Katie

I'm only able to count to sixty-two – hoping Seth is long gone – before I allow myself to release the long breath I'd been holding, afraid that when I let it out it would escape as a sob instead. It was a smart move, I realize, as a hot tear leaks onto my cheek.

Why had I said that? Too fast. This is too fast. It's just too fast. And did I regret it? Or did I regret that it hurt Seth's feelings?

I can't feel anything besides my heavy heart pounding. I replay my words, over and over. And his face, every time, falling. Him begging on his knees in front of me.

Leah plops down next to me on the couch. "What are we watching?" I'd forgotten about her being here, and Seth hadn't mentioned that she was awake.

I know without looking at her face that she'd heard my conversation with Seth. Heard me refuse him.

I try to focus in on the screen. The TV is still on the classic movie channel where Seth and I caught the tail end of Titanic. "Looks like Gone with the Wind, maybe. I'm not paying much attention," I mumble, knowing she will have heard me. I swipe my eyes dry.

We don't speak. I stare at the screen and feel like a shitty human; Leah watches the movie as she munches on leftover pizza. Until, that is, the scene comes on where Rhett begs Scarlett to marry him.

Leah turns off the television abruptly.

"Let's go out," she says hastily, turning her head to look at me. "This house is too damn small."

Which is how we find ourselves in Port Angeles an hour and a half later. It's pretty late; the only things still open are bars and tattoo parlors.

When we pass one of the latter, I raise an eyebrow at Leah.

"What?" She asks, looking at me with wild eyes. "Do you wanna go in?"

I shrug. "Why not?"

"Do you even have any tattoos?" She asks while she's looking over some of the pre-drawn sketches.

"I have something like this," I say, pointing at a small sketch of flowers. "Here," I continue, holding my hand to my ribcage.

She makes a contemplative noise, lips pursed.

"Ladies, I hate to be rude, but we close in thirty minutes. Either get somethin' or get out," the guy behind the counter gruffs.

I nod. "C'mon, we should go," I say to Leah, moving toward the door.

Leah laughs. "Oh, no. You're not getting off that easy. This was your idea."

"I don't have any extra money for a tattoo, Leah," I say, looking down at the ground briefly.

"I'll pay," she says with a pointed look as she stands firmly in her spot. "Happy St. Patrick's Day or whatever the nearest holiday is," she says, waving her hand flippantly.

The artist looks back and forth between the two of us. "Well?" he asks.

I chew my lip, rolling my eyes at Leah's winning smirk, before pulling out my phone. "Can you do this?" I say, showing him a silhouette of my camera, one I'd drawn in the margins of my notebook when I should have been studying for English last semester.

"No problem. Where?"

The tape scratches the back of my neck and keeps getting caught in my hair for nearly the entire ride home. I fidget with the edges, resisting the urge to rip it off completely.

"How did you decide to go to college in Olympia?" Leah asks as we make the turn outside Forks to head back to the reservation. It's nearly one in the morning, and the constant rainfall patters against the windshield.

I wonder where Seth is right now. Is he in the park? Or maybe he's running along the coast. "I'm not really sure," I say honestly. "It looked nice enough in the pictures. And it was far away from home and close to nature, which I liked."

"In the pictures? You didn't visit before?" She asks with a tone of surprise.

"No. I didn't even decide where I was going until about two weeks before classes started. I almost wound up in Maine."

Leah chuckles. "I don't know why everyone is so confused about who I am. I'm pretty straightforward. You, on the other hand…" She gives me a long side glance. "You're an enigma, Katie Prescott."

"What do you mean?" I ask, shifting in my seat.

"I just can't understand you. You're so recklessly impulsive. You move halfway across the country for school, fine. Don't even decide where you're going until it's nearly too late. You get tattoos at the drop of a hat, whatever, no big deal," she says.

I'm really not sure where she's going with her point, but then she continues. "Things that normally should take consideration and planning. Some people could say you go too fast."

Too fast. There were those words again. Shame knocks into my lungs with vigor, and I exhale sharply against the pain.

She continues anyway. "I guess I just don't get why you didn't jump at the chance to do the most spontaneous, irrational thing ever."

"I don't want to talk about it," I whisper, turning to look out the window so she can't see my eyes watering.

"All I'm saying is that a tattoo is a lot more permanent than a little piece of paper," she quips.

"I don't know, Leah! I just don't know." I throw up my hand in frustration. My bottom lip trembles, and I grit my teeth, forcing it still. I can't come up with a good reason, and I can't figure out the answer to the question she isn't asking me.

"Is it Seth?" she pries.

A puff of air escapes my lips. "No, of course not."

"Is it the wolf thing?" she asks instead.

"No."

"Is it the sex thing? Because there's stuff other than sex that you—"

"No," I interrupt harshly. Despite my annoyance, embarrassment floods my face.

I feel Leah's eyes on me again. "Is it the 'I'm only nineteen and haven't found my place in the world' thing?"

"Didn't I say I don't want to talk about it?" I bark, snapping my head to her. The tape sticks to my hair again, and I finally give up fighting it, reaching back and yanking it off.

She breathes deeply. "And we have a winner."

I crumple the gauze with the fist I've made out of frustration. "God, you're annoying!" I spit out before I can stop myself, throwing the ball of trash into the floor.

Leah doesn't react in the way I think she will. She laughs. A good, hearty laugh. She struggles to keep the car in between the lines as she fights for a breath. Her reaction is so shocking to me that I find myself chuckling alongside her.

"I am kind of annoying," she finally manages to get out between her attempts to catch her breath. "But I'm right."

We've reached the border of the reservation now; we'll be home in less than five minutes. Seth won't be done with patrol yet. But I still don't know if I want to leave. I don't know if I plan to be here when he gets back. And although he told me we'd talk when he gets home, I'm not sure if, after eight hours of replaying our conversation in his head, he'll ever want to speak with me again. I wouldn't want to speak with me.

"I don't know who I am," I admit. "I'm still trying to figure myself out, figure out where my place in life is. I left Montana to find a new home for myself, and I still don't feel like I've found it."

Leah sighs, and the silence that follows is thick and heavy.

When she finally opens her mouth again, I think she's going to tell me she understands. But what she says instead is, "Sometimes home is a person, Katie. And that's okay."

Her comment is simple. So I'm not sure why it knocks the breath out of me as if she'd hit me. I can only stare, probably stupidly, at her with my mouth agape until we get back to her house.

We go inside and I reach for my keys, but she grabs my wrist. "I don't know what you're planning, but I'm not letting you drive to Olympia tonight. You can leave in the morning if you still want to go." And she snatches my keys from my hand and goes to her room.

I take a hot shower, letting the water scald my skin. It stings against my fresh tattoo, and I wince.

The pain reminds me of why I'd gotten it in the first place – as a distraction. Seth's face falls again behind my eyes, and finally, the long overdue tears come.

I sink to my knees on the shower floor and weep.

What kind of horrible monster am I? Seth was it for me, I was sure of it. He was sure of it. My family loved him, my friends loved him, his family and friends loved me. He supported me in every way I didn't know I needed, encouraging me through school and photography.

All of Leah's points were valid – me refusing him made absolutely no sense.

Eventually I'm able to drag myself out of the shower. I pull one of Seth's shirts overhead, the fabric falling to my knees. His smell makes my eyes water again.

A glutton for punishment, I crawl into his bed, and drown myself in his scent and my tears.

The next morning, I wake up shivering at the crack of the ever-gray dawn. Leah refused to turn on the furnace if she could help it, and usually Seth's heat was enough to keep my chills away. Seth hadn't joined me last night after he got off patrol. And although I hadn't expected him to, part of me wanted him to.

But why? I'd sent him away. I'd refused him.

I feel stifled by the walls of the house. I quietly pull on my clothes and make my way to Leah's room. I find my keys on her dresser; she doesn't stir when I grab them.

I slip out of the house, keeping my eyes off the open guest room door and the couch, both likely places for a snoozing Seth. Rain patters against the car frame, but I ignore it. I'm not planning to leave La Push, but I have no idea where I am going.

I wind up at the beach.

I kick at the rocks along the shore, watching two surfers prepare to take a wave. They aren't the surfers I know; they're too small to be wolves. I study them anyway.

They are nowhere near as skilled as Seth, nor as graceful as they hop up to ride the wave in. One of them falls off mid-wave, and if I wasn't more distracted, I probably would have laughed.

I sit on a driftwood log half submerged in the sand and watch the surfers until my phone buzzing in my pocket distracts me.

It's a number I don't recognize. "Hello?"

"Hello, is this Katie Prescott?"

"Yes, who's this?"

"Hi, this is Amanda with the Seattle Times. I was calling to give you some good news. You won the photography contest. I'm sorry to call on Saturday, and so early at that, but we're running the first picture tomorrow."

A fog of confusion fills my brain. I wonder for a moment if this woman has the wrong number, but she'd called me by name. "I'm sorry?" I ask.

"You entered a photography contest a few months ago. I know it's been a while – we got more entries than we were expecting. But we were really impressed with your work. All the judges agree that you're the best. Since it's been a while, I need to confirm your address so we can send the check over. Will you still be on Quileute Street in La Push in a few weeks?"

What is going on here? I didn't enter a photography contest.

"Miss Prescott?" the woman prompts.

I shake my head in an attempt to clear it. "Sorry, what was the question?"

"Will you still be in La Push in a week or two? It's so we can send your prize money over. We won't keep the address on file."

Prize money? I try to remember the details of this contest, but my mind is blank. I must not have ever really considered entering; I probably hadn't even looked twice at the ad before tossing it. But then how…?

I stand from my spot on the driftwood, suddenly anxious. "Yes," I say, because I think that's the answer to her question even though it's already long gone from my mind. "What picture did I submit, again?"

The girl on the other end of the line chuckles, and I struggle to hear her over the rain that's picking up. "It's actually a series. Three photos of a man surfing. You called it Pictures of You."

"Pictures of You," I repeat. My all time, most-favorite song.

"Yes, that's right."

Air rushes from my lungs as I understand what happened. Seth. Seth had entered the contest for me. You'd win easily, he'd said.

My heart swells and breaks all at once. He'd believed in me more than I had ever believed in myself. That wasn't an imprint thing. That was a Seth and Katie thing.

My mind becomes a swirl of questions, conversations, moments I'd experienced in the last five months.

"Why does good stuff happen to us? How did you meet Seth?"

"Gravity shifted when I saw you. Everything that mattered, everything that was important before... It's just not now. You're the only thing in my world, Katie."

"Not any crazier than it was that you took a solo road trip, didn't die, and ended up falling in love with a cute surfer boy on the beach."

"Sometimes home is a person, Katie. And that's okay."

"I'd like to marry you someday."

Someday. When had I decided that I had to wait to start my forever? My someday. When had I learned to embrace risks, but shy away from refuge? Run away from home?

The woman on the phone rattles off some other details, but I'm not paying attention. After she finally ends the call, I turn over my shoulder and—

"Seth," I breathe.

He's standing about six feet away from me, hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts, rain falling onto his bare shoulders. Looking at him now, I can tell he's exhausted. Had he come home at all? Was that why I hadn't seen him when I "wasn't" looking this morning?

"When I got off patrol your car was gone, and I just…" I can barely hear him over the roar of the waves and the downpour. "I thought you went home. So I was on the way to Olympia to beg you to come back. But I heard you here."

"I am home," I rush to get out. There are so many things I want to say, but I can't think straight enough to move the thoughts toward cohesion. So instead, I just say, "I won the contest," because I know he will have heard my phone call. My heart races as I see an overenthusiastic grin come across his face.

He closes the distance between us in two long strides, picking me up around the waist in a tight embrace. "I'm so proud of you," he whispers into my hair.

My breath catches in my throat at how close we are.

He must interpret it wrong, though, because he sets me down on my feet and steps back. "I'm sorry," he mumbles.

"No," I start. "Seth, I—" I get choked up, and I have to stop mid-sentence and regroup.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," I say, throwing my arms out to my sides, feeling the rain on my skin and face as my hood falls back.

"I'm life-threateningly impulsive, and big feelings make me so uncomfortable I'd rather die than deal with them," I admit in a jumble. "I have no money, no job, and I'm pretty sure I hate my major, too. I have never been sure of anything in my entire life." I have to laugh at that - I hadn't realized until the words were spilling out that I actually did hate my major.

"And then I came here," I continue, pointing to the sand. "And I met you," I say, my voice shaky like my hands. "And even though I still have no idea what I'm doing, for the first time in my life, that feels okay. It feels okay for things to be messy and unsure. Because you make me feel safe, and loved, and like my presence matters."

Seth stares down at me, his forehead crinkled in confusion. "Of course it does, Katie."

The way he says my name warms me like the shot I'd taken on New Year's Eve. I'm unable to think of anything else.

"Ask me again," I say.

"Ask you what?" he retorts, more bewilderment on his face.

"There's a college in Forks. Port Angeles, even," I quote his words from last night back to him as I take a step closer to him. "And I'll get a job, three if I have to. And we'll be here together, just you and me, and we'll figure it out. So I need you," I choke out, finally close enough to touch him again. "To ask me to marry you again."

The increasingly heavy rain makes his hair drip water into his eyes, but I still see them light up. He smiles a dazzling, enthusiastic smile at me. My favorite one.

And then he confuses me when he asks, "Can you wait here?" My face must fall, because he adds, "Just for like, twenty minutes. I'll be right back. Promise."

Even though I'm bewildered, I nod — because he promised, and he hasn't broken one yet — and his grin widens. He turns over his shoulder and runs in the direction of the forest.

I contemplate going back to my car to wait, but I'm already soaked to the bone. I plop back down on the driftwood log, turning my attention back to the surfers and wait for Seth's return, spinning the ring on my middle finger.

"Katie," Seth's voice calls.

I break into a grin when I see him approaching me. "That wasn't twenty minutes," I say, standing.

He chuckles, reaching for my hands. "I know. Went faster than I thought," he says, leaning down to give me a swift kiss before taking a deep breath.

My heart is already pounding – I feel my blood rushing in my ears.

"Katie," he starts. "You're a great stick-shift learner. You're The Cure's biggest fan, except for their second album, of course," he clarifies.

I laugh. I'm not sure if my eyes are clouded because of the rain or my tears.

Seth continues. "You're Washington's most up-and-coming photographer, which I knew even without a contest." He emphasizes, squeezing my hands. "And you are the love of my life," he says.

He reaches into his pocket, and I take the opportunity to wipe what are most definitely tears away from my eyes. He pulls out a small wooden ring box. "So let's figure it out together. Just you and me," he says, slipping onto one knee in the sand in front of me and flipping open the box.

"Marry me, Katie Prescott." His voice resonates even over the waves and the rain.

"Yes, Seth Clearwater. I would love to marry you," I say, although it probably sounds more like blubbering. "I didn't need a ring, Seth. It's too expensive."

Seth grins, pure and sweet, as he slips the ring out of the box and effortlessly onto my finger.

"Perfect fit," he confirms, standing to his feet before winding his arms around my waist. "And I didn't spend a dime. It was my grandma's. I owe Mom and Charlie a new front door, though."

"Are you ever going to stop breaking down doors to win my affection?" I say, straining to look up at him. My eyes freely roam his features, but mostly his lips.

"Never," he laughs. His big palms radiate heat through my raincoat as he presses his lips to mine.

"I love you," I sigh against his lips, melting into him.

"I love you, too," he breathes. He reaches up to cup the back of my neck in his hand; I hiss against his lips as the fabric rubs over my tender skin.

"What?" He asks, pulling back.

I chuckle into his chest. "I might have gotten a tattoo last night."

"Might have?" He asks, eyes alight with amusement. He spins me around gently and pulls down the fabric of my raincoat. I feel his breath against my neck, and he places a light, tender kiss above the raw skin.

The gesture is kind, but it still makes my heart knock against my ribs hard and fast.

The surfers, heading to their car to try and escape the unrelenting downpour, have stopped to gawk at us. One of them whistles.

Seth steps away from me, mumbling, "Sorry," with a tone of embarrassment.

I knew he couldn't care less and that he's apologizing because he thinks I'm uncomfortable. But honestly, who the hell cares about a little PDA?

So I turn back around and pull his lips back to mine.

We're on a flight to Great Falls a few days later.

I'd finally had to surrender my qualms about money. If Seth was going to be my husband, then I guess it was okay, right? Plus, flying was faster, and I had a feeling I may need to get as far away from my dad as fast as possible.

Seth asked me if I wanted to wait to get married, until I was finished with school. But the thought of two more years of long distance made me want to pull my heart out right there.

I spin my new ring nervously around my finger.

It looked nice on my hand; I got used to it quickly. It was simple gold with a small solitaire stone, but the way the band wrapped around the stone, when viewed from the top, almost looked like an ocean wave. It felt meant for me. A little reminder of Seth, right there on my finger.

"It's not going anywhere," Seth murmurs, kissing my temple. I feel his lips pulled up into a smile.

I shake my head, trying to clear away my own grin. "I'm more worried that I won't be alive to enjoy it much longer."

"Katie, it's going to be fine," he assures me. "Promise."

Shelby is waiting for us at the airport as agreed upon, and I run into her waiting arms. I'd requested her moral support when I broke the news to Mom and Dad – but mostly Dad.

"My baby sister, all grown up and getting married," she says as she pulls back. She grabs my left hand.

"Nice," Shelby says, giving Seth an authentic smile. "Ready to do this thing?" She asks, slipping an arm around my shoulder.

Neither my parents nor Bailey are home when we get there, which I am surprisingly grateful for. They must be out to dinner.

When they finally arrive, Bailey runs in first from the garage. She must have recognized Shelby's car in the driveway.

"Oh my gosh, what are you guys doing here?" She says, enveloping us in a hug.

Mom and Dad are just as surprised, but more cautious than Bailey. "What's going on?", Mom asks. "Hello, Seth," she adds as an afterthought.

He says, "Hi, Laura," with a warm smile.

Dad doesn't say anything, but his eyes dart back and forth between Seth and I with speed and suspicion. I slide my hands in my sweatshirt pockets.

"We're having a family meeting," Shelby answers, heading toward the living room.

My father enters last, having had the forethought to pour himself a stiff drink. He grips the glass tightly between both hands as he sits across from us in an armchair. Next to him, my mother sits, perched and waiting. I can't help but notice she looks excited.

There have been many family meetings like this before. Dad on the left, Mom on the right, me in between Shelby on my left and Bailey on my right, in birth order on the couch across from them. Seth flanks my right side now; his large stature makes it a tight squeeze, but not uncomfortable.

I take a breath, reaching for Seth's hand blindly. I'm shaking, but when his fingers tangle with mine, it stops.

"Seth and I are getting married," I say, surprised at how confident my voice comes out. Seth's thumb brushes softly across the back of my hand and encourages me to continue. "And I know you want me to finish my education," I say, turning my attention to Dad. "I'm still planning to. I'm putting in a transfer request to the University of Washington in Forks for the fall," I say, pulling my left hand out of my pocket and placing it on my other one already joined with Seth's.

I watch Dad's face take us both in, eyes calculating, and the liquid in his glass sloshes up the side as he sits forward in his chair. He opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. "I don't need your permission, you know. I'm an adult. We'll go to the courthouse. I'm getting some money from a photography thing. I'll use that."

At this, my dad's eyebrows shoot up. "Photography thing?"

Seth becomes animated next to me as he sits forward. "Yes! She won a photography contest. I brought a few copies for you both. Our Katie's published in the Seattle Times. You should be really proud, Greg."

Our Katie? Greg? Since when did Seth call my dad by his first name?

My mind flashes back to Seth's explanation for his mid-proposal departure. Went faster than I thought. I feel like an idiot for not thinking of it sooner. Seth had been much too calm for this whole trip to be anything close to us walking into the line of fire like I'd expected.

"You could have told me you'd already called him before I made a fool of myself," I mumble, blushing.

And then my mother finally lets out her excited squeal and jumps from her seat.

Later that night, while Dad and Seth have a heart to heart over some ungodly expensive bottle of bourbon in the kitchen, my mother, sisters and I are discussing wedding details. Mom stole one of dad's legal pads and is furiously scribbling notes.

"I really don't want anything too fancy," I say after my mom starts to talk about the country club options in Great Falls. "And I think I want to get married in La Push. By the beach." I trust that Seth can hear me, too.

Shelby's face twists into a scowl. "Doesn't it rain all the time?"

"We can have a tent if it rains. It's just special to me. That's where we met. That's where he asked me to marry him," the second time, I leave out. They didn't need to know everything. "The summer is usually pretty dry anyway."

My mom gasps. "Summer? This summer?" she asks, furiously scribbling onto the notepad.

I nod. "June or July, probably. If I'm going to transfer schools, it's easiest if it's in between semesters. Plus, we don't really want to wait that long anyway."

I hear Shelby snicker from next to me, and she mumbles, "Wonder why," under her breath.

It must not have been as quiet as she thought, because my mother gasps again. "Shelby Lynn Prescott! Manners, young lady."

I have to laugh. "It's okay, Mom. I'll just take away her plus one." I try to make my tone as threatening as possible, but I still end up giggling toward the end.

"Are you bringing Jenna?" Mom asks, lifting her eyes to Shelby.

I feel Shelby freeze next to me. "Why would I bring Jenna?" She asks nervously, although her tone is already guilt-ridden.

Mom's eyebrows crinkle together. "Aren't you dating her?"

Shelby's mouth falls open with a pop. So does Bailey's. So does mine.

But my mother only rolls her eyes, setting down her pen. "Honestly, I'm not as oblivious as you all think. You mention her basically every time we talk. I've only met her the one time, but she seems nice. I'm looking forward to getting to know her," she says.

And then, before Shelby can say a single word, my mother asks if I feel up for dress shopping tomorrow, and we all move on without a second thought.