Chapter 2: Lakota Reeves

"Lakota!"

From somewhere in the house, I heard my mom call out for me, so I stopped what I was doing – which was overanalyzing what transpired between Jacob and I last week – and ran down the stairs into the living room where she sat on the too big leather couch we had just recently bought at discount.

"Hey mom." I smiled, sitting down next to her with a thump. "Good to see you, missed you last night."

"Another long day," she said, lowering the volume on the TV and twisting around to face me. "I've told you time and time again that I don't want you to wait up for me, you need your sleep honey and you did right last night."

"But I worry, mom."

"I know you do." She patted my leg. "But I don't want you to, that's for me to do. We don't want worry lines adorning your forehead now, do we?"

I sighed. "I probably already have them."

She laughed. "Nonsense! So tell me, I've been hearing from some neighbors of ours that you and some young man had a fight out on our front porch last week, is that true?"

"Sort of…" I mumbled, heat rushing to my cheeks.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, but it's no big deal. Trust me."

Her eyes lost the softness to them. "Who was this young man?"

"Mom it doesn't matter, please mom. I don't really feel like talking about it."

"Lakota! I'm your mother and as your mother I'm concerned. I don't like the thought of leaving you here alone all day when you're having fights with someone. Not only is it someone, but it's Jacob Black!"

"I thought you didn't know who-"

"Don't you remember he went missing? Have you seen the size of him? Honey, he isn't to be messed with. If anything and I mean anything happens between you two again, you must inform me of it!"

"OK, mom," I whispered, sinking further into the couch.

"Please tell me why you two were fighting?"

Images of Jacob on my porch, one after the other, rushed to the front of my mind, reminding me for the one hundredth time that he hated my guts. For the past week it was all I could think about, and even in my sleep it haunted me, tangled in my nightmares. In my whole life I had never met anyone who hated me, I was always good to people and so for him to have such ill feelings toward me for no reason… it bothered me to no end.

How was I supposed to explain why we were fighting when I wasn't even sure myself?

"He came here to pick up something for Seth Clearwater, you know him?" she nodded in response. "Yeah, well he asked me to write him a list of what he missed in school and said he'd drop by the next day. But apparently he couldn't and Jacob came instead. Oh mom, I don't even know what was wrong with him, he was so angry with me. With me! He doesn't even know me. When I handed him the list he grabbed it from me and then he randomly started throwing up and when I offered him some help he got even angrier and mom I was so afraid. I ran back in here, told him to go home and shut the door. I'm still trying to figure out why he was angry with me. Is he crazy? Like seriously, does he have mental problems?"

"I wouldn't know honey, but I've always been under the impression that he's a very nice, respectable young boy."

I snorted. "He's anything but that."

"Look." She placed a comforting hand on my knee. "If anything happens again you tell me and I'll deal with it OK?"

"OK mom."

"Good, now go bring Joan in some strawberry cake. I made it this morning and I know she loves it."

Joan loved the cake, sitting in her rocking chair by the warm fire, devouring it completely. The old lady seemed to be in one of her happier moods that morning, watching me with glittering eyes and smiling almost constantly. She was also very alert when I spoke and very interested in my plans for the day; which were nothing out of the usual. I couldn't help but notice though, that she seemed ready to combust with exciting news. However, she never said anything…

It was when I was looking out the window, into the deep, dull woods, that she brought up something I never expected her to.

"Lakota, have you ever read the book of legends?"

I shifted in the armchair so that I was facing her. "No, why?"

"Well you should," she told me, the corners of her lips twitching. "It might come in use to you someday."

"How so?" I asked, curious.

"In so many ways, Lakota, in so many ways. You don't realize it now, but you will in time. La Push is a place full of wonder and magic, and the elders, me included, would love nothing more than for the youth of our tribe to learn more about their ancestors. It's very important for a people to know who and where they came from. Don't you agree?"

"I suppose… but there's so many more important things for us to think of, like college, university, our futures-"

She pointed her finger at me. "Exactly! Your future."

Personally, I wasn't really sure whether I should be taking Joan seriously. She was old and sat at home all day long, all the energy she once had gone. And we all knew that not getting out drives you stir crazy. Not that I thought Joan was crazy, I loved her and I was perfectly aware that she was a very wise person. But bringing up the legends so abruptly, so randomly, was just… odd.

"Joan, I-"

"You think I've lost it, don't you?"

My face paled. "What? No! No, why would you think that?"

"Why because I'm an old widower, cooped up in a tiny little house all day long. And here you are, all pure and full of life, listening to me and my old lady talk."

"I don't think you're crazy Joan, I think you're a very wise woman. I'm just a little confused is all." With a sigh, I stood up and glanced down at my watch. "I better get going anyway."

"No! Sit back down, I haven't even offered you a cup of tea yet."

"Seriously, I have to go, this is the only day I get to spend time with mom. I'll come back tomorrow, I'm going to try out this new recipe-"

"Lakota, please, just another fifteen minutes is all I ask."

With a sigh, I nodded. "Alright, but I'm making the tea. You just sit there and rest."

Joan gave me a smile that took years away from her face and I felt happy knowing it was because of me. I couldn't imagine how hard life must be when you're so old and so unable to do anything anymore. It was the least I could do to make her smile.

Walking out of the room and into the narrow hallway, my nose crinkled up at the strong smell of fresh paint. And the closer I got to the kitchen, the worse it became.

Pushing the wooden door open, I almost fainted at the sight before me.

Jacob Black clad in nothing but a pair of low hung jeans and heavy boots that easily added two inches to his already extremely tall height, stood opposite to where I was standing, his sweaty back to me as he painted over Joan's once yellow walls.

And I just stood there like the fool I was, watching him with both horror and wonder as he stroked the paint brush back and forth, back and forth, back and forth…

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," he said as he bent down to the can of paint.

Deciding against the idea of responding to him, I rushed over to the stove, grabbed the teapot and moved to fill it with water by the sink. I was sure not only my cheeks, but my face was crimson and if that wasn't enough, my whole body was shaking. This was not how I wanted to bump into Jacob if I ever had to again, I would've preferred to spot him at the supermarket, that way I could make my great escape. But here, in Joan's kitchen, there was no way out. I was stuck with him.

As I walked back to the stove and waited for the water to boil, I couldn't make up my mind whether I should leave the kitchen and face Joan who would certainly notice my distress, or stay put and hope Jacob didn't say another word.

Eventually I decided on the latter.

However, as I impatiently stood waiting, I couldn't help but allow my eyes to swivel to the right where Jacob stood, completely dissolved in his work. He was a fine male specimen; the type of guy girls would label a 'real man'. And if he didn't hate my guts I would probably be crushing on him, but not after our incident last week. In fact, probably never, as gorgeous as he was all I could see was the cold hearted lunatic underneath his perfect russet skin. Why oh why did he hate me so?

"I think your water's boiled," he noted.

In my embarrassment and mortification, I turned the stove off at the speed of light and grabbed for the teapot too quickly that it fell onto the floor with a crash, the hot water spilling out onto the floor, some of it managing to hit both my sandal-clad feet.

Oh how it burned!

Startled, the brush fell from Jacob's hand onto the floor. But before he had the chance to catch the look on my face, I turned away from him, clasping a hand over my mouth as the tears spilled onto my cheeks. I couldn't even walk, my ten toes were on fire and to make matters worse, without walking there was no way I could get my hands on some cold water to cool them down. There was no way I could get my hands on some cream. And there was no way I could call for Joan, she could barely walk herself.

"Don't act so shocked, it was bound to happen. You weren't even paying any attention in the first place."

This statement both angered me and destroyed me, and unable to put up the act any longer, I fell to my knees and wailed. I wailed so loud I was sure the whole neighborhood could hear me, but nothing hurt as much as a burn.

"Lakota?" Joan called from the living room.

"It's alright Mrs. Carmichaels, I'll take care of everything!" Jacob called back to her.

Weeping, I reached for the teapot to turn it upright, but a warm hand closed over mine and gently pushed it away. Then there were a set of thick thighs in front of me and I didn't need to look up to see who was kneeling before me.

"What…" he gulped and softened his tone. "What happened, why are you crying?"

"I burned my feet," I managed to say, my sobs nowhere near subsiding.

He reached out for me with his large hands and I confusedly glanced up at his face, wondering what he wanted. "Let me help you," he whispered.

I didn't want Jacob's help; only a minute ago he'd been so cheeky with me. But I was in such a vulnerable state and the burning couldn't wait.

"C'mere." He took hold of my waist and pulled me onto his lap, tucking me under his chin so that my teary cheek was pressed to his chest. I still couldn't help but sob and in an attempt to make me feel better, Jacob began to stroke my hair just like his paint brush stroked the wall, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth…

Using his free hand, he carefully slipped both my sandals off and held my feet in his hand, examining them.

His thumb brushed my tiny toe. "Ah!" I gasped out.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, shhh, I'm sorry." Raising himself up to his feet, he cradled me to him and walked up to the dining table, where an empty water bucket sat. "I'm gonna fill this with water and then you soak your feet in it, alright?"

I nodded into him and closed my eyes, listening to his heartbeat. It was the perfect distraction.

"Oh no, no, no! What happened to my sunny girl?" Joan exclaimed worriedly as Jacob carried me into the room.

"She had a bit of an accident," he told her, his tone… edgy. "Your teapot filled with scolding hot water fell off the stove, burnt her feet."

"Poor darling, she always insists on doing everything for me when I'm capable of doing it myself. Her mother won't be pleased."

Setting me down into the armchair I'd been sitting in only minutes ago, he bent down and placed my feet into the bucket of freezing water. I managed to give him a small smile in thanks when he looked up at me before my eyelids drooped closed, I was suddenly so tired.

"Well she obviously does too much as it is," Jacob remarked, no longer next to me by the sound of his voice.

"Is that so, Black?"

"You should see her hands, keep her away from knives. Please." He sighed. "I'll be right back."

In my half asleep state, I could feel his warm hand on my cheek as he wiped my face with a rose-smelling tissue. This tangled into my dreams, causing me to dream of big hands.

"She's just like red riding hood, coming to see her grandmother. I'm the grandmother of course."

"And I'm the big bad wolf." Jacob chuckled.

Joan did not.

Three hours later, Jacob shrugged into his checked shirt and headed back into the living room where Joan Carmichaels sat watching one of her old lady talk shows. The young wolf didn't like Mrs. Carmichaels so much, especially not after the accident in the kitchen. It was her fault Lakota hurt herself. Why couldn't she have just gone in and done it herself? Jacob wasn't fooled, if that old lady could live alone, then she could work alone. He wouldn't have been surprised if she could paint the whole house by herself.

There was also another thing Jacob did not like about her; she watched him too carefully and spoke to him in such a way you would speak to a child up to no good.

Gritting his teeth, he spoke to her. "I'm done for the day; I'll be back tomorrow, same time."

"Ah very well, Black." She nodded. "Tomorrow."

Turning his back on her, he walked over to his- the sleeping girl in the armchair. She looked so peaceful, he hated the thought of waking her. Carefully scooping her up into his strong arms, he held her close to himself as he raised her feet out of the bucket. The sight of them was enough to make him nauseous; all red and sore and blistered. If only he could've prevented it from happening…

"Where are her sandals?" he asked Joan, knowing she had put them somewhere an hour beforehand.

She turned to him, raising her eyebrows. "And where are you taking her?"

"Next door, of course."

"I was going to call her mother."

"Well now you don't need to, besides, her mom can't carry her. Now where are they? I'll get them."

"Black, her mother is not home right now and Lakota hasn't got a spare key on her today. So there really is now point in you leaving this house with her."

"Tell me Carmichaels, you don't expect me to think you will carry her home, or anyone else for that matter?"

"I've been around way longer than you have Jacob, way longer. I know plenty of strong men."

This was like a red rag to a bull.

"Well I'm sure all those men are dead," he snapped.

Shooting him a look filled with all the hatred in the world, she turned away. "Sandals are out on the porch."

And out on the porch, Lakota and her white sandals in hand, Seth Clearwater walked by. Only to stop in his tracks, turn around and look up at Jacob with the most confused expression.

"OK… this is normal." He gestured to the girl lying in his arms. "Please tell me you didn't knock her out by accident."

Jacob rolled his eyes, the sight of his pack mate irritating him. "No, dumbass. Why aren't you patrolling?"

"I was just going to ask you the same thing. Oh and eh, Leah relieved me for a while, said she needed time alone."

"And what are you doing around here?" he questioned because he had to, because of the imprint.

"Dude, I live here."

The imprint was really getting to Jacob, almost grabbing a hold of him completely. Just the sight of her, the feel of her in his arms, both revolted him and thrilled him. He was torn between accepting it and fighting it.

But what could be so wrong with loving Lakota, sweet and innocent Lakota…

Bella.

Bella Swan.

Bella Cullen.

Drawing his gaze down to his imprints sleeping face, Jacob's heart sparked. So he bit his lip and tried to fight the feeling, to even block it, stop it from making it known to his senses. But this only made his whole body ache, proving that what he was doing was wrong.

"Jake, man, you're shaking… and why are you looking at her like that? Like she's-"

"Shut up!" Jacob hissed, snapping his head up at Seth. "Go home, get out of here!"

"But Jake-"

"Go!"

Without any further questioning, Seth ran off.

Unlike any other pack member that imprinted, Jacob never broke the news to any of his brothers and especially not Leah. Over the years he had always expressed his dislike and disgust about the imprint; he thought of it as a curse. To him, it was an unfair ability for nature to throw at them. Jacob liked to have a choice, Jacob liked to make his own decisions and the imprint would take both of them away from him.

There was no way he was telling the pack.

He imagined how pathetic he'd sound to Bella if he ever imprinted. It would be such an easy thing to say to her; "I imprinted". And that was the worst part of it all, Jacob didn't want love to come easy, he wanted it to come hard. Like him and Bella. He wanted to fall in love with the girl, he wanted memories, and he wanted moments he'd never have with anyone else. Just like all his wonderful moments with Bella.

Imprinting on Lakota was too simple.

Jacob fell to his knees on Joan Carmichael's porch. "What am I going to do with you?" he whispered into his imprint's angelic face, framed in a beautiful mass of black wavy hair. "Help me, say something, tell me what to do. Are you better than the girl I drank warm sodas with in my garage?"

"Water… hands… big…" the sleeping girl murmured in her sleep.

She was going to be the death of him.

A/N: Just thought I'd point out that at the end of every chapter (like this and the last one) there will always be a third person P.O.V so we can take a glimpse into Jacob's thoughts.