted too long. An unexpected brush of her fingers on his. The way her body moved beneath low lights, her eyes found him in the crowd. Calling to him.
Almost like she was saying it was all for him and he'd be stupid to feel otherwise.
Holding him in place. Calling him back.
The same way they always did.
But somehow, he'd seen what he wanted to see. He let himself be pulled under. He let himself give in to Leah.
To the absence of her.
He allowed himself to hang on, trying to keep her there. Trying to keep her with him in a way that did neither of them any good...at least not at that point.
Yet in a way he never knew he wanted as much as he did.
And he'd gotten lost...
In a way he wasn't sure he wanted to be saved.
He let himself burn...in an entirely different way.
And it felt right.
The way that fire filled an emptiness within. One that had been there since the day she left.
The way, for a split second, Embry Call had felt complete.
He'd always been drawn to Leah. He'd always noticed her, but never the way he had the night before. It wasn't anything as profound or consuming as an imprint – he knew what that felt like through Sam, Jared and the others.
But it was irrefutable...how it had felt to him.
Like her soul – every part of it, animal and woman – had reached out to him. Needed him. How he responded with an anticipation he hadn't counted on. One he wasn't able to resist. Not when so much time had passed. Not when he'd always wondered what it would feel like.
How those same parts of him had needed her just as much.
And the way his mouth felt on hers – better than it had the first time. The feel of her flesh beneath his hands. Her scent...so potent, so intoxicating he couldn't think straight. What it did to his body.
It soothed those same parts. It soothed the beast inside him in a way he never expected, almost like it had finally found a part of him he was missing.
It felt right...
Up until it wasn't.
Up until the man inside him realized it wasn't the same for her. That maybe it had been but she just wanted him to think something else.
Regardless, he didn't know...and he suddenly found himself wanting to stop. He couldn't explain why he didn't want to go through with it, fighting every primal instinct inside him because after everything that happened – after everything she inadvertently let him see – he still felt she deserved better.
That they deserved better than some quick fuck on her kitchen counter.
He wanted it to be more than that.
The second his feet hit the concrete outside Leah's apartment, he walked until he lost track of time, letting a rush of grateful air escape his lungs when he finally saw a taxi. When it pulled to a stop at the curb, he fell into the backseat, still reeling, telling the driver to take him as far outside of the city as he possibly could.
The driver didn't understand, but shrugged anyway, turning and pulling onto the street.
Embry sat there, unable to move, watching the bright red numbers tick on the meter. Not caring this trip was going to cost him a small fortune.
The taxi driver stopped somewhere off the interstate outside of the city – past all the suburbs – and Embry had no idea where he was. Stumbling from the vehicle, he was thankful for only a few things.
Fields.
Empty fields.
The absence of city lights.
No one around to see.
Embry barely waited until the taxi's red taillights disappeared before he turned, pushing between stalks of corn. Ignoring how foreign it felt against his skin as his fingers moved desperately, ripping his shirt from his body. Everything else following, carelessly left behind him before he crouched low to the ground, his body unfurling as bones and muscles shifted. As they realigned. Elongating before he landed back on the soft dirt, a deafening growl ripping from canine lungs and four legs already running for everything he was worth.
It was like scratching an itch he hadn't been able to reach. For almost a week, the city hadn't allowed him this. It made it impossible, and in that moment – where so many things were threatening to consume him from the inside out – he needed it. More than anything else.
It was a part of who he was. Something he couldn't deny and never had.
At least not after that moment. The one seven years ago where he so desperately needed someone to understand. When he was in the middle of questioning everything he stood for.
Not after her words. Ones that somehow had managed to elude him until that moment.
Ones he hated himself for not remembering sooner. For not seeing the significance.
He couldn't get it out of his head. All of it – the feel of Leah's fingers digging into his arms, her eyes pleading. A voice that reminded him too much of the one he heard in his head years earlier...the first night she phased and asked him to stay without speaking the word.
"Please..."
A voice that reminded him too much of his own, back when he was sixteen and confused and angry and in danger of losing himself completely.
When all he'd needed was someone to understand.
And he did understand, but she wouldn't let him show it. She kept pushing him away, refusing to give him a choice...
No...
He had a choice.
The way her shoulders heaved, the way her chest fought to catch her breath, her entire body trembling viscerally beneath what he could only assume was an urge to phase. An urge she did nothing but fight, a family she continued to run from...an instinct she had spent six years separated from, and one she still couldn't ignore. One she still couldn't get a handle on...
The way her face echoed it all when she finally turned away.
He remembered it – and it killed him, because it was then he knew – even if it took him entirely too long to figure it out.
She was alone. She had been alone the entire time. She could tell him everything she wanted to about having friends and creating some big new life for herself, but Embry had seen it. He had felt it when a dull pain shot up both arms, caused by the way her fingernails pressed into his flesh.
Not in a way that was a side effect of the heat they were both lost in...
In a subconscious attempt to keep him there. To keep him from walking away.
We can't do this without each other, and we're not supposed to...
He remembered her words, and he'd seen how he failed her.
The night he left her in her kitchen. When he let her leave in the bar. When she got into that taxi outside the restaurant and drove away.
When she stood in front of him, broken, vulnerable, and alone...
He'd still failed her...just like the rest of them.
Just like Sam.
The taxi had waited for him at the rest stop like he'd asked the driver to. Embry's skin had finally stopped crawling, his body only somewhat satiated by the run, but his head was still a mess. Once he was back in his hotel room, more than a hundred dollars poorer, he collapsed on his bed. He collapsed, but he didn't sleep. He drowned in the silence, running it all through a loop in his head.
Trying to figure out what the hell he was going to do to fix it.
It was mid-afternoon by the time he ventured out into the scorching summer daylight. He walked that time, feet despondently pressing against pavement as he made his way to God knows where, but not surprised when they eventually took him to a vaguely familiar place miles away.
A bar occupying a busy street corner in a neighborhood he already knew was hers.
The same one he'd went to the week before – a tip from the girl at the front desk.
Where he'd seen Leah for the first time in years.
And it made sense why he ended up there. A futile hope that maybe when he walked in, she'd be there too.
She wasn't, but Embry allowed himself to stay anyway, sliding into a seat at the almost-empty counter and ordering a glass of nothing but whiskey. Something he couldn't stand the taste of but needed anyway.
"Need another?"
Looking up, Embry's gaze fell on the man behind the bar, who was wiping his hands on a towel and peering at him expectantly.
Taking a deep breath, Embry have him a half-hearted nod. "Sure."
The man moved to the well where he'd placed the bottle containing the same liquor Embry had just consumed. As he grabbed a fresh glass, filling it with ice, he looked back to Embry while he poured. "You from around here?"
Leaning his forearms against the bar, Embry stared at his empty glass. "Nope," he replied curtly. "Just in town on business."
"Awesome, man," the bartender quipped, setting the bottle back on the bar. Grabbing the full drink, he took the steps needed to reach Embry, sliding it across the counter until it met his eager fingers.
"I'm Kyle..."
Looking up, Embry nodded as he let his hand lift, firmly grasping the other man's as he shook it. "Embry."
Taking a step back, Kyle crossed his arms in front of his chest, leaning against the counter behind the bar. "I've seen you in here before though."
Swirling the alcohol in his glass, Embry let his head bob, watching the man with resignation. "Maybe...I was in here last Friday."
"I remember," Kyle replied. "You were with Leah, right?"
Embry's stomach wrenched, lips parting slightly at Kyle's recollection. "You know her?"
A small smile pulled at Kyle's lips. "Yeah, I know her..."
Embry wasn't sure what kind of look was on his face, but whatever it was, Kyle let a chuckle escape his throat. "Not like that, man. Don't want you to think anything is going on if you two are...you know..." His words halted, the smile drooping slightly on his mouth as he searched for his next ones.
It was Embry's turn to release an ironic laugh, shaking his head before taking a drink from his glass. "It's not like that. I've known her forever, but...we pretty much grew up together."
"Huh..." By that point, Kyle had let his gaze travel up, his mouth opening and closing, almost like he was trying to decide whether or not he should ask whatever question was on his mind.
He did anyway.
"So what's her story?"
Frowning, Embry turned the glass between his thumb and fingers. "What do you mean?"
Kyle sighed. "Well, she's been coming here for...a long time. I'd say we're friends, but I'm not even sure I could call it that. But she's here a lot and I pay attention, and there's just something...different about her."
Swallowing thickly, Kyle's assessment of Leah didn't surprise him in the least. No matter what had happened, he'd seen it too, especially in the past week. Despite what she was going through, and despite what she allowed herself to think, she still had something that surrounded her. A presence that commanded attention.
He asked anyway, wanting to hear it from this guy. Wanting the insight of someone who'd only known a version of Leah that Embry couldn't quite wrap his head around.
"What do you mean by different?"
Kyle shrugged. "Well, I stopped trying to get to know her a long time ago. She never wants to talk, but...I still kind of look out for her when she's here. She always comes in alone, but rarely ever leaves alone..."
The words settled like a fucking rock in Embry's stomach, his mind automatically drifting back to the night before. To hot breath on his ear and a command whispered unforgivingly against his skin.
Just fuck me...
They still burned on the edges of his mind.
"But she ran into you and didn't leave with you, so I guess that's why I remember you..." Kyle continued, pushing himself off the bar. "I don't know...I guess I just worry about her. She'll come in and she just...sits here. By herself. Doesn't talk to anyone until she finds whatever it is she's looking for."
Embry swallowed thickly, already knowing the answer to the question he was going to ask. "Which is...?"
Kyle shrugged, leaning over and pulling a couple six-packs out of the back cooler. "Depends on the day."
Grimacing, Embry couldn't help it when he shook his head, his fingers curling around his glass. "She's not like that, man," he murmured insistently, trying to keep away the protective anger already seeping into his voice.
Kyle threw his hands up, taking a step back at whatever look it was Embry was giving him. "Hey, that's not what I'm saying," he replied quickly. "No judgment here. She's nice to me and she tips well, and that's all my job allows me to care about." Lowering his hands, he took a step forward, watching Embry cautiously.
Looking down, Embry realized his own hands were trembling. The blood in them simmering beneath his skin.
"So what are you saying then?"
"Hell, man, I don't know...just making conversation," he said quietly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I guess I was just kind of hoping you were an actual friend of hers. It's just...she used to talk, back in the day. Before it got bad, and I know she doesn't have anybody...and I know she's better than the guys she finds in this place. And I know why she does the things she does...loneliness is a pretty easy thing to spot when you've been doing this as long as I have."
Taking a deep breath, Embry closed his eyes, that last piece of a puzzle he'd been trying to figure out all day – all week – finally falling into place. Kyle's words – a confirmation of something Embry pretty much knew all along – only solidifying that knowledge.
But it wasn't that. It wasn't the other men. It wasn't the fact she had turned to sex to substitute the real, tangible presence of others in her life, even if he hated that's what it had come to.
It wasn't that...
It was how she must have been feeling inside – how fucking lonely she was, the pain and regret she still hung onto, and how little she thought of herself – to think that was how much she was worth.
And that killed him more than anything else.
"She's not alone."
Embry meant it, and it hadn't taken Kyle to help him see it.
It was something he'd been trying to show her since his eyes fell on her just inches away from where he sat.
Don't walk away from me, Embry...
But he'd failed at that too.
Just like all the guys she had picked up in a bar that no longer felt comforting to him. That no longer felt like a place he would come to find her.
He hadn't gone after her. He hadn't refused to move.
He'd given her exactly what she wanted.
Just like they had.
Every single time she asked him to he'd done it. He'd walked away, thinking there was nothing he could do to change her mind. Thinking that maybe she would come around eventually.
He was wrong. He knew that now.
And he knew what it was going to take. What he needed to do.
Because every single person in Leah's life had walked away from her when in reality, all she needed was someone to push her. To pull her back. Kicking and screaming, if they had to.
To be there.
To make her see, even if she didn't want to.
Because he knew that deep down, she did. That she knew what she wanted. What she needed.
That she'd asked him not to walk away – again – without speaking a single word.
That she was better than what she let herself believe.
That the woman who once held the person she used to be – that held what she was higher than everything else – still resided in there somewhere.
And it was his job, as a member of her pack, to help her remember where she belonged.
And it was his job – as a man – to make her see the woman she still was.
One he couldn't forget.
One he couldn't leave behind...not anymore.
Pushing the glass away, Embry leaned back in the barstool, reaching for his pocket. "How much do I owe you?"
Kyle shook his head. "It's on me, bro."
Managing a small smile, Embry pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. "Thanks, man."
"No problem." Kyle took another step forward, both eyebrows lifting. "You should come back later though. It's Thursday...the company here's usually better than me." As soon as his mouth closed, the corners of his lips pulled up in a small, knowing smile.
Nodding, Embry threw a five-dollar bill on the bar.
"I'll keep that in mind."
Autumn Gallagher really wished the phone would stop ringing.
It had been ringing all fucking day. Everyone wanting to talk to Leah, more so than a normal day.
And of course, she wasn't there.
Autumn wasn't sure what was going on. Leah never took sick days, and even though she had kept a watchful eye on the crowd at the concert the night before, she'd lost track of Leah early.
She wondered if something had happened. If they'd left.
Because that flawless example of a man she had with her would have been terribly hard to not spot in a crowd.
Chuckling to herself, Autumn rocked back in her chair. Taking a deep breath, she felt her cheeks blush like a damn teenager. Silently relishing the moment she saw the voicemail light blink on the phone.
It soothed her extremely annoyed ears and that small, throbbing headache she could feel starting just above her right eye.
But it didn't get rid of her worry.
Leah never took a sick day. Ever.
In fact, Autumn was pretty sure she wasn't even capable of getting sick.
But she'd seen her the night before, and something was definitely wrong. She was tense. Wound up. Something clearly eating away at her.
And Autumn worried.
She always worried when it came to Leah Clearwater.
Because for someone as beautiful and successful and tough as her boss, that sadness in her eyes just never seemed to go away. It didn't just sit there – it screamed.
Until she looked at him.
That tall drink of water who couldn't keep his eyes off Leah either.
And Autumn noticed.
But she didn't notice the footsteps approaching her desk, the shadow fall over its surface, when that fucking phone started ringing again.
Groaning, her mind was jerked back to the present, her body doing the same as it sat upright in her chair, leaning forward. Reaching out for the receiver.
Finally noticing the person standing in front of her desk.
Her eyes raised slowly, lips parting. Fingers frozen, poised over the trilling phone.
Eyes raking unabashedly up a frame she'd like to reach out and touch just once...
But she didn't, the ringing phone long forgotten.
Instead, she opened her mouth further and let the words tumble out.
"Holy crap...it's you."
She wasn't sure what time it was.
She wasn't even sure how much time had passed.
All Leah knew was there was a brilliant orange glow peeking through the drawn curtains of her bedroom window, indicative of a setting sun and marking the passing of another day. Fighting its way into the darkness of the place she'd been since the night before.
At least that's how long she thought it had been...
She had plenty of time to think. Plenty of time to bury herself beneath the covers on her bed. Plenty of time to lie awake and stare at the ceiling.
Plenty of time to bring up moments from a past she had spent six years trying to forget.
Searching...
For what she wasn't quite sure.
She searched anyway, trying to figure out where she went wrong. Trying to find a source to feelings she didn't want and didn't understand.
Stuck in some weird place she didn't recognize.
Embry hadn't come back. He'd done exactly what she wanted and hadn't come back.
And a part of her hated him more for that than anything else.
For the fact that she could still feel everything...
Every fucking thing.
It hadn't gone away. The numbness that usually came after was nowhere to be found. Coupled with trembling fingers that she couldn't seem to get a handle on, it was almost like a dam somewhere had broken. Somewhere inside her, letting out everything she had forbid herself to feel for the better part of six years.
Forcing herself to see the person she used to be.
Forcing herself to see the person she had turned into. Someone she didn't recognize.
She saw it all. Everything, lined up in neat little rows, seeing everything she once possessed. Everything she lost. Everything she had tried to forget. Everything she hadn't allowed herself to feel.
Everything she had ran from, refusing to face. Refusing to overcome.
Everything she had allowed herself to believe. About her life. About herself.
And she remembered all the things she felt only hours earlier...before it all went wrong. Before she pushed Embry away. The way his lips felt on her skin, the way his hands moved across her body.
The way those eyes looked at her. The way they had always looked at her.
A look that took her that long to notice...
The way it made her feel...
He had done it.
Embry had done it.
And she wanted it. Still. More than anything.
She wanted it forever...
But it didn't matter. None of it did, because as every single thought cycled through her hazy mind, bringing everything to the surface, refusing to let her move, it only reinforced one thing.
That Leah knew better than anyone that forever didn't mean a thing.
She needed to move...
She would prove she didn't need it.
She would prove she didn't need him.
She would prove to herself – and Embry, wherever he was – that she would be fine. That life would be fine just the way it was.
She would prove this panic rising in her gut – one she couldn't seem to shake at the thought of never seeing Embry again, at him going back to La Push and taking everything but the storm inside her with him – was a figment of her imagination and a product of fear.
Drawing in a deep breath, Leah sat up, surveying the room as her bare feet hit plush carpet. As she stood, turning and making her way to the bathroom, she had to remind herself to put one foot in front of the other.
She knew where she needed to be. What she needed to do.
Even if she couldn't ignore the small part of her still screaming – still aching – for what she knew she wouldn't find once she got there.
AN: So...thoughts on this? Predictions on what's to come?
Can't wait to hear them! :)
