Alarms will ring for eternity.
The waves will break every chain on me.
My bones will bleach, my flesh will flee.
Help my lifeless frame to breathe.
Epilogue
My knuckles knock lightly on Leah's screen door as I peek into her house to see if anyone will stop by and open up.
"Hello?" I call. "Daddy's here!"
I wait a minute and knock again. Bronx's tags jingle from afar and his nails repeatedly tap against the wood floors as he runs to the door.
"Jacob?" Leah's voice calls.
"Yeah," I respond and await her, but she never comes.
"It's unlocked. Come in," she says, and stunned, I swing the screen door open and step through the threshold, locking the door behind me. I pet Bronx's head for a minute and then he runs off back down the hall, probably to the family room for a nap.
I glance around the room to notice that the kids are nowhere to be found and the TV isn't blaring loudly down the hall. It's Friday, isn't it?
Before I can speak up, in her usual Spandex shorts, torn half t-shirt, and high ponytail, Leah appears from around the kitchen corner and automatically greets me with her usual smile. Her forehead is sweaty, as well as her collarbone. It makes her skin glisten, so thank God for yoga.
"What are you doing, leaving your screen door unlocked?" I jokingly ask as she comes in for our usual weekly hug and cheek kiss. "Any idiot could just walk in."
"Any idiot just did," she replies and gets on her toes to peck my face. I slow the motion down and savor the intimacy before she pulls away.
"Hardy har," I fake-laugh and follow her into the kitchen. "Where're the kids?"
She flings the fridge open and tosses me a bottle of beer. I catch it with no effort and twist the cap, which follows a snap and hiss sound.
"I guess Doll didn't call you like I told her to," Leah says, annoyed and getting water for herself. "She's on a little college road trip with some friends, and the twins are at sleepovers for the weekend."
I'd say I drove all the way up here for nothing, but looking at my ex-wife in a tight-fitting pair of Spandex shorts and tattered half-top with no bra on is worth the two hours.
"Well, since you drove up all this way, I guess you're here for the weekend." She shrugs and fans herself while downing the ice cold water.
I don't know if "here" means La Push or her house. Either way, I get to see her.
"Fun." I sip my beer and follow her out of the kitchen and onto the porch, where she's got a yoga mat along with a stereo set up on a stool.
"You still doing that yoga stuff?" I ask, taking a seat in a lawn chair.
"Well, I don't stay this fit by just eating right," she says, stepping onto the mat.
I agree. "Yeah, you're looking good." That's an understatement. "That gluten-free organic shit you eat has done you well."
She laughs and lies down on her back. "And the chocolate cake, fried chicken, and pizza you eat have done you well, too."
It's been said before and has stayed true to this day. I—nor does any other pack member—do not gain weight. We just don't. We've got fast metabolisms, even in our late thirties.
"Don't tease me. I nearly starved after the twins were born."
She laughs genuinely again and nods towards the stereo. "Press play for me."
I reach over, press the button, and the CD starts back up again. While she bends and twists around like a pretzel, I ask about Sue, and she says that her mom's doing fine, along with Seth and Nessie. She fills me in on the kids for the week and that's when I found out Jacob's having some trouble reading, Tee is taking up soccer next school year, and Doll's graduating at the top of her class; that sounds like my kids.
During some sort of bridge-backbend position, she asks how my week was, and I inform her on the usual antics at the shop. She seems genuinely interested, but I get lost in my own words watching her flip and do all these positions like she's demonstrating for a porn star in training.
I'm familiar with most of these moves (she's used them on me many times) and I don't object. It does raise a few eyebrows and questions.
"So, what's his name?" I ask, taking the last sip of my beer.
Confused, she looks back at me between her legs from the bent-over position she's in. "Whose name?"
"Your little boyfriend."
She scoffs and faces forward. "Not this shit again," she mutters under her breath.
"Come on, Lee," I beg, teasing her. "I just wanna know his name."
"Why do you always ask if I have a boyfriend?"
I shrug. "So I know my lady's being taken care of."
She can't hide a smile with that one. Her chuckle is low.
"Why do you just assume I do?" she asks.
"There's gotta be a reason why you do all this. The beauty treatments and the fitness."
She slides effortlessly into a split and bends backwards to face me upside down. "I do it for me."
I blink at her.
Her eyes roll. "What's her name?"
"Who?" I chuckle.
"Your girlfriend, and don't tell me you don't have one."
It's only been a year that Leah and I split. I think I'd need more than a year to get over her completely and find a new chick.
"I don't have one, FYI," I answer and set the beer bottle on the concrete.
"I'm shocked. Why?" She bends forward and sets her chest completely flat on the ground. Biting my lip, I set the beer bottle on her lower back, and it stays perfectly.
"You'd be surprised how little women are willing to fuck with a thirty-seven year old divorcé with three kids," I say and laugh a little. She reaches behind her and removes the bottle.
"And surprisingly, women find it to be a big turn off when you've got your ex-wife's name sprawled on the side of your torso," I add sardonically, and her head pops up in surprise.
"You didn't get it removed," she says, stunned. I thought she'd be.
"Naw." I sigh and quickly add, "At least not yet."
"Oh." She puts her head back down.
Now I'm curious. "You removed yours?" I ask.
She just looks at me sadly and nods. I pretend to brush it off like it doesn't feel like a stab through the chest, and nod. I expected her to have already had it done.
"I'd date, but I think I'd rather wait until Doll goes off to college in a few months," she says and brings her legs back together.
I nod again. "Uh-huh."
Feeling uneasy and hurt now, my mouth opens to speak before my brain can filter what to say.
"You know since you asked, there is this one chick," I lie and sink in my seat, watching her reactions closely. She pretends not to hear and switches positions.
"I wouldn't say she's my girlfriend but, I mean, she is pretty special," I continue, and Leah's face turns to a subtle grimace.
"Special," she repeats. "Is she pretty?"
"Fucking gorgeous," I emphasize and smirk at her eye roll.
"What's her name?" she wonders, and I say the first hot-sounding name that I can think of besides Leah.
"Vanessa."
"Hmph. Do you call her Nessie?"
"Oh, I didn't realize we had a comedian in the building."
She laughs at her own joke, but frowns again once it's not funny anymore. "She sounds pretty nice, I guess. How old is she?"
"Twenty."
At that, Leah nearly collapses onto her mat, but catches herself and stares at me.
"Robbing the cradle, I see."
I shrug. "Well, why not?"
She takes in the information as best as she can without looking sour. Her yoga session ends ten minutes later, and she turns the stereo off, rolls up her mat, and goes back into the house.
I take the beer bottle with me as I enter the house, too, to throw it away. She fans herself and lets her hair down; it's shorter than how it used to be, but it still grazes her spine.
"I'm gonna take a quick shower," she announces and lifts her top over her head to remove it. Her back is facing me when she slyly turns her head, careful to not reveal her chest—like I've never seen it before—and tells me to get something out for dinner if I'm staying. I just lean on the kitchen counter and nod yes, wishing she'd invite me to her shower.
She swishes her glutes as she strides off, making my mouth water. She's teasing me; I hate that.
I browse the fridge and pantry for something moderately tasty and fattening-looking. The most I find are Doll's PopTarts and some peanut butter. I dip my index in the peanut butter and suck it off my finger as I take out ingredients for spaghetti. I hate the gluten-free noodles, so thank God that I don't live here.
Laying across the living room couch, I listen to Leah's singing in the shower along with the running water, imagining what her naked, taut, bronze of a trophy body looks like with the soap suds, hot water, and steam all over it, replenishing every little inch of skin.
I'm a pig but, it's okay. I'm divorced, so who's gonna judge me? At this point, I'm fine with the relationship we have. I don't judge her, and she doesn't judge me. We rarely did before, but when we screwed each other's brains out the day she and the kids moved out, that's when all room to criticize will be scarce.
Leah comes back downstairs with her hair dripping wet down her tank top. Her ass looks pretty swell in her leggings, though.
"What'd you take out?" she calls, and I follow her into the kitchen.
"Noodles," I answer. "I guess you—uh—me—we could fix some spaghetti."
She nods and gets a pot from the cabinet. The noise beckons Bronx out of his bed and he rushes into the kitchen to see what the commotion is.
"You're gonna cook with me?"
"Why not?" When was the last time Leah and I cooked together? We didn't even do that when we were married.
"Well, alright, then." She flips her hair and it hits me in the face. I don't react to it because it's a move Doll does relentlessly now that she's tall enough to reach my face.
I like the time I spend with Leah. It feels like she's my friend again and I consider myself fortunate to be on some good terms with her. I'm happy we're not one of those divorced couples who can't even stand the sight of each other and use the kids against each other. There's still a little bit of nostalgia on my part because she doesn't wear Sarah's ring—well, it's technically her ring—and she got my name lasered off her hip. I don't have the heart to remove hers. It's gonna hurt like a bitch if I do.
But until the twins are of adult age, I'll enjoy my parental duties and using them as an excuse to come to La Push.
When the food is ready and we've sat in the dining room to eat, I closely watch her without her noticing.
"Is it always this quiet?" I ask and twirl my fork around some noodles. She glances up from her bowl and slurps a noodle up.
"What do you mean?"
"Like when I come by every Friday and take the kids for the weekend and you sit here eating dinner by yourself—is it always this quiet?"
She listens and all that can be heard is Bronx chopping on a bone.
"Oh," she says and wipes her mouth with a napkin. "I didn't ever notice. I mean, Doll spends majority of her time out with her friends and the twins are usually at Sue's or something. They aren't really loud, so I can't tell."
I'll bet. "Where'd you say Doll was?"
She eats another bundle of noodles. "College road trip with her boyfri—" She stops herself, but I catch it, anyway.
"Boyfriend?"
Her fork clinks against her bowl. "Hmm?"
"Since when does Doll have a boyfriend?"
Leah's plump poke out funnily. "Today's their sixth month anniversary."
"And when were you gonna tell me?"
"I wasn't," she says honestly. I drop my fork and she just sighs. "I knew you'd make a big deal about it."
"About Doll having a boyfriend? No, she's eighteen so she can do what she wants. It just would've been nice to know."
"I didn't wanna tell you until it was something stable."
My eyebrows rise. "You make it sound like she's been around."
"Well, boys kinda take advantage of the fact that you're not around, so they see your hot daughter and they pounce," she shrugs. "It's like history repeating itself."
I scoff. "Great."
She rubs my shoulder. "It's not like that. Mama didn't raise no fool."
I wouldn't wanna believe that Doll's being passed around like some little slut with her heart on her sleeve because her dad's not around. I am proud of her even if she did decide to take year off after high school to go to college.
After washing dishes and wiping down the counters, the clock strikes nine and the sky's turning over to twilight. Unsure if I should leave or not, I wait for Leah to say something. She just shoots me a confused look and takes my hand to lead me into the family room.
"Leaving already?" she asks.
I guess not.
Like we're nineteen again, we sit on the couch and watch stupid television shows and make fun of ridiculous reality TV celebrities. It feels very home, like being so close to her and relaxed that I forget where and who I am and wrap my arm behind her shoulder.
"Uh." I clear my throat. "Is this okay?"
She grins at me and tucks her head into my bicep like it's a pillow. Her hair's still slightly damp, but I don't mind it.
"It's fine. Nothing wrong with a little friendly gesture."
Yeah. Friendly.
The contact is taken further when she stretches her legs about my lap like I'm her yoga mat. Nervous about crossing a line or setting her off, I keep my other hand that isn't around her shoulder by my side. The heat from her just being this close makes my skin tingle and crawl with anticipation because I wanna touch her so badly and she's teasing me. I'm weak, so I don't stop her from reaching over to my side and guiding my hand to her thigh. She thinks nothing of the contact, so she continues watching TV. I squeeze.
It's just a friendly gesture.
I think we sat on her couch for at least three hours because it's midnight when she yawns first and decides to go upstairs for bed.
Well, I guess now it's my time to go. I'll crash at my dad's.
But yet again, Leah stops me.
"You don't have to go," she pleads, and my pants tighten at how helpless she sounds.
"I don't?" I ask, and she nods towards upstairs.
"I got a room for you."
The guest room isn't nearly as great as the couch, I think sarcastically as she leads me upstairs. The first room to be seen is Doll's, then the twins' rooms, and Leah is all the way down the hall. Right next to it is the guest room.
Great.
"You know where everything is," she says tiredly and drags herself towards me for a kiss goodnight.
Whatever comes over me gets her by her wide hips and gently pulls her towards me. She doesn't object to the contact. In fact, she encourages it, but leaning into me.
"Goodnight," I whisper, and she just runs her fingers along my forearms. "Thanks for dinner and, uh, stuff."
"No problem," she says, and the touch of her skin is almost electrifying. I don't wanna let go.
I feel like a virgin as my hands drift from her hips and up her waist to bring her closer. I'm against the wall now.
"I'll be out my morning," I say. She nods and brings her fingers upward to tickle the skin of my biceps. I unintentionally flex, and she closes whatever space there is between us. By now, she's rubbing against my crotch, playing it off as an accident as she leans in forward with confidence.
I meet her halfway and play with her nose with my own before she giggles lightly.
"Is this okay?" I ask, head ducked halfway in her neck. She shakes her head yes, hands cupped over my chest as my heart beats underneath.
"Nothing wrong with a little goodnight kiss," she promises and makes the first move. I capture her lips and we play around a little with our tongues. My lips softly massage hers repeatedly, and when she makes the first moan, my palms are cupping her ass cheeks firmly enough to feel for her lack of underwear.
The kiss escalates to her removing my jacket and fondling with my belt blindly. I assist her, and my pants are instantly unbuckled and unzipped within seconds. Never parting at the lips, I gingerly caress her hip area with my index, sending a rush of goosebumps against her skin and mine. The cotton of the flimsy tank top stretches between my fingers as I yank it over her head and onto the floor. Like I expected, she's not wearing a bra.
She's panting slowly when my lips travel past her jaw and down her neck and collarbone. Her nails dig deep in my shoulders when I fondle my tongue across her throat. She gulps and moans multiple times.
"Is this okay?" I mutter again, licking upon her moist flesh. She squeaks when my teeth pinch her shoulder.
"Uh-huh. Just," she hisses. "Keep going."
This is wrong. Damn, this is wrong.
It feels right.
"Jacob," she moans, pulling my hair. Devilishly grinning, I lift her to wrap her long legs around my waist so I can carry her to her bedroom. I've only been in here once before.
She's resistant to letting my waist go, so I just ease into the mattress with her and plant deeper, wetter kisses on her mouth and chin. Her hands rush to remove my jeans and boxers while I kick my boots off.
I didn't come to La Push with the intention of having sex with Leah, but I guess it's gonna happen, anyway.
Leah's gotten more and more impatient since the last time we really made love. I wanna take it slow, but I guess it's not that kinda party.
I strip her bare as she does me, kissing everywhere my imagination lead me. She's flavored like caramel drippings within a vanilla ice cream and whipped cream sundae; I don't know if it's my imagination or for real. Whichever, she tastes like fucking perfection and I can't bear to not have my few doses. My tongue laps and trails all the way from her throat to the crevice between her breasts, down her midriff, over her bellybutton, and past her hips.
In the middle of licking her down, I take notice of the fact that my name in fancy font is printed right above the extended hip bone just as it was years ago when she got it done.
Why would she lie? I smirk.
"Is this okay?" I tease when she extends her legs open and puts them on either side of my head.
She props up on her elbows, and I expect a huge smile, but she's panting with her hair covering her face, the sweat buildup already making it stick. She gasps when I roughly wrap my arm around her thigh and duck my head.
"Jacob!" she squeals and falls off her elbows. I miss that sound. I miss this taste. I miss how she squirms and writhes around at my touch and vice-versa.
Like I said, this is wrong, but feels so right. I gulp her down like I've been parched for years.
Just as quickly as I got on top of her, she gets over me and pushes me onto my back, nails digging deep within my tissue as she claws downward to my pelvis. The gentle pecks that she peppers upon my skin on her way down are something I've missed as well.
It's hard keeping my eyes open when she takes me in. I involuntarily gasp, and my eyelids droop as my hands wander within her wavy hair to grip a few locks. My mouth seems to always make a perfect O and I unattractively pant like a damn dog. The more intense her sucking gets determines how much my chest heaves and how hard I pull her hair. She usually doesn't mind…
I always wanna watch her do this, but, like I said, it's difficult keeping my eyes open.
The foreplay takes a change in pace when I beg her to stop so I can finally be in her. I'd expect after a year, our moves would be a bit slack, but nothing's changed. I still know her body better than Sam ever could and she still knows how I work. She knows I love the dirty talk and I know she loves when I press my thumbs into her back dimples. She's screaming within minutes.
I drag us out for as long as possible. We start off soft and slow; it's kinda romantic how we cling to each other and stare into the other's eyes. It only stays cute for so long until one of us begs the other to speed up a bit, and it's usually me who has to work harder, but I don't mind.
She drawls out an unladylike groan before throwing her head back and moaning my name. "Fucking shit," she whispers and ducks her head back in the crook of my neck where she licks and bites the skin.
"Damnit," she whimpers and sinks her nails deeper into my back. I squeeze her tighter but don't stop my hips.
"Jake. Jake. Jake. Jake. Jacob. Jacob," she chants into my ear in between nibbling it, making my eyes roll back in satisfaction. I go faster. Her voice gets higher while her legs dangle off my palms.
My lower stomach tightens; I know that feeling.
Deciding it's time I let loose, I stop thrusting momentarily to guide us back to the bed. She takes those few seconds to gasp for some air and wipe my face off with her tongue. Her speech is mumbled when she reaches my ear.
"I need you back," she cries and wraps her legs even tighter around my waist. "No one else can have you."
I moan aloud and set her on her back when I reach the mattress. "Fuck, you miss me?" I dip my hand between her legs to rattle her clit, and she loses it.
"Oh, fuck," she whines and twitches about, her stray hand nearly cutting off circulation in my arm when she squeezes. "Yes, Jacob, I fucking miss you." She jerks her head back again and shakes.
I lean over to touch our moist foreheads together. I bring my hands to either side of her face, forcing her face closer to mine. Her eyes are shut and her lips and chin are quivering.
"Is this okay?" I ask, easing deeper into her. She hisses and nods, never opening her eyes.
"Are you okay?"
She wraps her hands on either side of my neck, playing with the hairs along my hairline. "I love you," she pants, and her chest heaves harder as if saying that alone made her heart rate speed up.
I smile and shut my eyes too. "Say it again."
She extends her grip on my neck to wrapping her arms now. I begin thrusting again.
"I love you," she repeats desperately, and her claws dig even deeper in my back. "I love you so fucking much."
My pelvis pushes into her harder and faster, making her mouth widen and continue to quiver.
"Please," she pleads. "Don't leave me."
This was never how it was supposed to be. This shouldn't have happened. I never wanted this between Leah and I. Physically, it's fine, but mentally, I don't think I'll be able to manage.
I keep going, anyway, and shut her lips with a quick kiss. "Leah." I shake as well, my balls tightening now, too. She must feel it because she meets my thrusts halfway. "Shh, I'm right here," I console her as she begins to resist tears.
So, what happens in a few minutes? We cum and spurt on each other, my dick goes soft, and then what? She pushes me off of her tells me to get out? I resent her for using me even after the divorce and she hates me for taking advantage?
"Ah!" she exclaims, tightening around me to ride out her orgasm while I still reach for mine. She assists me and moments later, my back muscles tighten and hump over like a shell as I come inside of her by accident. I shake like I'm experiencing an electric current being fed like wires through my vein and muscles. My knees go weak so I just settle into the mattress above her.
She milks me out soothingly while I mentally try to piece our relationship together. I'm a fucking idiot for jizzing inside of her knowing damn well I'm not wearing a fucking condom and she's got no reason to be on birth control.
Shit, I was an idiot for staying when I saw how fine she looked doing her damn yoga.
Her eyes still haven't opened. I remove myself, but her hands linger on my face. We wait until we've caught our breath before moving anywhere. I'm first to reach for my clothes, but she stops me.
"Wait!" she grabs my arm as well as my attention. I turn slowly to face her.
"You don't have to go."
Nervous enough, I grimace a little and her eyes roll.
"I don't think that's the best—"
"You already fucked me; what harm is staying the rest of the night gonna do?" she cuts me off, and then lets my arm go.
She has a point.
I sigh, she gets under the covers, and I join her. I'll admit it's more awkward than necessary—considering we were married at one point and I watched a baby come out of her vagina—because I go to one side of the bed and she stays on hers. It sucks because I wanna hold her.
"You think Vanessa'll be mad about what we just did?" she asks, envious, and I grin.
"Nope," I answer with a laugh. "I don't think she'd get mad, considering she doesn't exist."
She gasps and sits upward to smack my arm. "What!?"
I chuckle and turn over slightly to catch her shocked expression.
"Why'd you lie?" she asks.
My finger tickles her hip bone, and she jumps.
"Because you got your tattoo removed, but I can see you lied about that." I shrug, and she tries to play it cool but her eyes are still wide.
"I can't help that I didn't want you to know I'm still in love with you," she confesses quietly and buries her head in her hands. I didn't mean to hurt her feelings.
I sit upward, too, and wrap an arm around her to bring her into my chest.
If she still loves me, why'd she divorce me in the first place?
The following morning, I awake before she does and I take a minute to deliberate whether to ditch or not. I would, but this is Leah, not some nameless slut I picked up at a bar. She doesn't deserve that. I decide to stay and fix her breakfast, but that'll make things awkward. I'm hungry and it'd be pretty rude to just eat her food without her.
So I just watch her toss and turn around in her sleep, the comforter sliding lower and lower off her body each time she does. When her breasts are exposed, I get the urge to cover her, but I just stare and get dressed.
Careful to not disturb her, I take a quick piss and wipe my face of crust and sleep. It's been an interesting night.
I jog downstairs and pour myself some orange juice, of which I chug down nervously in seconds. Bronx's tags jingle down the hall; I've awakened him.
What do I say when she comes downstairs? Hopefully she'll talk first and offer the conversation. I feel like I need to apologize.
Why should I, though? I feel like I've been taken advantage of. Okay, that's pretty stupid, but it feels like the only reason she even invited me to stay yesterday evening was to fuck. I'll bet she'll try and play it off as a mistake we didn't mean to make and brush me off.
She's too good. She did use me.
I sigh and wash out my cup. Bronx comes strolling into the kitchen, wagging his tail as he does, before heading to his doggy door to let himself out to the porch.
Following after him are human footsteps this time. I turn just as Leah enters the kitchen, half naked with just her lingerie on. The first thing I notice is my name on her hip.
She stops in her tracks at me, and there's an extensive stare down between us before she speaks first.
"You're still here."
That hurt. She says it as if she just picked me up at some club the night before.
"I am," I reply. "I know I said I'd be out by morning, but it didn't feel right to just leave."
She rubs her shoulder, trying to cover her breasts, and blushes a sheepish red. "That's good, actually," she says, shocking me. "I needed to talk to you."
I knew it. I raise my hand to stop her before she can utter another word.
"Lemme guess: last night shouldn't have happened, you didn't mean anything you said, and you hope it doesn't affect the successful divorced couple relationship we had," I assume aloud, and her face drops. Bet she wasn't expecting that.
She crosses her arms now and looks away from me. Bronx bounces back through the doggy door and exits the kitchen.
"Isn't that what you were gonna say?" I ask.
Her head slowly nods. I scoff.
"Nice," I mutter sarcastically and rush passed her to get to the front door, but her hand immediately grips me before I can exit the kitchen.
"Don't be mad at me." She exhales a deep sigh of regret. "I'm sorry."
"There's no need for you to apologize."
"I didn't wanna hurt your feelings." She finally turns towards me, and that sad, puppy look on her face is adorable yet painful to stare at without feeling guilty.
"You stopped hurting my feelings when you left me," I say honestly and shake her hand off. "I'm only sorry you regret last night because I had fun."
Confused, she cocks her head to the side and presses her lips together. I shrug and she relaxes; this doesn't have to end in a fight.
"I just really missed you. Miss you," she corrects herself and rolls her eyes. "I miss you a lot."
"And that little 'I love you' last night? You meant that?" I'm shocked, actually.
"I did, but I didn't mean to say it. I didn't want you to take it as anything more than just something I said in the heat of passion. I didn't wanna put any ideas in your head."
I scoff again and actually begin to laugh. "You really think I'm that hung up on you?"
Her face doesn't change.
"Leah, I've spent the past year getting over you. It's taken me a year to accept the fact that you don't want me anymore, and as crazy as it might seem, I'm over you."
Her eyes squint. "Really?"
"Yeah," I say. "What we had was beautiful, even with the ups and downs. It sucks you didn't ride with me like you promised, but I'm over that. It was hard to accept, but shit happens."
"Shit happens," she repeats. "So, you've just forgotten me, huh?"
I don't wanna answer honestly so I don't answer at all. "I'm just glad we stayed friends."
"I can't be more?" she asks and leans against the kitchen table.
Don't do that. Don't drag me in and trap me. Our marriage is over.
"You've already been enough. You were my first for a lot of things. My first girlfriend, first love, first time, first wife, first baby mama, first divorce."
She cringes but she shouldn't. In being first, she's helped me through some shit.
"What we had was nice, but I just don't think we were right for each other. I needed a wife, but I got an Alpha. You just needed yourself," I refer to her selfishness, and she doesn't even disagree.
"You're still perfect," she states and sighs. "There's no one better."
She won't say that when she imprints. If she imprints.
In that moment, the sound of the front door being unlocked startles Bronx off his spot on the couch in the living room. Leah looks just as confused as I do.
"I'll be a minute, just lemme—" Doll's voice shouts from the front door as she shuts it behind her. I exit the kitchen to see her, but end up scaring her when she turns a corner to go upstairs.
"Daddy!" she exclaims in shock, green eyes widening and her hand instantly flying over the side of her neck. The first thing I take in is her attire and all I wonder is why she and any other woman on Earth pay forty-something dollars for a piece of linen to pass off as shorts.
"Hey," I greet her, and she just turns red. "Gimme hug." I extend my arms out and she's resistant to removing her hand and opening her arms.
Once she does, I squeeze and caress her head. "Couldn't call and tell me you wouldn't be here?"
"I, uh, forgot," she says, voice shaking as she pulls away. "Where's Mom?"
As if on cue, Leah enters the hallway now and nudges my elbow. Her lack of clothes strike Doll by surprise. "Forget something?"
Doll puts her hand back on her neck, but not before I can see the reddening bruise shaped like a pair of lips on her crook. I shiver.
"Um, my camera," she answers and points upstairs and backs away. "Wait, you stayed the night?" she points to me now, and Leah covers her mouth to giggle.
Her face turns white, almost. "That's nasty," she mumbles and rushes upstairs.
I laugh a little now, and Leah follows her. That's the last thing I wanted Doll to see. It should be a serious matter, but it can't be when even Doll's taking the divorce this lightly.
The two return back downstairs, Doll with her camera and Leah with clothes on. I catch Doll by her arm before she can jet out the door and sloppily kiss her cheeks, smearing her blush and foundation in the process. She grimaces and wipes my spit and her makeup off.
"Love you, Daddy." She hugs me goodbye and waves to Leah before happily jogging down the porch steps and into the busted-up Range Rover jeep blasting loud rap music through the speakers.
Looking closely, I watch her and whoever give each other a peck. I grimace.
My skin cools down when Leah twines her fingers lightly around mine and pulls me away from the screen door. She shuts it after they drive off, but I would like to have at least met him.
"You want some breakfast before you hit the road?" she asks and continues to caress my arm. It feels good.
That actually sounds nice. Nothing sexual can come of just having breakfast, right?
I nod, and the two of us enter the kitchen to cook together, as if these are old times and as if we're two stupid, stubborn, nineteen-year-old shapeshifters again.
And even if we are divorced, I think I'll be paying more and more visits to La Push after last night's condom-less, birth-control-less shenanigans. It was a careless act, but it's no one's business but ours.
I don't think I'd ride and die with anyone else. She's not my my imprint or my soul mate, but she's mine.
God knows I'm not dying, but I breathe now.
And God knows it's the only way to heal now.
With all the blood I lost with you. . .
It drowns the love I thought I knew.
A/N So after 2 years of putting up with the bullshit, nonsense and shenanigans of this trilogy, it's finally over. I know quite a bit of you are highly upset with the ending and all faith has been lost in me and I guess I no longer deserve to be the Lady of all that is Black and Clearwater. But fuck that; I'm Lady Blackwater till the death. Yes, I ship Nessie and Jacob but please don't get it twisted: Blackwater is and always will be my OTP. In my defense, I gave a clear warning all the way back in chapter one.
But now that The Baby Doll Trilogy is over and done with, lemme just give my Fanfic better half beta, MusicTwilightLove, a huge ass S/O because *sniffle* she *sniffle* was with * sniffle* me through the struggle. *ugly cries*
And I'd also like to thank Lana Del Rey and Ellie Goulding's ex boyfriends for dumping them so they'd write the songs that inspired the fics.
And lastly! I had at one point considered retiring from Fanfiction after TBDT was finished but because she's da greatest, my beta convinced me not to. So the choice is yours, my three dedicated readers. I wanna write a sequel. You pick the story. If I get no feedback, I'll just randomly pick. Anyway, love ya'll. Review, favorite, follow...