two
I woke slowly, groggily, drifting up into consciousness in a confusing blur of senses. I heard the shriek of a toddler, followed by the clattering of a toy and the frantic shushing of an adult. Someone had made bacon not too long ago, and coffee was percolating currently. A steady stream of rain tapped against the window, and I was surrounded by the smell of Jacob.
That thought brought my eyes open. I sat partway up, propping myself up on an elbow and glancing around as I blinked the sleep from my eyes. I was in Jacob's old room at Billy's house, the room where I'd be staying for the rest of the summer, still in my clothes from the night before. I didn't remember falling asleep, didn't remember Jacob carrying me back into the house, but he must've at some point. I squinted at the clock on the nightstand, blinked, and then looked again - sure enough, just after eleven. Out in the den, I heard Rachel asking the girls if they wanted corn dogs or chicken nuggets for lunch.
I pushed the covers back and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, padding over to where my suitcases were stacked neatly in the corner of the room. I dug out a clean change of clothes, slipped down the hall to the bathroom to take care of necessities, and made my way to the kitchen just as the microwave timer was going off.
"Here." Rachel tipped a few chicken nuggets onto a plate for Maddie, and then ushered her oldest over to the table where a bottle of ketchup was waiting, Makenna perched on her hip. The younger girl hooked a finger in her mouth and stared at me from behind her mother's long curtain of hair. Rachel glanced up, and shot me a sheepish smile.
"Sorry if we woke you up. Somebody," she emphasized meaningfully, rolling her eyes to the little girl in her arms, "toppled a Lego tower, and it was the end of the world."
I grinned, tweaking the end of Maddie's long braid as I passed her at the table. "That's okay. I was already up."
"Oh, good." Rachel passed her oldest a sippy cup, and turned back toward the microwave. "Corndog or chicken nuggets?" she asked with a grin over her shoulder.
"Um...coffee?" I returned, and she laughed, reaching for a mug.
"I just made a new pot," she said, nodding toward the coffee maker. "There's sugar in the bowl there, and some creamers in the fridge. Help yourself. I'm going to get this one started on lunch."
I made myself a cup of coffee, and then joined them at the table, where Rachel had pulled up a highchair for Makenna, and was dropping little chunks of chicken nuggets onto the tray for her. Maddie wiggled in her seat, reaching for the ketchup, which I carefully squirted onto her plate after looking to her mother for approval.
"Did you sleep okay?" she asked after a moment, once both girls were settled with their food and eating happily.
I nodded, taking a sip of my coffee. "Yeah, I slept great, actually."
The glint in her eye turned teasing as she pulled one leg up, wrapping her arms around it and resting her chin on her knee. "Paul owes me ten bucks. He thought you two would stay out there on that swing all night."
My cheeks flamed red, but I laughed with her, unsure of what to say. Your brother makes the best bed probably wasn't appropriate, even as true as it was.
Her smile softened, and she reached over, squeezing my hand. "Regardless of what anybody says - especially me," she added with a quick grin, "we're so happy to have you, Nessie. Not just Jacob, all of us."
I flipped my hand over and squeezed her fingers back, feeling a surge of gratitude for this family that I loved as much as my own flesh, for this woman who was the closest thing to a sister I would ever have. Though we hadn't been close physically over the years, she had always made a point to call regularly, and send cards and gifts for various birthdays and holidays, and I appreciated the effort she had made to include me, not just in her own life, but in her girls' as well.
"Thank you," I said. "For opening your home to me and letting me stay with you guys."
She laughed. "Well, if you stayed with Sue and Charlie, we'd never see Jake, so really we're doing ourselves a favor." She reached for another couple of nuggets when Makenna began to babble, tearing them into pieces with her fingers before passing them over to the little girl. "Let me know if you need anything else for that room. I know it's a little sparse."
I shook my head as I stood to refill my coffee, picking up a second mug and tipping it her direction in question. "It's perfect," I assured her as I filled the two mugs, and it was, far cry as it was from my lavish bedroom at home. The mismatched furniture, the creaky bed frame and old spring mattress, the homemade blue curtains that fluttered at the window - it was all simple and cozy and warm and well-loved.
"Thank you," she said as I returned to the table, reaching for her own mug and blowing into it before taking a long drink. She let out a contented sigh, and her eyes fluttered closed briefly. "Good for the soul," she murmured as she set the mug down on the table, the fingers of one hand wrapping around the handle as she absently reached up to comb the others through her hair. We settled into a companionable silence as we watched the girls eat, Makenna gumming pieces of chicken through a drooly grin while Maddie hummed an off-key rendition of a Disney song I couldn't quite put my finger on and danced her dinosaur nuggets across the table.
"Maddie," Rachel scolded lightly as a triceratops began climbing over the edge of my coffee mug. The girl paused, looking over at her mother, before snatching her food back and taking a decisive chomp, her sparkling eyes rolling over to meet mine. As much as I tried to bite back my grin, it was impossible.
"Life's a little different around here these days," Rachel said half apologetically, shaking her head as she went for a packet of wet-wipes. The warmth in her own eyes and the curl in her lips belied her true feelings, though, as she reached for Maddie's face and fingers, wiping away the last traces of ketchup.
"A good different," I assured her firmly, thinking about my parents' pristine townhome, days spent at galleries or libraries, intellectual debates over formal dinners. As much as I loved my parents, there was an element of warmth, of life - literally and figuratively, I supposed - missing from our day to day lives. I felt myself almost envious of these two little girls who would grow up surrounded by it.
"That it is," she agreed, reaching down to unbuckle Makenna from her chair as she rattled off instructions for Maddie.
"Go pick up all those Legos," Rachel told her after her plate was in the sink and her trash was thrown away. "And when you're done with that, pick out a book for us to read."
Maddie hopped off obediently, and Rachel plunked Makenna down into a walker, giving it a little push with her foot and going to the sink for a dish rag as the baby toddled off after her sister.
"What are your plans for the rest of the day?" she asked me as she swiped the rag over the kitchen counters and table, scrubbing at a dried spot of ketchup.
I leaned my hip against the counter, biting at the corner of my lip as I thought. My gaze fell to the window overlooking the driveway, and I blinked in confusion when I saw the El Camino parked where Jacob had left it the night before. I glanced around, noticing for the first time the pillow and folded blanket on the corner of the couch. "Is Jake - ?"
Her head popped up to follow my gaze, and then she shook her head, rolling her eyes exasperatedly. "Sorry," she said, nodding toward the set of keys on the counter next to the back door. "Mom brain. I was supposed to tell you that he had to run up to the garage for a while to finish up some things for the weekend, but he left you the car in case you needed it."
I walked over to the counter, picking up the keys and fingering the metal wolf emblem that hung from the ring. "Surely he didn't actually run," I said dubiously, half-question, half-statement. I glanced over my shoulder at Rachel as she rinsed out the dish rag and hung it to dry on the edge of the sink.
She laughed at my expression. "No," she assured me, and I let out a relieved breath. "Paul dropped him off on his way to work." Not that running, or even walking, the handful of miles to the garage would've been much of an exertion for him, but I didn't want him to go to unnecessary trouble for me - though I knew good and well that he would not have seen the gesture as unnecessary trouble. Something about it, though, gnawed at me, and I couldn't put my finger on exactly why.
I jangled the keys lightly in my hand, glancing up at the clock.
Rachel smirked as if she could read my mind, propping her hip against the counter and crossing her arms over her chest. "Ramon's has a five for five deal on burritos if you can get there before noon."
Business was in full swing at Full Moon Garage and Body Shop when I pulled up, all five bay doors open and 80's classic rock blaring from a stereo on the workbench. I paused just a moment longer than necessary at La Push's solitary traffic light, pushing my sunglasses up onto my head and gazing out the window at what had, at one point in time, been an abandoned, crumbling red-brick structure on the edge of the reservation.
I'd seen before and after photos, of course, but that did nothing to lessen the impact of seeing the transformation in person. The faded brick had been refinished in a cream stucco, red trim popping out in sharp contrast. Five brand new aluminum garage doors lined the south wall where the bay entrances were, and interspersed between each door was a set of planters made out of old tires, brightly colored petunias spilling out and over the sides. The driveway and sidewalks were clean of weeds and cracks, and the shop door was propped open with a jack in an effort to catch what little breeze there was. Other than a bit of design input from my paternal grandmother - a graduation gift, Esme had called it, after Jacob had completed both a vocational certification and an associate's in business - Jake and Quil had completed the renovations themselves, hiring out local contractors when a project was above their skill level, and they took great satisfaction in providing a source of stable employment for the community that was so important to them both. Finally seeing the fruits of their labor, I couldn't help but feel a tendril of warm pride curl through me.
A burst of staccato honking shook me free from my assessment, and I raised a placating hand to the person waiting not-so-patiently behind me as I eased through the intersection and parked behind the service bays. As I climbed out of the car, I searched the coverall-clad figures along the back wall of the garage for a familiar face.
"Hey there! What can we do for you?"
I glanced over at a decidedly unfamiliar face, smiling politely as he swaggered over. He was young - maybe freshly sixteen - and had all the cockiness to prove it as he hooked his thumbs in his pockets with a smirk.
I grinned, taking in his tall, lanky form - all arms and legs, disproportionately large hands and feet - and found myself wondering briefly if this was what Jake had looked like before he started phasing.
"Thanks," I said, "but I'm looking for the boss."
I caught Seth's eyes as he jogged up behind Newbie's shoulder, and barely stifled a laugh as he popped him across the back of the head.
"Get back to work, Lucas."
Newbie - Lucas, I guessed his name was - scowled over at Seth, but did as he said, shuffling back into the depths of the garage, glancing over his shoulder several times as he went.
Seth rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "He's a little fresh," he said, looking over at me. "And a lot outta his league."
I laughed, feeling my face flush at the compliment.
"Did you bring us food?" he asked hopefully, nodding toward the brown paper bag in my hand. I heard his stomach rumble, and grinned.
"If you can talk Jake into sharing, then sure."
"Damn," he said, sounding genuinely disappointed. He shook his head sadly, and then tipped it back toward the building behind him, beckoning me to follow. "He's in the office. I'll show you."
The inside of the shop smelled like wintergreen mints, orange pumice soap and motor oil – a comforting mix that never failed to remind me of afternoons spent in Billy's old workshop, some manner of beater car or another propped up on jacks. If I closed my eyes and thought hard enough, I could almost feel the worn leather of the old bench seat Jake kept in the corner sticking to the backs of my thighs.
Seth led me through a maze of metal stock shelving and rotating displays, past the front counter towards a door in the far corner. I could hear Jacob's voice on the other side, the cadence a low murmur. Seth didn't bother knocking, just eased it open with his foot and popped his head in, promptly ducking back out as a wadded piece of paper came flying out toward him.
"Whaddya want? We're busy!" Quil called, as Seth stepped back and shoved me in front of him.
"You go first," he muttered, nudging me forward. "No telling what's coming next."
Grinning, I stuck my head around the edge of the door, laughing at Quil's mumbled string of curses as he fumbled over the rubber band slingshot that was aimed for me and snapped himself with it instead.
"Serves you right, you idiot," Seth groused as he followed me in, aiming a kick at Quil's shin as he passed him. Jake twirled his chair around lazily, grinning up at me as I stepped closer.
"Do you two actually work?" I teased, perching on the corner of the desk and setting the bag of burritos next to me. "Or do you just hold these chairs down?"
"Holding the chairs down is work," Jake protested, catching my hand and tugging me down onto his lap as he spun another circuit. I felt my face flame red at Seth and Quil's twin smirks, but Jake's arms wound around my waist, holding me securely, and I found myself effectively distracted. "See?" he asked, spinning us around again. "Exhausting work."
My face fell into a mocking pout. "You poor baby."
Jake's grin widened, completely unrepentant. "Mhm."
"And that," Quil piped up, drawing my attention back to him as he stood and knocked his shoulder into Seth's, "is our cue to leave. C'mon Seth, it's your turn to buy at Ramon's."
Seth followed him out, snapping the door shut behind them as they bickered all the way back into the garage. Jake chuckled, the sound rumbling through me. I felt a flush of warmth at the realization that we were now alone, and I was sitting on his lap, and he seemed to have no intention of moving any time soon.
"Speaking of Ramon's," I said as I stood, suddenly feeling self-conscious, a voice that sounded suspiciously like my father's whispering that sitting on a man's lap behind closed doors wasn't proper. No matter that I had done the exact same thing dozens, if not hundreds of times, in my life - now the gesture felt somehow different, much more intimate. "I brought burritos."
He sat forward as I began pulling out foil-wrapped burritos, leaning around me to look down into the bag.
"Oh man." He reached for the container of churros at the bottom. "You got the good stuff."
"Later," I said as I swatted his hand away. "You'll spoil your appetite if you eat that first."
"Never," he said decidedly, and then let out a resigned sigh. "But if you want me to wait, I'll wait."
His words held just the slightest edge of something more, and I glanced up to see him studying me, head tilted slightly to the side, dark eyes unreadable. I held his gaze for a second before I felt myself flush, and dropped my eyes, one hand reaching up absently to press against my cheek. I felt like the last two days had passed in a blaze of heat, no cooling reprieve to be found, and I suddenly, unexpectedly, longed for my mother's icy touch.
"Hey." Jacob's voice was gentle, his eyes soft as he ducked his head to look at me. "You okay?"
I pulled in a breath, straightening my shoulders, and let my hand fall as my lips twitched up into a smile. "Yeah. Just thinking about my mom. Beef or chicken?"
His eyes traced over my face for another half a second, appraising, before his expression shifted into a pointed look and he scoffed. "Beef," he said, as if that were the only answer. "You can have the chicken."
I scooted the five beef burritos over to him, and then picked up a chicken, peeling back the foil wrapper and taking a bite as I returned to my spot on the edge of the desk. Ramon's had a sign above the counter that read BEST BURRITOS IN CLALLAM COUNTY, and judging by the taste, they might've been the only burritos in Clallam County, but Jacob obviously wasn't picky. He finished his first in two bites, and moved onto a second.
"I brought your car," I said, suddenly remembering the keys in my pocket. I fished them out with one hand, and handed them to him.
He took them, tossing them down on the desk. "You could've kept it. It's not like I live far." His eyes moved pointedly up toward the ceiling, the apartment he shared with Quil above us, and he grinned.
I shrugged, and struggled to find words. I felt that same strange sense of off-balance, an unusual discomfort sitting heavily in the pit of my stomach, and just like earlier, I didn't know what had caused it or how to shake it. I didn't understand why the thought of his simple, selfless gesture was suddenly making me feel unsettled.
"You didn't have to leave it," I finally said. "I would've been fine without it."
He shot me a strange look as he moved on to another - his third? fourth? - burrito. "I know I didn't have to. I didn't do it because I felt like I had to."
"Well," I said lamely, picking off a piece of foil that had stuck to the edge of my tortilla. "Good. I'm glad."
"Sometimes people do things just to be nice. Just 'cause they want to." He knocked his elbow against my thigh, and raised his eyebrows when I glanced over at him, his burrito hovering halfway to his mouth. "Thank you for being nice and bringing me lunch and doing it 'cause you wanted to," he said pointedly, and I let out a breath, rolling my eyes at him even as I felt the corners of my lips quirk up. "At least, I hope you wanted to," he teased, finally taking a bite. "I hope you didn't feel like you had to."
The knot in my stomach loosened a little at his words, that off kilter sensation righting itself again. I felt myself flush at my own ridiculousness as I tamped down any lingering feeling of unease. "Of course I wanted to," I muttered. "Though now you're making me regret my decision."
"I would've been fine without it." He downed another burrito in two more bites, and tilted his head to the side, considering. "On second thought," he said around a mouthful of food. "Maybe not."
I laughed outright despite myself, and shoved his shoulder as he swallowed and then grinned. He balled up the now-empty wrapper of the last beef burrito, and I slid the four remaining chicken over to him. He eyed the stack, and the half eaten one in my hand.
"You should've gone to Maggie's and gotten burgers instead," he said, and I knew his angle. Maggie's burgers were La Push's hidden gem, and one of my favorites.
"Rachel said burrito Fridays were a thing," I replied diplomatically, taking another bite and chewing it slowly. Ramon's burritos, I decided, were not a hidden gem.
His lips curled up lazily, his head shaking slowly as he stared at me, eyes dancing with amusement. "You're right. I'm not sure what I would've done if you'd taken my car and my burritos."
"All right," I said, slipping off his desk and tossing the rest of my burrito in the trash as he threw back his head with a laugh. "I'm going to walk down to Maggie's, and eat lunch by myself."
He caught my wrist as I spun towards the door, biting my lip against an involuntary grin at the infectious sound of his chuckle. The chair creaked as he stood and tugged me back toward him.
"Lunch with you is my thing," he said, dipping his head down to meet my eyes, and I understood what he was saying. "Any day of the week." I felt my expression soften, butterflies thrumming pleasantly in my stomach as he eased back onto the edge of the desk, pulling me forward until I stood between his knees, his hands sliding from my wrists up to hook behind my elbows, and I took another step closer, my arms slipping around his neck.
I rested my forehead against his cheek, and let my eyelids flutter closed. I imagined the picture we must've made, with his hands slipping around the curve of my ribcage, an embrace that I had seen my parents share hundreds of times, but had never experienced myself. He scooted forward a little, his chest pressing more fully against mine, his head dipping forward until his nose nudged the shell of my ear, the muscles in his shoulders shifting under my forearms, and I decided, with a little sigh of pleasure, that this was something I could get used to - him holding me like this, and feeling the warmth of his body wrapping around me.
"Thank you for the burritos," he murmured after a minute.
I smiled into his shoulder. "Thank you for the car."
His chuckle was little more than a breath against the side of my face. One of his hands disappeared from my waist, and I jumped a second later when I felt his fingers tucking something round and metal into my front pocket. I pulled back far enough to glance down and see the outline of his keychain through the denim of my jeans.
"Take it and get something to eat," he said, and I found myself suddenly unable to speak when I looked up to see his face mere inches from my own. His eyes flickered between mine, and then down to my lips when I licked them reflexively. He had a freckle that I had never noticed before, just at the edge of his left eyebrow, and idly, I found myself wondering what it would be like to cover it with a kiss.
Somewhere out in the shop, something clattered to the ground, followed by a muffled swear, and it was enough to break the moment. He blinked, pulling in a breath, his eyes moving back to mine as I struggled to swallow around the dryness in my throat.
"Go get something to eat," he said again, easing me gently back a half-step as footsteps sounded outside the door, and my stomach did a funny little flip-flop at the sound of his voice, pitched low and rough. "You can swing back by and pick me up before the fish fry."
The door opened, and I slipped my arms from around his neck, taking a step back automatically.
Seth poked his head in, his eyes bouncing between us, even as Jake's fingers tightened their grip around my waist.
"You should really learn how to knock," he said, giving Seth a pointed look, and I felt myself flush as Seth's mouth formed a little o. He went to shut the door again, and then paused, squinting. Jake chuckled, rolling his eyes. "You're already here," he said. "What is it?"
Seth's eyes cut over to me, and he grinned apologetically. "Lucas just knocked over that bumper that Quil was working on and re-scratched the paint."
Jake let out a sigh, his eyes closing momentarily. I stepped out of his arms, turning back towards the door, and he followed after me, shaking his head. "I went to school for four years to be a glorified babysitter," he muttered as we followed Seth out of the office and around the front counter. Through the windows overlooking the garage, I could see Quil, his hands thrown up in exasperation, his voice rising and falling animatedly as he ripped into Lucas.
Jake slipped around me, his touch lingering on my waist as he threw a smile over his shoulder. "I'll see you later," he said, and then he was pushing through the door into the garage.
I found a spot at the edge of the park beside the Council building, and parked the car, rolling the windows up against the heavy drizzle. I took a drag of the cookies and cream milkshake I'd gotten to go with my burger, and reached for my phone.
My finger hovered over my mom's icon on my contact list, but at the last second I scrolled down, choosing another. He answered on the second ring.
"Hello, love."
"Hi, Dad."
I listened as his fingers typed across a keyboard in the background, and then there was a muffled click as he closed his laptop. "Is everything all right?"
"Yeah," I said. "I just missed you." I realized as I said the words just how true they were.
"We miss you as well, Renesmee." My father was one of the only people left who still called me by my full name on occasion - one of the only people I still let call me by my full name, much preferring Jacob's nickname - and in his melodious voice, it sounded less like a tongue tie and more like a familiar hug. "Would you like me to get your mother?"
"No," I answered quickly, and then tacked on, "Not yet, anyway."
His chair squeaked as he sat back down. "All right."
I knew that verbal conversations, without the benefit of the other party being within his hearing range, tended to frustrate him, as unaccustomed as he was to having to wait on someone to voice their thoughts, but he had always made an effort to give me the space to express myself. It had become more and more common, as I'd gotten older, for my mom to project her shield over my thoughts, out of respect for my privacy, and he had gotten much better over the years at sitting in the silence between words.
"Can I ask you a question?" I finally asked, and I could practically hear him smiling at the irony. "A personal one."
"Certainly."
"Alice - she saw you with Mom before you even started dating." I chewed at the corner of my lip as I tried to think of the best way to phrase what I wanted to ask. "Do you think that made an impact on you wanting to be with her?"
There was a beat of silence as he considered. "Alice," he said carefully after a moment, "saw your mother changed - she didn't necessarily see us together, though it was inferred at the time, and later, she did see us together. Our wedding, more specifically." He paused. "Her gift doesn't work that way - you know that. She doesn't operate with the power of suggestion. She can only see what a person has already decided, and even then it's subject to change."
"I know," I said quickly. "But knowing that one of you had already made that decision, even if it was her, or even if it was you subconsciously, did that knowledge help you make a conscious decision to pursue her?"
He was quiet for another moment. "I fell in love with your mother for who she is, not for who Alice saw her to be in the future. I chose to pursue her, despite my better judgement at the time, because she made me happy, and because I made her happy in return."
"Do you think you would've fought against it for so long if you had known Alice's vision to be absolute?"
"Nessie," he said, just the slightest tinge of impatience in his voice, and I pulled in a breath. "You're dancing around in hypotheticals when you could just come out and ask me whatever it is that's bothering you."
"How do I know?" I blurted, and I was horrified to hear my voice break on the last word, and with it, a dam of questions that were only just beginning to take form, those vague, unsettled wisps of feeling finally solidifying into words of their own. "How do I know that what Jacob feels is really how he feels, and not just the imprint? How do I know that the imprint was even right?" A thought struck me. "Would it be the same if he hadn't imprinted?"
I heard him draw in a long breath, more out of habit than necessity. "I can't answer any of those questions for you, my love," he said, and his voice sounded incredibly old. "No matter how badly I wish I could."
"But you've seen inside his head," I protested, my tone teetering on desperation. "You saw something last time. You've seen the others who have imprinted, you know - "
"Nessie," he said gently, and there was more than a little reproach in the syllables of my name. I let out a breath, and felt my shoulders slump. "I won't breach Jacob's, or anyone else's, privacy in such a way, even for you. Ask him your questions, and trust him to answer you honestly."
Immediately, I felt ashamed, confused and disarmed by my own uncertainty.
"What I will tell you is this," he continued, "and I know that you already know it, but it bears repeating - Jacob loves you. Incredibly."
There was a beat of silence as I turned his words over in my mind. I knew he wouldn't have told me if he didn't know it to be absolutely true, but any relief I felt was cheapened by the knowledge that the assurance was coming from my mind-reading father, and not Jacob himself.
Outside, the rain had picked up, and I watched as the drops plunked onto the windows and raced each other down.
"Do you want me to get your mother?"
I glanced down at the clock on the dashboard, and shook my head, even though I knew he couldn't see it. "I have to go. There's a fish fry at Charlie's tonight, and I have to go pick up Jake."
"All right," he said, and then, "Nessie?"
"Yeah?"
"I know it might seem overwhelming now, but you'll figure it out. Both of you."
Intellectually, I knew he was right. I knew that, at some point, Jacob and I would have a conversation - and knowing him and his ability to read me, it would happen sooner rather than later - and we would be able to hash this, whatever it was, out.
My heart, however, felt conflicted.
Charlie's house looked exactly how I remembered it, save for a few distinctly feminine touches. The faded green trim and shutters had gotten a fresh coat of paint, there were two newer looking rocking chairs with bright yellow cushions flanking either side of the front door, and an assortment of daffodils waved their golden heads in greeting as we made our way up the front porch steps, Paul and Jacob each taking a wheel of Billy's chair and lifting.
"Come in, come in," Charlie greeted, throwing the door open wide and stepping back out of the way so that Billy could roll through. "Hey, you little munchkin!" He caught Maddie under the arms, tossing her up in the air and blowing a raspberry on each of her cheeks before handing her off to Sue, who was standing behind him.
"Hiya, honey." His warm eyes danced with pleasure as he wrapped me up in a big bear hug, pressing a bristly kiss to the side of my face. I hugged him back, getting lost for a moment in the scent of pipe tobacco and spearmint. It reminded me of Christmas time, sprawling Thanksgiving dinners, and rides through the old blacktop roads in the police cruiser. I'd seen him, briefly, the night before at Billy's, but in all the excitement and all the others vying for my attention, I hadn't gotten to speak to him. "Boy, you sure are a sight for sore eyes." He pulled back and studied me, keeping hold of my shoulders. "How's your mother?"
I fell into step beside him as he led the way down the hall into the living room at the back of the house. "She's doing well. She and Dad both said to tell you hello."
He hummed noncommittally as he always did whenever my father came up in conversation. Despite the nearly ten years that had passed since my parents' marriage, and my mother's subsequent "illness" - that was still the official story, even though I was sure that Charlie, as perceptive as he was, had figured out long ago that I wasn't just a long-lost orphaned relative of Edward Cullen - Charlie still nursed a tender grudge against the man who had, in his mind, taken away his only daughter.
"What about you?" I asked abruptly, changing the subject. "What kind of trouble have you been getting into lately?"
He chuckled as Sue bustled by with Makenna on her hip, reaching out briefly to squeeze my arm in greeting before ushering Maddie out the back door and into the yard. "Oh, not a whole lot. That lady there keeps me on the straight and narrow. For the most part, anyway." He winked at me, and I grinned.
"Sounds like a full time job."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "She'd sure like you to think that. Truth is, I spend just about as much time keeping her out of trouble as she does me."
I had no issue believing that. Even well into her fifties, Sue showed no sign of slowing down, still working a full time job as a certified nurse midwife, as well as serving on the Quileute Council of Elders in her late husband's stead.
"Nessie," the woman in question said as she re-entered the house, the screen door banging behind her. "Do you want to come help me in the kitchen? Let the men get the table set up in the dining room?"
"Sure," I agreed, following her down the narrow hallway. Several pots were simmering on the stove, and a sheet pan of rising rolls was on the counter, ready to be slipped into the oven. A small TV on the corner of the counter was broadcasting the evening news, its sound muted. "What can I do?"
She glanced around, reaching over to switch the TV off. "Why don't you shuck that corn and break the ears in half, then they can go in that big pot on the back of the stove. I'll get these rolls in the oven, and run out to check the fryer. Rachel said you brought some more oil."
I set to work, peeling back the papery husk and silky tassel from each ear of corn, snapping them easily in half before adding them to the pot of boiling water that was waiting for them. I glanced out the window over the sink at the sound of Maddie's squeal, and couldn't help but smile. Jacob had produced a water hose from somewhere and was spraying his niece down, ignoring the loud protests from his sister and she hopped over the porch railing. Paul yelled after her, tossing her a water gun as she took off in pursuit of her brother, and the two of them made several laps around the back yard until Jake tripped, taking out half of Sue's garden fence in the process. I chuckled along with them as he slung an arm around Rachel's shoulders, both of them dripping wet and doubled over to catch their breath.
"I'm going to go out on a limb here, and say that the reason for spending the summer in La Push had less to do with missing Billy's fish, and more to do with missing his son."
I spun around to see Sue standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest and lips curled up in an all too knowing grin.
I felt my face flush, and dropped my eyes to hide both my red cheeks and the smile that seemed to spread across my face of its own accord.
"That obvious, huh?"
She laughed, squeezing my shoulders as she came up behind me. "To anyone with two eyes and half a brain, honey."
I let out a self-deprecating snort, and looked back up through the window at exactly the wrong time. Jacob had pulled the soaked t-shirt over his head, and was draping it across the porch railing to dry, water droplets glistening in his hair, across his bare shoulders, down the slope of his back. I bit down on my lip and tore my gaze away - right to Sue's laughing face.
"Don't worry," she soothed, still chuckling, as she patted my hand. "It's nothing we haven't seen before. Sam and Emily, Jared and Kim, even Rachel and Paul, as much of a whirlwind as their relationship was at first."
"But we're different," I blurted, dropping the last of the corn cobs into the boiling water harder than I'd intended, little droplets splashing back up to sizzle on the stovetop. I froze, my hands clenching automatically, as I replayed the words in my mind, not even knowing that their truth was something that had been bothering me until they were spoken, hanging heavy in the air around me, along with the heady weight of new touches and deeper feelings. I had seen the other imprints before, of course, had watched them flirt and tease their way into love, had seen their relationships mature and evolve into beautiful examples, but the fact still remained that, despite the overarching commonality that we shared with them, Jacob and I were different. Even Quil and Claire, as similar as they looked on the outside, were still worlds different - because I was different. And there were no rule books or how-to resources for a ten year old, human-vampire hybrid falling for her half-human, shapeshifter best friend. The thought alone was absurd.
"Oh, honey." Sue's murmur was impossibly gentle, her arms slipping around me to hug me securely to her chest. It was a gesture of long-practiced mothering, and as I rested my head on her shoulder, I found myself missing my own mother once again with startling acuity, suddenly wishing I'd taken the chance to speak to her earlier.
Sue pulled back far enough to meet my eyes, her fingers brushing a strand of hair away from my face and patting my cheek. "It's really not so different after all, not from where I'm standing. Just a boy and a girl trying to find their way together." She smiled gently as the back door creaked open, and the thundering of footsteps down the hallway announced everyone's return to the house for dinner. I managed a weak smile of my own, feeling myself tense as I heard Jacob drawing closer. Sue's eyes lit up in understanding, and she reached over to snatch up a dish towel as he crossed the threshold, snapping it in his direction.
"Jacob Black, get out of my kitchen in those soaking wet clothes! Go upstairs and find something of Seth's to wear, and put those shorts out on the porch with your shirt."
He hesitated for only a moment, his eyes boring into my back, before Sue snapped the towel at him again, its tail finding purchase on his skin with a resounding thwack.
"All right, all right, geez, woman! I'm going!"
I caught her eye and shot her a grateful smile as she shook her head and tsked, muttering an emphatic "Boys!" under her breath.
"Here," she said, wrapping the dish towel around the handle of a pot of mashed potatoes and handing it to me. "Take these into the table, and I'll bring the salad. We'll get everybody settled, then I'll come back for the corn and the rolls. They should be finished by then."
I pulled in a deep breath, feeling much more in control of my emotions as I took the pot from her and carried it through to the dining room, where the table had already been expanded with a leaf and places set, several mismatched chairs grouped around it. I quickly counted the plates as I set the potatoes down on a waiting trivet.
"Who else is coming?" I asked Sue as she scooted past me, a large salad bowl and a pair of serving tongs in her hand. A shadow passed over her face so quickly that I wondered if I'd imagined it.
"Leah should be home in just a couple of minutes."
Her tone held a note of finality that I didn't question as I took the seat she indicated. She stuck her head out into the hallway and yelled for the rest of the group to join us. Jacob came through the door last, mercifully redressed in a shirt and pair of shorts that looked to be only half a size too small, and dropped down into the remaining free seat next to me, casting a questioning glance in my direction. I bumped my shoulder into his gently, offering up a small smile, which he returned easily before turning his attention to the spread in front of us.
I watched, half amused and half impressed, as he and Seth both piled equally absurd amounts of food onto their plate. When he ran out of room, Jake looked around, dropping a heaping helping of mashed potatoes onto my empty dessert plate, and then adding two more.
"Uh-uh!" Rachel's outburst startled all of us, and I swung around to follow her glare to Billy, who was attempting to pass the salad bowl onto Charlie with limited success. "I don't think so, Dad. Load up. You heard what the doctor said, half your plate."
Billy rolled his eyes, taking half a scoop of salad, and promptly dousing it with dressing. "Vegetables," he muttered darkly, his tone making quite clear what he thought of his doctor's orders. I hid a grin in my water glass. "That lady doesn't know anything. They let just anybody be doctors these days. Seven to nine servings of vegetables a day, my eye. Doesn't she realize our ancestors lived on meat?"
Jake snickered. "Maybe so, Dad, but our ancestors also hunted, and you aren't doing too much of that these days." He gave a pointed look at Billy's wheelchair, and Billy rolled his eyes again, waving him off like an irritating fly. I took the salad from Charlie, and scooped a healthy serving onto my plate before turning to Jake, one eyebrow raised.
"You do a lot of hunting behind that desk of yours, do you?" I asked sweetly, passing him the bowl. Hoots of laughter rang out around the table as Jake passed it on to Seth, widening his eyes at me innocently when I gave him a look.
"I'm out of room." He grinned. "I'll catch it on the next round."
"Sure, sure," I muttered, glancing up as I heard the front door open and close, another set of footsteps making its way towards the dining room.
"Hey Mom, let me get washed up and then -"
Leah froze in the doorway, her eyes bouncing around the table before landing on me. She stared at me for a moment, unblinking, and then spun on her heel. "I'm going to Maggie's."
"Leah -"
"Leah!"
Jake and Sue both spoke at the same time, but Jacob's voice held a timber of Alpha that Sue's didn't. In the hallway, the retreating footsteps stopped.
Sue shook her head wordlessly, her eyes on Jake, and he let out an irritated huff, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "Whatever," he muttered, and Leah pounded her way towards the back door.
I stood, the legs of my chair scraping against the floor with the sudden movement, and slipped my arm out of Jake's grasp when he reached for my wrist. "Nessie, don't."
Ignoring him, I followed Leah, catching the back door before it could slam shut and slipping out after her. She kicked the kickstand of her bike up, swinging her leg over in the same smooth movement.
"We missed you last night." She'd been conspicuously absent from the welcoming party at Billy's, Sue claiming that she'd had to work.
Leah snorted, turning the keys in the ignition and revving the throttle.
I tried again. "I wish you'd stay."
"No thanks." She knocked a pair of dark sunglasses down from her forehead to cover her eyes.
"Look, Leah - "
"No, you look." She twisted to face me, one half of her face obscured by the shades, the other hard and unflinching. "I have no desire to sit there and watch my best friend have this dopey look on his face all night, drooling all over you and tripping over himself to make you happy, when last week you weren't here and he wouldn't even say two words."
The words landed like a physical blow to my chest, forcing the air from my lungs, shock numbing the initial impact. Behind me, Jacob shoved the screen door open, the sound of it banging back against the house making me flinch.
"Leah!" His voice held an edge of steel, and she glanced up at him for half a second before kicking the bike into gear and whipping it in a tight circle, gunning her way out of the driveway.
Jacob edged closer, his fingers gripping my shoulder.
"She's an idiot," he muttered darkly, as Seth and Paul, followed by Sue and Charlie, slipped out the door behind us. "She doesn't know what the hell she's talking about." For the briefest second, I felt his hand tremble and the air around us flutter as a tremor rolled up his spine. "She thinks that just because can see inside somebody else's head that she gets it, but she doesn't."
I blinked rapidly, struggling to clear away the moisture that suddenly clouded my vision. The initial numbness had worn off, replaced by burning behind my eyes and an ache that cut through my middle. Leah's words played over and over on a loop in my brain, grating on already raw nerves, and stirring up barely suppressed emotion. Everything I'd felt for the last twenty four hours, every question and doubt that I'd forced back down, had sprung loose and was beating against my tender heart with a vengeance.
"Hey." Jacob's voice was rough in my ear, his fingers just this side of painful as he turned me to face him. I trained my eyes resolutely on his right shoulder, not sure that my fragile self-control could take looking at his face. He ducked down, though, and I was forced to. His brows pulled together low over dark eyes that were hardened with anger. "She has no idea. You hear me?"
I pulled in a shaky breath, my gaze jumping to the four sets of eyes that were watching us over his shoulder. I lifted my chin, shooting them a weak smile, and reached up for Jacob's hand, loosening his grip and squeezing his fingers gently.
"Yeah," I said thickly, brushing past him. "I hear you."
Paul and Seth stepped aside to let me pass, and I felt the weight of five pairs of eyes on me as I made my way back inside.
I'd only been in my mom's old room a handful of times, and only then when I was much younger. Charlie hadn't hardly touched it over the past decade, and the resulting shrine was as endearing as it was unusual.
My gaze traveled around the room, lingering on small details I hadn't noticed before. A collection of CDs - all alternative, I noted with a smile, none of them bands I recognized - on the nightstand beside the bed. An old mason jar filled halfway with movie ticket stubs on the dresser in the corner. A fleece throw blanket bunched haphazardly in the seat of the desk chair, as if she'd been sitting wrapped in it moments before and had only just stood up. There was an old digital camera on top of a black scrapbook on the desk, and my fingers traced over it idly, smudging the thin layer of dust coating it. I picked it up, halfheartedly flicking at the power switch - dead, just as I'd thought - before setting it to the side and reaching for the scrapbook.
Bella Swan, Senior Year - 2006 the inscription on the first page read, and I flipped eagerly to the next page, only to be left blinking in surprise.
My entire life, I had only ever seen my parents together as equals, their twin tawny eyes and smooth marble skin, both of them pictures of devastating beauty that not even the most skilled Greek and Roman sculptors could have captured. Even in their wedding pictures, when my mother had still been human, she'd been radiant in her dress, her hair and makeup done artfully, glowing with joy and love.
The picture staring back at me now showed two individuals as different as you could get.
My father looked exactly the same, his bronze locks - just a shade lighter than mine - mussed artfully above his forehead, his arm tucked snugly around a girl's waist as he smiled reluctantly into the camera.
The girl, my mother, seemed startlingly inferior in every way next to my dad. Her long chestnut waves frizzed gently over her shoulders, her cheeks flushed a deep pink, the rest of her skin tinted a warm peach, her eyes - my eyes - looking up shyly through her lashes. She had a pimple in the middle of her chin, and her nails were bitten ragged where her hand clutched at my dad's shirt, and she seemed like she didn't quite know what to do with her body.
She was beautifully, fascinatingly human.
Tearing my gaze away, I flipped to the next page, and the next - a slideshow of similar images passing before my eyes: both of my parents in raincoats, arms around each other's' shoulders, my dad balancing a baseball bat on one long finger with a lopsided grin; my entire family - minus me - in formal attire, lining the staircase at Carlisle and Esme's Forks home, my mother front and center, a HAPPY 18th BIRTHDAY banner stretched over their heads; Alice beaming as she sliced into a massive cake, Jasper smiling lovingly down over her shoulder; my dad, his back to the camera as he sat at the piano, his hands blurred in motion; firelight flickering off Esme's beautiful face as she lit a handful of tea lights; Rosalie perched on Emmett's knee, her cool, closed-off expression a stark contrast to his wide grin.
The next page was empty, but the page after that -
I caught my breath, my fingers reaching out to trace the face that was so familiar, but so different.
Jacob sat on the workbench in Billy's garage, his legs swinging in front of him, hands gripping the edge of the bench as he leaned forward. He had a gray beanie pulled low over his ears, his hair hanging loose around his shoulders, a flannel button down open over a faded old Metallica t-shirt. His eyes were sparkling, and his mouth was stretched wide, almost as if whoever took the picture had caught him grinning mid-sentence.
He looked so young, I thought, leaning closer to study the picture, and I realized with a start that he was young - fifteen, maybe sixteen at most, his face still innocently smooth, arms and legs skinny, almost scrawny.
The next picture, on the opposite page, was a stark contrast.
His hair had been cut, shorn off in a tight buzz that was significantly shorter than how he wore it now. He was leaning against a post on Billy's porch, arms crossed over his bare chest, shorts slung low on his hips. His body had filled out, firmly rounding muscles visible under the golden russet of his skin, the dark ink of his tribal tattoo peeking around the curve of his shoulder. There was a line between his eyebrows, a tightness around the edges of eyes that were hard and hollow, the shadow of a bitter smirk at the corners of his lips.
The dates on the two photos were only a handful of weeks apart, and I marveled at the difference.
Jacob's footsteps were silent, but the top stair creaked under his weight, and I glanced up to see him in the doorway, those same dark eyes watching me carefully.
"Do you remember when these were taken?" I tilted the book so he could see, and he tipped his head to the side, coming around to stand next to me. He looked at the two pictures, and snorted.
"Yeah," he said, flicking at the one on the left, the one of the younger-looking him. "I was such a dweeb. Look at that hat."
"This one, though," I said, tapping the other with my thumb. "I didn't realize they did a GQ shoot in La Push." I raised my eyebrows at him, and he rolled his eyes, grinning, the tips of his ears flushing pink. "Look at you - you had the strong, silent type down."
His grin faded into a shadow of smile around his lips as he looked closer. "That summer didn't exactly make the top ten. Exploding into a massive fur ball, getting friend zoned hard, and listening to your teenage crush plan her wedding and her funeral at the same time, all while fighting off a pack of newborn leeches." He shook his head.
"Sounds like your typical, all-American high school experience to me," I supplied dryly, and he laughed.
I studied him as he shook his head again. The little furrow was still there between his eyebrows, but much less pronounced, balanced out by the way the corners of his eyes crinkled with his grin and the dimple that flashed in his cheek.
"Did it get better?" I asked, smiling, and he turned to look at me.
"Yeah," he said softly, his eyes warm. "It got a lot better."
I felt the shift in the room, even as imperceptible as it was, and felt myself flush as I dropped my gaze, closing the scrapbook and setting it back on the desk. He pulled out the chair, tossing the blanket onto the bed and dropping down into it backwards. I felt his eyes on me as I made my way over to the armoire in the corner, opening it and running my fingers over the collection of faded blue jeans and band t-shirts, a tube of dried out drugstore mascara and several plastic tortoise shell headbands in a basket on the top shelf. Idly, I picked one up, slipping it onto my head and glancing at myself in the mirror on the inside of the armoire door, pulling it off again when it started to pinch behind my ears.
"Will you tell me what's wrong?"
Jake's voice was loud in the relative silence, even as softly as he spoke, and my eyes flickered to him and then away again quickly as I shut the armoire. Downstairs, the TV switched on, the sounds of ESPN drifting up through the floorboards - Seth, I realized suddenly, or Paul, trying to give us some semblance of privacy in a house of supernatural hearing.
I sat on the end of the bed across from him, the frame creaking under my weight, and glanced up at him. His arms were folded, his chin resting on top of them as he looked at me, waiting.
"You didn't answer my questions yesterday," I finally said.
His brow furrowed in a mask of confusion, and if I hadn't known him as well as I did, I might've missed the miniscule twitch in his jaw that told me he knew more than he was letting on. "What questions?"
I scuffed at a worn spot in the carpet with the toe of my shoe. "I asked you if this was weird for you, and then I asked you what you wanted," I said softly. "You didn't answer either."
"I answered one of them," he countered.
I gave him a look, and he reached up with one hand to rub at the back of his neck, a telltale sign of discomfort. My stomach twisted uncomfortably at his obvious reluctance, and my next words were out before I had a chance to censor them.
"Would you still have feelings for me if you hadn't imprinted?"
He froze, his head tilting up to look at me, and he blinked. "Yes," he said with absolute certainty, and I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.
"How can you be so sure?" I hated how small my voice sounded, how hesitant and insecure.
He sucked in a breath, straightening up and raking a hand up through his hair. "Nessie," he started, and then he stopped. His tongue darted out across his bottom lip and he took another breath, his fidgeting stilling as he met my gaze.
"I'm sure," he echoed slowly, his brow furrowing slightly as his head tilted to the side, rolling the words around on his tongue, "because the imprint doesn't have anything to do with who you are."
He paused, his eyes calculating, almost as if he was studying the effect that his words had. He must've seen something there that gave him encouragement, because, after a moment, he continued.
"The imprint didn't make you witty or kind or smart or strong or beautiful," he said, and I felt myself flush. "It doesn't make me laugh when you say something funny, or take my damn breath away when you smile at me." He chuckled at that, shaking his head self-deprecatingly. "You do that, Nessie, not the imprint."
I felt a warm bubble of pleasure rise up in my chest as I turned his words over in my mind, expanding up and out and pushing my heart up into the vicinity of my throat. I had to swallow a couple of times before I could speak.
"You've never told me that before," I said, the words coming out in a strangled whisper, and it was true. Jacob was as liberal with his compliments as he was with his affection - it was just who he was - but as hard I thought, I couldn't come up with a time when he had ever made that distinction. Hearing it now - You do that, Nessie, not the imprint - simultaneously soothed my heart with the balm of assurance I'd needed, and spiked my pulse with a prickle of anticipation.
He dropped his gaze, and I watched his eyes flicker back and forth over a spot in the carpet, a muscle clenching in his jaw as he mulled over some sort of internal struggle.
"Your parents didn't want you to know about the imprint at first," he said after a moment, and I blinked at the unexpected information. "But I pushed for it. I wanted you to know, from the very beginning, that you would always, always have me. That you'd never be lonely, that you'd always have somebody that loved you for the person you were, no matter what." His eyes lifted to mine, and I saw the conflict there. Something in my chest twisted painfully in response. He pulled in another breath, and then the words were flowing like water out of his mouth, so quickly that I had trouble keeping up with them. "I wanted you to know, but I never wanted you to feel like you didn't have a choice - because you do. I wasn't expecting anything to change when I got on that plane, but then I saw you, and you - you've always been beautiful, but you were stunning." He swallowed, his eyes suddenly hungry, and a little thrill rolled down my spine, because that was that look - the same one he'd had when I'd seen him across that ballroom, the same one that had turned my world upside down and righted it again in one fell swoop.
He pulled in a breath, his gaze dropping down again, and when he reached out his hand for mine, I gave it immediately, lacing my fingers together with his, the warmth of his palm radiating up my arm.
"I wasn't expecting it, but it was easy - easy like breathing - and I knew that you must've been feeling the same way. I didn't - I didn't think twice about it, but then you called and started talking about coming for the summer, and I started thinking that maybe - but then Edward called, and said that it was you, that you wanted to come, and I don't think I'd ever been so happy in my life, until you stepped off that escalator in the airport and practically threw yourself at me. But then you asked me those questions last night, and were acting all weird about the car, and then in the kitchen with Sue, and all that crap Leah said - "
He cut himself off, his other hand raking through his hair again, and I passed my thumb over his knuckles in methodical swipes, not hardly daring to breathe lest it interrupt his rambling monologue.
"I always wanted you to know, and I always wanted you to have a choice, but I never wanted you to feel like you had to make your choice based on what I wanted you to do," he said finally, and in one singular, startling burst of clarity, I understood everything he wasn't saying.
I wanted you to know, from the very beginning, that you'd always have me, that you'd never be lonely - Not like he had been when my dad had come back and my mom had left him in the dust, any affection she'd felt for him paling in comparison to the utter devotion she felt for my dad.
That you'd always have somebody that loved you for the person you were - Not like his dad, who, through no fault of his own, had forced him to grow up and take on the responsibility of caring for a parent with a disability. Not like Sam, who had forced him to step up and take ownership of his place in the pack, of his birthright, far before he'd felt ready or prepared to do so.
I didn't want you to feel like you didn't have a choice, because you do - Not like him, not like the way he hadn't had a choice, not like the way he'd been buffeted from role to role, his shoulders stiff and unwilling under the heavy mantles he'd worn, my very own Atlas holding up the weight of his world.
I reached up, my fingers sliding over the skin of his cheek, over the strong line of his cheekbone, and down to the ridge of his jaw. His eyelids fluttered closed under my touch, his shaky exhale washing over the sensitive skin on the underside of my wrist. I brought my other hand up to the opposite side of his face, unable to stop now that I was touching him. He swallowed thickly, his pulse thrumming wildly in the side of his neck, and I slid my thumb down gently over that spot just to the side of his Adam's apple.
"Nessie," he breathed, and my eyes flickered up to his. The brown rings of his irises were fractional, almost completely eaten up by the heady black of his pupils.
"You didn't get a choice," I murmured, my thumb slipping back up over the curve of his jaw, the rasp of stubble there prickling at my skin.
My words seemed to take a moment for them to sink in, but I saw the second that they did, the focus sharpening in his eyes as he leaned forward, his own hand reaching up to cup the side of my face. His fingers were so long that they slipped past my ear, back into the thick mass of my hair.
"You're the only choice I've ever gotten," he said, and I opened my mouth to protest - I was fairly certain that imprinting on me moments after my birth had not, in fact, been his first choice - but his thumb slid down to press over my lips, and I lost the ability to breathe, much less form a coherent response. "Someone, somewhere - call it destiny, or fate, or whatever - led me to the one person who was the absolute perfect match for me, in every single way." His other hand came up to cradle my face, as delicately and tenderly as if I'd been made of glass, and this time, it wasn't so much his touch as the overwhelming love in each and every line of his expression that struck me speechless. "You let me be me, Nessie, in a way nobody else does or ever will."
His words washed over me, and something inside of me clicked into place, some piece that I hadn't known I'd been missing until it was there. Jacob loves you, my dad had said, Incredibly, and I'd thought I'd understood then what he meant, but I'd had no idea.
I gripped his forearms as he leaned closer, his fingers flexing ever so slightly to tilt my head, and I let my eyes fall closed, savoring the feeling of his lips pressing against my forehead, the bridge of my nose, each of my cheeks, lingering and caressing. His nose nudged against me, almost imperceptibly, as he held me there, the air between us thick with the warm moisture of our breath.
"I never knew," I murmured.
He pulled in a long breath against me. "I didn't know how to tell you without sounding like a creep," he murmured back, and I grinned at that, my cheeks smushing up against his palms as my eyes blinked open. I caught sight of that dimple in his cheek, and, impulsively, stretched forward just far enough to press a kiss of my own there.
"Tell me next time," I requested, my lips brushing against his skin as I spoke. "I promise I won't think you're a creep." He hummed an acknowledgement, his thumb stroking back and forth just under my bottom lip.
"I wish I had your superpower," he whispered. "Then I could show you."
I thought back, just over the last forty eight hours - how he had gone out of his way to get my favorite coffee and pick me up from the airport; how he had let me sleep against him, even when it left him driving awkwardly with one hand and the other hand falling asleep around me; how he had never strayed much farther than arm's length from me that first night; how he had carried me into bed and tucked me in; how he had left me his car and made sure I got a chance to eat, even when I'd protested; and then, now, this conversation we were having and how he was holding me - and I realized that all those little gestures wove together with a lifetime of ones just like them into words and assurances and a superpower all his own.
I flexed my fingers around his arm, pressing my palm against him.
You do show me, I thought, flipping back through each of the memories, lingering on how they made me feel special and cherished in their own way. Every day.
He slid his arms around my shoulders, pulling me closer against his chest. His lips were warm and smiling when he pressed them against my forehead.
"Every day," he echoed, the words a sweet promise.
The next time I woke, it was still dark out. I lifted my head, listening, but the house was quiet, Paul and Billy's soft snoring the only sounds. A bird tweeted softly outside my window, and on an impulse, I shoved the covers back and swung my legs over the side of the bed, reaching for Jake's old sweatshirt and pulling it on as I padded silently down the hallway. I eased the front door open and slipped out the screen, catching it and shutting it gently before it had a chance to slam. The sky was a steely, predawn gray, thin stretches of cottony clouds hinting at a possible rare day of sunshine, and the air was cool, thick with a moisture that settled along my bare legs. I sat gingerly on the porch swing, wincing as it creaked slightly under my weight, and then pulled my legs up, tucking my knees under my sweatshirt and hugging them to my chest.
I loved this time of day, between nighttime darkness and dawn's peachy glow, where time itself seemed to stand still as the world woke gently. My eyes followed a pair of birds as they hopped along the front walk, their little heads twitching to and fro, darting down to peck at the earth. I pulled in a deep breath, and the sound startled them, their movements freezing for a moment before they resumed their hunting with a series of trilling chirps.
I thought back over the events of the night before, a serene sense of contentment spreading through my chest and out each of my limbs. I felt totally, completely at peace, all of my doubts assuaged and my questions answered, the ghost of Jacob's lips heating me pleasantly from the inside out. I grinned to myself, and then bit my lip, dropping my chin down onto my knees.
The screen door creaked open, scattering the two little birds, and I glanced up to see Rachel smiling at me as she eased the door closed behind her.
"I thought I heard you come out here," she said softly, settling down onto the swing beside me.
"I'm sorry if I woke you up," I replied, shifting over to give her more room. She shook her head, waving me off.
"I was awake. I just finished nursing Makenna."
She pulled in a long breath, tucking her legs up on the seat under her. "I forget how peaceful mornings are when there aren't kids screaming for PopTarts," she joked, and I snorted quietly.
"I can definitely see how that might make them less appealing."
She chuckled at that, pulling her hair around over one shoulder and twisting it into a quick braid, leaving the ends loose. She glanced over at me, and then dropped her gaze to her lap, picking absently at a scabbed-over mosquito bite on her ankle.
"I didn't get to talk to you last night," she said after a moment, "but I wanted to make sure you were okay, after the thing with Leah."
The memory played through my mind automatically, Leah's words no less cutting now than they had been the night before. I slipped my hands inside the sleeves of my sweatshirt, rolling the cuffs down over my fingers. "I just wish I knew why she was so…" I struggled for the right word.
"Bitchy?" Rachel supplied dryly, and I hid my grin in my knees.
"I was going to say 'bitter', but," I shrugged. "That fits, too."
Rachel laughed under her breath, the sound tapering off to a sigh. "Leah's got a chip on her shoulder the size of the state of Washington, but sometimes I don't blame her." She glanced over at me. "Did anyone ever tell you what happened with her and Sam?"
I shook my head, tilting it to look at her. Her eyes glazed over, seeing something other than the scene in front of us as she recounted the memory.
"Me, Becca and her were all in the same class in high school. It was our senior year, and Sam had just graduated the year before. They were head over heels in love, and we were all just waiting for the engagement announcement." I blinked at the unexpected picture of Sam and Leah together, and happy. It didn't even fit in my head. Sam was so completely, obviously in love with Emily, and Leah was - well, Leah was Leah. "Sam had a ring and everything. He had it all planned out, he was going to take her down to the beach and pop the question there at sunset. He pulled up to her house to pick her up, and Emily walked out with her, and -" Rachel shrugged, and I understood. "Leah was heartbroken."
I felt a twinge of compassion for her, and it soothed the tender spot her words had created. It made sense that she couldn't stand being around Jacob and me - I was his imprint, and we were a constant reminder of what she had lost. Every imprinted couple was.
"She had just started putting her life back together after Sam when she started phasing, and her dad had the heart attack. She and Jacob were the two that had the hardest time with it - of course, I didn't really know what was going on back then, but I do now. I think she finally thought she was catching a break when Jake went rogue and she followed him, but then you came along." She shot me a sympathetic look.
I mulled over what she hadn't said as much as what she had. "It's my family's fault that Sam started phasing, which led him to imprint, and it's my family's fault that she started phasing, which caused Harry's heart attack. And it's my fault she lost the only person that could commiserate with her." I sucked in a breath, and winced. "Maybe I should just steer clear."
Rachel chuckled, tilting her head in acquiescence. "That might be your best bet."
The door creaked open again, and Rachel and I both glanced over to see Billy, easing his chair over the threshold. Rachel hopped up, catching the door before it could slam.
"I'm going to start some coffee," she said, slipping back inside as Billy rolled his way over.
"Are we having a powwow?" he asked with a grin, setting his chair brakes as he looked out over the front yard. The sun had begun its daily climb, and the eastern sky had a distinctive cotton candy glow. His expression softened into a gentle smile. "Sometimes I forget just how beautiful the sunrise really is."
I looked at him, the long dark hair, liberally streaked through with gray, which he usually wore in twin braids down his back loose around his shoulders, and he reminded me, suddenly, of the picture I'd seen of Jacob. I'd never really seen the resemblance before - Jake had more of his mother's features, or so Rachel said - but I could see it now, in the dark tresses and the twinkle in his eye and the lips that were quick to turn up at the corners.
"I saw a picture yesterday, of Jake," I told him, and he glanced over, the smile still curling up the edges of his mouth. "At Charlie's house, up in my mom's old room. I found a scrapbook of her senior year." Understanding lit his eyes, and he nodded slowly.
"The two of them used to spend quite a bit of time together," he hedged carefully, and I smiled.
"It's okay," I said. "I know - about them."
Relief spread over his expression, and he shook his head, chuckling ruefully. "As much as I loved Bella," he said, and I didn't miss the use of the past tense, "I'm glad things turned out the way they did."
Tires crunched over the gravel at the end of the long driveway, and we both looked over to see a familiar car turning in, the muffled bass of some heavy metal band thumping in glaring incongruence with the otherwise peaceful sunrise.
Billy reached over and patted my arm. "I don't think I've told you how happy I am that you're here," he said, a soft smile spreading over his lined features as he watched Jacob park the El Camino and nudge the door open with his knee, a coffee cup in each hand. "You brought my son back to me, and for that, I'll be forever grateful."
I knew he wasn't just talking about this particular visit, and I smiled in acknowledgement, reaching across to squeeze his fingers where they still laid on my arm. He pulled his hand back as Jake mounted the front steps, rolling his chair back a few inches to give him room to pass.
"Hey," Jacob said, dropping down on the swing next to me. He handed me one of the coffee cups - again, from my favorite place in Forks, and it was ridiculous really, that he drove forty minutes round trip just to get me coffee, but it was his way, I now understood, of showing me - and cocked an eyebrow, as if daring me to say anything. I grinned, lifting the cup to my lips to take a sip.
"Tall and dark," I joked, and he chuckled, wrapping his free arm around me and tugging me gently against his chest. His lips pressed, warm and firm, against my temple, lingering there, and my eyes fluttered closed as I nestled farther into him, my bent knees resting against his stomach, my chilled toes working their way under his thigh.
He plucked at the material of the sweatshirt I was wearing, and I opened my eyes, tilting my head up to look at him.
"This looks much better on you than it does on me," he said.
I cocked my head to the side, considering. "There's a compliment in there somewhere, I'm sure."
He grinned. "You're smokin'?" he tried again, and I felt my face flame as I laughed and dropped my head back down onto his chest.
Billy's eyes were dancing in amusement as he watched us, chuckling, and when the screen door creaked open the next time, it was Maddie, padding over to climb into her Uncle Jake's lap, rubbing her eyes blearily. Rachel slipped out a moment later, passing a mug to her father, a steaming one of her own in her hand, and Paul was right behind her, a sleepy Makenna curled against his chest. He sat down on the porch step, one arm wrapping around Rachel's shoulders as she sank down next to him, and the seven of us sat and watched the rest of the sunrise.