Seth

The reservation is so small, my hearing so refined, that I can hear Katie's heartbeat from miles away, and I'm able to redirect my path to her current location. She's still at Leah's.

It's got to be close to two in the morning, and I think Katie has to work at the diner tomorrow. I'm surprised she's still there. Maybe she had too much wine and is waiting for me to come to the rescue. I'm happy to do that.

As I draw closer, Leah and Katie's current conversation becomes both clearer and muddier. I catch words and phrases like Seattle. Home wrecker. Other woman.

I get a nagging feeling in my stomach, but I push forward, and Leah's house comes into view. Maybe they're talking about a movie they watched? Sleepless in Seattle? I've never seen it; that's probably it. My unease fades.

Until Katie asks, loud and clear, "How do you think Seth's going to take it?"

I'm working on phasing at the tree line by the time Leah responds, but her response is also crystalline. "He doesn't have a choice." There's no question as to whether she heard me approach. She said it for my benefit in addition to Katie's.

What the heck am I walking in to?

I don't bother knocking after I'm dressed, just push open the front door. My sudden, perfectly timed appearance makes Katie jump, but Leah's face is twisted into an apprehensive expression.

"How's Seth going to take what?" I prompt, leaning over the side of the couch to give Katie a kiss in her hair. She leans back, melting into my chest. Okay, she's a little drunk.

Both of them hesitate, and my stomach stirs uncomfortably.

"Turns out I'm not totally hopeless in love," Leah says slowly. "Maybe I should wait until after you've slept. Eaten something."

Leah, in love? I eye the calendar in the kitchen, wondering if I unknowingly slipped into a coma, skipping the rest of February and all of March, and made it to April Fool's Day.

Katie shifts in my arms, and I pick up the discomfort behind the motion.

"Come on," I say, winding an arm over Katie's collarbones, to keep myself grounded. "Just tell me what's going on."

Leah's lips twitch sideways, like she wants to smile but is trying to resist. I study the other features of her face. The lines of her face have all but dissolved, and the normal tension in her shoulders is no longer visible. She looks loose, light. Happy?

Her eyes are bright, even though the light in the room is dim. And the familiar hardness there, the one that took up residence after Sam and intensified after Dad died, isn't just softened, it's gone altogether, replaced by an expression that, in other circumstances, I'd call infatuation.

Her mouth finally gives way to a smile – one I instantly recognize even though I've never seen it on her face – and I know before she speaks what words are about to spill out.

"I imprinted."

So that look is infatuation. It's a nice look on her, joy. Not hung up on past (uncontrollable) events.

I can't help my own smile, and Katie's shoulders relax against my chest. "Well, when do I get to meet him?" I ask. "Tell me all about him. Or do you want to just phase so you can show me?"

Leah coughs, and the stiffness returns to Katie's shoulders.

"What?" I ask.

"That might not be a bad idea," Katie murmurs, more to Leah than to myself. When she speaks, I smell the wine on her breath. She is definitely not driving home tonight.

"It's a horrible idea," Leah mumbles. "Sharper teeth that way."

My eyebrows crease. "How bad can it be?"

Turns out, it can be that bad.

I watch through Leah's eyes as she saw him for the first time, feel her heart flutter as he introduced himself – Adam. How he invited her for coffee, how Leah was (of course) helpless to resist.

How their conversation was effortless and easy, how she'd catalogued every single tidbit he offered, like that he's an architect who does specialist window and door installations. That's why he was at Jacob's cabin, because Nessie mentioned wanting floor to ceiling windows, and Jacob found the best man for the job.

Adam's the best at a lot of things, apparently. One of them is getting Leah to lower her defenses (she told him about Dad a full forty minutes after they sat down for coffee). When he said it wasn't her fault, she believed him.

I snort, interrupting Leah's memory. Have I been this lovestruck this entire time? I ask.

Leah growls, but there's a smile playing on her lips. Yes. Now shut up.

And then the bottom drops out, and Leah's apprehension makes sense.

Married.

The word clangs in Leah's head like a gong, reverberates off every bristled clump of fur on both of us.

He's married, Seth, Leah whines. Leave it to me to imprint on Washington's most ineligible bachelor. Fuckin' married. Ugh! She's full-on growling when she's done, but she's only angry at the situation. Not at Adam himself. How could she be?

You have to tell him that you imprinted, I say. He needs to know.

Leah growls in turn, and this time it's directed at me. Do you want the full story or not?

What else is there? I ask. Katie's watching us from the porch step, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she burrows deeper into her winter coat. I wonder if the chilly air will sober her up.

And then Leah shows me exactly how much more there is, and I watch the memory replay in her love-heart eyes.

Adam takes a long drink before responding, "I felt like you deserved to know. I met her in college, when I didn't know anything else. It was over basically before it started, but it's all I've known. I haven't been in love for years, haven't been together in months." Those timelines don't match up, but I brush that aside. "I stay because it's comfortable, not because I love her," he finishes.

I think he's expecting me to leave. Part of me thinks I will. But I find myself instead saying, "I know that feeling. I stay here because it's comfortable."

"Do you ever want to leave?" he asks.

"Every single day of my life," I say before I can stop myself. I had no idea why imprinting has brought down my brick wall. At first I think I'm going to hate this vulnerability, I always have. But the way he is looking at me makes me think that maybe being honest with myself would be okay sometimes, too. "I've always felt trapped here."

"You should leave, then," he says. "You deserve to be happy."

He says it like it's just that simple. I give him a look saying as much. "Well, then, by that logic, shouldn't you leave your wife?" I retort.

He looks like he's confused that I understood him so quickly, that I called him out. "I'm going to leave. I just…" He doesn't finish.

"It's safe?" I offer. He nods.

Leah fast forwards through the part where they transition (easily, she notes) to dinner, to more flirting. She's holding something back, editing for my benefit.

Leah, I groan. I'm a big boy. I can take it.

You asked for it, she says.

My responding laugh turns to a groan when she quits editing. By the time he invites her to his hotel, a growl is lodged in my throat. By the time she's on the bed, my mouth is foaming.

Clothes are flying and so are words and hands and moans and God, do I actually want to see this? Leah goes back to editing. But she doesn't edit out all the lies she has to tell – yes, it's normal for my skin to be burning up and it's okay you that don't have a condom, I'm on the pill.

That was really stupid, I tell her. We don't actually know you can't get pregnant. We didn't think you could imprint, either, but look now.

Leah ignores me, continuing through their pillow talk sessions. She told Adam the legends, the same ones I'd told Katie on our trip to Hole-In-The-Wall and sprinkled through our trip to Olympic National Park. He seemed receptive enough. I'm sure the "Legend says" Leah put before every revealing tidbit didn't hurt, either.

She starts editing again when his hands return to her body, and I gag. She laughs. Consider this payback for the Kitchen Table Incident.

Leah fast forwards to the next morning as she'd started asking the hard questions – both to Adam and to herself. What now? He lives in Seattle. He's got a life. A wife.

The last thing Leah shows me is them promising to meet up again next weekend, in whatever capacity that looks like.

I'm a home wrecker, Leah says. Whines might be more accurate. I'm a piece of shit, and I imprinted on a married man, and his wife's going to show up at any moment and kill me.

I whine, too, shaking my head to clear the thought.

"Is she saying that stuff about being murdered again?" Katie comments through a slurred yawn.

Does Jacob know? I ask after throwing Katie a wistful nod. I'm tired, too. Exhausted as the weight of Leah's revelations settle onto my shoulders.

Leah snuffs. Yeah, he was there to witness my walk of shame. Of course he was, asshat. That last part was more for herself.

I start laughing before I can help myself, and Leah finally busts too, and I feel the tension flee her body. It leaves mine by association.

It's probably why we're alone in here right now, she notes. You were supposed to run patrol with Jake, right? He must not have thought he could keep the secret.

I sigh, nodding. I should probably take her home, I say, tilting my head toward Katie, who looks like she could fall asleep standing up if given thirty more seconds.

Leah nods, moving toward the small clearing where her clothes are laying at the base of a tree. How'd we get so lucky with her, anyway? she asks, not bothering to meet my eyes. She was practically a therapist tonight.

Instead, I see Katie through Leah's view. A little sister, ready and willing to listen and provide advice Leah will most likely not heed.

You oughta know now, I say, trotting to my own heap of clothes. Imprinting's not about luck.

Whatever I said about Leah being happy before, I take it back.

Adam Baker is going to die.

Okay, that's a little dramatic. I don't actually want her to be unhappy, and I can't actually kill him. Actually, according to sacred tribal rules, I'm supposed to lay down my life for him.

But the guy's making it hard to want to do that. Couldn't my sister have picked anyone else? Anyone? I wonder if this is how Jacob felt when Paul imprinted on Rachel.

Imprint.

It's a word that used to equal Katie, which in turns equals love and laughter and warmth. Now it nearly leaves me sick to my stomach.

Jake had to switch patrol shifts around so Leah and I aren't scheduled together anymore. Because she's very, very happy; she feels no need to edit her thoughts about it anymore. I don't know how people can have sex so much in a month of weekends, but they've managed.

As happy as my sister is with Adam, she's still hurting, too. This is a new, different pain from what she'd felt with Sam and Emily. Sam had no choice. Adam does. And he's not choosing Leah.

He keeps saying he's going to leave his wife. Those are practically the only words out of Leah's mouth lately – he's going to leave. It's probably best I haven't met him yet, because if and when I do, I don't plan on being as nice about it as she is.

I have decided that, until this entire situation blows over (until Adam leaves or I drag him out by his scruff), I am officially Anti-Adam.

Katie thinks I'm absolutely ridiculous. Or at least she would, if she weren't so busy with this stupid group project from hell that Rich assigned their class.

When she's not working in Port Angeles, she's either at the diner or on campus, working with Leslie and Jordan, editing pictures of Leslie and Jordan, emailing Leslie and Jordan.

And when I arrive at the diner on this particular Saturday to pick up some take-out for everyone working at Jake's cabin, I find her once again hunched over her laptop in the corner booth. She's not alone.

"Katie," I greet warmly, my eyes scanning the other two bodies at the table.

I'm not sure why I thought Leslie and Jordan were both female. Maybe it's because when Katie told me about them, her only descriptor for Leslie was that she talks a lot. She. The only time they've been distinct entities, and my brain has been lumping them together ever since. But they are not both female.

My hackles raise.

"Seth," Katie breathes, hopping to her feet. Her cheeks light up with her smile, and she winds her arms around my waist in a tight embrace. "I'm so glad you're here."

I take in the scent of her, diluted and tainted by grease and bleach they use to clean dirty tables with. I have to take an extra deep breath to get that familiar, lovely, vanilla citrus. I fill my lungs with it. I leave my arms wrapped around her shoulders for longer than I normally would, because I notice that there are two sets of eyes on us. One set – the male set – is nearly glaring.

I tighten my hold on Katie. Mine.

Katie pulls back, leaving one of her own arms looped around my waist. "Guys, this is Seth, my husband. Seth, this is Leslie and Jordan." She points at each of them in turn.

Leslie's eyes brighten. "OhmyGodhi!" she says all in one breath. "We've heard so much about you. Katie, you didn't tell me he was so tall. What are you, like six three, six four? My neck would hurt from trying to look up at you all the time. How do you deal, honestly? I'm sure you're so fed up with Katie always working on this damn group project with us all the time. We are, too, don't worry."

She gives me no time to answer any of her questions. Talks more than drunk Kim and drunk Rachel combined, Katie had said. Right on the money, Katie Kat.

"Good to meet you," I say, giving her a small, friendly wave. To Jordan, I give a slight head nod. "Sup, man?"

He doesn't return it. "Not much," he says, his eyes locking on the way Katie's still hanging on to me.

I open my mouth to ask him what his problem is, but Leslie takes a deep breath. "Are you staying for lunch, Seth? We could pull up a chair. If we can ever find the table again. I'm not sure why Rich insists on creating a physical portfolio for the project. Everything's moving digital these days." She says all this while scooping up heaps of prints, portraits, and sliding them into three piles.

One photo of Katie catches my eye, and I grab at the edge tenderly. "This is a nice photo of you," I murmur into her hair.

It's a simple portrait. She's sitting on some steps, elbows on her knees and hands clasped in front of her. Her short hair is down, being blown by an invisible breeze. There's a filter, making it look bronzed and antique. Sepia, I recall from one of Katie's attempts to teach me about her passion.

There's something off about the photo, though, and the longer I stare, the more it bothers me. I can't decide what it is.

"Thanks," Jordan gruffs, grabbing the photo a little too roughly and sliding it into his laptop, slamming it shut.

Maybe that's what's wrong with the photo. He took it.

I glance down to Katie, and her cheeks are pink. "Come on," she says, tugging me toward the kitchen. "Let's see if your order's ready."

We're hardly in the back room before I'm turning to her. "I didn't realize Jordan was a boy." Maybe I should have called him a guy, but I don't want to give him any undeserved credit.

Katie only giggles as she starts looking through the miscellaneous take-out orders, gathering up several bags. "Jealous?"

"I am allowed to be jealous. You're my wife. I don't like the way he looks at you," I murmur, attempting unsuccessfully to keep the growly undertone out of my voice.

"He's harmless, Seth." Her tone is too light to be convincing.

"I'm getting a weird feeling about this," I say.

She sighs, reaching for my hands and slotting her fingers through, squeezing. "It's just for the project. I can handle myself, okay? I promise."

Katie's eyes are honest and pleading a little. Drop it, please, she's telling me without words. The longer I stare into them, the harder it is for me to remember what the problem was in the first place. She's mine. That's my ring on her finger.

I run my fingers over the smooth band, and she sighs contentedly. "I don't forget them if I never take them off."

"Just the way I like it," I say, bending my neck to give her a chaste kiss.

She indulges me for a minute, but blushes and springs away when Larry the Cook barrels through the kitchen door.

"Hey, Seth," Larry chimes as he heads into the stock room. I'm learning this restaurant almost as well as Katie after all my visits here.

"Larry," I greet back, not bothering to take my eyes off Katie and her furious pretty flush.

Katie reaches for my order, shoving six bags of take-out into my hands. "Working late again tonight?"

Jake's cabin is coming along nicely. If he didn't love cars so much, I'd suggest he go into the renovation business. It's probably only a month away from being done. He wants to have it done before Sam and Emily's baby comes, and that's probably only a month and a half away. It's a race to the finish.

He's going to empty his bank accounts, because if there's anything that werewolves love more than food, it's cash. And he offers both. Even Leah finds time to help between her back and forth driving to Seattle, Port Ludlow, anywhere else she and Adam can sneak away for a few hours of—

"Yes," I spit to stop my train of thought. "Do you want me to bring home a pizza?"

Katie nods eagerly. "Please? With extra pepperoni."

"No more heart burn?"

She scrunches her nose at me. "No, heart burn's all gone, thank goodness. If I'm asleep when you get there, just force it down my throat."

Katie's improved leaps and bounds over where she was months ago. All of her stress symptoms are either gone – like the weird heart burn and nausea – or well-managed, like her schedule. It makes me so, so happy.

I follow her to the front of the restaurant, and she walks me to the door. I feel eyes boring into my back.

"I love you. I should get back," she says, stretching her neck to meet my lips in a quick peck.

Even though I have my hands full of food, I still manage to press her to me, deepening our kiss into something I'm sure will have more than just one pair of eyes ogling.

"Seth," she groans, pulling back, cheeks a fiery sunset. "Not here, please." She's trying to fight her smile.

"Sorry," I say. I don't mean it. She knows it.

"Go," she says, pushing me toward the door. "Tell everyone I said hi."

As I pull away from the curb, I catch a glimpse of Katie in the corner booth, with talkative Leslie and not-a-female Jordan. My stomach stirs, and I tell myself it's just because I'm hungry.

It doesn't hit me until I'm pulling up to the cabin, gathering all the bags of food. One of them snags on my wedding band.

You can't see Katie's wedding rings in Jordan's picture.

Honestly, I think Leslie's becoming my favorite character. She's so fun to write with all of her babbles and word-vomit-ness and interrupting tension and such. We'll get to meet Adam next chapter, too. I'm looking forward to that.

Also, if you're interested in getting Leah's side of this story (including all the spicy bits she edited out on behalf of Seth's sanity), be sure to check out This Side of Paradise Chapter 10.