The end of the week had come faster than Morgan hoped. A thick layer of soft snow covered the ground, weighing down tree limbs as Liz drove them out of Forks. Morgan couldn't help marveling up at the white as it contrasted the deep green through the lenses of her glasses. Finally, the forest looked like it'd been dusted with powdered sugar—and only less than a week before Christmas. In fact, Christmas was in three days.

She'd missed the snow dearly. There was no shortage of it in Denali. Though, the only thing Forks seemed to have no shortage of was rain. Liz's thumbs tapped against the steering wheel to the tune of an eighties beat playing softly from the radio, only watching the road in theory as she bobbed her head. Still, somehow, she always got them to their destination in one piece.

They arrived on time—but Morgan's stomach churned, skin all but vibrating as her veins flooded with anxiety, fraying at her nerves. Jacob's house was also covered in snow, though the driveway was freshly shoveled. Liz shifted into park, the passenger side facing the house, and Morgan reached for the door handle with a shaking hand. "I'll just be a sec," she said, mostly over her shoulder, as she slid out of the vehicle.

Liz turned down the radio. "Take your time, girl."

Morgan tilted her head in a brief expression—seriously?—just as she pushed the car door shut, but Liz only smiled knowingly, head lulling aside with faux exhaustion. It elicited a small laugh from Morgan before she turned and made her way to the front door of the house, shoving her hands into the front pocket of her coat. Tucked beneath her coat, it added another layer of much needed insulation. After all, unlike her other family members, the temperature affected her greatly.

Her breath fogged before her face, the nervous vibration turned into a frozen tremble, and she rapped her knuckles against the wood. There was a moment of silence. Snow began to fall with nothing but a quiet echo of white noise, the natural ambience of winter. But it was pierced through by the sound of the lock turning, incredibly loud in comparison, and Morgan squared her shoulders as the door whisked open.

Though, her eyes quickly fell as it was Billy revealed behind it. He smiled up at her, a bright beam of warmth to contrast the chilled weather. "Hello, Morgan," he greeted her with a gentle nod. "Jacob's on his way out. Would you like to wait inside?"

"Hello, Billy. That's okay, thank you—Liz has the engine running," Morgan politely declined the offer.

It was then Billy glanced around her at the truck idling in his driveway. "I see. Well, I know Jacob appreciates your invitation. What do you have planned for tonight? He mentioned a secret santa?"

"Yeah, we're doing a gift exchange," Morgan nodded, smiling genuinely despite the obvious attempt at prodding. By now, she'd become used to it. The fishing. But it wasn't in the way he phrased the question—it was in the way he eyed her, just politely enough to mask in the presence of anyone unaware, though remaining apprehensively curious. "We're going to hang out and binge on the holiday snacks my mom and I made while we watch Christmas movies. I have some board games and cards to play if we get bored, too."

"That certainly sounds like fun. Will your family be there as well?"

"Oh, no—they'll be either upstairs or out for the night, so it's just us kids. But I'll make sure it stays that way."

Morgan assured him with a true empathy he didn't seem to expect. Though, it was Morgan he was talking to. She was the only human Cullen—of course she would exhibit an array of human emotions. Regardless, he gave a nod in silent appreciation. Sending his own son into the lion's den was the last thing he wanted. But they needed answers, they needed inside information. What better way to do that than to travel into the belly of the beast itself?

Still, he chose to believe her, despite the thin line that the belief was. There'd been no sign she had been lying to him yet. And she seemed to truly care about Jacob. The sliver of hope she was telling the truth would be all he had to hold onto until the evening was over, and his son was returned home safely. For now, he was confident the Cullens wouldn't risk breaching the conditions of the treaty.

Tonight was going to prove how right—or deadly wrong—he was. It was then that Jacob appeared over his father's shoulder, a wrapped box beneath his arm. His lips curved up into a smile as he met Morgan's eyes, his boyish and toothy display enough to cut the invisible tension between them in the doorway. "Hey," he joined the conversation lightheartedly, innocent and unaware. He tipped his head in a gesture toward Billy. "This guy bothering you?"

The skin of her cheeks dusted pink, easily mistaken for a sign of abuse from the cold wind as she shook her head, a single laugh erupting from her throat. Billy backed his wheelchair enough to turn slightly in the small space, sending a humorously offended expression up at Jacob. "I can only hope you would emulate the gentlemanly respect you see from your old man when around this young woman," he chided him teasingly.

"He's a perfect gentleman, Mr. Black," Morgan assured, with a playfully serious nod. Then, she bent slightly, shrugging up her shoulders as her expression changed to humored pleading. "Can Jacob come out and play?"

Billy gave a robust chuckle, his smile returning. "Alright. You kids better get going, before you're late to host your own party."

Jacob shook his head in mild embarrassment from the attention as he slipped past his father, ducking instinctually through the doorway to join Morgan in the driveway. "I'll have him back before his bed time, sir," Morgan unearthed a cold hand only to perform a mock salute, taking steps back from the door.

"Okay, that's enough for you," Jacob reached out, grabbing hold of her upper arm, and gave a tug as he moved toward Liz's car. Morgan grinned, waving briefly at Billy at the door before turning to walk in step with Jacob across the driveway. It was then that he leaned toward her, drawing her eyes, and insisted, "I don't have a 'bed time'."

"Your dad said eleven. That's a bed time, Jake," she pointed out, teasingly batting her lashes through the humor in her tone.

Morgan pulled open the truck door and climbed in with a giggle at the look of mild annoyance her words brought to his features. "Crap, I should've borrowed my mom's 'baby on board' sticker for the window," Liz commented, sarcastically, as she fought a laugh at the bits of conversation she overheard. As Morgan dropped into the middle of the bench seat upright, a devious cackle escaped her, and Jacob sighed heavily.

Though, despite it all, he was fighting a grin of his own. No amount of playfully poking him while claiming distance could distract from the shimmer in the blue of her irises, the light brought to her face reflecting in the color it caused in his cheeks. He climbed onto the passenger seat and pulled the door closed in one fluid motion—and their shoulders touched even as he leaned into the door to add space. On one hand, it was an exhilarating opportunity to be closer to her, even as small as it was. On the other, the small seats were utterly terrifying.

Thankfully for him, neither of the girls noticed his attempt to swallow a sudden bubble of anxiety in his throat as Liz began to drive away from the house. But as they began their journey off the reservation, the music was turned back up, and the overall mood in the cab had calmed. The friendly, lighthearted bullying diluted and died out only a few minutes from his house, and Liz continued to lightly bang her head to the radio.

However, the conversational silence was just as nerve-wracking. After a few moments of quiet, Jacob forced his throat to clear, causing Morgan to glance in his direction involuntarily. "So, what exactly should I be expecting?" he asked, his voice loud enough to be heard, but small enough to keep Liz's attention on the music. "Dungeons? A fire-breathing dragon? Is the butler gonna ask for my coat?"

"Uhh, none of those," Morgan shook her head, wrinkling her nose.

Jacob's eyebrows lifted sarcastically. "None? Not even the butler?"

"Mm mm," the corners of Morgan's mouth turned upward slightly as she tilted her head, squinting up at him. "Is that what people say is at our house? A dragon?"

"Well, okay- that was an exaggeration. But, I mean, can you blame 'em? No one's been to your house since you guys moved in. You know, you're like your own kind of cryptid, when you think about it."

Morgan huffed a chuckle, leaning back against the seat. "Imagine what it would say on the Forks travel brochure. 'The elusive Cullen clan. A rare species to find in the wild. Be sure to get a t-shirt to commemorate your sighting at the gift shop.'"

It was a joke told in a deeper voice, meant to mimic the kind of narration on a nature documentary, and it left them both chuckling quietly. The rest of the drive was pleasant despite Liz's sudden urge to change the radio station every few seconds. When they arrived at the end of the driveway, two other cars were already parked. Drew's and Mikayla's, Morgan knew. They were in charge of picking up the others, which meant everyone was already inside.

Most likely Esme or Alice was entertaining them in the kitchen, getting rave reviews for the hors d'oeuvres. Liz turned off the truck's engine and Jacob pushed open the passenger door. As he slid out of the vehicle, Morgan found herself slumping slightly, correcting quickly with a hand against the seat to brace. Had she been leaning? Did Jacob notice? Shit. She attempted to act like it wasn't the reason for her adjustment as she climbed her way out of the car, but it lodged itself into the back of her mind with a pin of embarrassment.

Liz stood at the front of the truck as Morgan and Jacob arrived, smiling wide as she held her arm out toward the front steps. "Lead the way," she told Morgan. "I want the grand tour."

Seeing it as the perfect distraction, Morgan didn't object in the slightest, instead walking ahead of the others to the stairs. Over her shoulder, she tossed the words, "Right this way, everyone. Please stay with the group at all times. If you have any questions at any time during the tour, just raise your hand."

Edward could hear them the moment they pulled in the driveway, subjected to the whirlwind of their hormonal thoughts—sounds so aggravating the book in his hand snapped closed. Though it was a little harder than he'd intended, he couldn't help reacting so sharply. He pushed himself up to stand from the plush lounger as he tossed the book aside, forgotten entirely before it'd even bounced onto the cushion, and eased his way through the bedroom door.

The teens entered the home with volume, Morgan's voice reaching the rafters first. She gestured outward as she stepped aside to hold the door for Liz and Jacob, making a sarcastic show of her tour guide debut. "And this, zooms and shrooms, is the foyer. Hand over your coats and stomp your boots—mom doesn't like it when we track snow inside," she instructed them.

Liz's and Jacob's eyes couldn't help but wander curiously. But Jacob's moved relatively quickly back to Morgan's as he shrugged off his coat. "'Zooms and shrooms'?"

"Oh, sorry—it's how we address our friend group," Morgan clarified, carefully taking the coat from his hand. As she turned to open the closet aside from the door, she continued, "We started doing it just when Mikayla was with us, but we decided to do it all the time so that we don't accidentally slip up and use gendered language."

Liz tugged the sleeves from her arms, and glanced at Jacob, "Mikayla is non-binary."

"Good to know. Thanks," Jacob gave a small nod.

Morgan stowed the coats away with the others', the garments stuffed into the rather small space like sardines, and closed the door with a bit of force. "I promise I was going to mention it before you met them," she said, nose and brow alike corkscrewed apologetically, a visible vocalization of 'oops'.

But Jacob gave a shake of his head, an easy-going smile quick to put her at ease. "Don't worry, I have full confidence in your hosting capability."

Edward knew to expect provocation from the things he would see, the things he would hear. They weren't just absentminded thoughts about random teens in the cafeteria—this was about his sister. A girl he'd known since her infancy. He'd wholly anticipated the disgust, the rage, the white knuckle grip on the banister and intervention from one of the others. But the other shoe never dropped.

Jacob's thoughts about Morgan were—for lack of a better term—sweet. If Edward wasn't careful, they would rot his fangs right out of his head. They were swirls of random observations, like how the blue of her eyes seemed even lighter in the light of the foyer. The way they shimmered as if they were crystals near a flame. He thought it endearing she wore the same shirt his sister owned. Jacob debated mentioning it briefly, but decided against it as they headed to the kitchen.

Though, Morgan's thoughts weren't any less embarrassing to listen to. Perhaps he'd been too harsh in his judgment, overreacting in anticipation—but hadn't Edward been subjected to hypersexual teenage desires that made him want to pour bleach on his brain for decades? It would be only reasonable to expect such things from Jacob as well. However, instead, Jacob was plotting the best way to take advantage of an opportunity to hold her hand.

One of the purest displays of affection he could possibly desire. Sighing heavily, Edward pushed off the railing and turned on his heels to return to his room for the evening. There, in the doorway, was Alice. With her arms crossed over her chest, she raised a brow as she looked up at him with a knowing she didn't need visions to achieve. It was rather obvious just what he was doing.

"Spying? Really?" she tilted her head, voice hushed.

Edward's shoulders dropped pointedly as he exhaled a huff through his nostrils, brows lowering on his forehead with annoyance. "Someone had to look out for her."

"What do you think the rest of us are doing?"

"Well, Carlisle's the one who approved this, and I didn't exactly hear any of you speaking up to stop him," he answered, argumentatively.

Alice pushed off the door frame to stand upright, jaw falling slack with a scoff at his words. "Edward, can't you see how happy this makes her? Could she get hurt? Yes. She could get hurt doing literally anything—she's human. Ish. But she deserves to have these experiences, and we shouldn't withhold them from her because of our own fears. That's just cruel and selfish."

It was then that Edward's jaw clenched, shoulders set, as the lines of his face smoothed to indifference. "Are you gonna stand there and accuse me all night or are you gonna get out of my way?" he questioned, his voice as dead as his flesh.

Laughter erupted in echoes from the first floor, swirling toward the high ceiling of the foyer and darted over the banister. The soft lick of a flame to punctuate Alice's point. Though, Edward showed no physical change regardless, and all Alice could do was sigh in disappointment as she stepped aside. Once the path was cleared, he wasted no time shutting himself inside his room once again—leaving Alice to stare at her side of the wood, attempting to burn a hole through it with thoughts he couldn't shut out.

He knew she was right. He had to. It was understandable, his pain and fear, but to let it take away from enriching Morgan's life with friends much more suited to her was unbelievable to Alice. Though, there wasn't much anyone else could do about it. Everyone in the house worried for Morgan's safety—they would be utter fools not to—but she was at home. The group was small, the situation easily manageable. They could handle any possible outcome and they could do it as a family.


After dinner and a few hectic rounds of Uno, it was time to open gifts and reveal secret santas. They'd used random numbers to decide who to pair, with some help from Esme to keep it a secret even to those closely involved, and they were quite evenly paired. Tommy gave Mikayla frog-patterned socks, Drew got Liz a new vinyl for her record player, and Martin gifted Morgan art supplies. Liz laughed hysterically when Tommy opened a gag gift and Morgan hit the nail on the head with a goodie box for Lucas.

Jacob gave Drew a hand-crafted scarf and received new sneakers from Lucas. The circle of teens on the living room floor was jovial, discarded wrapping paper in tatters in the spaces between them all. Throughout her life, Morgan had never quite felt a part of something. A place, a family, a life. Everything belonged to or was for someone else. And although she truly loved her family and appreciated all they'd done for her, they could never give her this.

But she could feel them lingering like dust on a shelf, in plain sight and begging to be noticed—though never quite seen—and she felt guilty. After all, Edward and Rosalie were only teens themselves when their mortality was taken from them. Jasper and Alice weren't much older. Now they were forced to watch her live out a life from birth to death and experience things they never will. Things she knew for a fact that they longed for. It felt selfish to indulge in these things, but it also felt as though she might pull her own hair out if she didn't. Her gut was twisted despite the smile on her face, the chuckles that escaped her.

In her mind, she questioned herself—was this a mistake? She enjoyed it so much. How could it be? Still, perhaps that was why Edward had been acting so reclusive since she began planning the party? Maybe he was simply jealous? He envied her. Despised her. She was sure of it now. How could he not?

"Em, you okay?"

Jacob's voice drew her eyes, darting to the left to find him leaning in, hushed as not to bring attention to the question—a gesture she appreciated. There was no way she could manage to answer all of them. Swallow their pity. "Um…yeah," Morgan gave a small nod, but she knew her eyes betrayed her when his brows didn't relax, his gaze didn't waver. He was scrutinizing every feature and she was truly a terrible liar under such a microscope. So, she acted quickly to change the subject, "Hey, come upstairs with me. I have something for you."

Shivering palms pressed against the area rug as she climbed to her feet from her place on the floor in the circle of friends. They all glanced in her direction in turn from the sudden movement, but she took steps away and spoke over her shoulder to appear nonchalant—a tactic she learned from Rosalie. "We'll be right back. Don't you dare do anything fun without me," she told them.

Liz booed and tossed a throw pillow in her direction. It only gained two or three feet of air and bounced limply on the rug. "Hurry up, I wanna watch Rudolph," Tommy called back.

"It's literally on repeat every year," Drew wrinkled his nose at the idea.

Tommy looked across the circle at him with disgust and disbelief, before crying, "It's a tradition, Drew!"

A muffled thud echoed out as a throw pillow hit hard against the side of Tommy's head, Mikayla taking their revenge with a grumbled sigh. "Hurry! Please!" Liz shouted, feigning agony as she dropped back against the rug.

Morgan only shook her head, halfway out of the room, as Jacob followed her to the foyer. Their overly-dramatic antics were both humorous and wholly embarrassing. They began climbing the stairs when Jacob asked, "Are they always like this?"

Almost always. It felt so immature compared to the usual behavior of her family members, but this was what she was supposed to experience. Youth. Childhood. Immaturity. "Unfortunately," she chuckled softly, though she didn't entirely mean it.

Morgan had planned presents for all her close friends and intended to give them out as close to Christmas as possible. The day of was off the table—their trip to Denali for the holiday was planned months in advance, and she was far too excited to see her cousin Kate to stay home. So, she bought everything she needed and wrapped each gift, then deduced the best time and place for each friend. Tomorrow, she would give Liz hers, the best for last.

Tonight was the most convenient time to give Jacob his gift. After the party, she would most likely not see him until after Christmas. She lead the way up the stairs and down the hall to her bedroom. At the door, she gestured for Jacob to follow—though, he found himself a bit hesitant. His eyes began to roam the second the space was in view, and he couldn't help but feel like entering was being a little too nosy.

He wasn't quite sure what he would've envisioned her room to look like before seeing it himself, though this wasn't quite it—it was tidier, more organized, and more vague than he expected. Morgan felt like the kind of person who was mild-mannered and rather quiet, but loud in the ways they expressed themselves silently, like bold bedroom wall colors and chaotic but uniquely them decor. Still, the decor present was flattering and reflected her enough.

The muted-green bedspread brought out the flecks of it in the wallpaper. An easel stood to the far right with a half-finished set of linework, a wooden stool sat before it, and a small table with carefully organized brushes and colors beside it. Her dresser carried a small houseplant. Despite the wall of windows across from it to allow for plenty of light, it appeared to droop slightly. Had she forgotten it? To the left, a bathroom—but he didn't dare look in there.

Morgan knelt on the wood floor to reach beneath her bed and Jacob eased himself inside, swallowing a step into the private space. When she stood, her hands cradled a neatly wrapped box of some kind, and a genuine smile pulled at his lips as something deeper inside his chest pulled at the strings of his heart. "You shouldn't have," he jested, tilting his head sarcastically, but he was beaming.

"Yeah, well, you'll wish I'd given you this sooner once you open it."

She came to stand two feet from him and held out the box, biting her lip to hide a grin. He eyed her, humorously suspicious, as he took hold of the present—but, as he took it from her grasp fully, the weight of it caught him off guard. It pulled his hands down and he scrambled to regain his wits without dropping it. Morgan startled, quick to reach out in case he truly did drop it, but he was able to recuperate without her aid.

As she retracted her hands, Jacob made a face. "What's in this thing? Rocks?"

"Just open it," she urged him, clasping her hands where they hung in front of her.

Somewhat carefully, Jacob pulled at the neat wrapping. It wasn't too tight, but enough that it took a solid tug to tear it off, and it came free in misshapen strips. After a few seconds, it was unwrapped enough to see the box inside, and he raised an eyebrow at Morgan in a bout of disbelief as a Volkswagen symbol came into view. "How did you know I still needed pistons?" he questioned.

A hazy shade of rose dusted her cheekbones as she explained, "My brother's a car guy. He said those can be kind of expensive, so I was counting on you getting those last. Are those the right ones? I kept the receipt in case-"

"No, they're the right ones," he was quick to reassure her, and her shoulders relaxed with relief. Jacob looked at the box in his hands for a quiet moment before looking back up at her and the time was not enough. The Rabbit was his passion project as of late, but it was slow going with school and financial limitations. And Morgan sought out the most expensive part remaining to gift him—not for the sake of flaunting wealth or subtly accusing him of being poor, but to add another layer of meaning.

Included with the parts was time and worry and disappointment he didn't have to face. None of the local shops seemed to keep these in stock much, so she'd gone to great lengths to track a set down as well. The thought and care behind the gift meant more than the money spent. If it had come from someone of her family's wealth he hadn't adored for months now, he would've tipped to the other side of the insinuation. But this wasn't anyone. This was Morgan.

And she stood before him with nervousness creasing her forehead, causing her thumbs to dance against her clasped hands, patiently waiting for his response with uncertainty. Was she thinking about the implication, too? The idea shot a jolt of worry through him, and he found himself tripping over his own tongue to speak, to correct the perceived assumption before she could feel any weight of the accompanying remorse.

"Thank you, Morgan. Really. This is an important one to cross off the list," Jacob said, as earnest as he could muster. "I didn't think anyone remembered much about what I say about the Rabbit."

Morgan's features relaxed against her face, but the color in her cheeks became a little more prominent, enough to notice now, and she forced herself to swallow. "It was one of the first things I remembered about you," she admitted, attempting to casually explain away the affection—though, she only really made it worse.

It pulled at his gut to hear aloud his hope fulfilled, that he wasn't just another acquaintance to her, but someone worth truly knowing. Though, he didn't know just how much she memorized him, intentionally or otherwise. How could he? He was lost in memorizing her. She was magnetic but distant, like the ocean pushing and pulling at the shore, and something about her felt utterly enchanting. Though, he couldn't quite put a finger on just what it was. It was simply there, beckoning him.

Swallowing his own bout of nerves, he spoke up, however timidly. "I, um…I actually have something for you, too."

As he placed the box in his hands on the floor beside his feet, Morgan inhaled sharply, though silently, as she felt her pulse jump. Jacob reached into his pants pocket and unearthed a much smaller box than the one he received, but she knew it most likely meant jewelry. It was wrapped in shiny, blue paper that glittered beneath the light as he held it out to her. "It's not much," he sheepishly offered the gift. "But I hope you like it."

Morgan didn't hesitate to pluck the box from his hand. Just as he was, she was careful not to make a mess of the wrapping as she tugged at it, tearing the paper until it had all fallen to the floor between them. Her heart thudded in her ears. Her mind raced with a thousand thoughts at once. Yet, he watched with a gentle gaze, and it did not feel heavy as she finally pried open the box beneath it. As the lid came off the top of the box, something reflected light in its place, and her eyes focused quickly to bring it into full view.

The pale blue-green caught her eye first. It was a stone no bigger than her thumbnail, light but rich in color, and it sat in a silver wire-wrapping. The wire detail was intricate as it wove around the stone and met at its base where a silver shape was attached—and the intention of the design became clear then. It was the fluke of a whale's tail. The stone, most likely, meant to represent the rest of the whale. At the top of the stone was a silver chain, looped through some of the wire, twisted perfectly to hang the pendant.

Morgan's eyes rounded in a mixture of things as she looked over the necklace. There was no denying that it was beautiful and something she might've even bought for herself. Though, she couldn't swallow down the thing crawling into her throat. It moved with the sway of her stomach as it dropped.

"Jake…" she glanced up from the gift to see him patiently waiting for a response, and she felt a pang of guilt for the lack of enthusiasm displayed in her reaction. She exhaled and allowed her mouth to curve up at the edges, loosing a soft chuckle as she looked back down at the necklace in an attempt to fix the mistake. "It's beautiful. Thank you, I love it."

The feet between them were dense with anxiety. Making him feel like she wasn't appreciative of the gift was the last thing she wanted, but it was so difficult not to look too deeply through that window. They were friends. The gift was thoughtful and didn't mean anything beyond it. Still, rival parts of her insides hoped and feared equally that it might, and they swirled around each other like hot and cold air inside her chest cavity. "Do you wanna try it on?" Jacob asked.

He gestured a hand toward the box, and Morgan could read the insinuated offer. Do you want me to help you put it on? She swallowed hard but nodded quickly. "Yeah, sure. Thanks."

Carefully, her fingers worked the necklace from the box and she held it out to him as he stepped closer to her left side. He worked the clasp open and held it gingerly so as not to lose grip on it while she pushed her hair to the right shoulder, holding it out of the way. It was not necessarily the closest they had ever been. Though, the situation only added pressure to the closeness. After all, it was the scene in a movie where the male love interest's fingers brush her shoulder, or her arm, and she tries to hide how she feels in that moment—however, it's entirely obvious.

Usually it leads to something or means something important. The knowledge of that trope didn't help ease the ever-so-slight tremble in Jacob's hands as he attempted to close the clasp of the necklace at the base of her neck. "So, why a whale?" Morgan inquired, if anything simply to break up the tension and ease the awkwardness of silence.

"Well, it's a symbol of good luck, but it can also be a symbol of compassion. It seemed more than fitting for you, with you being so quick to help those kittens and all."

Morgan exhaled through her nose. "And the stone?"

"Turquoise. It's believed to bring protection," Jacob explained, as he moved back to his original place beside the box on the floor. "It's also a birthstone of December. But I just thought it was pretty."

He smiled, a toothy and lighthearted grin, and Morgan could feel it spreading to the muscles of her face, pushing at her cheeks. How could she not reciprocate when he looked at her like that? How could she not be put at ease so swiftly? Although, the ease didn't last very long. Her muscles jolted at the harsh sound of a knuckle on the wood of her bedroom door, and her eyes lurched to the open doorway as Jacob twisted on his heels to see behind him in a small startle.

It was Esme. She smiled apologetically, but Morgan recognized what it was beneath the sorry crinkle at the corners of her eyes. It was the excited, welcoming smile she used with new people. Esme had used the exact same smile when greeting Morgan's group of friends as they arrived at the house—it was the talking to a new cashier at the grocery store, meeting Carlisle's work colleagues, and charming Morgan's teachers smile. "Hello," she was gentle, almost sheepish. "I'm sorry to interrupt."

Morgan was quick to wave it away. "It's fine, I was just giving Jacob his Christmas present. Um, Jake, this is my mom. Mom, this is-"

"Jacob, yes. It's so nice to meet you," Esme held out her hand to Jacob as she took a step inside the room, and Jacob didn't hesitate to grasp the offered hand with his own. But something in Morgan's stomach lurched. The taste on her tongue soured as a rush of cold drained down her back, and she found herself stepping forward as well, coming to stand to his right as Esme retracted her hand from the greeting.

"It's a pleasure, Mrs. Cullen," Jacob smiled politely back at Esme.

Neither seemed aware of Morgan's wary eye as her gaze flickered quickly between them both, before coming to scrutinize her mother's features. "What's up, mom?" she prompted her, hands clasping anxiously in front of her once more.

"Elizabeth was asking for you. I think she's in need of some help organizing your friends downstairs," Esme explained.

"Oh, okay," it made sense to Morgan, the interruption—though, she wasn't sure if the reason warranted betraying her promise to Billy. "We should head back down there anyway. Thanks, mom."

Esme smiled warmly at Morgan as she nodded once. "Of course, honey."

She turned on her heels and disappeared into the hall without another word. Morgan could exhale now, but her chest felt a bit constricted. If they'd run into Esme or Alice downstairs with the others, that would at least be safer—but here, in her room, the small space that it was? That was never going to happen again.