"Hey, you've reached Lex. I can't get to the phone right now, so leave a message and I'll call you back sometime."

BEEP

"Alexandria, it's your father. Again. This is the third time I've called you this month. Call me back."

"Alexandria. I don't know what's going on with you. I haven't heard from you in three weeks. Call me, immediately, or I will be coming to find you."

"This isn't amusing, Alexandria. I can't find your address, but if I don't hear from you by Sunday, I will drive straight to the police station and file a missing person report. Call me. Now."

Kim isn't typically one to pry - okay, she totally is - but she can only tolerate Lex's phone vibrating so much before she loses her cool. She eyes the battered iPhone on the coffee table, slowly wiggling its way towards the edge. Silently, she contemplates the odds - which will come first, the phone's descent to the linoleum, or Lex answering the call?

She tips her head back to scrutinise her friend from across the room. "You planning on getting that? It hasn't stopped since you got here," Kim comments, frowning a little.

Lex pauses, mid-pour. She slowly lowers the coffee pot onto the counter. "I'll turn it off. Sorry."

She starts towards the table, but Kim's quicker than that. She snatches the device out of Lex's reach, glancing at the caller ID. Does she have a secret boyfriend? A double life? According to the contact info - Father - it's nothing overly scandalous, but still fascinating. Aside from a few scant comments to Embry, she never speaks of her family, and they can't help but wonder about her past. Between the witness protection program (Seth) and orphan (Leah), they haven't managed to come up with any reasonable explanation for her secretiveness. It is Lex, though - secretiveness is a way of life, something that Kim just can't wrap her head around.

"Why are you avoiding your dad?" she asks, cocking her head to the side. She sees her dad every weekend, when she and Jared visit to spend time with her younger sister. She can't imagine avoiding a phone call from him for more than an hour or two.

"Give me my phone. Now," she growls, stalking over to the couch with her palm outstretched.

Hesitantly, she hands over the cell, watching as Lex switches it off with a brutal press of the power button.

"Do not ask me about him. Do not bring my family up. Don't do this." Her voice is strained, words forced out through gritted teeth, and for one awful moment, Kim actually feels scared of her best friend. The moment passes as quickly as it comes, though, her fear dashed by the tears forming in Lex's eyes.

"What's going on? You know you can talk to me about anything."

Lex levels her with a cool stare. "See, you say that, but then you try and question me every time I don't feel like talking. I don't talk about family. Just drop it, okay?"

"Okay. I won't ask about it again," she promises, reaching out to grasp Lex's hand in a gesture of goodwill. She means it, too - she won't ask about Lex's family again, and so she feels no guilt in texting Embry about Lex's weirdness.

Sure, she'd promised Lex to keep it hush-hush. Before that, though, she'd promised Embry that she'd always be on his side, that she would look out for him like a brother. If Kim is anything, she's loyal to her boys, and so the text practically types itself. It's what's good for Lex, after all. She needs them.

The worry lives in him long after he's read Kim's abrupt messages, the tension sitting low in his gut like an iron weight. Worrying about Lex and her dad feels all wrong - everything else with her is so right; it's finally her and him against the world and the last thing he wants to do is send her spiralling again. Sometimes, when she thinks he isn't looking, he catches little glimpses of her sadness, a stony edge in her eye that cools his blood. There's so much about her he doesn't know - her family at the top of the list - and though she eagerly absorbs information about him, she offers up little of her own story. It took him an entire week to cajole her into sharing her freaking birthdate, a secret she'd held close to her chest like a winning hand. He'd penned it onto his calendar in a careful hand, circling November 1 in crisp black ink. At this rate, it would be an eternity until he'd learn anything substantial about her life, something that had become a major sore spot. One ill-timed comment from Brady had resulted in a spat so severe that Sam had needed to order him to release the younger boy.

Embry was stressed.

He knows she can sense it, too. He feels much of what she does - her anxiety, her calmness, and everything in between. Sometimes the bond between them is a blessing, like that night she'd needed saving. Other times, the connection has him feeling strung-out and drained, as if he's been emptied of all of his sanity. Jared had reassured him that his tension had faded after Kim had accepted the bond - something that he'd intended to be comforting - but it had only made his neuroses worse: sure, she spends time around him, but the chance of her actually trusting him any time soon is absolutely not happening. Imprint drama aside, he knows there's something else going on with her lately. Even without Kim's intel, he'd had an inkling that she was avoiding someone, based on the amount of time her phone spent switched off. He'd joked about getting them matching walkie talkies, but she had only frowned and looked away, quickly changing the subject.

He waited four days to bring it up. It was a Friday - her favourite day of the week (he just liked any day they'd spend together) - and she was curled up in his bed, scouring her laptop for a movie for them to watch. It had become a weekly ritual to spend Friday night in, binge-watching scary movies in his room with the lights turned low. He loved the way she'd peek through her fingers at the screen, letting out little murmurs and groans at the gross parts, sometimes grabbing onto him for reassurance. Even better was hearing the rapid flutter of her heart - a neon sign screaming protect me - that calmed immediately upon his touch. As far as Embry was concerned, scary movies were a gift from God. And so, with her focus directed towards the contents of her hard drive, he figured it was his best opportunity to broach the topic.

"So," he starts, trying not to imagine what comes next. "Are you going home for Fall break?"

She's quiet for a moment - too quiet - and her fingers are motionless on the trackpad, her train of thought frozen. Lex blinks hard, deliberately, as if trying to reset her thoughts. "I am home," she says flatly, staring blankly at her laptop screen.

He likes that - her calling Forks her home - but in the moment, it's all so wrong. Where he'd expected emotion, a reaction, there is only blankness, like someone's taken a whiteboard eraser to her memory.

"I, uh, I meant Beaver. Are you going to go visit?" he asks, his voice suddenly unsure. It's too late, though - he's started on this line of questioning, and it's far too late to abandon it.

She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, firm to the point of roughness. He almost expects the scent of blood to permeate the air. "No. I don't want to do that."

"Okay," he says, his voice trailing off.

"Why are you asking me about Beaver?" Her voice is cold, speech punctuated with an air of suspiciousness that unsettles him. He doesn't like this, her mistrust of the one person who would do anything for her without question, and the doubt is stinging.

"I was just wondering," he mutters, but it's so pathetically unconvincing that it basically radiates duplicitousness.

"Did Kim put you up to this?" she asks, her pitch rising. It's coming, the fight, and he isn't ready for her to turn. It's a mistake, a plan that deserves to be stamped failure again and again, and he's suddenly wishing to roll the clock back five minutes to just forget about this whole thing.

He weighs his options slowly, considering his course of action. The only viable one is, of course, telling her the truth. "Kim told me that your dad's been calling and you haven't called him back. I'm worried about you," he confesses, searching her face for a shred of emotion. He's feeling all mixed up, a mess of worry and terror and concern that's both nauseating and grounding.

She presses her thin fingers to her temples, squeezing her eyes shut. "She wasn't meant to tell you about that. She promised she wouldn't talk about it," she says, her voice strangled.

He wants to comfort her, to place his hand on her back to say I'm here with you, but he's worried that will put her on the offensive (as if she isn't seconds from being there).

Instead, he leans forward, levelling his face with hers. "She told me because she's worried about you. We," he says, emphasising the word as best he can, "are worried about you. I want to be there for you, Lex, but it's really fucking hard to do that if you won't talk about it." He's trying to be understanding, accommodating, as if every cell of his god-forsaken body isn't screaming to be beside her. He needs closeness with her like he needs air, and her silence is punishing.

Her eyes remain closed tightly, but in the low light of his bedroom, he swears he sees the tiniest glimmer in her inner corners. She says nothing, but the shaking of her shoulders says it all.

"Can I touch you?" he asks slowly, his mind conjuring images of that night from weeks ago. He's already seen her, distraught and ruined; he can't do it again.

She nods, a quick jerk of the head, and it's all the invitation he needs to pull her into his arms. When she tucks her face into his neck he feels the telltale wetness of her eyes, a betrayal of her real thoughts. It kills him that the only comfort he has to give is a stroke of the hair, a warm hand on the neck. He wants to piece her back together, showering her with reassurance until her sobs melt away into nothingness. Instead, he can only press his fingers against the knobs of her spine, gently kneading away the tension as her breathing evens. When she pulls away, her eyes are red-rimmed and glassy, face blotchy and wet. He slowly raises a hand to her cheek, drying the tears with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

"I'm sorry I brought it up," he murmurs, tucking an unruly lock of hair behind her ear.

She looks away momentarily, fluttering her eyelashes rapidly as if that'll somehow clear the traces of her sadness. "Family is just...it's hard to talk about. I wouldn't even know where to start."

He nods, understanding. "I get that. I only have my mom. I don't even know who my dad is, but we figured out a few years back that I'm probably brothers with one of the guys. I don't talk about it much, but I think about it a lot. Like, shit, I don't have any memories of him, I've never gotten all of that family stuff. It's hard not to hate my mom for keeping that from me," he confesses, frowning. It feels rotten to admit his resentment out loud, as if he's speaking his shamefulness into existence, but she doesn't seem to judge him.

Lex reaches out to thread her fingers through his, gently squeezing his hand. "I didn't know that," she whispers, her eyes cast downward. "I'm sorry."

He shakes his head, dismissing her platitudes. "All I'm saying is that I get it, okay? I'll tell Kim not to bring it up again. You're always welcome here, though. You're a part of our family."

She sniffles a little, scooting closer to him to curl back into his embrace. "Do you mean that?"

"Of course I do, Lex. You're my best friend."

She says nothing, only squeezing him tighter. The night progresses in comfortable silence, two friends tangled under blankets, bathed in the dim glow of the computer. They're halfway through The Amityville Horror when she speaks, her voice low and measured.

"The first time he left me alone was on my sixth birthday. He had to do something for work, some contract job, and he left me in the house with a box of cereal and no goodbye. I didn't see him for three days."

He doesn't say anything. He lets their breathing fill the silence, contemplating her words. He pictures her at six, a tiny little thing with tangled pigtails and dirty overalls and a too-wide smile. He imagines her looking out the windows of the farmhouse, watching the sky darken as the hours pass.

"After that, he left me alone a lot. I walked to school and back every day, and some days he'd be there, and most days he wasn't. When I was ten, he went away for a month. He didn't leave any money for food and I had to try and stuff food into my jacket in the cafeteria. Sister Maria caught me one time, rapped me on the knuckles with her wooden ruler, and I had to go without for the last few days. He said it would be different after that, but it never was."

Her voice cracks, trailing off into an uneasy lull. He strokes his fingertips across her knuckles, wanting to overwrite the pain with something soothing. The thought of her, alone and afraid in the darkness, makes him tremble with rage. How could a person - no, a father - do that?

"I got used to it. I didn't really see anyone at school, and then I never saw him at the house. Being around people all the time now is weird. I don't know what I'm meant to do with you," she admits, finally turning her head towards him.

"Oh, sweetheart," he breathes, tugging her captive hand closer so he can pepper her skin with kisses. He wants to say more, to reassure her.

I'll destroy anything that hurts you.

I'll do anything for you.

I'm spiritually tied to you for eternity.

None of those options really capture his intent in a way that won't terrify her. He settles for something simple - I'll never do that to you - hoping that she can feel the sincerity that drips from each word.

"I believe you," she whispers into the darkness, her hand locked in his.

I believe you.

I believe you.

I believe you.

Her trust is like the sweetest melody to his ears, a benediction in the wake of his worries and follies. With each unfolding day, she offers up more of herself, slowly unravelling the scroll that carries her secrets. When they lay down to sleep, he unabashedly breaks their unspoken rule, wrapping his arms snug around her form as he rests behind her. Waking up with her encircled in his grip is common; drifting towards sleep in each others' grip is uncharted territory. After a moment, she settles into his hold, pressing herself back against him until their bodies are flush, like two matching parts of a set.

"Goodnight, Em," she murmurs, her voice thick with sleep.

"Night, honey," he whispers, pressing his face into the juncture between her neck and shoulder.

It's the best sleep he's had in a long time.

The next day is a whirlwind of pre-wedding festivities, an event that Kim explains has been in the works for years. They walk over to the Uley house in the early hours of the morning, trudging through the sleet that blankets the roads. By the time they arrive, the sun's sitting low on the horizon, casting a warm orange glow across the land. The home is a hub of activity; there's people stuffed to the brim, bustling around and readying for the celebrations. The women slip in, momentarily undetected in the chaos.

Sam's head snaps up as the door swings closed, his eyes first locking on Kim, then Lex. "Good morning, ladies," he greets, already grinning widely. "Welcome to the madhouse."

Emily hurries into the room to greet both with a hug. "I'm so glad you guys are here. Between the flowers and the catering and the decorations, there's so much to do, and it's tomorrow, and -"

"Emmy. It's going to be fine. We will get everything done," Sam stresses, anchoring his broad hands on her shoulders as he gazes into her eyes. It's as if there's a current flowing between them, electric and sizzling, something that makes Lex feel as if she's intruding. She turns away for a moment, offering them a brief second of privacy.

"I know, Sam. It's just a lot," she says, her pinched expression softening.

"I hear you. Go have fun with the girls. Sue will be here soon, and you know she'll get everyone in line."

"Oh, no, I can't, we haven't even finished -"

"Emily. I want you to relax. I promise you I'll get it sorted." His voice is firm, authoritative, but there's a jovial glimmer in his eye that betrays his seriousness.

Emily exhales in a sudden whoosh of breath, her shoulders falling. She nods. "If you're sure you'll be okay."

"I will."

She turns to them then, a small smile gracing her marred face. Emily's scars had caught her off-guard on more than one occasion, though she does her best to conceal her shock. Kim had told her once that Emily's scars had run red and raised down the length of her face, big ugly stripes that segmented her in two. Over the years they had healed, fading into dark pink tissue that blended into the deep tan of her complexion. Still, it was hard not to stare, to look and wonder about what she had been like before the accident. Emily's drooping smile served as a harsh reminder of the darkness of the wilderness around them, perpetually branding her as a victim. Sometimes Lex wished that her scars were visible like Emily's, if only to make people keep their distance. Things would be easier that way.

Instead, Lex finds herself squished into the middle seat of Emily's Toyota, sandwiched between Kim and a stranger, who she later learns is Paul's girlfriend. She'd met Paul once or twice at the group gatherings Embry dragged her to; he was easy to spot, a large man with a personality twice the size of his body. For all of his bluster and cockiness, he seemed like someone she could get along with. He was straightforward to the point of bluntness with a biting wit that seemed to irk Embry, though it entertained her to no end. It was hard to imagine Paul with Rachel, who seemed the absolute picture of mellowness in her reclined state.

It was difficult not to be envious of Rachel. She had the same angular features as Leah, though her eyes were softer, her brow more feminine. Everything about her exuded an effortless sort of beauty that Lex could only dream of. Between her silken ebony hair and her long eyelashes, she was both awe and envy inspiring. Women like Rachel made it hard for her to understand why Embry would even waste his time with her, a plain-faced outsider. She supposed that he was simply biding his time until something better came along, someone more deserving of his attention, but even the mere thought of him spending time with another woman made her heart ache. Spending time with Embry, and even coming to care about him, was a dangerous game that she'd promised herself she wouldn't play. And yet, somehow, there she was, heading to Port Angeles to get all gussied up with him in the forefront of her mind.

It was hard to keep her thoughts off of him, like when they went to the nail salon and all she could focus on was what would he like best? She settles on a deep maroon, thinking about that old shirt of his she'd stolen to sleep in, imagining the way he'd looked at her when she'd come out of the bathroom. It was probably nothing, just a trick of the light, but she'd sworn that when he'd looked at her then his eyes were alight with something other than friendliness. It was a stupid little thing that gave her hope that he could actually like her; a foolish thought when girls like Kim and Rachel were running around the Rez, effortlessly beautiful and vivacious and all of the things that she wasn't. She regrets her selection before the lacquer is even dry, a frustrating reminder of the one person she can't have. It's too late to change, and so she finds herself dragged along to the next activity, pulling her lips into a smile that just screams fake.

Kim waits until they're alone by the clearance rack to question her.

"What's gotten into you?" she asks, levelling her with a piercing gaze.

Lex shrugs, rifling through dress after dress in the hopes of finding something decent. "Just moody. No big deal."

"'Fess up, Lex. You were fine earlier. Is it the nails? They look good, the red's nice."

"It's burgundy," she grumbles, pulling out a deep blue sundress to scrutinise.

"Mmm, so it is about the nails. I'm sure he'll like them, if that's what you're worried about."

Her hands tighten on the hanger like a vise. "I don't see why he'd care."

Kim scoffs, shaking her head slightly. "Are you crazy? Have you even seen the way he looks at you? He'll notice, trust me."

Rachel leans over the rack across from them, her attention swiftly diverted from clothes. "Yeah, God, you two are ridiculous. He's so freaking into you, girl, if you even gave him the chance…" Her voice trails off suggestively, sending her and Kim into a fit of giggles.

Lex looks between the two of them, uncertain. "He doesn't really like me like that. There's no way."

"Are you serious -"

"Lex, come on - "

They speak over each other suddenly, voices overlapping. After a quick exchange of glances, Kim speaks again.

"He's beyond serious about you. If he knew you wouldn't freak right out, he'd lay it all out. Em's a good guy - he's not going to push you into something you're not sure about. Trust me when I say that he cares about you." Kim puts her hand on her forearm, squeezing lightly.

"Shit, I'd bet on Paul that Embry's head over fuckin' heels. Anyway, what do you think of this one?" Rachel's holding a short pink dress, lace all over, and her and Kim are quickly swept up in a discussion of the fabric.

As her hands flick through the garments, she can't stop thinking about him, about what it would be like to really give things a try. She knows what it's like to wake up beside him, to rush to see him in every free moment of her day, to text him at all hours when they're apart. She knows what it feels like when they're apart, an awful longing that consumes her every thought until he's near her. She knows the longing too well, like when the light hits him just right and all she wants to do is crawl into his arms and forget the world.

But she can't.

And she's here, in Port Angeles, and the world keeps on moving.

And so she does, too, crowding into the teensy dressing room to ooh and aah over Emily's gown with the other girls. Emily twists and turns to admire the creamy swathes of fabric, the delicate row of beads decorating the deep V of the neckline. It's gorgeous - she's gorgeous - and Lex doesn't think she's ever seen someone so happy. Kim tears up as she unzips the dress, saying something about Sam seeing her tomorrow, and Emily ends up sniffling too, smiling through her tears.

Kim and Rachel slip into their matching dresses next, simple dusty grey gowns that drape over their figures like molten silver. They giggle and twirl in front of the ornate mirror, swishing their skirts like children playing dress-up, and it's like a sudden flash of the life she could have if she stayed in Forks, if she stayed with Embry. She can almost see herself stepping into a delicate lacy frock, pinning her hair back into a simple twist -

She's going mad. It's official.

Once all the gowns are zipped up and tucked safely into Emily's car, they duck across to a little boutique across the way. Kim ushers her into the dressing room as the others gather armfuls of dresses in a dizzying array of colours and styles. She'd meant to wear something borrowed from Kim, but one attempt at squeezing into her old prom dress had ruled that idea out entirely. Emily brings her a myriad of elegant, simple options, all totally passable. It's not until the sixth dress - Rachel's first suggestion - that she actually pauses to admire her reflection in the mirror. She runs her palms over the smooth silk, admiring the emerald sheen of the fabric under the bright lights. It's shorter than she'd prefer, falling a few inches above her knees, but there's something so elegant about the criss-cross of the ribbons on the back that calls her name.

When she steps out of the stall, it's to immediate noises of approval.

"Oh, that's perfect, Lex!" Emily breathes, motioning for her to spin for a better look.

Rachel smirks triumphantly, winking at Kim. "I knew I'd pick the best one. You have to get it,"

Lex can't tear her eyes away from the mirror. The dress makes her feel like a princess, like she's somebody, and she never wants to take it off. In a moment of clarity, she realises she hasn't even looked at the price, and she reaches to flip the tag when Emily bats her hand away.

"I'm getting it. We have some money left in the wedding fund. Don't even think about it," she says, pointing a stern finger in Lex's direction.

"Emily, I can't -"

"Well, you can and you will. It's my wedding and my rules. Go change so I can pay the lady," she orders, shooing her back towards the dressing room.

Letting Emily pay feels twenty kinds of wrong, but she's so insistent that Lex eventually gives in, she silently vowing to repay her. It's as if they can read her mind, though, and Kim rips the tag off as soon as Emily's swiped her card. The subtle undercurrent of nausea lingers all through dinner, through much of the drive back, until she checks her phone. In between the two missed calls from her father and a Verizon service notice, there's a text from Embry.

My intelligence tells me that I need a green tie for tomorrow. Can't wait to see your dress :)

Her heart flutters as she contemplates her reply, her fingers typing and erasing as she thinks.

Rachel leans over to shamelessly peek at the screen. "See, I told you! Text him back, tell him you can't wait to take it off."

"Rachel!" Emily squeals, blindly reaching her hand back to slap her shoulder.

Unsurprisingly, Lex declines to send that text, instead settling for a simple looking forward to tomorrow :). Rachel chastises her for being painfully unflirty - "My gran's sent raunchier texts than that!" - but Kim's proud of her regardless, patting her knee.

"Baby steps. We'll get you flirting in no time," she jokes, waggling her eyebrows at Lex.

It's official: she is doomed.

A/N: Thanks to everyone keeping up with this story! I would love to know what you think - I appreciate every comment I get. Stay safe & have a great week.