three

"So." Jacob licked his fingers, shutting the now-empty donut box on his lap and reaching over to set it on the porch railing. He and Paul had each eaten an assorted dozen on their own, leaving the third for the rest of us to split. I glanced up at him in amusement, noticing the spot of chocolate frosting at the corner of his lips. Without thinking, I reached out and swiped it away, popping my thumb in my mouth. He blinked, his eyes focused on my lips, and I felt myself flush even as I grinned.

"So?" I prompted, and he started, blinking again, swallowing as his eyes flicked up to mine. From her spot across the porch, Rachel snorted.

"Ah." He grinned ruefully, running a hand up through his hair, and I reached over, rubbing at the tip of one pink-tinged ear. He smacked my hand away, laughing.

"So," he emphasized with a roll of his eyes as I chuckled. "I told Sue I'd help her replant her tomatoes. I thought maybe you'd want to come with me."

"Replant her tomatoes?" I echoed, quirking a brow in question, and then I remembered the previous night, him and Rachel chasing each other around Sue and Charlie's backyard. "Oh. Are you replanting her fence, too?" I asked with a grin.

He chuckled. "That's the plan, yes."

"How generous of you."

"Something, something, 'you break, you buy'."

I grinned at that, standing and edging around the blanket on the floor where Makenna was spread out, half an hour into her morning nap. "Give me a second to put some clothes on, and I'll be ready."

"One," he deadpanned as I slipped inside, and I rolled my eyes. Walked right into that one, I thought to myself.

I pulled on an old pair of leggings and a t-shirt that had seen better days, on the off chance that I ended up getting dirty too. I twisted my hair into a knot on the back of my neck as I made my way back down the hall, snapping the hair tie on my wrist around the thick bundle. Jacob was standing at the kitchen counter, pouring fresh coffee into a thermos. I peeked over his shoulder and wrinkled my nose when I saw that it was straight black.

"You got your own, special coffee," he said as he set the decanter back on the percolator's warming plate.

I gave him a look, and reached into the fridge for the carton of creamer. "It seems like you showed up with two cups, and you drank one."

He narrowed his eyes at me, but held the thermos out, and I tipped a splash of cream into it. He swirled it around, mixing the liquids together, and tilted it back towards me with his eyebrows raised. It was still a few shades darker than I preferred, but I figured he would drink more of it than me, anyway. I put the creamer back in the door of the fridge in concession.

He caught my wrists as I turned, and pulled me against him, wrapping my arms around his waist. I tilted my face up, resting my chin against his chest as he leaned down, pressing a series of kisses across my cheekbone. He lifted one of my hands to his lips, and pressed them exactly to the spot where I'd licked off the chocolate frosting a few minutes earlier.

"You should've just stuck your finger in it," he murmured against my skin, his eyes dancing mischievously over my knuckles, and then his tongue snaked out to lick at the digit in question.

I blinked, my mouth suddenly dry as a warm tingle spread down my arm and flushed through my entire body. He grinned wolfishly, tracing a finger down over the curve of my cheek, my skin practically sizzling, and I spluttered out a laugh, shoving against his chest. He chortled and reached for the thermos on the counter as Rachel stuck her head through the back door.

"Payback is so sweet," he muttered smugly, as her eyes bounced between us, and I felt my face grow hotter.

"That's not even how the saying goes," I shot back lamely. Rachel pressed her palms over her ears in an exaggerated display, and ducked around the edge of the counter, reaching for the sippy cup next to the sink.

"Carry on," she called over her shoulder as the screen door slammed behind her, and Jacob looked at me with a grin, his eyebrows raised expectantly.

"You are," I said, tugging him toward the door, "completely hopeless."

We stopped by the hardware store on the way to Sue and Charlie's, ambling through the garden section. Jacob put a few fence pickets and a couple of seedling tomatoes into the cart, and on a whim, I grabbed a potted arrangement of pale peonies, ducking my head down to inhale their fragrance.

"For Sue," I said, adding them to the cart, and he smiled.

Half of Forks must've been planning on taking advantage of the unseasonably mild morning, and we waited in line to check out for several long minutes, shuffling forward as each customer in front of us completed their transaction. By the time we reached the register, the poor cashier was looking completely harried. Jacob grabbed a candy bar from the display, tossing it to him after we finished paying.

"Have a good one," he said, and the cashier stuttered out a thank you.

I looped my arm around his elbow as we crossed the parking lot to the car, a warm tendril of affection curling through me at his thoughtfulness. He unloaded the cart into the bed of the El Camino, and reached for the window crank as soon as we were in, turning the key in the ignition with the other hand. I did the same, grinning at the fresh air that rushed in as he turned out of the parking lot and onto the road.

I marveled at the sense of normalcy I felt - my bare feet propped up on the dash, one hand draped out the window, the sun warming my skin as one of Jake's fingers tapped the steering wheel in time to the Iron Maiden song playing on the radio. It was a moment I never would have gotten with my parents, I thought with a bittersweet ache.

Something pulled at my hair, and I twisted my head around to see Jake's arm stretched behind me, a grin on his face as he glanced over at me from behind a pair of reflective sunglasses. His fingers plucked again, and I realized what he wanted. I reached up and undid the hair band, letting my curls fly free in the breeze, and he combed his fingers through them, taming them down a little with a gentle hum of appreciation.

Sue was walking across the front yard when we pulled up to the house, dressed in dirt-smudged overalls and a wide brimmed sun hat, a watering can in her hand. She lifted the can in greeting as we climbed out of the car.

"Come around back," she called, tipping her head towards the back yard, and then disappeared around the corner of the house. I followed Jake as he carried the fence pickets through the gate, plants piled precariously in my arms.

Sue tsked, rushing over to take some of them from me when she saw me. "Jacob," she scolded. "You didn't have to get all these. I was just planning on replanting the ones already there."

Jacob set the pickets near the busted section of the garden fence, and rubbed his forearm across his face, wiping away a bead of sweat, pulling off his sunglasses and hooking them on the collar of his shirt. "I know," he said, shrugging. "But just in case they don't take, or whatever, you have those too."

She shot him a grateful smile, and then glanced down at the last pot in my hands. "I thought you might like these," I said, holding it out to her.

Her smile widened, and she reached out to run a finger across the delicate, curled petals. "They're lovely." She stretched her head out to sniff at them. "Why don't you find a spot you like for them, and I'll transplant them." She glanced down at the little paper tag sticking up out of the potting soil. "Anywhere on the north side of the house. They need full sun."

I wandered along the paver stone path that ran the length of the house, and found a relatively empty spot, wedging the bottom of the pot firmly into the dirt. The sound of a nail gun compressing chugged through the air as I stepped back through the gate. Jacob had cleared away the broken pickets and dragged a workbench out of Charlie's garage, while Sue carefully lifted a sad looking tomato plant from the ground and moved it to a new spot.

The back door opened behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Charlie, a steaming mug in one hand, several thick books tucked under his other arm. "Morning, honey," he greeted, settling the books down on a side table and dropping into one of the porch chairs.

I smiled at him as I mounted the steps and sat in the seat beside him. "Good morning."

He lifted his mug up in question, taking a drink when I shook my head. "There's some cinnamon rolls in there, made fresh this morning." He made a show of smacking his lips appreciatively. "Mighty good."

I grinned as the nail gun hiss-popped several times across the yard. "Paul and Maddie got donuts for everybody this morning," I told him. "But maybe before we leave I'll grab one."

"Just as long as you get to 'em before those boys do," he muttered with a shake of his head as he took another long drink of his coffee, and I snickered.

"What do you have there?" I asked, nodding towards the books on the table between us, and he glanced down, startled, as if he'd already forgotten about them.

"Oh, these." I reached for the top one and passed it to me. "Somebody told me you found your mom's old scrapbook last night. Thought you might like to see some more pictures of her."

Suddenly intrigued, I opened the thick cover of the first one, and looked down at a page of newborn pictures. The quality was poor, the colors slightly yellowed with age and air exposure, but the subject was clear. Multiple of almost exactly the same shot - one tiny little arm moving across each image like stills in a flip book was the only difference between them - spread across the first two pages. My mother, a small, wriggling pink bundle in the center of a plastic hospital bassinet, had her mouth screwed up in a silent wail. Dark hair was plastered down around her head, matchstick-skinny fingers stretching up into the air as her feet flailed, their tiny purple soles blurred in some of the images. In the background, Renee smiled down at the baby, her face puffy and red, eyes glassy.

Isabella Marie someone had written along the bottom of the page in blue ink.

"Come to think of it," Charlie said mildly, his eyes cutting over to me. "I've never seen any of your baby pictures."

"Neither have I," I answered honestly, because there weren't any - not like these, anyway.

He hummed, sounding completely unconvinced, and I smothered a grin at his prodding. I was sure he had many questions - like how his "adopted" granddaughter, with his daughter's eyes and his son-in-law's nose and his own thick curly hair - looked to be over double her physical age, for starters - but it was better for him that he didn't know. Need to know, my family had always said. He could come up with his own wild explanations, and they wouldn't even come close to the actual truth.

I flipped the pages, and saw an assortment of first-year photos, corresponding dates written under each one: my mom in a tiny, black and red plaid Christmas dress; tucked in the Easter bunny's elbow, a pair of fuzzy bunny ears twisted sideways on her head; sitting in a kiddie pool in the shade of this same back yard, in a ruffly pink bathing suit and matching sun hat, her hair curling around her ears; taking a wobbly step, her little hands clenched around a much younger Charlie's fingers, a wide, gummy grin stretching across her face as a bead of drool rolled down over her chin.

I saw various milestones documented - first steps, first teeth, first haircut, first day of preschool - and I realized why people kept such books. Memories would fade, for normal humans, and they wouldn't remember each of them in perfect clarity like my family would. For a moment, I lamented the fact that I wouldn't be able to show anyone memories of my own childhood like this. They would only be able to see them through my own eyes.

The first book ended, and wordlessly, Charlie handed me the second. I opened it to a picture of my mother, Jacob, Rachel, and another girl who I assumed was Rebecca, almost identical as she was to Rachel, all clustered around a seat on Charlie's old fishing boat, puffy foam life vests strapped around each of them. I chuckled at the thought of my mom and Jake - two of the most indestructible people I knew - needing life vests at any point in their lives. The twins had their arms around each other's shoulders, a juice box in each of their hands, and I was struck by how similar they both looked to Maddie and Makenna. My mother's hair was a tangled mess of curls spilling over the front of her vest, her eyes sparkling happily as she fidgeted with one of her sandals, the bright pink of a sunburn spreading across the bridge of her nose and the tops of her cheeks. Jacob cheesed up at the camera, squinting against the sunlight, his hair in two braids like Billy's on either side of his head, his hands and cheeks still toddler chubby. There was a woman in the background, smiling indulgently down at the four of them, and her face was immediately familiar, even though I'd never seen her before.

"Is that -?" I peered closer, already knowing the answer, even as Charlie nodded.

"Jacob's mom," he confirmed. "Sarah."

I studied the woman, the familiar arch of her brows, the almond shape of her eyes, the strong bridge of her nose, the thick lips that were stretched wide over straight white teeth. She held one of her hands up, her fingers combing back through the strands of her long hair, brushing it back away from her face. She was beautiful, striking even, glowing with a happiness that spoke of an inner beauty even more resplendent, and I felt a lump rise in my throat as I glanced out over the yard at her son. He was wedging a fence panel into place with his foot, his weight pressing it down into the earth. As I watched, Sue muttered something that made him tip his head back and laugh a big, full belly laugh, and I felt my lips curl up in response. He glanced over at me as if he could feel me watching him, that same grin stretching across his face, teeth flashing and eyes sparkling in the sun that had finally made its appearance.

"He's a good kid," Charlie said, following my gaze, and I felt myself nod in response. "Well, not so much of a kid anymore, I guess, but you'll all always be kids to me."

Jacob turned back to his work, and I tore my gaze away, focusing more fully on Charlie, his expression thoughtful. "He takes good care of his old man, and his sister and nieces," he continued, his tone musing, and part of me wondered if he knew he was speaking aloud. "He's done well for himself, and the rez, with opening that shop." He turned to look at me, his gaze startlingly perceptive, and I realized that yes, he absolutely knew that he'd been speaking aloud, and it wasn't for his own benefit. "He was always there for Bella, and now he's the same way with you, and I guess a dad and grandpa can't ask for much more than that."

I smiled at his assessment, some part of me understanding that this was an approval that I hadn't asked for, but still appreciated nonetheless.

"What was he like?" I asked, suddenly curious. "When he was younger?"

Charlie pulled in a long breath and shifted in his seat, cocking his head as he thought. "Well," he said slowly after a moment. "He was always real happy-go-lucky. Always up for a good time. He was so young when Sarah died, and I worried about him growing up without a mom, but he took it in stride. He was the only one that seemed to be able to pull Bella out of her funk after Edward -" He stumbled over his words, darting a worried glance toward me, but I motioned for him to continue. "After Edward left," he finished. "He had a hard time around the time Harry passed, but a lot of the boys did. I didn't see him for a while after your parents got married, when Bella was so sick, but then he showed back up again all of a sudden, right after you came along." He broke off, chuckling as he shook his head slowly from side to side. "I'll never forget that visit."

I remembered with perfect clarity the day he was talking about, the day he had shown up at Carlisle and Esme's house with Jacob in tow, his eyes wide and unbelieving as he'd stared at me in my mother's arms.

"I'm not sure what it was about you, but you brought something out in him I didn't know he had. I watched him turn into a man taking care of you. The way he'd look at you, or play with you for hours on end - with anyone else, see, I'd be nervous, but I trusted your mother's judgment. And seeing the two of you now -" He shrugged, a corner of his mouth pulling up in a smile, and I realized belatedly that he would've seen us together on the porch swing that night at Billy's, that he would've noticed the way both of us disappeared upstairs last night at dinner, that he would've been able to see the affection in the gaze that passed between us moments ago.

He reached over, taking my hand in both of his, and I was caught off guard to see his eyes misting over. "I missed so much with Bella," he said thickly after a moment, and I wasn't entirely sure if he was referring to the time she'd been with Renee, or the last ten years, or both. I'd noticed that he only referred to her as Bella in the past tense, and something in my chest twisted painfully at that, because despite all of my mom's efforts, he really had lost his daughter when she'd changed. "And it's gone so fast with you." He patted the back of my hand, and I squeezed his fingers gently.

"I'm just glad to have you back, to be able to spend whatever time with you I can," he finished gruffly.

I disentangled my hand from his, leaning forward to wrap my arms around his neck. He squeezed me back tightly for a long moment, dropping a kiss down on top of my head.

"Me too, Grandpa" I murmured, flashing him a watery smile as he released me, and he smiled at the long-unused term of endearment. "Me too."

The heat in Billy's garage was stifling, despite the fact that Jacob had rolled up the door. There was no breeze to speak of, the old box fan in the corner no match against the heavy humidity that was thick in the air.

I took a drink of Jacob's tea just for the ice cube I managed to catch between my teeth, wrinkling my nose slightly at the watered down liquid. I rolled the piece of ice around in my mouth, sucking on it idly as I watched Jacob work.

He had pushed my mom's old red truck to the center of the garage, and had already worked over the engine, changing the oil and topping off the fluids, draining the gas tank and refilling it from the can in the corner. A set of new, second hand tires from the shop sat stacked next to it, and as I watched, he bent down, hands searching for a moment along the underside of the truck, and then he was straightening, lifting as he did so. The muscles in his legs and arms clenched, bunching and rolling beneath russet skin that held a sheen of moisture as he picked up the front end and shifted his weight on to one leg, reaching out with his other foot to slide a jack under the frame. He set the truck down carefully, and let out a breath, glancing back over at me.

"Toss me that lug wrench, will you?"

I blinked, tearing my gaze away from a bead of sweat that was slipping down over the line of his throat to rest in that little hollow between his collarbones, my mind belatedly processing that he had asked me something. "Huh?"

He smirked, stepping over an oil pan and stopping just in front of me, wiping an old rag over his face and up through his hair. His hands came to rest on the workbench at either side of my thighs, and he leaned down, his lips wrapping around the rim of the glass I still held limply in my hand.

His eyes flickered up to mine, holding them with his gaze, and mutely, I tipped the glass up so that he could take a drink, watching as a drop of condensation rolled down the side of his chin. I reached out to cup his jaw, my thumb wiping away the wetness there and lingering.

"You're supposed to be helping me," he murmured, straightening his elbows out and pushing himself up to his full height. I shifted, scooting my knees apart as he stepped closer. His body was sweltering, radiating an uncomfortable heat as hot as it already was, but his breath was cool and smelled like peaches from his tea. His hands slid back over the surface of the bench, effectively closing his arms around me, and his head tipped forward. "You're distracting me."

"Sorry?" I tried weakly, sounding decidedly not sorry, and I felt a chuckle rumble up through his chest.

He ran his nose along my jaw, up toward my ear, where he pressed a kiss, and I felt my stomach clench in anticipation, my eyelids fluttering closed at the sensation. Clumsily, I set the glass in my hand down next to my leg, and reached for him, my fingers twisting in the material of his damp shirt, his breath hitching against my neck at the touch.

My phone rang, loudly, and his forehead dropped against my shoulder, something between a groan and a laugh catching in the back of his throat.

I blinked, pulling in a breath to calm my racing heart, and reached for the phone. My mother's name flashed across the screen along with a video call request.

Jacob took a step back, shaking his head as he reached for the glass of tea, downing it in one gulp. "She has impeccable timing," he said around a mouth full of ice.

I grinned, and slid my finger across the screen to answer as he turned back to the truck.

"Hi, Mom."

"Hi, baby," she greeted brightly, her image pixelating and then clearing again on my screen. She looked at me, her smile slipping a fraction as she no doubt took in the flush on my cheeks. A single eyebrow rose elegantly on her forehead. "Is this a bad time?"

"Yes!" Jacob called from where he kneeled next to the driver's front tire. He glanced around the ground on either side of him, and then back up to me. "Wrench," he said, and I suddenly remembered that's what he had asked for a minute ago. I tossed it to him as I rolled my eyes.

"No," I assured her, and the corners of her lips twitched up into a knowing smirk. "It's not. Jacob was just putting new tires on your old truck so I'd have something to drive."

I tapped the screen, switching to the rear camera so that she could see him, loosening the nuts that held the tire in place and then lifting it off. She smiled at the sight of her old truck.

"Still looks the same as it did the last time I saw it," she said, and I flipped the camera back around to myself.

"What are you up to?" I asked, taking in the beige stucco of the wall behind her. In the background, I could hear the crash of waves, the piercing cry of a seagull. Isle Esme, maybe?

She reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, her arm sparkling blindingly as a shaft of sunlight fell across her. "Your father and I came to the Island for the weekend," she said, confirming my guess, her voice taking on a dreamy quality.

On the floor in front of me, Jacob pretended to gag into a hubcap. I shot him a look, even as I privately agreed. "That sounds nice," I commented mildly, and her smile turned sheepish. "Where is Dad?"

"We're taking a sunset cruise this evening. He went down to get the yacht ready." She grinned, suddenly, that knowing glint back in her eye. "I know we just talked to you last night, but I thought maybe you'd like a chance to talk without him, girl to girl."

Jacob's head popped up over the edge of the truck's tailgate, an intrigued expression on his face. Girl to girl? he mouthed, one eyebrow edging up.

"Can I call you tomorrow morning, after everyone leaves for work?" I countered, grinning at Jake's pout. "The walls have ears," I joked, and she laughed.

"Of course. I'll talk to you later, sweetheart."

I told her goodbye and disconnected the call, tossing my phone back down onto the bench.

"You could've talked," Jacob said innocently. "Bring me the ratchet set, please - the small one. Something on this muffler is loose."

I snorted, hopping down and picking up the correct set, stepping carefully over his legs. He tilted his head to look up at me, and I handed it down to him.

"What does that even mean?" he asked, his words muffled around the wrench he held between his teeth as he tried to fit one socket and then another on whatever bolt needed tightening. "Girl to girl?"

"It means," I said, holding out my hand to take the ones that were the wrong size. "That we talk about all your muscles, and where your ticklish spots are."

He slid out from underneath the truck, and blinked up at me. "You can't be serious."

"No," I snickered, watching the relief spread across his face before he disappeared again and I nudged his hip with my foot. "Absolutely not. That's what you get for being nosy."

The wrench zipped a quick back and forth. "That was the most disturbing thing I've heard in a long time." He tossed the ratchet onto the ground and shimmied back out, shuddering as he reached again for the lug wrench.

Chuckling, I picked my way back over to the work bench, slipping back up onto my spot as he set to work switching out the third tire.

An engine rumbled out in front of the house, and I watched, frowning a little, as his shoulders stiffened. He sat back, situating himself squarely in front of me, propping his arms across his bent knees in a pose that, to the unknowing observer, would've looked casual. When a figure stepped around the corner of the garage a second later, I understood.

"Hey."

Leah looked supremely uncomfortable, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Her eyes bounced around the garage, landing once, very briefly, on me before dropping down to Jacob.

"Hey." The word was flat, expectant.

"Seth told me to pull my head out of my ass and come apologize," she muttered, kicking at a stray piece of gravel with the toe of her boot. It went skipping across the floor.

"Well," Jake said dryly, "one out of two ain't bad."

Her head shot up, her eyes narrowing. "I'm here, aren't I?"

He pushed himself up to his feet, and put a hand on the bed of the truck. His fingers tightened and then released, the muscles in his forearm fluttering. "Yeah, and your head's still firmly up your ass."

She huffed, her eyes flickering up over his shoulder, and I took the hint. I slid down, picking up the tea glass, and edged around Jake. "I'll be up at the house."

He caught my wrist as I passed, and I glanced back at him over my shoulder. His eyes were dark, his jaw tight. "She has something to say to you, too," he said pointedly, and I shook my head, easing out of his grasp. I ran my hand down the line of his arm, squeezing his hand once, reassuringly.

"No," I said with a half-smile. "She doesn't."

I forced my feet up the path to the back porch, and dropped down on the top step. I was still within hearing range, but at least now they had some semblance of privacy.

"Talk," Jacob said shortly, and there was a shuffle of fabric, a metallic clink as the lug wrench clicked into place and began turning, loosening the final tire.

"Jake," Leah said, her tone softer, more pleading than I'd ever heard it. There were footsteps, and then all sound stopped, even their breathing. A beat passed, and then two.

"If you came to apologize," Jake gritted out around clenched teeth, "then do it. If not, you can leave."

"Jake, c'mon - "

There was the smack of skin against skin, a sharp breath, and I realized, suddenly, that I was hearing the sound of him shoving her hand away. I stood, a possessive sort of anger bubbling hot in the pit of my stomach - jealousy, I thought with a start - and any sympathy I might've felt towards Leah and her plight vanished instantly.

"I'm not having this conversation with you," Jacob said, his words coming hard and fast, low enough that I had to strain to hear them. "Do not put me in a position where I have to make a choice, because it'll be her, each and every time, and I wouldn't want it any other way."

There was another beat of silence, and then Leah was stomping across the yard, breaking into a run when she caught sight of me on the porch, and the blood pounded in my ears in time with her footfalls as she disappeared around the corner of the house. A second later, the bike in the driveway roared to life, and she was gone.

Vaguely, I registered Jake's steps, and then his hand slipped around my waist, drawing my attention away from the spot where Leah had disappeared from view. I was an inch or two taller than him like this, standing on the porch steps, and it was a strange shift in perspective. His eyes flickered over my face.

"How much of that did you hear?"

I felt my expression curl into a sneer. "Enough." Because it was enough - in fact, it was too much. "How long has that been a thing?"

He let out a sigh, his hands slipping up my back and over my shoulders, drawing my arms up around his neck before dropping back down to tighten around my waist. He pressed his lips to the underside of my jaw, his hair tickling my nose, and I realized with a start that I was trembling.

"It's not a thing," he murmured, his palms sliding up and down the length of my back, slowly, soothingly. My fingers clenched around his shoulder, and I had a sudden vision of Leah's hand, doing the same thing. I felt another flash of anger - mine reverberated firmly through my brain - and I wasn't sure if I projected it or said it, but in the next second, Jacob was tilting his head back to look at me, his hands coming up to the tops of my arms as he pulled me down on equal footing with him.

He tilted my face up to look at him. "It's not a thing," he repeated, firmer this time. I let out a breath, the words finally taking root through the haze of possessiveness in my mind. His thumb swiped slowly, back and forth, over my cheek, and his expression softened, his eyes warming with intensity.

"I'm all yours," he murmured. His gaze dropped down to my lips, and he leaned forward to press his mouth against the very, very outside corner of mine. My eyelids fluttered, my head tilting reflexively toward him, and his fingers tightened around the back of my neck, stilling my movement as his nose rubbed slowly, deliberately, against mine. "All yours," he repeated, and a little thrill tripped down my spine at his voice, raw and rough. "Only yours."

"So Leah," I said by way of greeting when my mom answered the phone the next morning, "has a thing for Jake."

I cracked the driver's side window of the truck, cranking the key in the ignition as I propped the phone against my ear with my shoulder.

"Leah?" she repeated dumbly. "Jake? As in, Jacob Black?"

"Yes," I confirmed, glancing over my shoulder as I backed out of the driveway.

"Well, I certainly wasn't expecting this kind of girl talk," she commented mildly, and I huffed.

"Have you ever thought about motivational speaking?"

She chuckled. "I'm sorry honey, but what do you want me to say? I'm sure that's unsettling, but obviously nothing's going to come of it."

"I know that," I muttered, and she chuckled again.

"Is this the part where I'm supposed to tell you that you're way prettier, and she's just desperate?"

Even though her tone was joking, the words rang with honesty, and - as shallow as it was - they soothed me.

"Yeah," I said, flipping on my turn signal as I reached the corner, but the heat was gone from my voice. "Something like that."

"You're way prettier, and she's just desperate," she intoned obligingly, and I chuckled in spite of myself.

"Thanks."

"I'm sure I'm not the only one who's told you that," she said, and I could practically hear her eyebrow rising and see the pointed look on her face.

"You're not," I admitted, because Jacob had said the same thing, even if not in so many words.

"Speaking of Jake," she said, her tone smug as she changed the subject. "It looked a little warm in the garage yesterday."

"It was," I said mildly. "Ninety six and eighty five percent humidity. A real scorcher."

She snorted at that. "Any, ah, new developments on the horizon?"

I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut briefly at her awful weather puns as I snickered. "Nothing to speak of currently," I hedged, even though there was plenty I could've spoken of. Some things, I was sure, mothers just didn't need to know - especially my mother.

She hummed, sounding entirely unconvinced, but didn't press. I eased the truck through the stop light, and parked it around the back of the garage.

"Is it strange at all?" she asked hesitantly after a moment, and I knew immediately what she meant.

"No," I said, because it wasn't. It was new and exhilarating and sometimes thrilling - but it wasn't strange, not with Jacob. "No, it's not."

"Good." The relief was evident in her voice, and I was glad she'd asked and gotten the assurance she was looking for.

"I'm going to let you go, Mom," I said, as I unbuckled the seat belt and reached for the keys. "I just pulled up outside the garage."

"Okay, baby," she said. "I love you."

I smiled. "Love you too. Tell Dad hi for me."

"Call him yourself sometime and tell him," she countered. "He misses you."

I chuckled at that. "I will," I promised. "Bye."

I disconnected the call and slipped my phone in the pocket of my jeans as I slid down from the truck, slamming the door behind me to make sure it latched. There were already cars lined up and ready to go outside each bay, the uniformed figures inside the garage bustling with activity. Somebody shouted for the radio, and a second later, it spluttered to life, the volume rising in a crescendo. I slipped inside the store to find a line of customers, Jacob behind the counter, his eyes flickering from the register to the little old lady in front of him.

"Jared's not here today, Mrs. Huautah," he said, enunciating very clearly as she tilted her head closer, obviously struggling to hear. "But if you'll have a seat, I'll work it in for you in just a little bit."

Mrs. Huautah shuffled her way over to the little seating area in the corner, and Jacob glanced over at me as I slipped behind the counter.

"Hey," he said, flashing me a distracted smile, and then he was turning back to the next customer that stepped up, a man who had a slow leak in one of his tires. I shrugged out of my rain jacket, dropping it down on a stool behind me, and reached for a pen, a notepad, and a handful of key labels.

"I can help whoever's next," I said as I moved a few paces down the counter. In my periphery, I saw Jacob twist around to look at me, but then a haggard looking woman with a whining toddler on her hip stepped forward and handed me the keys to her minivan.

"The A/C went out this morning," she said, absently brushing back a strand of hair from her sweaty forehead.

I flashed her a reassuring smile, taking down her name and phone number and labeling the key appropriately. "They'll get to it just as soon as possible," I said, and then reached down under the counter for the basket of candy I knew was there. I pulled out a plastic wrapped sucker, handing it to the little boy, and his eyes lit up as he reached out and snatched it, his whining momentarily silenced.

His mother shot me a grateful smile. "I'm going to walk him down to the park while we wait," she said, hefting him up farther on her hip and grinning ruefully. "No telling what he'd get into if we stayed. You'll call?"

I returned her grin, and nodded. "Yes ma'am."

An older gentleman stepped forward next, and set a replacement headlight bulb on the counter with a grunt. I flipped the package over, marking down the stock number and price on the notepad, and notating how much cash he handed me beside it. I figured the change in my head, and reached around Jacob for the register, pressing the button to open the drawer. He sidestepped out of the way as he nodded to the man in front of him, listening as he rattled off what was wrong with his old Honda, and I grabbed the appropriate coins and bills before pushing the drawer closed again.

"Do you need any help installing it?" I asked, handing the older man his change, and he shook his head once, shoving the money down into his pocket and picking up the packaged bulb. "Have a nice day."

He ambled out the door, Mr. Honda following behind him, and Jacob turned to me, scrubbing a hand over his face before pulling me into a hug.

"You're hired," he muttered, and I grinned against his chest as I hugged him back. "You're a godsend. Thank you." He dropped a kiss to my forehead and released me as I stepped back, reaching for the minivan keys.

"A/C is out," I told him, and he took the keys, turning back to the register to open a new invoice. His fingers tapped over the keyboard, inputting the pertinent information before printing it off and stapling the key label to it. "What else can I do?"

He blew out a long breath, dropping down to rest on his elbows against the counter, his gaze sweeping over the shop. He started when he saw Mrs. Huautah, as if suddenly remembering why she was there.

"Jared called in 'cause Kim's not feeling well," he said, and I vaguely remembered someone telling me that she was suffering from an extreme case of morning sickness with her pregnancy. "Seth usually has everything in here covered, but I put him out on Jared's bay, because we're booked solid today. And then," he said, straightening up and rolling his eyes. "Quil's out at some cheer competition for Claire. Which he did tell me about, but I forgot, and now I've got to do his inventory at some point on top of my payroll."

"Do you want me to do the inventory?" I offered, and he looked down at me, his expression softening, a smirk curling up the corner of his mouth.

"No," he said, chuckling, slipping an arm around my shoulders. "You don't know what half the parts in here are."

I grinned at that, but didn't argue, nestling my head under his chin. His hand rubbed idly up and down my back, his fingertips eliciting little shivers in their wake. "I'm sorry you didn't get your coffee this morning," he murmured, and I shook my head. He'd stayed at Billy's last night entirely too late, well into the early hours of the morning, and I was sure that he'd needed his sleep more than I'd needed a special coffee delivery.

"Don't worry about it. Rachel's is almost as good."

He snorted and I grinned, both of us knowing the extra dark Folger's she preferred was nowhere close, but at least it was caffeinated. I tipped my head back to look at him. "Bring me your laptop, and I'll do your payroll. That way you can get Mrs. Huautah's car looked at, and your inventory done."

He hesitated for a moment. "Are you sure?"

I cocked an eyebrow at him, dropping my voice so that only he could hear - not that old Mrs. Huautah was in danger of eavesdropping. "Most people my actual age might be in the fourth grade, but I do have a college degree."

He gave me a pointed look. "Yeah, in music theory."

"You have to be able to count to at least sixty four for that," I told him with a grin, and he laughed. "Besides, I was tutoring you in calculus when I was three."

"You were four," he countered, rolling his eyes, but his arm dropped from around my shoulder, and he edged his way around the counter, heading for his office.

While I waited for him, I made my way over to the little sitting area in the corner of the shop. Mrs. Huautah had pulled a paperback book from purse and was reading it with the front cover folded back - my mother would've had a heart attack - but she lifted her head briefly to smile at me as I drew closer. I peeked down in the little coffee pot that sat on a side table, double checking that it had been cleaned out from Friday's business, and then walked over to the water dispenser to fill it up with fresh water. I tossed a pre-filled filter pack into the top of the machine and pressed the button to set it brewing, making sure the remote for the small wall-mounted TV screen was clearly accessible if anyone needed it.

I walked back over to the counter, picking up the little notepad I'd used to record the sale of the headlight bulb, and stepped up to the register. I glanced over the options on the screen before ringing in the transaction, the process fairly straightforward. The cash drawer popped open, and I slid it shut again, having already made the appropriate change, glancing up as Jacob came back around.

He handed me a sleek gray Macbook, and a stack of invoices, all marked PAID. "If you don't mind," he said sheepishly, glancing over at me. "These all need to be closed out and filed after you're done with the payroll."

I smiled at him, pleased that he was trusting me with more. "No," I said, taking them and setting them to the side. "I don't mind at all."

He walked me through the process of pulling up the digital time sheets and recording the hours for each employee in his bookkeeping software, explaining that the checks would print automatically to the printer in his office and that he would come back in and sign them whenever I was done before reaching around me for the little closet in the corner, tugging a canvas work shirt off of a hanger inside. He pulled his collared polo over his head, draping it over the now-empty hanger, and shoved his arms through the sleeves of the black work shirt, buttoning it up over his white undershirt. Boss Man #1 was embroidered on a name patch on the left side of his chest, and I grinned when I saw it, wondering idly how Quil agreed to being boss man number two.

"If the phone rings, just answer it," he said. "I'll be elbow deep in a Buick."

I snickered, catching the wink he threw at me over his shoulder as he pushed through the door into the garage, nudging the doorstop into place with his toe to prop it open.

I worked my way methodically through each employee's time sheet, double and triple checking my work so that none of it would have to be redone later. The stack of invoices took longer, and I played around with the software, which was surprisingly efficient - perks of having a sister that had gone to school for programming, I thought wryly - tweaking things until it was just a little more streamlined. It had a feature that would link a PDF of the paid invoice to the digital ticket, and automatically file them away for auditing later, and I took the time to scan each of the invoices into the system, using the little desktop printer on the counter, so that Jacob could utilize the computer's filing system later if he so wished.

Several customers came and went, scheduled oil changes and tune ups that were in and out in half an hour or less. Just before noon, I called and placed an order for pizza, paying with my credit card over the phone, and forty five minutes later the delivery man arrived. He glanced at the five guys working in the garage, and set the ten large meat lovers down on the counter, a dubious expression on his face. I bit my lip against a grin, not bothering to tell him that this would only tide them over for a couple of hours, until someone later this afternoon made a snack run to Maggie's or Ramon's or the mini mart on the corner.

The smell acted as an effective dinner bell, and the delivery guy's beat up little Nissan had just pulled away when Lucas stuck his head through the door, sniffing appreciatively, followed quickly by the others.

"Dude," Brady said around a mouthful. "Can we keep her?"

I grinned as Jacob draped an arm around my shoulder, already starting on the last slice of his first pie. He caught a curl between his fingers, and tugged playfully. "Yeah," he sighed, reaching for another box. "I guess we can."

Seth took back over at the register after lunch, his limited expertise in the garage no longer needed, and I shuffled my stool down the counter to make room for him as he kept up an easy banter with the steady stream of people that came through. Mid-afternoon, a few retirees wandered in, pulling the chairs in the corner up around the counter and starting another pot of coffee, diving into a debate about the merits of carburetors versus fuel injectors. Seth leaned a hip against the counter behind the register and crossed his arms over his chest, smirking as he listened, and I guessed that this must've been a regular occurrence.

I picked up bits and pieces of the conversation as I searched for an inventory list on Jacob's laptop, printing it off and grabbing a pen and clipboard. While it was true I didn't know half the parts in the store, I could get started on what I did know - and I was willing to bet it was more than he realized, growing up as I had around him and Rosalie - since he had spent the better part of the last hour in the pit under an old rusted out Toyota, helping Brady find an elusive leaky gasket.

"Give it up old man," one of the men around the counter said loudly, slapping another one on the shoulder as the rest of them burst into raucous laughter. I smiled to myself as I knelt down, trying to decide which type of wing nut, exactly, I was looking at. "Fuel injectors are here to stay. Time to stop living in the past."

"Pfft," someone else protested loudly. "Let's ask Boss Man here what he thinks - fuel injector, or carburetor? Whaddya say, Jake?" Jacob's low chuckle joined the rest of them as he stepped into the shop.

There was a huff of indignation. "He likes those old body styles," the first man complained. "He's got that '80's Camino, and he had that old Volks before that."

"Randy," Jake said, "you don't have either one of them in the shell of that old clunker in your garage."

Hoots of laughter rang out as Jacob rounded the corner of the aisle I was on. He grinned, shaking his head as Randy called out something less than complimentary. I cocked an eyebrow, straightening up.

"You like those old body styles, huh?"

"Well." He tipped his head to the side and narrowed his eyes, pretending to consider. "I guess I'll make an exception for you." He took the clipboard from my hand, popping me on the backside with it and grinning when I choked out a surprised laugh. He dropped a kiss on my flushed cheek as the guys around the counter let out a round of guffaws.

"Thank you," he said sincerely as he glanced down through the sheets on the clipboard. I hadn't quite made it halfway through the list, but a significant portion of it was marked with whatever quantity of each item was on the shelves.

"The checks are waiting for you in the office," I told him, "and remind me later to show you what I did with the invoices, but they're all finished too. I gave Seth the list of appointments that called in, and he said he'd get them put on the schedule. Rachel texted me and asked me to pick up some things for dinner on the way home, so I'm heading out." I held my pen out to him, and he took it, his fingers lingering over mine, a warm smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"What would I do without you?" he murmured rhetorically.

"You can pay me back later," I tossed over my shoulder with a grin. The guys turned to look at me as I reached behind the counter for my rain jacket and the truck keys. "I know you like doing that."

His laugh followed me out the door, along with a series of teasing catcalls and wolf whistles from the peanut gallery.

I gave the peppers in the colander a final rinse, and tipped them onto the cutting board on the counter, glancing over my shoulder as one of the girls let out a shriek, followed by a piercing wail.

"Madelyn." Rachel hopped up from her place at the table to snatch up Makenna, tilting the little girl's head back to make sure the block her older sister had pelted her in the face with hadn't caused any serious damage. "Go outside with Pops. Now."

Maddie sulked to the back door, her lower lip protruding pitifully as she shoved open the screen and joined Billy on the porch, where he was lighting the grill.

Rachel shushed Makenna uselessly, rocking her gently and running a hand over the back of her silky dark head as she sank back down in her seat, reaching out to type something one handed into her laptop. Makenna's cries ratcheted up a notch as she grabbed for the front of Rachel's shirt, and Rachel let out an irritated breath.

"I seriously just have one thing to finish," she muttered, flipping a blanket over her shoulder and settling the baby at her breast. "Is that too much to ask for?" She closed her eyes, pinching at the bridge of her nose as she pulled in a long, slow breath.

I set the colander back in the sink, reaching for a glass and filling it with cold water from the fridge.

"Here," I said gently, setting down the glass and sinking into the chair next to her. "Do you want me to finish typing something for you?"

She let out a sigh, reaching for the water and taking a long drink. She set it back down on the table and rolled her lips together.

"No," she finally said, shooting me a weak smile. "Thank you, though. I appreciate it." She lifted the edge of the blanket to peek down at Makenna, and then tucked it back in place. "I'm sorry. It's just been a rough day with work, and I think she's teething - she's been extra fussy. All she wants to do is nurse, and I'm sick of having her on the boob all the time."

I ran my fingernail over a burn mark in the table top, not having anything helpful to add and sensing that she just wanted to vent.

She pushed a hand up through her hair, untangling the ends with her fingers. "But, I'm not ready for another one yet, so here we are." She let her arm drop back down to her side.

I glanced over at her, confused by her words. "Isn't there -" I started, and then stuttered to a stop. "I'm sorry. That's a personal question"

She flapped a hand dismissively. "Go for it."

"Well, I mean, aren't there other things you can do to prevent that?"

She smiled a little. "Hormonal birth controls don't work well for me. I have other health issues that cause complications."

"Ah." I thought for a second, flushing even before I spoke the next words. "What about - barrier methods?"

She blinked at me. "They don't work," she said blankly. "For any of the guys. Their body temperatures - they're too hot."

I thought about the implications of that for a moment, and wondered who had been the first to figure that one out. "Oh."

She smirked, reaching for the glass and taking another drink. "Guess it's a good thing we had this conversation."

I laughed at that, feeling my cheeks flame red. "It isn't - we haven't even kissed yet," I said, and she just gave me a knowing look over the edge of the glass. "And even if we were at that point, I don't have a cycle," I tacked on, as much speaking to myself as to her.

The smirk faded from her expression, replaced by curiosity. "Like - at all?"

"I mean, I had one. For a couple of years. But then I stopped growing, and it just stopped."

She studied me silently for a moment, and then dropped her gaze down to the now-sleeping baby in her arms. She shrugged the blanket off her shoulder, adjusting the neckline of her shirt a little, and ran a finger lightly back and forth over the curve of Makenna's cheek.

"They drive me nuts," she murmured, a fond smile curling up the edges of her lips as she gazed down at her daughter, "but I don't know what I would do if I didn't have them. If I couldn't have them." Her eyes flickered up to me, her expression sad, and I suddenly felt an ache, an unfamiliar twinge of longing as I watched the maternal display in front of me.

"Yeah," I said belatedly, dropping my gaze back down to the discolored ring on the table top. Children had never been something that I'd thought about too in depth. My adolescence had been spent around eight fully grown vampires, and any reference to children was to my own childhood. Even the conversations I'd had with Jacob and Rachel about the girls had been brief and in passing. I'd had a period for several years, and then I hadn't, and like many unattached young women, at the time I'd celebrated the fact that I would no longer have to wrestle with tampons and maxi pads, that I'd no longer feel the cramping and the aching breasts and the general sense of malaise that came with that one week every month. With an eternity stretching out before me, I'd never felt the rush to consider the future ramifications of that. Now, though...

"Maybe," Rachel said hesitantly, and I glanced up. "Maybe there's something your grandpa - Dr. Cullen," she clarified, "could do to help you. If and when the time comes."

I didn't bother going into the biology of hybrids, how they were scientifically known to be sterile, much less the fact that I was considered to be literally one in two billion and how little was known, even by my genius of a grandfather, about my specific physiology.

"Maybe," I allowed with a small smile.

She glanced down at Makenna, and then back over at me. "Do you want to hold her for me?" she asked. "And I'll get dinner started?"

I hesitated. I'd never held a baby before - even one on the brink of toddlerhood like Makenna was. What if I held her too tightly, or my warmer than normal skin made her uncomfortable? What if she was able to sense, like so many humans did, that I was different - what if I made her cry?

Rachel stood, and reached for my elbow, pulling me up out of the kitchen chair and leading me over to the couch. "Here," she said, pushing me down gently into the corner seat, one that was still visible from the kitchen. She slipped a hand behind Makenna's head, and held her out to me, and I took her automatically. She was deceptively dense, dead weight in sleep, and I clumsily settled her against my chest. She stirred, but Rachel passed a hand over the back of her head, and her movements stilled, her breathing evening out once more.

"She's used to warm," Rachel murmured, as if she'd been able to read my concerns on my face. "And, you know, Paul is her daddy and Jake is her uncle, so she's used to a little rough and tumble every now and then, too." I breathed out a laugh, not hardly wanting to move for fear I'd wake her, and Rachel smiled gently at me.

"You won't break her," she assured me, and I forced myself to relax a little bit. "I'll just be right over here if you need anything. I'll hear her if she starts to fuss."

Rachel stepped over into the kitchen, one hand absently kneading at the small of her back, and I realized that as much as she was teaching me and exposing me to new experiences, I was also taking a load off of her for a moment.

That thought eased my tension even more, and I settled more fully against the back of the couch, drawing one leg up under me. I shifted - so carefully, and so slowly - so that Makenna's weight was more on my arm than my chest, and I could look down at her little face more easily.

She looked exactly like a miniature Rachel, exactly like that picture I'd seen in Charlie's photo album of her and Rebecca, and by extension, exactly like a miniature Billy, as well. Pin straight hair, a tiny pointed nose, thin lips. Her eyelashes were long, curling gracefully to rest on the tops of her full cheeks, and her eyes flickered rapidly back and forth under translucent lids. I wondered, idly, what she was dreaming about, if it was a good dream, and then realized that was the exact reason I had woken so many times as a child to find my hand pressed against the cool cheek of one of my family members. For a moment, I wished that my gift worked in reverse, like my father's, and that I could see into her mind.

Her brow furrowed, her lips puckering into a frown, and a smoothed a palm over her back soothingly, shushing softly without hardly even realizing I was doing so. Her chubby fingers gripped in the front of my shirt, and I reached for the little hand, slipping my thumb into her palm instead and rubbing my fingers over the curve of her knuckles until her grip loosened, her expression clearing once more.

In my periphery, I saw Rachel glance over at us, the knife in her hand pausing its rhythmic chopping for a moment before continuing again.

The back door opened, and I tensed, waiting for her to wake, but she simply nuzzled her cheek into my chest and slept on.

"Look at you," Jacob murmured, and I glanced up as he toed off his shoes and slipped the dirty work shirt over his head. "Not even a week in, and Rach's already got you babysitting."

He grinned, flopping unceremoniously into the spot next to me, and I shot him a look. "You're going to wake her up." My voice was just barely even a whisper, and he chuckled, reaching over to cup her little face in his hand despite my hiss of protest.

"Nah," he said, though his voice was pitched softer than usual. Makenna turned into his familiar touch, still soundly sleeping, and he thumbed the dimple in her chin affectionately. "Kennie would sleep through a bomb. Maddie's the one you've got to tiptoe around. Gets it from her dad."

Rachel snorted from her spot at the sink. "That girl gets everything from her dad," she muttered, and I grinned as I remembered the block throwing incident. Paul was infamous for his short fuse and quick temper, and it seemed his oldest might have inherited that particular trait as well.

Jacob slipped his fingers through Makenna's fine, silky strands of hair, and I marveled at how gigantic his hand looked in comparison to her, at how someone so big and with so much strength could handle such a tiny girl with gentleness and tenderness.

I watched him turn into a man taking care of you - Charlie's words came to mind unbidden, and I could see it now, from the outside looking in, what he would've witnessed. My chest felt full all of a sudden, something in my heart constricting around the weight of emotion - that same longing, affection, love.

For the first time ever, I let myself imagine - let myself sketch a tentative picture in my mind of another scene, similar but not quite the same, the weight of another little girl in my arms, one with a riot of dark curls like her mother and a dimple in her left cheek like her father.

I swallowed around the sudden knot in my throat, around the sudden revelation that I wanted that - not now, and maybe not even for another hundred years, but someday, I wanted the possibility of it - and felt a warm thumb brush gently against the side of my face, catching a drop of moisture there. I blinked, and turned my head to look at Jacob. His dark eyes traced over my face, his expression knowing - and of course he knew. He knew so much about me before I even knew myself. He leaned forward and pressed a long, lingering kiss to the same spot where he had wiped away that single tear moments before.

"You're a natural," he murmured, his forehead resting against my temple, and there was an undercurrent of some emotion in his voice that I couldn't quite recognize.

"Yeah," I said, because there wasn't anything else to say, no adequate way to express that even though my arms curling around the weight of this little girl was natural, and that age old desire was natural, everything about how my body worked wasn't, and even though his would more than likely function that way, there was an extremely slim chance that mine ever would.

"You are, too," I added, and it was absolutely true - I was proof of that as much as his two nieces were.

He shuffled closer, slipping one arm around my waist and pulling me against his chest, the other one coming to rest under mine, cradling me as I cradled Makenna. His chest rose and fell slowly under my cheek as he pulled in a long, deep breath.

"They don't have to be yours for you to love them like they are," he said after a moment, and I was struck with the absolute truth of that, and how it permeated every aspect of both of our lives. I had aunts and uncles, grandparents that I claimed by name but that actually had no blood relation to me, people who loved me enough despite that to lay down their life to protect mine. He had a pack of brothers, all of them tied together by something much stronger than physical DNA - a choosing, a belonging, a sacrificing for and serving of one another. And then there were those who we did have physical ties to, but who we wouldn't hardly stop to speak to if we saw them on the street - my maternal grandmother Renee, for example, who didn't even know I existed.

The saying went that blood was thicker than water, but love, I mused as I lifted the little hand still clenched around my thumb to my lips, was greater than both.