AN: Thank you everyone for your incredibly kind reviews. They mean a lot.
*****
We awoke to the quiet company of the rain on the roof, our bodies twined together on piles of blankets. Jacob slept deeply even with my body weighing his down, his arms wrapping me to him and the gentle rumbles issuing from his chest unable to keep me from dreams. We slept in, spent a lazy afternoon together, and didn't get back to Forks until late in the evening. The mood abruptly changed as we turned on my street, and Jacob looked at me with a strange desperation once we pulled Emily's car over by the curb at Charlie's front door. I immediately understood.
"Just wait until I go up to bed," I said, "and then come inside and lay beside me until you want to go. It'll be okay." I recognized his panic at being apart because I felt the same thing.
"What if I don't want to go?" Jake whispered to me, his hands heavy on the wheel. I smiled at him and slid beneath his arm, allowing my fingers to trace his jaw as I kissed the hollow under his ear.
"You just can't let Charlie know you're there, Jake. I don't want you to go either." He seemed reassured, pulling me in to his lap and pressing his forehead to mine. We briefly relived our time in the cocoon of last night before breaking apart; it felt for a moment as though the world had ceased moving. I tried to memorize the hot silk of his lips as I waved goodbye and felt a little better. We'd be together again in no time. He puttered off to La Push to return Emily's car and I steadied myself as my thoughts turned to Charlie. I didn't even know how to begin to explain what had happened to the truck. The house seemed dark and foreboding, and I again retreated in to my memories of the previous night. Remembering that I would once again be curled in to Jacob, if fully clothed and spent from fighting with my father, I began the hesitant march up the walk.
Charlie looked shockingly happy to see me when I came through the door. "Hey there," he said, and in spite of his typically quiet demeanor he was glowing. It occurred to me that he may have been hoping a reunion with Jake would ensure my continued presence in Forks, and his life. It made me sad that my father had to rely on romantic machinations for hope in seeing me more often; I had been bad at being a daughter. That was okay, though, or at least it would be, as it looked like I would be sticking around. But after a brief display of standing up, turning down the tv, and talking about the casserole he'd saved for me, his face rapidly fell.
"I'm sorry about the truck, Bella," he said, and I could feel my blush rising along with my pulse. He nodded and continued. "Emily called to tell me you were okay, but I know how attached to it you were—and right after Jake fixed it up, too!" He chuckled. "Well, maybe that means you'll be around a little longer?" His dark, clever eyes looked at me; I was grateful I was wearing a turtle neck.
"It seems that way, Dad," I choked out. I had no idea what Emily had said about the truck, but from his words I hoped I could infer that it was well covered. His expression changed to one of concern when I didn't say more.
"Bells, don't worry about the truck. Accidents happen—it's a little strange that you've had two in such a short amount of time, but the way Emily told it, it seemed that the first one had done more damage than Jake realized. He's a great mechanic, honey, but he's not a magician. She was a goner. Don't worry." He clapped a hand on my shoulder, we both felt awkward, and then we quickly moved in opposite directions. The sports channel grew louder as he gruffly told me good night, and I moved up the stairs and to the shower with break-neck speed. Bathing standing up for two days had taken its toll on me, and trying to get the smell of my last evening out of my hair had been a challenge. If Charlie dared to get closer to me I'd be in trouble, so a shower it was.
The hot water felt heavenly until I turned around and it ran over the lacerations on my back. The stinging reminded me of the remaining conversations Jake and I had yet to have. What happened now? Besides the trimming of obnoxiously long werewolf nails, I laughed to myself. I realized he would probably be waiting for me in my room, and a wave of longing swept my body. Too bad, old girl, I smirked at myself, and I thought of my poor unsuspecting father's explicit wishes that I respect his property. Well, he hadn't mentioned Jake, specifically; in fact, he hadn't said anything about Jake and invitations at all. I deliberated getting dressed, shamed myself, and put on the pajamas I found from a couple nights ago. My body felt tender after the difficult weekend and the long, hot shower, and as I left the bathroom I realized Charlie had gone to sleep. The house was silent, except for the low rumbling snores from his bedroom. As before, I quietly closed the door, and was thankful for Jacob's superior hearing. We needed to figure out where we could meet that would respect Charlie, and in the meantime, I hoped to spare us all some embarrassment.
A futile hope, as it turned out.
Instead, I screamed as soon as I opened the door. The chase I witnessed was completely silent except for the shivering echoes of my scream—the glittering pulse whispering around my walls was barely faster than Jacob. The man-wolf sprung limberly across the room in milliseconds, but would it be fast enough? She said we had a month, a month, my mind repeated numbly and from shock my hand fell, absently turning on the light—it had been here with my father, but she said--that's when they froze.
Jacob's scowling face and Edward's somewhat more pathetic expression greeted me from the low light in my room. I heard Jake swear roughly under his breath and then, so fast I knew any other human would have doubted their own eyes, they were gone.
"Bella!" Charlie was in my bedroom, pistol drawn, in his pajamas. He was breathing just as hard as I was, and I spun to face him with my own hands around my throat. Lie, Bella, I swore to myself. The panic hadn't left me, and I tried to use the adrenaline to my advantage.
"Dad! I'm so sorry--I thought I saw a mouse, or something."
"Well, turn the damn lights up, Bells. You nearly gave me a heart attack." He gave me a look that would have made me laugh if anyone else were the recipient and fiddled with the dimming switch, deftly reholstering his gun with his other hand. In that moment I was so glad he hadn't seen Jake and Edward that I almost forgot I was on the verge of having a heart attack myself. We stared at each other while I took deep, slow breaths. "You sure you're alright, Bella?" He looked at me a little more closely, and I was again awash in gratitude—I had accidentally covered the brutal looking teeth marks with my hands.
"I'm okay, Dad, I'm just wiped out from this weekend. I'm not exactly a country girl." I surprised myself with the smooth lies coming out of my mouth; I'd gotten more accustomed to lying once I started working regularly. Customers had always been full of questions I didn't want to answer, and often took offense to a polite decline, no matter how well phrased; lying was a skill most waitresses cultivated to a greater or lesser degree. I'd never been good at it, so it was strange to find it so easy to deceive my father. Maybe it's being back here, I thought to myself, the panic numbing me; I had always been able to hide the most absurd and blatant truths under the guise of protecting people while I lived in Forks. I frowned momentarily because there were lots of other habits I didn't want to resurface from the past.
That was it. Jake and I needed to get out of this house. We couldn't stay here—and then I stopped short, reviewing what I'd seen. We couldn't do anything, if he was going to bring aggression and violence in to my life, I thought, and then the flame was lit. I could feel my horror and fear stirring together to create something new…fury. Small, but building, the fire prickled my belly and a very different blush rose on my cheeks.
The change of expression didn't escape Charlie. "Bella, did you and Jake…" his voice trailed off as he searched for words. I wasn't quite sure how to rescue him.
"We didn't fight, Dad, don't worry." I could feel myself momentarily brightening at the mention of Jake and I, and realized I didn't need to lie about that—not that details were necessary either, just that Charlie would be happy to hear about us. "In fact we—we kind of made up. I think we're kind of together now."
"Kind of?" He raised an eyebrow. I should have remembered that this was Charlie, not Phil, or Terrence or Renee. 'Kind of' would never be good enough for Charlie's daughter.
"We're together." I nodded my head, and he continued to watch me.
"Is this some boy-friend girl-friend thing?" He said it gruffly, but I could tell he meant well. I laughed at the terminology.
"Well, we're not really in high school any more," I said. "I guess at this point that's a safe way to put it, but it sounds silly." Silly or just…impermanent? Fear sparked in the flames, but I kept my smile from faltering.
"So…together, then."
"Yeah. Let's leave it at that."
He shrugged. "Makes it sound like you're starting a union or something," he muttered, but when he nodded at me I could see the corners of his eyes folding together, the glee behind them leaking out on to his face. I wanted to share his enthusiasm, but the problem that had brought him to my room in the first place was quickly resurfacing. I gave him my best last-call-please-don't-forget-to-tip smile and shrugged.
"Sorry I scared you, Dad. I think I might just leave the light on, okay?"
He shrugged in return and moved towards the door. I couldn't believe how much my father had aged; as he walked away, his pistol peaceably removed from my eye, each step he took seemed to weigh more. New thoughts and old ones about aging stormed my mind again, mixing with the rest. My happiness was so tenuous—it seemed anything could take it away. My fragility…imprinting…time…my humanity, particularly since the partners I chose simply weren't…I waved to him one last time before he closed the door behind himself.
"You are both in serious trouble," I said in a low voice.
