Disclaimer #1: In addition to being the ultimate bestie and official cheerleader/beta/partner in crime, credit must (once more) go to Hyacinthed who fearlessly ghost-wrote a significant portion of this instalment. It wouldn't have gotten finished without her; together we have sold our sanity in the name of the Commonwealth to fine-tune this chapter, and not once has she complained (unfortunately for her, the same can't be said for me). I hope you enjoy this monster of an update as much as we are proud of it.
Disclaimer #2: I should point out (again) that Twilight and its inclusive material is copyright to Stephenie Meyer. In order for this story to remain true to major plot points of the Twilight Saga, some chapters within will rely on a considerable amount of 'borrowing' from both New Moon and Eclipse — this may be in the form of reconstructed scenes, and/or direct line lifts from that scene. (This is one of those chapters. The adopting/adapting of scenes will probably start to become slightly more noticeable as the story progresses from here on out, especially now that we are hitting major plot points, so please accept this as a blanket disclaimer for the last half of this journey.)
thirty-eight.
(Leah)
They reach Forks within the hour. Embry swings the Rabbit into the Swan's driveway, narrowly missing the ugly pine mailbox on the corner (a true shame — he would have done Charlie a favour by destroying it) before they come to a hard stop just inches behind the red Chevy only a second later.
The grin that her friend sports as he pulls on the parking brake is one of indisputable pleasure — the world and its mother knows he loves driving Jake's car, even if he is threatened to within an inch of his life every time the keys are handed over — and Leah swears that he even gives the steering wheel a little pat of praise.
Boys.
"Voilà," he declares, pulling the keys from the ignition with a dramatic flourish.
Leah huffs. At least he's not speaking (or singing) in Spanish today. Yet. "I'm so telling Jake you threw his beloved toy around like a rag doll. I've got whiplash."
"That's not fair," he protests, blinking with the same sweet innocence she has become extremely familiar with over the course of these past few weeks — the type that usually indicates the complete opposite. "I haven't touched you."
"Ha-ha," she retorts dryly, unbuckling her seatbelt. She appreciates what he is trying to do by cheering her up — or by calming her down, even — but she can't tease him back, not properly. Not when she's all too aware that the bloodsucker is probably lurking around nearby. His silver car is noticeably absent, but that doesn't mean he's not listening to their every word, spoken aloud or otherwise. Maybe he's inside, waiting, already pilfering through their heads.
Embry catches her uneasy glance towards the front door and begins to scour her features, undoubtedly looking for a hint of malice that might complicate their diplomatic mission. "You good?"
"I'm fine," she says, sounding remarkably sure of herself as she opens the door. "Let's get this over with."
When she had proposed the visit, including the part about Jake remaining on the Rez, she'd been more than a little apprehensive despite her show of confidence. Even so, she'd rather face Bella head-on than have Jacob within six feet of the monopolising little wench. Embry is a good stand-in; he is impervious to Bella's stupid little doe eyes, and it also helps that he also takes his status as Best Friend extremely seriously — which, Leah suspects, is partly the reason why Jacob approved of her plan to bring him along.
All things considered, the pair of them make an excellent delegation.
A tiny furrow between Embry's eyebrows appears, but he doesn't argue with her. "Okay. Let me do the talking."
She follows him up the path, watching as he raises a paw-sized hand to rap on the door. He hesitates for a moment before finally choosing to tap on the doorbell instead.
"Civilised," she sniggers, infinitely amused by his consternation.
"What, shall I shout about a warrant?" he jibes.
Before she can reply, Bella's shrill voice breaks through the suburban quiet. "Come in, Jake!"
Embry looks down at Leah, issuing a pointed warning glance of sorts, which she answers with an innocent shrug before he opens the door and steps inside.
He ambles down the hallway, Leah one step behind him, and they find Bella loading up the sink with dirty dishes, so engrossed in what she's doing that she damn near jumps out of her skin when Embry clears his throat.
"Really, Bella, you've gotta tighten up your security around here. Anyone could just walk in."
Startled, Bella splashes dishwater all down her front, barely stifling a yelp. She spins around, hand flying to her chest when she sees Embry underneath the archway, watching her. Then she spots Leah, who is peering around his shoulder with a grin on her face.
Bella gapes at them. Her shirt is soaked, but she hardly seems to notice. "What are you doing here? Where's Jake?"
Despite Embry warning her to 'let him do the talking', Leah opens her mouth, a snarky response on the tip of her tongue. He digs his elbow into her shoulder.
"He's busy," he says simply before she can scowl at him. So much for solidarity. "I volunteered."
"You volunteered," Bella repeats dubiously. Then she sighs. "He's avoiding me, isn't he? Because we fought, and . . ."
Her eyes meet Leah's again, who wonders if the other girl sees the challenge that's being silently issued — the dare to say something more about what really happened on the beach last weekend, and why exactly it is that Jacob has stayed behind. Leah thinks that perhaps she should hear the other side of the story, but then she probably won't believe a word that leaves Bella's mouth anyway. Jacob certainly didn't.
"I don't know anything about that," Embry lies, deflecting with a wave of his hand. "I'm just here to do a job. Unpaid, at that. Where's your bloodsucker?"
Bella presses her lips together, unhappy with the name-calling. "He's busy," she retorts.
Embry snorts. "Sure. Guess I deserved that. Did he say where the scent is the worst?"
"My bedroom, I think."
"Creepy," he says. Leah feels the shiver that runs up his arm against her own, squeezed as tightly as they are against each other in the heart of enemy territory. Or maybe it's just because Embry wants to be ready to hold her back in case she lunges forward to scratch Bella's eyes out.
It's a possibility.
"I suppose I should get to work," Embry says, squeezing out of the archway they're crammed under to start for the stairs. "I wouldn't want to give your bloodsucker an excuse to say we're slacking on our side. Behave, you two," he tells them with a playful wink, although Leah is not entirely ignorant of how his gaze lingers on her just a fraction of a second longer than it does on Bella.
She ignores him. She's already promised to be on her best behaviour, irrespective of the fact she's dying to give their host a piece of her mind. As far as everyone else is concerned, Bella is barely a blip on her radar.
Leah leans uncomfortably against the laminate counter, finding herself more unsure than ever. Should she try to make small talk? Should she ask the Swan girl why exactly she cannot release Jacob from her spindly little fingers (fingers that are noticeably free of an engagement ring, despite the rumours Quil retold so earnestly)?
Bella clears her throat. "Did you volunteer too?"
Leah shrugs, schooling her features. "Bad things tend to happen when Em is left unsupervised."
"I heard that!" he hollers from upstairs.
She smiles without humour. "It's probably in your best interests, anyway. I'm not so sure Edward would approve of bare-chested men traipsing around your living room."
Bella's cheeks darken as she looks away, unable to hide her discomfort. "I guess I didn't think about that," she mutters.
"Don't worry," Leah chirps, toying with an ugly ceramic bird pepper-shaker on the countertop. "That's what I'm here for."
"Leah!" Embry calls, his tone markedly clipped. "I'll only be a few more minutes!"
The subtext is clear: play nice, even if it's your newly-minted boyfriend's ex-darling.
Leah sighs, reluctantly lowering the misshapen blue-bird to rest back on the lazy susan. "Look, I'll make it up to you. You wash, I'll dry."
Bella's pinched expression conveys no friendliness, although she obviously doesn't have the backbone to shoo Leah away. Instead, she silently passes over the terry cloth towel, sweeping her other hand through the bubbly water until it emerges again, her fingers tightly clenched around a scrubbing brush. For what feels like a lifetime, the only sounds in the kitchen are that of the plastic bristles scraping against the ceramic crockery, massaging the bubbles against the dishware for far longer than necessary.
Leah clears her throat, feeling a touch guilty when Bella jumps, needing to gather herself again before she hands the next plate over. Her eyes remain fixed on the sink.
Leah runs the towel over the plate, contemplating her next move. "Can I ask you something?"
Bella quickly glances at her, clearly nervous as she weighs her words. "That depends on what you want to know."
"I'm not trying to be a bitch or anything — I'm honestly curious," she replies, sliding the plate into the cabinet.
"Fine. Go ahead."
Leah quietens for a moment, taking a sudsy bowl from Bella. "What's it like — having a vampire for a boyfriend?"
Bella rolls her eyes. "It's the best."
"I'm serious. Doesn't it creep you out?"
"Never."
They work in silence for a while, simultaneously lost in thought. How long can it possibly take Embry to scent Bella's tiny bedroom?
Eventually, as if prodded, Bella speaks. Her thin voice cuts through the still air, making the hairs on the back of Leah's neck stand up. "Anything else you want to know?"
Leah wrinkles her nose. "Well . . . I was wondering . . . do you . . . y'know, kiss him?"
Bella laughs. "Yes."
"You don't worry about the fangs?" she asks. Perhaps she's looking for some sign of revulsion as she peers at Bella, a hint of regret, but there's nothing but a blank slate staring back at her.
"I'm sure Jacob's told you some tall tales, but they're not true. Edward has perfectly normal teeth."
Leah pulls another face. She's more inclined to believe Jake than she is a vampire lover, even if his claims do seem to be a little outlandish. She is nothing if not a loyal girlfriend. "Can I ask another one?" she asks then, taking the gleaming boning knife from Bella. "Just curious again."
"Fine," the girl mutters, less patient than before.
Leah turns the knife over and over in her hands. When she speaks, it is only a whisper, barely audible above the flow of water. "Jacob said it'd probably be a few weeks until you're . . . When, exactly . . . ?"
"Graduation," Bella murmurs after a few torturous beats, watching the older girl warily.
"That soon," she mutters, her eyes closing. It doesn't come out as a question — more of a lament, for Jacob, for Charlie, for a life snuffed far too soon.
"Good news!" Embry announces, striding into the kitchen, his footsteps whisper-soft by comparison.
"OW!" Leah shouts. It had become so still in the room that, whilst Bella had jumped a foot into the air, sending the scrubbing brush clattering to the tiled floor, Leah's right hand had curled into a tense fist around the blade of the knife . . . that is now strained crimson with rivulets of her blood.
Shit.
Embry takes one look at her, at her hand, and swears loudly — and very creatively.
"Christ, Lee, let go," he orders, immediately reaching out to uncurl her fingers with a steady but gentle touch.
When she relents, the knife drops with a clatter, dousing the cream tiles with a generous spattering of blood, and she watches kind of absently as blood streams unceasingly down her fingers, dripping on the floor like some cheap scare from a D-grade horror movie. There's a long, deep gash across her palm — the sort that her mom would totally turn into nurse-mode over and insist on personally stitching at the clinic — and she's so stunned that she can't even rebuke Embry for using that damn nickname.
"Crap." Bella turns a shade of white that rivals Edward's stony complexion. "Take this," she moans, thrusting Leah's discarded dishtowel back in her direction.
"Don't worry, Bella," Embry declares, deftly wrapping the cloth around the wound. "I'll take care of it; I've got everything I need. Tell Edward that Sam will call later, will you?"
Leah curls her uninjured palm around her wrist as he begins to lead her out, muttering something so low and soothing in her ear that even she can barely hear a word, when he stops suddenly, rounding to stare at Bella with hopeful eyes.
"Hold up — do you think you can come to La Push tonight? We're having a bonfire. You know, being Memorial Day and all," he says. The boys will use any excuse to build a fire bigger than their last. "Emily will be there, and you could meet Kim . . . And I know Quil wants to see you again. He's still pretty peeved you found out first."
Despite her obvious discomfort, Bella grins, a momentary flash of bright white before the frown resettles across her face. "Yeah, Embry, I don't know about that. Things are a little tense right now . . ."
"C'mon, you think anything's going to get past us? You'll be perfectly safe."
"I'll ask," she says doubtfully, her eyes darting towards — and then quickly away — from Leah's bloody hand.
Embry makes a noise in the back of his throat. "Is he your warden? You know, I watched this story on the news with the guys last week about controlling, abusive teenage relationships and—"
"Okay! Time to go!" Bella announces, uselessly shoving at Embry's shoulder.
He grins. "See ya, Bella. Be sure you ask permission. Call us at the clinic if your jailer approves."
He ducks out of the door before Bella can protest further, all but dragging Leah behind him towards the Rabbit.
"You're going to get us both killed, you know. What if he—"
Leah slides back into the passenger side, woozily reaching with her uninjured hand for her seatbelt. She's not bothered by the blood, rather more at the idea that she's probably going to have to get stitches. With a needle. "Relax. You've been part of the Pack for how long already? You could take Edward, no sweat."
"Ooh, Jake's going to kill me," Embry moans, roughly pumping the clutch with more force than even she approves of until the car slides into gear. "Let's get you fixed up before he finds us."
They have been gone so long that Leah's honestly not surprised when Jake tracks them down to the clinic. She hears him bellowing her name before she sees him, almost deafening as his thunderous voice echoes through the corridors, and it makes her stomach lurch from a weird mix of relief and trepidation.
Where he is keeping sentry at the side of her allocated gurney (and allowing her to squeeze his hand as tightly as she needs), Embry looks a little pale, but perhaps that's because of the bitter tell-tale smell of the clinic already settling into their clothes. It's enough to turn anyone's stomach, being here. It makes her think of her father.
Embry swears colourfully underneath his breath. "Who told him?"
Leah looks accusingly at her mother on her other side, who is unflinching by comparison. Sue doesn't so much as blink as she focuses on her next stitch.
"Don't look at me — I'm grieving, not stupid. Stop moving," the woman admonishes. She's in nurse-mode, just as predicted. Leah rarely sees her mom at work, but even she knows that Sue is not the nurse who is called for their sunny bedside manner. She's the one they call when patients are being difficult. And after weeks of absence, she seems to have finally found that same fire again. "The boy can scream and shout all he wants, but you're not leaving until I'm finished here."
Leah tips her head back with a groan, squeezing her eyes shut as tightly as she continues to squeeze Embry's hand in a poor attempt to keep still and stop herself from barking out in discomfort. The first needle prick had been the worst, and technically she shouldn't be able to feel much of anything with the small amount of numbing medicine she's been given, but still there's a flare of distant pain from somewhere deep inside. Instinct tells her that it's not coming from her body.
Something occurs to her then. "Bella hasn't called, has she?" she asks Embry.
"Shit," he groans in realisation. He doesn't have to voice what they both know has happened: Bella has called the house instead of the clinic like they asked, and she's let the accident with the kitchen knife slip. Probably on purpose. Who knows. The girl can't be trusted.
The door bangs open.
Embry immediately yanks his hand away and springs to his feet, mouth opening and closing repeatedly as he stares at Jacob, struggling to spit out an explanation. With the mixed scent of still-drying blood and antiseptic around them, and the tears that are pricking at the corners of Leah's eyes (some of which traitorously slipped free at the sight of her mother wielding a syringe) — not forgetting the frown that has been on her mother's face since she and Embry walked into the clinic and left a trail of blood all over the pristine floors . . . Anyone would be blind to realise that it's not looking good for them.
Leah doesn't have to open her eyes to know that Embry is likely trying to disappear into the nearest wall and Jacob is about five seconds from losing his shit entirely; she can practically feel him vibrating from here. Still, she can't help but peer at him through half-lidded eyes.
His nostrils flare, his chest heaving. "What happened," he demands in a timbre deep enough to rival Sam's commanding tone.
She thinks about joking that Bella knifed her — or worse, Cullen — but she's smart enough to know that he probably won't appreciate hearing any jokes right now. "Don't freak. It's totally my fault — wasn't paying attention like I should have been. Not everyone's so lucky to have super healing powers, I guess, even if you do have the right pedigree — ow! Mom!"
"Keep your voice down," Sue scolds her, pinching her arm.
Leah rubs her bicep with her uninjured hand. "That hurt."
"Oh, stop it. I barely touched you. Look, there — all finished," her mom declares, although the only person who's brave enough to actually look is Jacob. His hands ball into tight fists the second his eyes zero in on the dissolvable stitches Leah spied earlier.
Sue pushes her stool away from the side of the gurney and begins rooting through a couple of drawers. "I'd rather you keep a dressing on for at least a couple of days, just to be safe. I'll be able to change it at home."
"Lucky it wasn't my left hand. I might not have been able to graduate otherwise," Leah jests, wiggling her free fingers that are caked in dried blood.
Embry is the only one to laugh. He covers it with a poorly disguised cough, and he looks as if he instantly regrets it when Jacob turns his razor-sharp glare on him and puts one foot forward.
"Take it outside," her mom warns over the sound of the sterile bandage packets being torn open.
"Hey," Leah says quietly, drawing his attention back to her. "I'm fine, really."
Jake's head jerks in some semblance of a nod that still manages to seem partly disbelieving. He begins to drift towards the end of the gurney, his mouth pressed into a tight, flat line as he stares at her, drinking her in.
"I'll just . . . go," Embry mutters, head down as he shuffles past his brother and hurries through the door. "I gotta speak to Sam, anyway."
Jacob doesn't look as Embry skulks away. His stare remains fixed on Leah, his expression inscrutable. He waits until Sue has the dressing wrapped firmly with layers of medical tape, sealing the ugliness away from sight. Even when Sue shoos the pair outside, begrudgingly agreeing to cover the bill, he is silent — unsettlingly so.
Finally, after she is tucked into the passenger seat, her bandaged hand curled in her lap and seatbelt tightly latched as he pulls away from the curbside, he speaks.
"What the hell were you thinking?"
Disturbingly, his tone isn't angry — it's something closer to disappointment, the sort of resigned tone that she associates more closely with her father, and that stings far worse than fury ever could.
"Well, I wasn't. Hope that clears it up."
Jacob jerks the hand brake up as he swerves into the gravel shoulder, impervious to the furious honking of the truck that nearly takes off the rear bumper. The moment the Rabbit shudders to a rough stop, he is out of the car, not even bothering to close the door. He bends over, hands on knees, and it's abundantly clear as to why — his body, undulating with fierce tremors, is all but a blur before her.
She knows better than to reach out for him.
"This," he hisses through gritted teeth as he coalesces back into himself for the umpteenth time, "is what I have to deal with every time you get hurt. Maybe you thought it would be fun, messing around with Embry in this little club you've got going on, but your safety — it isn't a joke to me, Leah. As if we've not got enough going on already with Sam, and now Bella—"
His voice cuts off with a strained growl. Unconsciously, she strokes her index finger over the dressing, shuddering at the sudden twinge of pain that courses through them both.
"I have to go," Jacob growls, managing to shuck his shorts moments before he explodes into fur.
In a flash, he is gone, melting into the scraggy brush by the side of the highway, leaving Leah with a soggy pair of jorts and a car she can hardly drive.
The minutes tick by slowly in the quiet of the Black's garage, illuminated only by the dome light of the Rabbit. Leah settles into the passenger seat to wait for Jake's return — the driver's seat is his, even when he is absent, leaving a great big gaping chasm in her plans (as well as her chest, as much as she'd care to deny it).
She leans back into the headrest, closing her eyes to think. Why did she push him? What good could come from deliberately needling one of his only weaknesses? And to what end?
"You look comfy."
Her eyes shoot open, aching with the sudden burst of brightness. Jacob collapses into the empty seat beside her, dirty and entirely nude. He takes the shorts from her extended hand without comment, dressing in seconds before climbing back into the Rabbit.
"Hey, look, about what I said before—"
"No, I was out of line." He reaches across the gearbox to squeeze her hand. "Should be used to your smart-ass mouth by now."
Leah shakes her head. "I was being a bitch. I'm sorry."
"Par for the course," he mutters, laughing as he dodges her swat to his shoulder, already back to his normal jovial self. Unless there are vampires involved, Jacob cannot hold a grudge to save his life. "Easy, easy. So, what did you and Bella talk about? Did Embry find anything?"
Leah stares through the windscreen into the darkened garage, counting back from ten. When she gets to zero, she will need to tell Jacob the truth, and living with the consequences will be her punishment.
"What?" he asks, his frown immediately reappearing. "Tell me."
"Edward's changing Bella at graduation," she whispers.
After a long moment of painful silence, Jake still hasn't moved an inch; his serious expression remains unchanged.
"Graduation, huh? I guess that makes sense. Bella's always been weird about birthdays. At least I won't have to suffer through another round of present planning. Don't think she even remembers what I got her last year."
Leah all but gapes at him. "Are you on drugs?"
"Honey, you and I both know it was a matter of when. Not if. What do you want me to say? Condolences?"
"I guess I expected you to care a little bit more. You know, considering you've spent the past few months wishing death upon Edward."
"That part's staying," he says, mouth twitching with infinitesimal amusement. "I'm mad, yeah, but . . . I suppose I'm tired of helping her — hell, Bella doesn't even want to help Bella."
Leah laughs quietly. "Yeah, that's true."
They have approximately thirty seconds to mull it over before Dumb and Dumber appear, pushing and shoving — as per usual — their way into the garage.
"Jeez, Jacob, did you miss the utility bill?" Quil cackles, elbowing Embry in the ribs. "What d'you reckon, should we start a collection plate?"
Embry opens his mouth, snapping it shut after seeing the stormy expression clouding Jacob's face. He fumbles for the switch, and they all blink rapidly against the sudden light from above.
Quil scratches the back of his neck. "Uh, so I hear Bella called. Is she coming tonight?"
"Yeah." Jake sighs. "I'm late to head over, and you know what she's like—"
Before she can think about what she's doing, Leah blurts, "I'll go."
There's a beat of silent shock, and then — and then they laugh. All of them. At exactly the same time. Even Jacob, which hurts a little bit more than she expects it to. She can't even blame the sensitivity of the imprint this time.
Quil exaggerates a wheeze and pretends to wipe tears from his eyes. "Good one."
Her scowl comes easily. "I'm serious."
"Oh, leave her be. She only wants to go out and stake her claim. Don't you, sweetheart?" Embry grins and reaches out to ruffle her hair, but Leah ducks and sends a swipe to his gut with her uninjured hand. It only makes him laugh harder. "Bold. Did I ever tell you how much I like her, Jake?"
Her wolf in question rolls his eyes. "Yes, Embry. We all know how much you love Leah."
"'Leah's so awesome,'" Quil mocks in what is probably supposed to be an intimation of their friend's voice as he parades around the car. It's a poor attempt. "'I wonder if she'll let me be her best man at the wedding.'"
"'Leah's the best,'" Jacob chimes in. "'I wish she could phase.'"
"'Are we seeing Leah today?'"
Embry nods along, almost as if he's trying to be part of the joke rather than the butt of it. "Alright, very funny—"
"'You're so lucky, I wish she was my—'"
Quil doesn't get to finish whatever he was about to say — though Leah can take a good guess, and it is her turn to laugh as Embry lunges for him. The two boys go down in a tangle of arms and legs, pushing and shoving at each other and rolling around on the ground.
Leah and Jacob watch them for a second, quickly turning back to each other at the same time with matching expressions. A fond resignation, of sorts.
"Well, if you're sure," he says carefully. He's never been one to tell her what to do. "You'll be alright with your hand?" She nods, and he finally concedes. "Alright. You better take the Rabbit. She drives nicer than your car, anyway."
Leah focuses all of her brain-power on parking perfectly straight on the Swan's driveway — partly because she doesn't want a single thing to go wrong, but also to keep Edward away from her actual thoughts. The thoughts that he is undoubtedly presently reading, making him very much aware of her discomfort.
Perfect.
Edward frowns as she pushes open the driver's door, beckoning over to Bella. "I thought Jacob would be meeting us here."
Leah knows that she could easily be called out for lying. She lies anyway. The moment she thinks of it, Edward will know exactly why she's here and what she's doing. "He sent me instead. That okay?"
They stare at each other. In the corner of her eye, Bella shifts anxiously on her feet.
"Here," she says, scrambling for a faded receipt and pen in the centre console before scrawling down a series of digits. "This is my cell. We'll have her back at eleven."
Bella shuffles forward to take the note, smoothing it out as she hands it to Edward. "I'll keep an eye on the time," she promises, sounding just as sweet and innocent as she looks.
"I suppose I'm letting my worries get ahead of ourselves, love. I'll see you here at eleven," he intones, pressing a chaste kiss against her forehead.
Bella sinks into the passenger seat, allowing Edward to secure her seatbelt and close her door and somehow making the things that Leah finds most endearing about Jacob seem the most repulsive about him.
After hearing that errant thought of hers, Edward smiles drily. "Have a pleasant evening."
"I'm sure we will," Leah responds as coolly as she can manage, peeling out of the driveway.
She drives in silence for a few minutes (Jacob has already advised her of the strict no-music policy), until she is quite sure that Edward is no longer within hearing distance — both physically and mentally — before she opens her mouth again. Except it's not until they hit the 101 that Leah finally inhales, taking a steadying breath and tightening her one-handed grip on the steering wheel. When she speaks, it is controlled and careful.
"Look, I'm just going to say it. About what you told me earlier, before Embry interrupted — I don't want you to die, Bella."
The other girl suddenly looks as if she's searching for her escape route, eyes wide and darting around her — landing anywhere except the driver's seat. Her pale fingers grip the handle on the door.
"I don't mean to make you uncomfortable," Leah carries on, her tone still casual. She is telling half-truths because she does mean to make Bella uncomfortable — but only because she wants her to think, to understand. Not because there's any pleasure to be found in it.
"Y—you haven't," Bella replies, her voice pitching just enough to betray her. As if everything else about her doesn't.
Leah bites back a smile. "I have," she insists a little blithely, and she is forced to check herself and her emotions before she ploughs on. "But I want you to understand. Because I'm . . . unhappy, let's say—" (another half-truth; she is furious, but she's aware her temper will not help her here) "—that you've upset Jacob."
My Jacob, the imprint trills adoringly, right on cue — exactly as it always does. Mine.
Shut up, Leah tells it, pulling the shutters down and stepping on the gas. This is important.
Bella looks truly terrified. "When — when did I upset Jacob?"
"All the time," she answers without missing a beat, "but most recently with your . . . 'graduation' plans."
Bella doesn't need to know that it was actually she who was more disturbed between the pair of them, and that Jacob was less upset about the news than she had assumed he would be.
Comprehension dawns from the passenger side, followed by a softly spoken "oh."
Neither of them seem quite sure what to say after that — advice columns have hardly prepared Leah for these sorts of conversations, and Bella is hardly the typical conversationalist. That is until, after a fair while of simmering, she hears her sniff.
"But Jake and Edward — they're working together now," Bella protests. "Surely Jake will be able to . . ."
"Bella, I'm going to tell you something, and I don't want you to repeat it to him lest it makes his head bigger than it already is: Jake has a lot of self-control. More than you realise. He has more than the rest of the Pack put together."
"I don't see the problem," she continues to argue stubbornly, bolstered by her belief that her becoming a vampire poses no problem to the only friendship she intends to keep.
"Just because Jake has a truce with your bl— . . . your boyfriend," Leah corrects herself, inwardly damning the Pack's terminology to hell, "that doesn't mean he's given up trying to change your mind."
"I know that."
"No, you don't," Leah snaps. "You think that he'll forgive you if you go through with it anyway. And that he'll still be your friend once you do. But that's the point — his control might be out of this world, but it isn't perfect, Bella. Just because you've seen him within half a mile radius of Edward without killing him, that doesn't mean that he's stopped wanting to actually do it. That's just who the Pack is — are. How we are. It's unnatural to feel any differently."
"They could just . . . try not to," Bella replies, evidently upset. "Like you said. Jake already manages to stop himself."
"But he's not supposed to stop himself! Don't you know anything? He can't help who he is any more than you can help being so freakin' stupid about all of this!"
Bella doesn't answer that.
Leah doesn't care. She's not going to apologise.
A headache blooms at her temples, and her voice is clipped as she tries to start again. "Bella," she says with an aggravated sigh. "Have a bit of sense. Them working together — this truce to stop that red-headed bitch from ripping out your throat, it's not exactly a foolproof way to stop Jacob from doing the same to you when you change. He will think of you the same way he thinks of Edward."
Bella gasps. "He wouldn't. I — I don't believe that."
"Except you kind of do. You're not sure, are you? Not anymore. Because it might have been true, once, but things have changed since then."
"Why? Why did things have to change?" Bella mutters, brows furrowing.
It's not really a question — at least, not one directed her way. But Leah answers it anyway.
"Jacob imprinted," she says, and the sigh she receives in return is defeated. "I know. He didn't ask for this."
"He told me. Didn't sound like there was much choice involved for you, either."
Leah really doesn't want to divulge the details. She awkwardly shifts gears and uses the minute's silence to pull herself back together. They're getting off track, and her hand is really starting to hurt.
"Look. I meant what I said. I don't want you to die, okay? Even if my reasons are a little selfish, and — fine," she amends at the Look thrown her way, "—a lot selfish. But I don't want Jacob to feel like he's a murderer, alright? There is no way in hell that I'm going to spend the rest of my life — our life — trying to convince him otherwise. It'd be such a waste of time. And as far as I'm concerned, it'll be entirely your fault. Not his. Why should the rest of us be made to suffer for your choice? Why should he? I refuse to . . ."
Leah takes yet another deep breath, feeling herself getting too angry again. If she were any different, she probably would have spouted a fur coat by now.
"I just won't let him live that way, okay? Not if I can help it," she adds, trying to be a touch gentler, for all the good that will do her. She's not quite begging yet, but that does not mean she's not above it. She has no limits for Jacob.
Silence.
And then, with her tone on the verge of wonder, Bella says, "You love him." Her gaze is curious, searching. Leah can feel it. "You love him that much already you'd go to bat for him over this, even though you don't really care either way what I do — do you? I'd even bet that you'd prefer me to be a vampire."
"I'd prefer it if we didn't have to talk about this," Leah says, scowling. She's aware of exactly how defensive she sounds, but she stopped caring about three miles back.
Bella smiles. "You love him," she says again. But she's accusing now, amused by the validation she's received to her conclusion.
"That's none of your business."
Bella is unfazed. "He does. Love you that much, I mean. I bet you're all he ever talks about," she says as if to be conversational. She doesn't sound as disapproving as Leah might have expected her to. The girl sounds almost friendly, in fact. Leah wonders when that changed. Before or after Bella realised the depth of her true feelings — feelings that Leah hasn't shared yet. With anyone.
Especially not Jacob.
"You probably don't believe it," Bella continues, "but I'm glad for him. That he has you. Sometimes it seems like the rest of his . . . brothers aren't really in his corner, and it annoys me."
Leah frowns. She can't decide which issue bothers her the most — the indisputable delay before Bella chokes out brothers, or the implication in her words. Like she feels about Jacob, the boys have very few limits when it comes to each other — oftentimes, none at all.
"Why do you say that?" she asks hotly.
Bella turns down her gaze and picks idly at the sleeve of her jacket, clearly conscious that she's caused offence by her comment. She doesn't apologise, though. "They wanted him to stay away from me, at first. And Paul calls me 'leech lover'."
It's a great effort for Leah to stop herself from laughing a touch too scornfully. "They knew you were in bed with their enemy long before Jacob did, Bella, and it wasn't as if you didn't know what you were getting into, was it? So I think you can forgive them if they were a little hostile."
Bella shrugs. "It was just Paul, really," she mutters, backtracking now.
"Well, you can't pretend to sit on that fence of yours forever. Paul knows you've picked your side — he's just protecting his. "
"I'm not sitting on the fence."
"You're playing for both teams. Trying to, anyway."
"What's so wrong about that?"
Leah laughs without humour. "Knowing you? You'll hurt yourself," she says plainly. Her words turn Bella's face red, but Leah can't tell if it's anger or embarrassment.
"You're just as bad as Paul," the girl grumbles.
"Thanks." And then at the sceptical look she receives, Leah adds, "I like Paul. That was basically a compliment."
"I find you less annoying than him, though."
A shame, she thinks. "Do I scare you, at least?"
"Yes."
She nods, satisfied with the answer and appreciative of the bravery within it. "Good. Someone has to."
"Victoria scares me," the other girl confesses again, quieter now.
Leah snorts. "I don't really count Victoria as a someone, Bella," she remarks, her tone dry — although if she looks suspicious, that's because she is. "Whose good books are you trying to get into here, exactly? Because don't kid yourself that I'm going to pretend to start liking you or anything." She sniffs in the way she has long since perfected — haughty and heartless. "That shit just goes against the grain."
She takes her eyes off the road for a second to glance sideways. Surprisingly, Bella is smiliing tentatively back at her, appearing very much not offended.
The girl cocks her head slightly, thoughtful. "He wants us to be friends, doesn't he?"
Leah harrumphs, glaring through the windshield. Jacob hasn't explicitly stated that's what he wants, but it wouldn't come as a surprise. It would certainly make his life easier.
Bella giggles, her nervousness returning. Or perhaps it never left. "I knew it."
Mercifully, they're mere moments away from the beach, and they're able to get through the rest of their time together without speaking. If Bella is disturbed by her stillness, she says nothing of it, electing to burst from the Rabbit the moment the parking brake is engaged.
"Jake!" she chirps, taking off at a run, voice fading with how quickly she has bolted away from the car — amazingly managing to walk and talk at the same without stumbling. God knows the whole of Washington knows how clumsy the girl is.
Leah watches her go and sends a silent prayer up to whatever deity may be listening to her tiny, human worries.
Divine intervention may be her only option.