Embry'sPOV

"Good morning," I yawn, reaching across to pop open the passenger door for Winnie.

"Um, thanks for the ride again." Winnie says, ducking out of the rain and climbing in. I almost grin at her when she settles into the seat, happy to see her even this early in the morning. I don't even care how she gets my interior damp with her faded green raincoat. Thank god I'm too tired from patrol, or I might have stretched across to take her up in my arms and give her a peck good morning. If I did, Winnie would probably walk to work instead after trying to sucker punch me.

"Not a problem." I shrug off, cranking up the heat for her so she'd dry off.

It's early. Too damn early. The sun is not even out yet, the sky is still a dim blue and the street lights are still on. I was out all night patrolling with Jacob, running from coast to boarder all across the res with him till the sky began to lighten, then I came straight back here to pick up Winnie. I struggle to keep my eyes open behind the wheel, my head feeling heavy as my drooping eyelids, which makes Winnie eye me worriedly. Shifting right back, then jumping into my van meant I'm not dressed for the weather again, only in cut offs and I have shoes to push the pedals with. The rain is too icy today instead of humid, which I know makes me look odder.

"Did you sleep okay?" I ask, genuinely concerned if she got enough rest for work, or of she just tossed and turn all night over her car.

"Ugh, yeah. I did." Winnie responds after a beat. "Did you?"

"Err, I worked late last night." I say in-between another yawn. I can see her pause, her eyes narrowing in thought, and I can already see the internal clock ticking in her mind.

"You worked late last night?" She asks, her face deepening into a frown when I nod.

"After you gave me a ride? Wasn't that around midnight?" Crap, she's putting two and two together. I stall a moment, but nod anyway.

"It's six now." She checks the dash. "Did you even sleep?" I wince, not admitting to anything. She finally turns to me, giving her full, dismayed, attention.

"You should have said something. Did I make you late for work?" She presses in quiet disbelief.

"No, don't worry about it." I shake my head, hands going clammy against the wheel. "You were stuck on the side of the road at one am. I wasn't going just going leave you out there."

"And now it's six in the morning. You could be sleeping right now, not driving me all over town." She sits up in the seat, and I almost grin at how she's worried about me. If we were closer, if the night at the beach hadn't happened, I'd tease her about it.

"It's not a problem Winnie. It's just an extra fifteen minute drive." I assure her, "I have all day to sleep. Just let me take you to work." She doesn't relax back into the seat, but doesn't bring it up again. She keeps doing sidelong looks at me, her eyes flicking worriedly between the road then back to me. I clamp down on my jaw to keep myself from chuckling, a chuckle or two nearly slipping through whenever she gives me big concerned eyes.

I couldn't tell anymore if I was driving slow because I'm so tired or because I get to enjoy her company the longer we drive. When the van does pulls up to the Lodge I try not to let it bother me.

I miss her already and she's not even inside yet.

I could tell right now. I could just blurt out she's my imprint, maybe try to convince her before she runs for it and sends the men with butterfly nets after me. Sighing, I softly throw my head back, I already talked myself out of it.

Will there be a good time to tell her? The way she's rushing to unbuckle her seatbelt tells me there's never will be.

"Seriously, thanks again." Winnie is almost out the door.

"Yeah," I nod.

"Hey, Winnie," I call after her, stopping her before she opens the door. She hesitates but allows me an extra moment.

"Thanks for the other day, you know, for not kicking me out." I never did say thanks for her defending me. She was inline to at least demand me to put a jacket on or something. She didn't have to go head to head with a load of truckers over me.

"Don't mention it." I can't tell if she meant that literally or not.

"See ya at two." I add, earning a curt nod from her.


Winnie's POV

"Hi, welcome to the Lodge, what can I—oh." I freeze up. "Hey?"

"Hey." Embry nudges his chin at me. He's in his usual spot at the counter, but during the lunch rush on a Wednesday. It's not Sunday. Also, I just saw him this morning. He's different, I almost didn't realize it was him. His usual cutoffs are gone, instead he's fully dressed in a gray t-shirt, a sherpa jacket, black jeans and some sneakers.

"Is it two already?" I ask, one hand reaching behind me to untie my apron, the other to glance at the watch on my wrist. I was sure just five minutes ago it was barely 12:30.

"No." He shrugs.

"Oh, okay." A long moment drags on, then another, then two more.

"Menu?" Embry holds out his hand.

"Right, right." I blink, trying to shake the image of Embry of out my head. It's not Sunday. I'm always ready for him on Sundays, but he stunned me, completely threw me off. With one hand I give him a menu, the other I pass him a mug then stop myself before I grab the four packets of sugar.

"Coffee?"

"No, I took a nap after I dropped you off." How is this more awkward than when we weren't saying a word to each other? I stall, completely dazed how he's here. Is he going to start coming by whenever I'm working? The thought makes my skin go hot.

"Water is fine?" I ask, suddenly all my years of waitressing just vanishing.

"Sure." He shrugs. It almost bothers me how he's so causal and fine about this. I hate owing him. I almost sigh in relief when he orders. It's just as gargantuan as his breakfast orders; three burgers, each double patted with onion rings, fries, and every slice of cheese we have, plus with a side of cheese fries.

"Did you eat?" He asks when I bring him his food.

"Not yet." I answer. He nods solemnly, running out of conversation topics too. There's not that much topics for 'We know each other in high school, but didn't talk then, don't talk now.' Or the category of 'Traumatic high school memories'. Asking how are you sometimes feels too demanding. Since he is helping me out, I pen him the same crap I saw to customers I try to avoid. "enjoy your meal."

It was just as awkward when I went back to ask if he wants dessert and he said he'd eat a whole banana cream pie. We still have to go to the garage together. This is going to be a long, long, long day.


"I thought we were going to a mechanic's garage." I didn't want to sound nervous when Embry pulled up to a small red house instead of a shop, but I can hear the unease in my voice. God, please don't let this be a prank or something.

"We are." He nods, "My buddy's garage just happens to be attached to his house. It's out back." Embry explains, putting his car in park behind a chevy truck and a Volkswagen Rabbit. I hesitate for a beat too long, staying in the van for moment till Embry holds opens the passenger door open for me. A small trickle of rain drums against his broad shoulders and arm, but he doesn't seem to mind while I slide out.

The mud swallows my weight, making each step forward more difficult than it is, yet Embry crosses the yard in a few strides, despite being three times my size. Waiting for me at the door, he looks back at me over his shoulder. I hate how he makes me feel whenever he looks at me. He does so much of it.

"We're here, Jacob," Embry calls into the garage, bending at the waist to make it through the half open garage door. I nearly hit my head on the door when Embry announces who his friend is. Jacob as in Jacob Black. I feel moronic. It's a small town where everybody knows everybody. Of course it's Jacob. There's not that many locals who own a shop in La Push. I should have know Embry was talking about Jacob.

I nearly groan, buttoning my uniform as far up as it'll go, followed by zipping my raincoat all the way up. I silently beat myself up for not wearing pantyhose with my uniform today, but settle for crossing my arms over my chest as tight as I can. Embry does a double take at me, the confused look on his face dropping into a silent and shocked O when he realizes what I did moments ago.

Jacob Black has seen me completely naked.

Half of La Push did in freshman year.

"Winnie," Embry's face goes an ugly red, his eyes storming over. "I didn't realize..."

"Hey, Embry, man this buggie—" Jacob Black finally comes in from the house, only to immediately stop. His eyes widen when he sees me, undressing me with his eyes even though he doesn't want to as he remembers. Every crevice and line of my body itches horribly, as if I'm fifteen and drunk on that sandy beach all over again, I almost walk right back out.

I don't talk to a lot of locals for this exact reason.

"What about the buggie, Jacob." Embry snaps the guy out of it, his voice going so harsh for a brief moment I almost didn't recognize it as Embry's.

"Right, right, the buggie." Jacob scratches the back of his head, his black hair just as short as Embry's. As if he's a teenager again, Jacob goes red. A heated, steamy hue that reaches his ears. It makes me wish the ground would swallow me whole. "The buggie belongs to Winnie? The Winnie?"

"Yeah, that Winnie from the freshmen year beach party." I mutter, making both boys wince.

"No, that's not what I meant, I-I-I, um—so how's things been Winnie?" Jacob struggles. Embry's jaw is in his hands, looking as miserable as I feel right now. I always feel exposed walking around the res already. Incidents like this just prove no one has forgotten what I look butt naked. I almost want to tell them the last four years have been awful, complete crap, and how I thought being know as the naked girl all throughout high school was just a rough patch, but even four years later I'm still La Push's residential nude.

"How's my car?" For all our sake's I change the subject, seeing the relief on both their faces.

"It's savable." Jacob admits, him and Embry exchanging worried glances. "Your car is from the late sixties. Sooner or later you're going to have to replace all of it."

"Or get something newer?" I ask lowly, fondly running my hand over the hood.

"In the long run? Yeah. I don't know where you got your hands on this car, but you're in procession of a 1969 Volkswagen Beetle punch buggy. You could sell it, and make a pretty decent chunk of money. More than enough to buy a new car if you sell it to a collector." Jacob explains.

It's not mine to sell. I couldn't make money off a car I never paid for.

"So, how long would option 1 take?" I ask Jacob.

"About five days if I order a part. Maybe two weeks if I rebuild it."

"Two weeks?" My voice sounds hollow.

"It's the cheaper option. I'd need time to go to shops, maybe the scrap yard to look for parts." Jacob explains.

"How much cheaper are we talking?" I question, already wincing.

"Err," Jacob shoots Embry a look, who gives him a warning look back. "Much cheaper. I'll tell you the total after the labor."

"Okay, Okay," I pinch the space between my eyes, feeling a few inches shorter. Maybe I could just live off ice cubes, crackers and cereal for the next month. This is probably going to cost all my tips. "Thank you, Jacob."

"Sure thing, anything for Embry's imp—" Jacob doesn't get to finish before Embry's hand goes flying up to jab Jacob's arm.

"Embry's what?" I didn't miss that. I can feel my face paling, my hand rising up to my mouth while a flash of Embry's kissing me back at that party flares up in my mind. What? Do they still call me what everyone else called me in highschool?

"...Embry's friend." Jacob sheepishly says, his brown eyes darting back to Embry who looks just as uncomfortable.

We're not friends.

Something in me gives, completely crumbles, then the guilt hits. I've treated Embry like the plague even while he drives everywhere, finds me a mechanic, generously tips me for years, always there to help me when no one else does, and I've give me the coldest of shoulders.

I'm not Embry's friend. I'm his problem.

"Here, Winnie," Embry hands me the keys. "Would you mind heating my van? I'll be there in a second. Jacob just wants to show me something in the house real quick."

"Yeah,"


Embry's POV

"That was your imprint!" Jacob catches me by the arm, looking like he wants to give me a congratulatory hug. "You brought your imprint here!"

"She needed some help, and your the best mechanic on the res." I shrug.

"After all these years, did you two finally makeup? Did you tell her?" I should have debriefed Jacob on the circumstances. He's happy for me, like about to ask if he's the best man at the wedding happy for me. But I can't blame him. Imprinting is soulmate business.

"No, Winnie still hates my guts." I sigh, rubbing my hands over my face. The whole situation is headache inducing, even all these years later.

"Shit," Jacob blinks, his face falling. "That's a massive grudge." Such a big grudge I'm not even sure if Winnie ever even felt the pull when imprinted on her. Kim tells talks about when Jared imprinted on her, she says it was the most beautiful moment of her life, and Jared just looked over his shoulder at her in their sophomore English class. Emily talked about when Sam imprinted on her in her vows. Yet, Winnie has barely looked in my direction since.

"Yeah," I groan, leaning against the wall for support. "So keep it quiet. I don't know if she's sticking around." The only reason she's even attempting small talk is because she thinks she owes me a favor. This is nothing. I would do anything for her.

"She's your imprint. She's your other half."

"Jacob, she's my everything." I breathe. "This is killing me."

"I don't know how you've stayed away from her for this long." Jacob claps his hand on my shoulder, but nothing will make me feel better except Winnie.

"I don't know either." I almost choke, feeling more tired than I have ever felt in my life. More drained than any patrol or battle with the leeches. "There never was a right time."

"This could be the right time. This is the first she's spoke to you since freshman year. It's probably now or never, Embry."

"How am I suppose to even tell her? You saw how standoffish she is with me. She hates me."

"She doesn't hate you. She's your imprint." Jacob waves off. "Maybe start with sorry. See how things go from there." I nod along to Jacob's advice, but I don't feel any better.

"Hey, Jacob. Don't charge for the work. I'll pay for it." I state.

"She's your imprint. She's part of the pack. It's on the house."


"I'm not always this rude. I promise I'm not." Winnie says the moment I climb into the van. Halfway into the van, half still in the rain, I give her a confused face. At first I thought she was mad. She sits on the edge of her seat, a frown deep in the lines of her face. Then I notice her eyes pleading with me, and her cheeks going pink. "I swear, I don't have an attitude problem."

"I know you don't, Winnie." She doesn't look like she believes me when I say it. The hurt look on her face makes me want to duck inside and hold her till she feels better. Instead, I climb in and turn the van on, trying to act natural.

"I give you so much shit." She says under her breath. "Even though you always save me."

"Not always." I mumble, my hands clutching the steering wheel. That video of her is still being passed around on the res. We're both in it, but she's the one still being called the "The La Push Sure Thing." while everyone still congratulates me for getting to first base with her after she was exposed on the beach. It's not fair.

"I should make this up to you. You've been helping me out all day." Winnie offers sheepishly. "At least let me pay you for gas."

"I'm not a taxi, don't pay me. You don't me owe me." I almost roll my eyes. "And I know you're not a mean person. I know better than anyone you're not. So, please let me take you home, Winnie."

"Okay," She sighs, sinking into the seat with a guilty look on her face.