Jacob's POV

Is there anything worse than someone you care about telling you that they are disappointed in you? If there is, I hope to never find out what it is.

I left Bella's feeling even worse than when I had headed there. I didn't expect things to magically be all better once I talked to her, but I had hoped that they would be headed in that direction. I didn't feel like they were. She hadn't even yelled at me. I had fully expected her to.

After phasing back in and having Leah all but tell me she'd told me so, I decided to head out toward Mora Road and see if I couldn't track Paul down there. I felt like crap so the sooner I got this all sorted the better. There weren't a lot of places that Sam would be likely to find a job out along the stretch on the North side of the Quillayute River, so I thought I would be able to track them down; it's not like they were hiding from me or anything.

I stuck to the trees along the North bank of the river and kept an ear out for any sign of construction work in addition to tracking Sam's and Paul's scents. I came across them sooner than I thought, long before James Pond where Emily had said they were. I phased in the tree line behind the acreage they were framing a shed on, and walked out toward them. They both turned to face me before I got within 15 feet of them; I wasn't hiding from them any more than they were from me. Paul visibly bristled as soon as his eyes met mine; Sam looked cautiously between the two of us.

"Not here!" Sam barked as Paul bared his teeth in a challenging growl.

I raised my hands to him in surrender. "I just came to talk, Paul," I started, not having a clue where to go after that. I kept walking forward with my palms forward in placation; if he attacked me I deserved it.

I watched as his nostrils flared and he suddenly relaxed his defensive stance. "You've talked to Bella already?" There was a reason Paul was one of our strongest trackers, that guy could smell things the rest of us just couldn't.

"Yeah, I tried," I assured him. There were only a few feet between us now. Sam looked quickly between the two of us again.

"You two won't kill each other if I leave you to it?" he checked, making eye contact with both of us.

"I just came to talk," I confirmed and Paul gave him a nod. He walked toward his truck parked in the driveway. Far enough away that were we regular guys he'd be out of earshot, but still close enough that he could keep watch over us.

"I didn't go running to her to rat you out," he spat. The thought hadn't even crossed my mind really; sure she'd found out faster than I had anticipated, but I knew she would eventually, so it wasn't really an issue.

"It doesn't matter if you did." I paused to try and find something to say that could possibly make it right. I'd never been good at apologies, but this was worse somehow. "Your nose looks like it will heal alright."

One of the great things about being a wolf was our freaky healing. He looked like he'd been in a fight days ago rather than hours. His hand rose to his face absent mindedly and he nodded. "Yeah," he scoffed.

"Look, Paul, I'm sorry, man. That was really shitty of me. I freaked the fuck out and lost control, and I feel like a complete ass about it," I rambled. I kicked the dirt and studied my fingernails, anything to avoid looking at him. Eventually, I chanced a glance; he shrugged and just stared at me in return.

"You can hit me if you want," I suggested, which made him laugh that stupid horse laugh of his.

"It's not much fun if you give me fucking permission, Black," he chuckled. "Besides, I've got nothing to prove to you. I get it. She's pretty fucking awesome; you don't think I know that?" He took a step toward me, dropping his hammer to the ground as a menacing sneer spreading across his face. "The thing that you don't seem to understand, though, is that she doesn't want you." He stalked closer still until he was right up in my face. "You've put her up on this fucking pedestal, and you worship this perfect version of her in your mind, but you don't have a fucking clue who she actually is. So, why would she want you? You haven't bothered to learn anything about the real her. I get that you think she's worth fighting for—she absolutely is—but I'm telling you right now, Black, that as long as she wants me in her life, that's a fight you're going to lose every fucking time." He punctuated the last few words of his rant with his finger jabbed into my chest. He was practically vibrating as he turned around and stalked back to the shed, picked up his hammer and started working again.

I stood watching for a minute, thinking over everything Paul had said, before turning and heading back the way I'd come. I'd done what I could; now I would have to wait and see how things played out.

Paul was right, I had been so busy seeing in Bella only what I wanted to, that I had missed seeing her for who she really is; what she really wants—which in this case wasn't me, not the same as I wanted her anyway.

Paul's POV

Black was either really stupid or too fucking smart for his own good. I hadn't expected him to show up here, and certainly didn't think he'd keep his fucking trap shut while I laid into him. The weirdest part about his tracking us down here was that I didn't even want to hit him. Not when he was standing there right in front of me anyway. Yeah, earlier I'd wanted to fucking pound the living shit out of him, but after seeing Bella, he didn't matter anymore. She'd shown me that she wasn't about to run off to him when I fucked up. It felt really great knowing that she wasn't planning on going anywhere; that we were together. Her words not mine! I felt like a sappy pansy, but I'd be lying if I said hearing her say it hadn't meant something to me.

Sam walked up after Black turned to head back into the trees. He picked up his hammer and we finished framing the back wall of the shed in silence. I knew it wouldn't last, but it was nice to be left alone to my own thoughts for at least a few minutes.

"So what exactly happened between you two this morning?" he asked, as we started putting up the roof trusses.

"He saw something in my head he didn't like, and decided to let me know." I really didn't feel like re-hashing the whole thing for a third time.

"It doesn't look like you fought back?" The skepticism was easily heard in Sam's voice. It wasn't like me to back down from a fight, and everyone knew it.

"He didn't exactly give me a chance, Sam. He fucking sucker punched me and took off. If I'd caught up to him then I'd probably have killed him," I admitted, "But I can't even fault him for it. I get why he's pissed off. He at least had the nerve to come and face me—and Bella too." I shrugged and passed the next truss up to him on the ladder.

"Things are getting pretty serious between you and Bella," he started. I couldn't help the fucking grin on my face.

"Don't give me any speeches or anything about it. I know I've got to be careful not to fuck it up. Okay, Dad?" I teased him. Sam had this way of getting me to lighten up, it was like fucking voodoo or something, but it always helped. I was continually reminded about how grateful I was that he was still sitting as Alpha.

We fell back into a quiet working rhythm, finishing the roof framing and packing up for the day. We'd come back first thing in the morning to finish it up.

Bella's POV

I had expected a lecture at the very least; I had even thought that Charlie might try to tell me he didn't want me to see Paul anymore. I hadn't expected him to be quite so calm and level headed about the whole thing; he hadn't yelled at all—not that he was generally a big yeller anyway. I really hadn't expected him to make me an appointment at the clinic—I hadn't even thought that far ahead myself. Just the idea of it made me wonder if he had called Renée; it seemed like something she would do more so than Charlie. It didn't seem likely that if he had spoken to her about it that she would have been able to resist calling me to pester me about details though. My mother was not the most patient, nor the most subtle woman on the planet.

The thought of speaking to her about Paul was ridiculously embarrassing, yet I still liked the idea of having someone to talk to about it. I thought again of trying to make a connection with Emily; it really would be nice to have another girl to talk to sometimes.

We sat and ate our dinner in relative quiet, which wasn't unusual; Charlie never had been much for chatting, and he'd already said his quota of words to me for the evening it seemed. That was fine by me, I didn't really have much to say to him either. I was having a hard time imagining my father going into a Family Planning Clinic in the first place, and the longer I thought about it, the more I started to get angry. Instead of talking to me like the adult he claimed he knows I am, he went behind my back and made a decision for me. That was exactly the sort of thing that Edward would have done; exactly the sort of thing that drove me absolutely crazy now.

I thought of trying to bring it up with him but couldn't think of what to say. It wasn't long before he was pushing his chair back and standing up, bringing his plate over to the sink.

"Good dinner, Bells. Thanks," he muttered as he shuffled his way into the living room. The all-too familiar sound of baseball followed shortly after and I knew there would be no hope talking to him about it anymore tonight.

I went to the appointment despite being angry with Charlie for having booked it. It was a good idea; I just wish he had at least let me say something, anything, in my defense. Renée had insisted that I go on birth control before I left Phoenix, but I had let the prescription lapse after Edward had left me. I decided I wasn't going to need it anytime soon anyway, and hadn't bothered to set up an appointment for myself yet.

I managed to switch with Mike for the late afternoon shift which meant I didn't get home until after Newton's closed at 7:00pm. Charlie was already home when I got there.

"Hey kiddo, I picked up some take-out on the way home," he greeted me from his seat in front of the television as I walked in the front door. "It's in here; grab yourself a plate and a fork." I peeled off my wet raincoat and hung it to dry, and kicked off my shoes.

"Thanks Dad, I'm starving," I said, sitting at the couch and scooping chow mien and almond chicken onto my plate. Forks offered limited options when it came to take out—basically pizza or Chinese—luckily the Chinese was actually pretty good.

We sat quietly eating our dinner and watching a dull crime drama on the TV that Charlie scoffed at and picked holes in almost continually.

Must be the Mariners' night off.

I had been seething about how he had treated me since yesterday and when he asked, "Did you get everything sorted today, Bella?" without even looking away from the television; my anger boiled over.

"Oh. You actually want me to talk about this now?" I snapped, staring at him in disbelief; he had some nerve.

He turned to look at me, a shocked look on his face. "Excuse me?" he asked, blinking at my indignant tone.

"Well, you sure weren't interested in hearing what I had to say about it yesterday, Dad," I retorted.

"Bella?" His shock began to fade as his ears started to turn pink. Charlie didn't get mad at me very often, but that was the first sign that he was about to blow his top.

"You didn't let me say anything at all. You just lectured me like a child, and then pretended like it never happened." I tried explaining why I was upset; or at least the first part of why I was.

"Do you think it was easy for me, Bella?" He snarled, slamming his plate down on the side table next to his recliner. "You know what? We aren't having this conversation..."

"Yes, we are." I let my anger fuel me, because I wanted to storm out of there and ignore it myself. I remembered what Paul had said to me as part of his non-apology for his harsh words while I had been tending him.

'You need to stand up for yourself; you need to recognise your own strengths so you can rescue yourself when the time comes.'

"I went to the appointment today —like you told me to—because it was a good idea, Dad. If you had talked to me about it I would have agreed. I didn't need you to make it an order. I'm not a kid anymore, and I need you to stop treating me like one." I rambled, trying to get it all out before I chickened out. I knew my face was nearly as red as his; my cheeks felt hot.

"As long as you're living under my roof, young lady..."

"I do live by your rules!" I interrupted him again. I knew that I wasn't letting him talk, just as he hadn't let me yesterday, but it was the only way I could get through to him. "I let you know where I'm going to be and when I'll be home. You've never given me a curfew, but I always let you know when I'm not going to be home. I know things were rough when Edward left, but have I given you a reason, since then, to not trust me?" I asked.

He took a moment to think it over before answering. "No, Bella, you haven't." he admitted with a heavy sigh, collapsing back into the recliner.

"Then you need to trust that I'm capable of making an informed decision, Dad." I stated simply, hoping that I had gotten through to him.

"I didn't mean to steam-roll you, Bella. It's not the easiest thing for me to do, you know; watch you grow up? I just want to make sure you don't get yourself into trouble," he huffed.

"I always try not to, but you can't protect me from everything. Next time, just talk to me, okay?" I asked, staring at the side of his head since he'd turned away from me again.

"I don't actually want there to be a next time for this, Bella," he stammered, his eyebrows rising so far into his hairline I fought not to laugh at how comical it looked.

"You know what I mean, Dad," I sighed. "If you have something to say to me, you have to be willing to let me have an opinion on it too, Dad." I looked at him expectantly until he turned to face me finally. "Okay?" I asked.

"I'll try Bells," he agreed, looking at me with such a pleading look that I couldn't help but take pity on him. I could never understand how someone who spent his entire career in a position of authority that often meant being in conflict, my father had such a hard time confronting things in his personal life.

"Thanks, Dad."