A/N: Happy Wednesday/Update day!

Sorry for the week delay. I was on vacation and purposefully left my laptop at home to avoid random writing binges. I needed the break. :)

Sunday, March 8, 2015

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Leah

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Jacob was eighteen years old.

Leah had known him for all of those eighteen years. They'd run through sprinklers in their underwear together; had learned to fish, boat, swim, camp, to survive together. Their parents knew their way around the ocean and the forests and imparted their knowledge to their children in equal measure. The boys didn't get special attention and neither did the girls. Everyone was expected to keep up. Life is hard, Harry told them, you should know how to weather it.

Rachel, Rebecca, and Leah were a year older than Jacob. He'd been his parents' oops baby, which always grossed Leah out when she heard it. He was caught in an odd place in their families – younger than his sisters and Leah, a grade behind, but too old to be very close with Seth. Having his own friends helped. He did his own thing and listened with quiet calm when Leah and his sisters decided to vent to him about whatever drama was going on in their lives. They knew he'd never tell, and it was nice to have an outside perspective. A guy's perspective.

Jacob suffered their gossip and good-naturedly gave advice if he thought he could be of use. He coasted through their bad breakups and ups and downs. He was always game to cook for them, to go out with them, to be this steady, comforting presence whenever they needed him. It didn't occur to Leah until very recently that she didn't know quite as much about his personal life. When she'd asked him if he'd slept with Bella, she realized she wasn't sure if he'd slept with anyone. There were girlfriends, for sure. Rachel hadn't been wrong in saying he was popular in that sense. But Leah couldn't remember him ever talking about them. Didn't know if he'd had one of those breakups. Anything like her shit-show with Sam. Had he loved any of them? Had he ever been in love?

The idea of it set off a cacophony of bells. She was suddenly very eager to know it all. Every tiny detail. There was some ridiculous part of her, too, that was already slightly jealous of the prospect, which was just absurd. What had drawn him to this girl? What had excited him about her? What had made him fall for her? What had pushed them apart?

Who did this fictional girl think she was, breaking his heart?

Leah eased open Jacob's bedroom door and entered on tiptoes, her feet bare, controlling her body as much as she could to make as little noise as possible. It was dark inside. The camo curtains were drawn and everything else was turned off except a box fan somewhere on the other side of the room. It hummed loudly in the small space and the force of it whipped her shirt and her hair as she moved towards Jacob's desk. His room was normally very clean, but there'd been piles of clothes and strewn shoes the last few times she'd visited. It was a slow and cautious process trying to maneuver it all in the blackness.

Her toe caught on something – the edge of the fucking desk, she thought sourly – and her cheeks swelled with held air as she tried desperately to swallow the surge of pain and rage.

Jacob didn't move on the bed.

Leah released her death grip on the papers in her hands and did what she came to do. With patrols and then hunting and killing that vampire, he'd gotten a little behind in school. Missed some days and some assignments. Jacob had called her and asked if she'd look over his paper for literature, and had dropped it off before he left for patrols the night before. It was a good, solid piece. Leah had no doubt he'd ace it. She set the essay down on top of his schoolbooks and turned to go.

And then stopped.

She crept to the edge of the bed and strained her eyes, trying to make him out. He was on his back, one arm dangling over the edge, the other hand flat on his bare stomach. There were only sheets beneath him. His comforter and top sheet were stuffed in the crack between the wall and mattress, just like they'd been every other time she'd visited since he phased. She swallowed thickly and glanced over the boxer briefs. Jacob's face was relaxed. Soft. His hair was mussed and wild, sticking up at every angle. The changes his wolf brought on made him look like an entirely different person sometimes. So much taller, wider, with more bulk. Even his facial features were more mature. Like he'd been pushed not just to his physical peak, but beyond it, to the needlepoint of what he could be.

Right now, those mature features were smoothed into an image of his former self. Without the stress and wear of the chaos currently erupting in their lives. She reached out and brushed a few of those wild hairs from his forehead, let her fingers linger on his scalp for longer than she meant to. Doubt crept up her spine. Was she really doing this? Allowing herself to, what, crush on her lifelong friend? The complications were endless. And now, there was imprinting. Moving out of their nice, safe friendzone would put her in the same predicament she'd unknowingly been in with Sam. No matter how good they were, no matter how much they cared for each other, no matter how solid and secure their relationship was, there would always be the possibility of someone wrecking that with a look. And there would be nothing either of them could do about it.

"What's wrong?" he asked, voice rough with sleep, and it made her jump.

"Nothing. Sorry. I was just dropping off your paper."

One of his eyes cracked open and it was lit with his wolf's amber and gold. "You're anxious."

He was getting better at that. Leah frowned. "Y'know, you should really try and control that thing. It's not fair."

"I know."

Leah watched the sleep drain from his face and the customary tension return. She realized she was still touching his hair, bent slightly forward and over him, and immediately made to pull away. He caught her hand. The sharp movement surprised them both. She watched his eyes study the curve of his fingers around hers, his brows furrowed, as if he were trying to figure out why he'd done it. His warmth was a vapor rising up from his skin, into hers, and all around them. Simultaneously suffocating and salubrious. Her palm felt charged with it; craving and savoring this loaded connection; wanting it, yet still noxiously wary of what this meant for them.

"I didn't mean to wake you up," she murmured lamely. But the air was suddenly thick and she didn't know what to do with it. "I'll just –"

"Leah."

She inhaled until her lungs burned. "Yeah?"

"What's wrong?"

Her mouth opened, fully prepared to answer him, but no words formed. Maybe she'd read this whole thing wrong. It'd been a year since her breakup with Sam. A year of jumping between boiling anger, quiet frustration, and a secret sadness it'd taken months to finally purge from her system. A year of working and hanging out with friends and dating casually, uninterested in another long-term commitment. She'd spent her entire high school career tied to one person. Every event, dance, and milestone from ninth to twelfth grade starred him alongside her in the lead role. She'd lost herself in there, somewhere. The things she'd loved were put on the backburner. Sam was older and, though he showed up and smiled through it, he'd never really cared much about her sports or volunteer work. He had his own job and friends and they didn't mesh very well with her life.

Leah had taken the year to figure out what parts of her were worth saving and what needed to go. Self-care and spiritual wholeness and all that.

Maybe it had worked. Maybe she was ready to finally dive into a new relationship and was simply projecting that onto him? Maybe his honesty with her when everyone else had spent the last year lying to her face had influenced her? Maybe she was just terrified and scrambling for excuses?

Jacob sat up and Leah sat down, eye level with his chest. He brought their hands up to rest on her leg, between them. She watched his fingers flex a little and realized it wasn't just him. She was holding on, too.

"This feels new," she whispered, watching his thumb brush over her knuckle.

He hummed an agreement and brought his other hand up, opened her fingers, and rubbed a palm against hers. His hands had always been calloused because he'd always been into something; working on cars, chopping wood, yard work, helping his father, her father and Embry's mom with repairs on this or that; volunteering to help repair complete strangers' houses or cars. They were still calloused now. The wolf hadn't changed that. Her hands were calloused, too. Years of swinging softball bats and gymnastics and her own volunteer work left their mark. Despite all of this, his palm rubbing up and down hers was impossibly smooth. Gooseflesh shot up her arm.

"Hey," he said. "What's going on?"

She huffed a laugh that died quickly. Her mind was in a whirl. A million different things she wanted to say. A million things she thought she shouldn't say. Somehow, what came out was, "Are you a virgin?"

An odd sound erupted from his chest; startled laughter and disbelief. His hand continued to move against hers. "I doubt that's what's got you all twisted up, but no, I'm not a virgin."

"Who was she? Which girlfriend?"

"Tanya was first."

Leah recoiled in surprise. "Tanya Eubank?"

"That's the one."

"When the hell did that happen?"

She glanced at his face as one of his eyebrows arched curiously. "We dated for over a year, Leah."

"A year?" She shook her head, dredging through her memory of that year and trying to find something to corroborate what he was saying. "No. No, way. I thought you guys were, like, a fling."

He snorted. "It obviously wasn't built for rough weather, but nah. Not a fling."

Leah studied his face – the purposefully blank expression he'd arranged. "Did you love her?"

"I don't know." He tilted his head, contemplative. "I thought so at the time." One of his shoulders lifted. "It might have been more care than love. I wasn't all that upset when she broke up with me."

Leah scoffed. "She broke up with you?"

"Didn't have enough time for her, apparently. She wanted to be my first priority, I guess."

"Pretty common in a relationship," Leah drawled, amused.

"She wasn't, though. My first priority." His eyes dipped back to their hands. He traced the lines of her palm with a finger as he said, "No matter how much I thought I cared about her, she was always sort of in the background. I didn't bring her to the house much and wasn't too keen on her getting involved in my family."

"So not love, then."

He snorted. "Seems that way."

"You said she was the first. Who else?"

Jacob exhaled slowly and his head tilted in that way again. He was doing that more often now, and Leah wondered if it was a new gesture for him, or if it came from the wolf. "Cara Irving," he said.

"Okay, I really don't remember you dating her."

"I didn't. Well, not really. We hung out for a couple of months."

Leah pushed against his leg with hers. "I didn't take you for the sleeping around type."

"I'm not." At her dry look, a small smile broke over his mouth. A little shy. It was fucking adorable. "I'm not. I don't know, after Tanya I was trying to sort out how I felt about the whole thing and just needed to see if what I'd had with her was special, or if –"

" – If you'd just exaggerated the whole thing," she finished for him, and he nodded. Leah knew that feeling all too well. "I get it." She nudged him again. "How long is this list?"

Jacob laughed. "Just one more. Misty Vance. And before you say anything, I dated her for six months."

"Damn." Leah felt her face pinch. "Misty Vance is… hot." He barked a laugh and she couldn't help but smile. "I bet Embry and Quil had meltdowns over that one. What happened with her? And why didn't you ever bring her around?"

His easy expression faded. "Same issues. I'm not even sure I was doing it on purpose. And then, of course, there was you –"

"Me?"

"We were still together when you and Sam broke up. She was convinced there was something going on between us." He smirked at the affronted slack of her jaw. "I told her there wasn't, but ya know. I'd have dinners at your house and with you at mine. We did birthdays and holidays and I never invited her to any of it. Guess it looked like I was purposefully keeping her away."

"Sounds like you were."

Jacob shrugged and his brows furrowed again. "Maybe. I don't know." He was silent for a moment, swimming around in his own head, and then resurfaced to say, "I always felt guilty when they ended, but never really sad. Is that messed up?"

"No." Her lips flattened. "Maybe. Did they mean something to you? These relationships?"

She watched his Adam's apple bob spastically. "I wanted them to."

That was the crux of it. Wanting a deeper connection. Wanting this time to be the all-consuming derailment of life as you know it. Fairy tales and soulful revelations and butterflies every single time that person walked in the room. An awareness of them that surpassed commonality. Not emptying yourself and allowing that person to fill you, but expanding, changing so that there's room for both. Sharing life and all its happiness, inspiration, commodiousness; the ups and downs, the struggles, the loss and grief; the firsts and all the lasts. Who didn't want that?

The problem with Jacob, though, was that he'd always given more than he took. It was his nature to put himself between predator and prey, in all the millions of forms that might manifest as. He didn't know how to put himself first. He didn't know how to say: hey, I know you need me, but I need you, too, and I'm drowning and don't know what to do.

Those girls he dated wouldn't know that. They wouldn't know that the occasional bags under his eyes were a result of night terrors that had plagued him since the night his mother died; that he would wake up hyperventilating, stuck in that moment, hearing his father screaming and his sisters crying, and wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. They wouldn't know that he'd spend all that extra time in his garage, pouring himself into projects because he understood those engines and mechanical blueprints a hell of a lot better than he understood how to deal with his grief.

Those girls wouldn't know that he compulsively checked Billy's medication organizer, even though he was the one that filled and sorted them at the start of every week. Or that he checked and logged Billy's sugar and blood pressure himself twice a day, kept religious records, and snuck into his father's room multiple times a night to make sure he was breathing. He did it to Rachel, too, and there was nothing medically wrong with her. The fear of losing the people he loved was a breathing thing that lived in the very core of him. Leah didn't think these were things he shared with new people in his life; temporary people that were out of the loop of their families.

It was a fine line to walk for him. Jacob would core himself out and give every piece of himself over if he thought it would help someone important to him. Leah was suddenly and unselfishly glad none of these girls had earned that. Maybe him keeping them at arm's length was purposeful; his survival instincts putting up walls to protect him.

Leah slid her left hand over the back of his, still palm to palm with her right. "I guess when you know, you know."

"Profound." He snorted. "Nothing like what you had with Sam, I'm sure."

It wasn't bitter or malicious. He meant that. Whatever Jacob thought of her relationship with Sam, he believed that they'd been very much in love. Maybe they had, for a while. She felt like she was letting him down a little when she said, "It wasn't as picturesque as everyone makes it out to be. As I made it out to be."

"No?"

"We had our good times." Leah paused. Swallowed. "But we were very different. I like to… do things, you know? I wanna go and experience and Sam's content to work and go home and let that be the end of it. I love my family and friends and I want them in my life. Sam's used to being on his own. He didn't like all the dinners and birthdays and that everyone knew everything. He didn't understand the openness. His family was… well. He didn't really have one. Just his mom and they aren't close. Sam wanted me and our relationship but none of the extra that came with it. I liked Sam – loved him, after a while. But I didn't want the things he wanted. We just don't… mesh."

Jacob watched her as she took a deep breath, feeling as if she'd just dumped three years' worth of bullshit in his lap. That's what this was. Bullshit. A bunch of small but significant details she'd overlooked to hold on to something that wasn't worth holding on to.

"But it meant something to you," Jacob said quietly. "Your relationship."

Leah met his gaze, and a humorless smile tilted the corners of her mouth. "I wanted it to."

His brows bunched together and she had the sudden urge to smooth them out. She considered that – this new or, perhaps, not so new urge to touch him. Their hands were tangled together in her lap and still, she wanted more; to feel the light stubble along his jaw that he'd never allowed to grow before he phased; to run her fingers through his hair again… and again, and again; maybe even to explore the new contours of his neck and shoulders and –

"Why are you staring like that?"

Leah blinked. Shrugged.

"Uh-huh." He purposefully, and with great effort, changed the subject. "Look, you know I don't mind these heart-to-hearts, but I can't say I'm not curious why you're suddenly so interested in my relationships."

"I've always been interested." It sounded weak, even to her. She cringed. "Okay, maybe not interested enough to ask you outright."

"Exactly. So why now?"

She swallowed and shook her head, looked away from him, and then back. There were words to describe this… newness. Whatever it was. There was a right way to explain to him all the ways her connection to him had changed; all these new thoughts, desires, fears, and anxieties. Leah couldn't find those words, though. Whatever eloquence she had on a normal day fled and left her tongue-tied and aberrantly hesitant.

They were sitting close enough that she could feel his breath ghosting over her forehead and in the wisps of her hair. His eyes, now clear of his wolf, were watching her carefully. They were supposed to talk at some point. Air all this out. She hadn't planned on doing it right now, and didn't really know what to say, or how to say it. She hadn't even been able to decide if she wanted to push this. Maybe it was best they didn't. Maybe they should just… pretend everything was normal. Like it used to be. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

His hand slid up her palm, her forearm, and back. It was a simple, unloaded gesture. Leah's pulse flittered anxiously, and her stomach looped into knots. "I wanna try something," she said impulsively. "Okay?"

Jacob's expression flickered curiously, but he nodded.

Leah didn't like feeling uncertain. She didn't like seeing a problem, knowing the possible solutions, and still being unable to make a decision. It wasn't the way she normally operated. It wasn't the way either of them normally operated. She could see, though, that Jacob wasn't going to step over that invisible line. He didn't want to be responsible for obliterating their friendship if something went wrong. Didn't want to make things weird if it turned out that they didn't actually feel something more than platonic affection for each other. She understood. But she also knew this was going to drive her insane if they left it untouched. That it might drive a wedge between them just as effectively unless one of them dredged up the nerve to hit it head-on.

She saw it dawn on him as soon as she leaned in; confliction and wariness warring with interest. That was the thing, wasn't it? He wanted to kiss her, or for her to kiss him. Wanted to know what it would feel like; if it would settle the ache of their combined presence that had been humming between them for weeks. Just knowing that for sure, seeing it written into the edges of his face, eased some of her doubts.

Though they were huddled closely on the bed, she'd have had to push up onto a knee to get a good angle. To do it right without the awkwardness of his height. But Jacob had apparently decided that if she was going to dive, he was diving with her, and his head dipped down to meet her halfway. She didn't give herself time to overthink it. Her lips pressed against his and it was a direct, almost chaste thing.

Almost.

That vaporous heat slid over her as the tentativeness of the moment passed. Jacob lifted a hand to her face; soft, seeking, a little unsteady. His fingers traced the line of her cheekbone and slid into her hair to cup the back of her head. Her breath stuttered, her pulse hammering and erratic, and no, she thought, there was nothing platonic about this. She forgot herself for a moment. Forgot this was just supposed to be an inquisitive experiment. Her hand slid up his chest, to his neck, and she pulled, pressing him closer. He smelled like woodsmoke and earth and she wondered with startling desperation what he'd taste like.

Just when she drew up the courage to find out, something – some small, yipping sound – came through the window. Jacob pulled away a fraction, kept his forehead angled into hers, and when he opened his eyes, they were wolf bright. Leah smiled. "Guess it's not just anger that'll wake him up," she murmured.

"Guess not."

That fucking sound was louder this time. Jacob glanced in that direction, back to her, and then closed his eyes, drawing in a steadying breath. "I gotta go."

She could see the clock on the bedside table. 6:58 p.m. They were consistent, anyway. His hand was still buried in her hair, his fingers flexing every so often around the curve of her head. Watching him study her face, his tongue darting out to taste his lips, Leah quickly forgot about whoever it was out there calling him. Taking that dive had turned on a vacuum and it quickly sucked her back in. She wanted to kiss him again. To taste him this time, and –

"Jacob, what the hell, man?"

Leah could hear Paul as plainly as Jacob probably could, so the idiot was close to the window. "I thought you patrolled with Embry?"

"I do. We've been tripling up when we can. Victoria is still around."

"Jacob –"

"I'm coming," he snapped at the window, and they both heard Paul snicker.

"It's alright," Leah assured him, though she cast a glare in the general direction of the other wolf's voice all the same. "Go. We can… talk later."

Jacob's hand slid from her hair and he squeezed her fingers one more time before letting go. He started to stand up. Sat back down. "Listen, we're having a dinner for Embry's birthday on Wednesday. His mom can't… well. She's kind of strapped so we're all pitching in for food and stuff. It's nothing huge. Just the pack, his mom, and maybe Quil, if Sam'll allow it." He swallowed and lifted a shoulder. "You should come. If you want to, I mean."

This was the sort of thing that, weeks before, would have been nothing. She'd have come just to hang out with him and Rachel. Now, with him asking, after that kiss, it felt like… more. "Do you want me to come?"

"I do. Yeah."

"Okay." And just to prove to him, and to herself, that it wasn't a fluke, Leah leaned up and pressed another quick kiss to his mouth. "I'll be here."

"For fuck's sake, Jacob!"

"Alright."

Jacob moved around her, stood for real this time, and crossed the room to the door. "I'll see you then."

Leah smiled and kept smiling long after the door clicked shut.

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Wednesday, May 11, 2015

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Jacob

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Embry's mom worked long shifts, sometimes seven days a week, to make ends meet.

For as long as Jacob could remember, she'd left Embry home alone, or at the Black's, or the Ateara's, while she scraped the bottom of the barrel to pay the bills. Tiffany Call was a good woman. A good mom, when she got the chance to be. Birthdays came and went, though, and she'd be scheduled to work, or would get called in, and whatever plans they'd had would be canceled and he'd be on his own again. A small present and maybe a cake, and Embry was always grateful. He never complained. He made certain that she never felt bad about it. Embry smiled and bragged on whatever she managed to buy him and, to the world, it seemed as if none of it bothered him.

Jacob knew better.

Embry had spent most of his life being passed around, ribbed about his absent father and the possibilities of who that father might be, always in the background. He'd wanted, more than anything, to feel special. To be recognized for the kind and generous person that he was and for that to mean something. He wasn't the biggest guy around – the wolf hadn't changed that – and he didn't have money, or steady work, or a lot of prospects. He wasn't a genius and often wondered if he'd ever do anything worthwhile with himself. He was terrified that he'd end up skating by like his mom; that he'd father some bastard kid and be just like his father. But most of all, Embry felt so fucking guilty for thinking and feeling all of those things, as if he were betraying the woman that had given up her life to make sure he had what he needed. It was a nasty cycle of frustration, guilt, and desperation.

Embry was Jacob's best friend for a reason. He really was a kind and generous person, and he'd never shied away from someone that needed him, even if he could only give them a shoulder to lean on, or the emotional support they weren't getting elsewhere. He was brave, loyal, and willful, even if he was sometimes painfully shy. Embry deserved to feel special.

"It's perfect," Leah whispered at Jacob's side, and her hand closed over his forearm. Squeezed.

The pack had teamed up with the imprints and the Clearwaters to transform the backyard into a surprisingly cozy little setup. Some picnic tables, some tablecloths, some centerpieces Rach had found with the number eighteen springing from the middle of them; balloons and food and cake and candles. It was more than they'd planned. Had cost more than they'd planned. But as Jared darted around the house, waved at them all to get down, and hid against the siding, listening closely, Jacob knew it would be worth it. The whole Council was there. Paul's mom. Somehow, Jacob had talked Sam into letting Quil come, and his mom tagged along with him to show her support. There were presents stacked up on one of the tables and the cake was set up at the center of the semi-circle they'd arranged around the grill, candles lit and ready.

Jared held up a closed fist and Jacob could hear car doors opening and closing. Gravel crunching under shoes. The likelihood of him being surprised was slim. Even being outside, Jacob could smell the dozens of scents, the food, and could hear all the breathing and popping joints and other, unintentional, sounds peoples' bodies made. Unless Embry was purposefully locking down his senses, he'd be on alert the moment he stepped out of the car. Jared's fingers began ticking one by one:

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Happy Birthday, Embry!"

Embry was surprised. Maybe not that they'd done something like this, but that there were so many people. Honestly – and Jacob wasn't especially sentimental on a normal day – the look on Embry's face, the shot of shock and anxiety, followed immediately by warm appreciation and stinging, salty emotion that Jacob could both sense and see, forced a lump into the back of his throat.

"Man," Embry croaked, shaking his head. His mom was teary-eyed beside him. "You guys didn't have to do this."

"What? It's not every day my little brother turns eighteen," Paul cooed, and was the first to pull him into a rough hug. He was customarily obnoxious as his face drew into a vision of tearful lament. "They grow up so fast."

This prompted a huddle that moved inward – guests hugging him, patting him on the back, wishing him a happy birthday, and then moving on. Jacob thought about what Paul had said as he and Leah hung back. A year ago, no one that knew anything about anyone on this rez would have expected Paul Lahote – loud-mouthed ladies man and football extraordinaire – to help organize and man the grill for Embry Call's birthday party. If they were told he'd have referred to Embry as his 'little brother', they'd have laughed the source out of the room.

The pack was not perfect, but those problems rested solely on Jacob and Sam's shoulders. The rest of the guys, Jacob and Sam as individuals with the guys, were solid. Tethered to one another by something deeper than high school or sports or even friendship. This thing had bonded them, certainly, but it was there long before that. If the legends were to be believed, and Jacob was taking most of it with a grain of salt these days, the wolf was genetic; something that began with certain bloodlines and was extended to others, and then others, and on and on throughout the generations that followed. That cord Jacob had envisioned when he'd first phased, invisible but there, connecting them all sternum to sternum, had been there from the start, predestined and waiting. They were brothers, bound by blood and by deed to protect their home and families and, as far as Jacob was concerned, anyone else that might fall victim to vampires, or to anything that was within his power to stop.

The Bluetooth speaker on the porch clicked on and startled Jacob back to the now. He glanced at Rachel, flipping through music on her phone, and could have kissed her when she lowered the volume to a level tolerable for all the wolves. Embry resurfaced from the crowd with Quil at his side, and they both made their way over.

"How'd you convince Sam to let Quil come?" Leah asked quietly, watching them approach.

"I think he's banking on something bad happening. Can't wait to rub it in my face."

Her nose scrunched and her lip curled and, he thought, she was fucking beautiful. "What is it with you two?"

"I'll let you know when I figure it out," he hedged.

"Well," Quil drawled. He shouldered Jacob good-naturedly. "Here we are again. The Three Amigos. The Musketeers. The –"

Embry scoffed. "Please stop."

"I get to be excited, okay? You two've boxed me out pretty effectively. I've been hanging out with Shane, for fuck's sake."

Jacob winced. "Shane Lewis?"

As Quil nodded, the mood shifted, and they were all very sorry for him. Their acknowledgment of his struggle was a validated comfort. "I'm gonna grab a drink. You guys want anything?" Collectively, they shook their heads. He winked at Leah as he walked backward, towards the cooler. "Sure? I've got a lot to offer."

Leah snorted. "It'll be really, really hard to resist, but I've gotta try."

Embry shuffled over, hands in his pockets, and Jacob knew what was coming. Before he could even turn to fully face him, Embry hugged him, squeezed with too much of his wolf's strength, and released.

"Thanks, man," he said quietly. "Seriously, this is the best. I mean, I've never – y'know, I just didn't expect –"

" – Hey." Jacob held up a hand. "You'd do the same for me."

Embry smiled.

They both knew he would.

.

On par with how everything had gone thus far, the party dragged on longer than they'd planned.

Most of the adult guests had bailed after nine, along with Emily and Kim. It was Wednesday, not Friday, and they had work in the morning. Sue was on night shift rotations, so she and the other Clearwaters hung in to help clean and get everything resituated after the bulk of the crowd was out of the way. The pack didn't take up much space, despite being physically bulky. They'd allowed Quil into the fold, too, sitting shoulder to shoulder on one of the picnic tables, poking and shoving and being purposefully gentle when they were doing it to him. That was another thing Jacob was noticing. The touching. The pack was full of weird, magical shit. When they were afraid, or upset, or even angry, it helped to be with each other. Those swats over the head and intermittent headlocks looked like general rough play, but it was more than that. There was comfort in physical contact; an easing of burden, knowing that the others were there, within arm's reach.

Most of the humans were gone, and Jacob was starting to breathe a little easier. He'd convinced Sam to let Quil come, to approve this birthday party because it would mean a lot to Embry, but there'd been a small part of him that had worried, too, about so many people being crammed together with the pack. He hadn't been able to stop himself from remembering Emily's face, the trauma that stuck to her like a sour second skin, and imagining that happening to Rachel, or Seth, or Leah. The worry and stress had tainted his evening a bit. He'd kept himself busy and kept a close eye on everyone, and Leah had stayed close, nudging him when his expression shifted into I'm either disgusted or on the verge of violence. Her words, not his.

He was stuffing the last bag of trash from the yard into one of the cans arranged to the side of Billy's ramp when he heard the car… no, truck. It was moving fast enough that only a short moment passed between him hearing it and the headlights splitting the darkness at the top of his driveway.

"Is that Bella?" Sam asked, and he was squinting when Jacob glanced his way.

"Looks like it."

"Did you invite her?"

"I haven't talked to her, Sam. No."

Leah and Rachel stepped through the door above the ramp, Billy and Sue and Harry leaning and dipping around them to see what was going on.

Something in Jacob's chest spasmed. Bella didn't drive fast. It was unlike her. Had something happened to Charlie? Was it the Cullens?

She parked on the side of the drive and the door flew open. He could see her face, now. Pinched tight with… something. Anger, or frustration. He couldn't read her expressions very well. She was socially uncomfortable and it made her body language and facial movements a little awkward, always turned inward. Bella was in jogging pants and a loose white shirt rumpled beneath a thick jacket. Her shoes were untied, as if she'd thrown them on at the door on her way out. She was walking pretty fast, moving straight for him. He vaguely willed her legs and feet not to tangle.

"Bella," he called cautiously. "What's up?"

"Hi, Bella!" Billy called.

Jacob had planned to keep her separated from the rest of the pack – and from Quil, who was still in the dark. But she took a hard turn at the last second and, rather than confronting him, she went straight for Sam, and Jacob's mind began to whirl.

This is it, he thought, this is where it's all gonna fall apart.

"What did you do?" she demanded. Yelled. Had he ever heard her yell like that before?

"What did – what?" Sam countered, standing from the table. "What are you talking about?"

"This is all your fault! It started with you!"

The others all stood slowly, and Jacob felt a wave of tension ripple through the wolves. She'd left him behind to shout in Sam's face, so Jacob moved around to stand to Sam's right, Paul on the left.

Sam shook his head. "Bella, I don't know what you think –"

" – I don't think, I know. I know what you've – what you've done to him."

It took Jacob a solid ten seconds to realize she was talking about him. His brows climbed into his hairline and his head tilted in that reflexive fucking way it constantly did now. "Nobody's done anything to me, Bella. I'm fine. I –"

" – You're a werewolf, Jacob. You're not fine!"

He determined rather quickly that she wasn't kidding. There was a confidence in her posture that wasn't always there. She was certain. Knew, beyond a doubt, that what she was saying was true. At least she believed it was. Jacob could feel the silence around them like a weighted blanket. Quil was looking between all of them, brows furrowed, considering what he was witnessing with the objectivity of someone who had witnessed a string of oddities and was desperate for answers. He would believe her. Jacob's pulse spiked. That anger he was always trying to keep tempered flared, hot and humid.

"Bella –"

"Don't! Don't lie to me."

"I'm not a fucking werewolf. Listen to yourself!"

It wasn't a lie. They weren't were-anythings. They were shifters, hosting ancient wolf spirits that were passed down through their ancestral lineage. It was different.

"Do you remember when we walked on the beach at La Push?" she snapped, more geared for a fight than he'd ever seen her. "Do you remember what we talked about?"

He did. She'd wanted to know about the Cullens. "The Cold Ones. You asked why Edward wasn't allowed on Quileute land, and I told you the story of the Cold Ones."

"Right." She huffed, shifting from foot to foot. "I guess it makes sense that that's the only part you remember." Bella inhaled deeply. "Quileutes are descended from wolves. You said it so fast, and with so little thought, I almost forgot. But then I saw those – I saw you, all of you, in the meadow, chasing Laurent. I started thinking about the changes. The size differences, the feverish skin, the bodies, and the missing posters. God, Jacob, how can you do this? How can you be this and live with yourself?"

They all stared at her, because what? The conversation they'd had centered on the vampires because that's what she'd been interested in at the time. She hadn't cared to hear about lawotsakil and the task Ckwyeh-Tee had given them. Jacob hadn't expanded on it for that reason.

"I'm sorry," Paul spoke up, shaking off his confusion. "Are you suggesting, in some wild universe where what you're saying is true, that we're… the bad guys?"

Bella scoffed. She looked so disgusted; ran her eyes up and down Paul like she was examining a bug, smashed and smeared across her bathroom sink. "You're killing people and have the gall to stand there and ask me that. You're monsters."

Paul could have done a lot of things with that accusation. With his temper and track record, Jacob would have bet on something problematic. Instead, he just laughed. Deep, from the belly, and it shocked the building tension out of the others enough that they began to laugh, too. None of them could have anticipated Bella hauling back and slapping Paul dead across the face. She really was hard to read. She'd been still, stunned silent by the switch in mood, and then she'd lashed out. That fast. Her palm cracked against his cheek and whipped his head to the side. Paul's nostrils immediately flared around too-fast breathing, and Jacob saw it all happening in slow-motion. Shivering muscles and vibrating skin; pupils dilated to pinpricks in the center of glowing silver irises; bones cracking; tendons stretching and reforming.

"Sam," Jacob warned, but he wasn't listening.

"Get back Bella," the Alpha said. His voice was weak. Unsure. "Move, now."

He shouldn't have been studying Bella. It was Paul that needed him. Paul that was about to destroy whatever security and confidence he'd built over the last month. He hadn't force-phased since Jacob joined the pack, had been working so fucking hard to be better, to be trustworthy and in control. And everyone was watching. Rachel, Billy, the Clearwaters, the pack, and Quil. He'd be miserable after this, which would only make it harder to further develop restraint.

Sam didn't see any of that. He wasn't going to do anything. His eyes were blown wide with his wolf and Jacob knew, he knew, that this was about Emily. It had probably played out a lot like this, though with fewer characters. Jacob pushed past him and caught Paul in a bear hug, picked him up enough that he could turn him and put some distance between them and Bella and the others, still watching from the door of the house. Paul's whole body was practically convulsing with the effort he was using to stay on two legs.

"Relax," Jacob said quietly. "Breathe. Remember? Breathe. In your nose, out your mouth."

He was trying. It was coming out in sharp exhales through pursed lips, and Jacob could feel that they weren't helping. He was breathing too hard, on the verge of hyperventilation.

"Paul, breathe," he said again, with more force, and it came out strange. Distorted sounding, to his sensitive ears.

The change was immediate. Everything slowed. Paul inhaled smoothly and exhaled the same. His body stilled and everything popped back into place. The tremors stopped. "Are you alright?" Jacob asked.

"Yeah." Paul's voice was a little hoarse. A little sharp. "Yeah, I'm good now. I've got it back."

"You sure?"

"I'm good, Jake. Swear."

Bella had put some distance between herself and the rest of the pack while Jacob was preoccupied. As he approached, she opened her mouth to speak. He held up a hand. "Don't talk. Listen." Billy and Sue and Harry were at the bottom of the ramp with Leah and Rachel, all of them hovering, wanting to intervene. "We're not killing anyone," he told her plainly. "We shift, we are what we are, because of vampires. Specifically, because of the Cullens. Them being around triggered Sam's change, and then the rest of us."

"But –"

"The only thing we've killed since this started is that vampire – Laurent. That's the truth."

Bella, for the first time since arriving, seemed unsure. "I don't… I thought –"

" – You thought wrong," Jared groused.

Billy wheeled himself over. "Bella, I know this is a lot to take in. We've all had a long day… an eventful day. Maybe it's best if you go home. Call Jake tomorrow."

She glanced over them all, and then to Paul, pacing in the spot Jacob had left him. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean –"

" – It's alright," Billy said. "It's fine. Just… go home, Bella. Please."

Jacob watched her go; tethered his eyes to her because he could feel the growing tension to the side of him, where Sam was standing. The Alpha had recovered from his momentary lapse and, as Bella pulled her truck back onto the road, Jacob wondered if it was because Sam realized Jacob had just given Paul an order. An Alpha's order.

They'd avoided one crisis and felt on the brink of another.

Jacob inhaled, steeled himself, and turned.

.

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