Chapter 8

It was the end of January. Blue Door had survived another crazy busy holiday season, and Bella was exhausted, more than usual this time of the year.

Ever since breaking up with Embry and Paul three months ago, she'd been having trouble sleeping, mainly because she had nightmares about her parents almost every night. In those dreams, she was taken back to the moment when the police came to tell her about the accident. She had the dream on a loop night after night. Only some odd nights could she sleep without dreaming. She also dreamed of Embry and Paul, but she could never remember what those dreams were about, just that either one or both had been in it.

She didn't understand why the dreams about losing Charlie and Renée had come back. She had those for about a year after they'd died, but counseling and her friends had helped her, and the dreams had stopped. But how to get them to stop now when she didn't even know why she had them.

She did miss them both. There was no denying that. After the encounter at the park in October, they had both called repeatedly for a while and even visited her, separately this time. Seeing them had been hard; telling them yet again why she had to break up with them and why she couldn't offer them anything more had pulled her heart out. But nothing had changed and would not change; she loved them both and couldn't choose. To see them so broken and being the cause for that had lifted her self-loathing to a new high.

Bella hoped that they would find happiness. And after Christmas, the calls and messages had stopped coming. They had moved on. Now she should do the same.

It was fortunate that life at the Blue Door was never quiet, and her days were filled with work, interesting and not-so-interesting customers, new guests in the B&B, studying and keeping up with her video blog. It was the hardest thing since she lacked her enthusiasm in talking about books and stuff she usually talked about in her vlog.

Few guys at the Uni had asked her out, but she had declined. She didn't want to go down that path again. She didn't need men in her life. Well, that was not entirely true; she missed the sex and good company. But she knew no man could ever compare to Embry or Paul; they had ruined all other men for her. So why bother trying something that was surely going to be a disappointment. Lisa had been right when she said that Bella would be mad to let them go. But what else could she have done?

Maybe she would be ready to try someone new again someday, or perhaps she should get a cat, two cats, and become a mad cat lady. Bella giggled at the idea. She could even name them Embry and Paul.

Bella sighed and looked around her beloved bookshop and home. She wasn't unhappy. She loved her life. She had her work and friends, which were pretty much the same thing. Apart from Lisa, who had been her best friend since primary school.

But was she lonely? No... yes... no, she had her bookshop and friends; yeah, she was saying that a lot, but she just missed them so much. Hell, she said that a lot too.

Bella gathered the books from the table into a neat pile and went to get more take-a-way cups from the storage. Thomas had promised to get them before leaving for the day but seemed to have forgotten.

Thomas had been absent-minded lately. Bella wondered what was going on with him. He was supposed to have a happy relationship with his long-term boyfriend, Dylan. Bella hoped that nothing terrible had happened to them. Thomas wasn't the most open person, and he often kept things to himself, and it took some persuasion before he told what the matter was. She liked to keep things to herself too but hoped that her employees, who were also her friends, would talk to her. She was a bit worried about Thomas. She made a mental note to speak to him tomorrow.

Bella found the cups and returned to the shop.

"Bella, do you think we could organize the classic corner in a new way?" Mike asked. He was Bella's new employee. He'd been a great help during the busy holiday season, and Bella had decided to hire him permanently. She hadn't regretted it. He was a literature student at the Uni, and Bella could easily say she'd met her match when it came down to loving reading and books. Mike had been one of those asking her out but ended up being hired by her instead.

"Sure. What do you have in mind?"

Life in La Push had never been exciting at the best of times, but now it was downright depressing. There was nothing for Embry there apart from his sick father. Even the work he used to enjoy had lost its interest. Being at the gym, like he was at the moment, beating the hell out of the punching bag was the best way to spend time in this shit hole.

It was three months since he had last seen Bella. It was the last time they spoke when he once more visited her in San Francisco, hoping to get her to change her mind. He had failed; she hadn't changed her mind.

Embry knew that he should move on, but he couldn't. He didn't want to. He hadn't even had sex with anybody since Bella. The pathetic reason was that as long as his last time with her was the last time, he had something that connected him to her. And if he tried very hard, he could almost feel her lips on his and her body moving under him. He used those images often. It was fucking pathetic, but that was his life now.

Embry continued to punch the punching bag. His vision was blurred with sweat, and his muscles ached. But damn, it felt good to hit something.

"Is it dead yet?" the voice that had become very familiar to him in the last couple of months asked.

"No, Lahote, not even close," Embry grunted.

"You want to kill me instead?" Paul asked.

"Damn right I would," Embry chuckled and gave the bag one last right hook and stopped. He grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat from his face.

"Let's spar for a while," Paul said and stepped into the boxing ring.

One strange outcome of all this bullshit was that he and Lahote had become friends. Lahote had moved back to La Push just before Christmas after being offered a job in the youth center, where he coached young people with anger and other issues. Some mixed martial arts and some shit about recognizing and managing emotions. A bit ironic considering Paul was the most violent person Embry knew, but then at least he knew the mindset of the young fuckers needing his help.

Their friendship had started when they'd ended up at the same local pub too often not to notice each other, and after a few heated fuck you fuckers and a fight, in which Paul beat him up pretty bad, they've started to talk. Paul had apologized for beating him up, which he had refused because he wanted to do the same but couldn't beat the bastard no matter how he tried. Paul had promised to show him some tricks, and they had started to spar together. Once a week had become three-four times a week.

During these sessions, they hit and kicked each other and talked about Bella. Dear God, sometimes they didn't do much else; it'd become their favorite pastime. Hanging out with Lahote was indeed something Embry could never have imagined happening. Embry had always thought Paul was an asshole, and Paul had never liked him even as a child; he used to bully him, Jake, and Quil. But it was weird how being in love with the same woman had brought them together. Well, that sounded a bit too gay, but yeah, they were friends. And Lahote was a decent guy.

After punching and kicking for an hour, Embry had had enough, and he had to leave.

"I need to get home to see how the old man is doing," he said and drained a water bottle wiping sweat.

"Is he getting any better?" Paul asked.

"He's been pretty much the same since he got up."

Embry's father had had a seizure four weeks ago, and after being tied to the bed for the first three weeks, he was getting back to his wheelchair and moving around the house again. A nurse came daily to check on him and to deliver a meal. Embry usually made the dinner - he hadn't allowed Leah to come to cook for them – she'd been annoyingly persistent but had eventually given up. But she did show up behind their door from time to time, bringing something she'd made, cookies or her signature coconut sponge cake, his father's favorite. And he had to accept them, of course; Embry couldn't deny simple and pretty much only pleasures from his father.

"Why don't you date that Clearwater girl?" his father asked every time he put the cake into his mouth. Yeah, that would be an easy solution, wouldn't it? But he didn't want her, no matter how bad it made him feel to refuse her, over and over again. It'd gotten a bit old too.

"Has Leah popped by lately?" Paul chuckled, probably guessing where his mind was.

"Yes. She brought her cake last night," Embry told him. "My dad nags about why I don't date her."

"Why don't you?"

Embry showed him a finger.

"No, but seriously. You haven't gotten laid since last September; it's not healthy, man. You could tap Leah. It wouldn't have to be more than that."

"I can't just fuck her. She would make it mean more. Besides, she's started to be fucking annoying more than anything else."

"But an easy lay," Paul persisted, knowing he was getting pissed.

"Why don't you fuck her?"

"No way, too close to home."

Oh yeah, Leah was his mother's relative, a cousin or something.

Embry and Paul left the gym.

"Want to head to the pub later?" Paul asked before hopping into his truck.

"Nah, promised to play poker with dad." It was his father's other pleasure: to beat him in the game.

"Have fun. I'm gonna get laid," Paul said.

Yeah, unlike him, Paul had moved on, sort of.

"Paul, ah Paul, fuck me, Paul," the bitch under him moaned. And Paul did, but he hated every second, well, almost. The moment the tight cunt gripped him and sucked out the release he'd been chasing after, he was satisfied. For a second.

"PAUL!" the bitch screamed and wrapped her arms around his neck, trying to pull him down to kiss her, but he didn't let her. No way was he going to let that mouth come anywhere near his. He never did. And the moment he'd stopped coming, he pulled himself out of her and got out of bed.

"What? Why did you stop?" the bitch whined.

"I'm finished, and you got to come. I'm out," Paul said, pulling out the condom and tossing it into the trash can. He never left a woman unsatisfied, he wasn't that sort of an asshole, but he could not stand the idea of staying close any longer than necessary. She had felt and smelled all wrong. They all did.

He pulled up his jeans, buttoned them, and looked around for his t-shirt. He usually didn't care to take his shirt off either, but it had been too hot in a room. They were in some shitty motel in Port Angeles. Paul found his shirt next to his shoes and pulled it on. He grabbed his shoes and jacket and left the room, not listening to a word the crazy bitch shouted after him. Feeling empty and depressed.

Unlike Embry, he had to get laid. He needed to fuck, but it didn't mean he enjoyed it. He'd tried to be without for a while, also wanting to keep the memory of Bella close to him, but he'd ended up beating the shit out of people. It had been a great way to spend time in California, with a plentiful supply of losers wanting to get their asses whipped, but after moving back to res, he had to change his habits to keep his job. So, he fucked instead.

Fuck. He didn't want to go on like this. He hated his life, but it was all he knew, all he was capable of. It had been his way before meeting Bella, and before her, he had thought his life was great. Who wouldn't enjoy different pussy every weekend and drinking with friends? But after having Bella, even for that short time, he knew what life could be like, what it felt like to be in love and want to share your life with someone.

Paul's phone buzzed. The image of him and Bella together flashed on the screen. His heart wrenched every time he saw it, but he was a masochist. He didn't want to forget; he wanted to feel the pain. As long as it hurt to see her, he could be sure she'd been real. They'd been real. Paul sighed. Fucking pathetic.

He looked who the message was from; It was from Embry.

Dad died.