Chapter 8
"Rise above the storm and you will find sunshine."
Anonymous
I have no idea how much time passes before Paul slowly loosens his hold, moving me carefully to my back so that he can stare down at me. My heart skips a beat at the open and soft expression on his face; however, it doesn't take long for my nerves and insecurities to rear their head, making me doubt my decision. A large, calloused hand, bearing proof of hard work and dedication, strokes some hair away from my face.
"Christ, you're beautiful."
This time the increased pulses of my heartbeats are enough to drown out those detrimental and negative thoughts. Biting my lip, I try to keep myself from smiling as I roll my eyes dramatically at him. The smile I've been holding back is freed from its chains when a wicked smile crosses Paul's face and his fingers begin tickling my side. The uncontrollable laughter that rolls through me feels both liberating and wonderous. When he finally relents his sudden attack, we're both smiling and the tension between us is broken.
"Come on, sleepy head! You didn't want to eat your breakfast in bed and now it's gotten cold."
The stern look he sends me makes something deep inside of me purr like a kitten, but before I have time to really consider how I feel, I'm distracted when he picks up a piece of melon from my almost untouched tray of food and holds it up to my mouth. Opening wide, I feel a deep sense of accomplishment and satisfaction when I see his eyes darken as my lips brush along the tips of his fingers. Unfortunately, the man appears to have the self-discipline of a saint. Dragging me to my feet, he directs me to his ensuite bathroom, promising me a breakfast to die for when I'm done.
Following his orders, I take my time, enjoying a long hot shower before getting dressed. Glancing down at the remaining clothes in my small overnight bag, I'm struck by the overwhelming logistics of my rather rash decision. Had I seriously just agreed to packing up my life in Seattle and moving back to Forks (of all places) for three months because of some guy? Glancing at myself in the mirror, I shake my head. What was I thinking?
Suddenly, Paul's voice echoes in my mind, reminding me exactly of the reason why I'd accepted his somewhat unorthodox proposal.
"Life is short."
Staring back at my reflection, I bite the inside of my cheek and tip my chin up in a show of confidence. Then I turn on my heel and go in search of the man who has somehow given me the courage to throw caution to the wind and just... live.
§§§
In the bright sunlight I'm able to see every crack and corner of my childhood home, revealing all of its imperfections all the while rekindling the love I had always felt for this house. Relieved that I'm temporarily not weighted down by a mountain of painful memories and regret, I quickly make my way to the kitchen before my emotions do a 180 on me. The image that greets me puts an instant and silly grin on my face. Because there in my mother's outdated, but still charming and very feminine looking kitchen, is the man in question dancing and singing his heart out to Justin Timberlake's Can't Stop the Feeling as he warms my breakfast omelet in a hot pan.
Thinking that perhaps my presence will undoubtedly stop this somewhat embarrassing, but highly entertaining impromptu show, I remain still, biting back my laughter as I quietly observe him. Almost as though he can sense my presence, he glances over his shoulder and meets my gaze, sending me a sexy wink all the while continuing with his little performance. Freed from my restraints, I feel the muscles in my stomach tighten as I laugh. Paul turns off the stove before pulling me into his arms, twirling me and forcing me to join in. When the music eventually stops we're both breathless and my stomach actually aches from all the laughter.
"If this is what you do when you make the meals, I'm thinking maybe we should set up some camera equipment and create some kind of musical cooking show."
He chuckles at my idea.
"I'm serious, we could make fortune!"
Paul kisses my cheek, successfully shutting me up as a youthful giddiness shoots down my spine and all the way to the tips of my toes. Jesus, this entire situation is surreal.
"You know you could have just popped that in the microwave," I say, motioning to the now hot omelet sizzling in the pan.
A boyish and playful smile spreads across Paul's sensual lips as he reaches one hand out to grab the handle.
"Yeah, but then I wouldn't be able to do this," he reveals, before flipping the omelet expertly in the pan.
I can't help but giggle at his overly pleased expression.
"You should see what I can do with pancakes."
I raise my eyebrow at him, enjoying this moment of light banter.
"Oh really?"
Paul simply nods his head, biting his lips as he tries to suppress an extremely satisfied grin on his face, while simultaneously drawing me closer to him. Then, without a single shred of hesitation, he swoops down and covers my lips with his, acting as though it is the most natural thing in the world. Pushing away the alarm bells that are trying to convince me that this is going much too fast, I wrap my arms around his neck and surrender to his kiss. Dragging my fingers through his short, silky hair, I pull on it ever so slightly, reveling in his muffled moan. His lips increase their intensity as heat once again explodes between us, urging us to shut the door to the rest of the world and just-.
"God, Leah," he groans, his fingers digging into my ass as he instinctively presses his hardened length against my soft stomach.
Something inside me snaps at the feel of him against me and the needy edge to his tone. Reacting completely on instinct, I trail a hand down his front before boldly cupping him through the material of his jeans. His responding moan is thrillingly loud and desperate. Moving my hand up his length I feel his entire body shudder with pleasure and his lips freeze, unable to continue kissing me as he completely surrenders to my touch. The power I feel from his reaction, makes my head spin. Licking the salty skin in what I know is a sensitive area just between his shoulder and neck, I soon pick up a notch by adding suction.
"Shit, I need to feed you," he whispers brokenly. I'd laugh if I didn't feel the same way.
The obvious lust in his tone fuels my every move. Needing more, I quickly open his fly, dipping my hand below his waistband before I take a moment to enjoy the silky feel of him as I brush my fingers against him.
"Fuck!"
"Well, Paul, that's exactly what I had in mind," I think, nipping at his skin as I slowly curl my fingers around him and begin to pump up and down, feeling him pulse beneath my fingers. His deep and seemingly uncontrollable grunts and groans cause a rush of shivers to run down my spine. Twisting my hand over his tip, I feel a few drops of liquid and I'm just about to-.
"Paul?"
The unfamiliar, male voice washes over us like a bucket of ice water and in a whirl of movement, I've removed my hand and stepped away from him, searching the room for something to do. Moving over to the stove, I tip the omelet back onto my plate as Paul hurries to button his jeans, the material doing nothing to hide the large bulge he's sporting. Sending me a deeply disappointed look, he leans his arms against the kitchen island, successfully hiding his crotch just as the newcomer confidently walks into the room.
It takes me about less than a microsecond to recognize our visitor and when I do, I'm unable to hold back an excited screech of joy as I leap into his strong arms. His rumbling laughter joins mine as he twirls me around, as if I weigh nothing.
"JAKEY!"
Jacob Black had been my absolute best friend growing up. We had literally been joined at the hip since birth, our mother's meeting at the hospital the day we were born. They had bonded over the birth of their first child, quickly becoming close friends and cementing the sibling-like relationship between Jake and I. When we started school, our friendship suffered a blow when Jake's mother insisted he go to the school on the reservation instead of the local public school, but we still managed to remain close. In fact, Jake had been the only person I'd ever opened up to about everything that was going on in my life. And when I needed him the most, he'd always been there to support me. It had broken my heart to leave him all those years ago, but he'd made it easier for me, offering to drive me to the bus station that horrible night where I decided I simply couldn't stay in Forks a moment longer.
"Lei-lei!"
Seeing his handsome face again, makes my heart sing and as I gaze up into his warm chocolate eyes, I feel as though an important piece of my soul has finally clicked back into place. Tears blur my vision and I bury my face in his strong chest, a chest that has grown exponentially in my absence.
"Hey, it's okay! You're okay," he soothes, his lips touching the top of my head as his arms tightening around me.
Inhaling his scent, I close my eyes and try not to think of how I'd almost left Forks the night before without even offering Jake a single thought. I'd been so overwhelmed by it all, and besides-.
"What the hell are you doing here?!" I ask, pushing back as I slap the palms of my hands over his strong chest.
He winces painfully, but I can tell that I haven't caused any permanent damage. Faker.
"What are you talking about?!" he mirrors my outraged tone.
"You were supposed to be in Canada or something by now! What happened to your big hockey plans?"
"They crashed and burned when I tore my ACL and Doc said I had to kiss that dream goodbye."
My eyes widen into saucers and I glance down at his knee, almost expecting to see his leg all messed up. Jacob chuckles.
"I'm fine, Lei-lei, I just have to be really careful, especially when I'm on the ice."
"You still skate?"
Jake's lips twitch with humor.
"Of course I do, I might not be able to go pro, but that sure as hell doesn't mean I can't play."
Folding my arms over my chest, I send him a look he's all too familiar with.
"Oh, oh! Paul, run! It's the Leah Death Glare!" he teases, moving as though he's about to bolt.
Grabbing his arm, I keep him in place, but his teasing has successfully erased my frown.
"You're staying safe?" I ask him seriously.
He sighs, taking each of my hands in his and squeezing them lightly.
"Of course."
His infectious smile is annoyingly persuasive and soon I find myself smiling with him. Noticing a pretty major difference, I can't help but ruffle his short hair, like an annoying sister.
"Jesus, what did your Mom say to you chopping off your hair?"
He brushes my hand away and desperately tries to fix the slight mess I've made.
Paul chuckles from behind us, placing my plate in front of me as he sends Jake a silent warning.
"She wasn't exactly pleased. Hey, Paul, if this was why you were taking so long, where's mine?"
Feeling hunger rise in my stomach, I pull out one of the chairs below the kitchen island and begin to eat.
"You can wait until lunch and if you can't, the stove is right there," Paul answers, pouring three freshly brewed cups of coffee, placing one in front of me before handing one begrudgingly to Jake.
The omelet tastes amazing and I make sure to send Paul a smile, which he immediately returns. When I return my attention back to Jake, I can clearly see the look of surprise on his face and feel my cheeks heat. Jake had always been able to read me like an open book and apparently after ten years, that still hadn't changed.
"I'm glad to see you, sis."
My breath hitches in my chest at the natural use of "title" for one another.
"Right back at you, bro," I respond in kind.
He places a warm hand against the small of my back, almost as though he's trying to take back all the years he's missed. His expression grows somber.
"I thought for sure you'd come back for the funeral."
My stomach sinks and that pain and deep regret flares up in my chest. Losing my appetite, I allow the fork to drop as I answer him.
"I know… I wish I'd been here," I'm surprised to realize that I'm actually telling the truth.
Jake's thick eyebrows tighten and I can see that he's about to apologize.
"I changed my name when I left, Jake. They weren't able to find me at first and once I found out it was already too late. I figured it was for the best, you know. What I deserved after leaving them."
As usual around Jake, I felt myself open up.
"Leah," Jake's tone is achingly soft.
"You did what you had to do. Don't forget that I was there. The way they treated you-."
"Jake," I interrupt him, not ready to do this with him right now.
Piercing his eyes into mine, I can see that he wants to argue, but something in my expression makes him pause.
"Fine, but this conversation isn't over," he insists and I feel myself give him the smallest nod.
His warm, brown eyes sparkle as his lips curl into a playful smile.
"Fake name, huh? How under-cover-spy of you, no wonder I wasn't able to find you. What brilliant name did you end up choosing? Please tell me you came up with something good!"
I can't help but laugh at his enthusiasm. Glancing over at Paul, I catch the frown he's busy wiping away from his face. Pausing, I briefly consider asking him about it, but quickly decide against it and return my focus back to my old friend.
"I think you'll be disappointed," I say, seeing my jacket hanging over one of the chairs.
Biting my bottom lip, I reach for it and pull out my wallet, finding one of my fake ids before handing it over to my older-by-fifteen-whole-minutes "big brother". Jake flips the card between his fingers, reading it quickly before releasing a sharp laugh.
"Leah Jones?! That's what you came up with? Damn, we need to work on your creativity."
I try to fight back my grin, but soon realize that it's useless. Trying to hide it behind a round of strong punches, I do my best to hit him when he least expects it, however, built like a brick and with reflexes like a cat, he annoyingly manages to block my every move.
"Okay, okay! Try not to hurt yourself," he snickers, grabbing both of my fists with his hands, holding me in place.
"You better eat up and find your overalls and work boots because I got to tell you, there is a ton of work left because this guy over here has been slacking all morning."
Paul begins to argue, but Jake quickly shoots him down with a pointed look.
"Fine."
"I don't know if Mom kept-," I begin, but Paul is quick to answer before I've even completed my sentence.
"Sue always made sure that your things were laundered and ready for the day you came back. Your overalls and work-clothes are neatly folded in your locker over in the mudroom and your boots are both cleaned and oiled."
His dark eyes hold mine as he tells me this, probably expecting a reaction from me. The idea of my mother folding my clothes as she patiently waits for my return, makes my heart ache unbearably, but somehow Paul's presence manages to center me and keeps the pain from overwhelming me completely.
"Ready to get to work and see what we're doing around here?" he asks, holding his hand out for me to take.
Without even considering how it might look, or what Jake might think, I find myself automatically placing my hand in his, allowing him to pull me close so that I can curl against his side. Allowing my arms to wrap naturally around his waist, I feel the comfort of his heat as I slowly nod my head in silent confirmation.
With Paul by my side, I'm ready to face the ghosts of my past and check out my old, "new" home.
