BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! Is what I was greeted with as I was making a series of vain attempts to guesstimate how much new grout my bathroom was going to need in the near future.
I stepped out of the room and looked towards the door.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Seriously?
Whoever the hell was on the other side of my door didn't even pause between knocks. Or rather battering rams than knocks. I was home alone today. Billy mumbled something incoherent about council and Sue and I just took that to mean that he didn't really want to tell me so I just nodded and gave him a hug goodbye.
Jake and Paul had - for a week solid - been muttering 'pack stuff' at me while averting my gaze. I understand they do stuff and they want to keep some of it to themselves. I'm not a total nosebag, but I was getting worried. I was about this close to calling up Collin – who it was rather heavily rumored had a crush on me – and possibly flirting the truth out of him. But that would've been mean. I wasn't that desperate yet.
It had been almost one month to the day that Paul had come home after jumping a Cullen boy. Three months ago the Clearwater kids had shifted and the boys stumbled out of the woods at periodic intervals looking like chewed bubble gum. Three months ago, I had kissed Paul half-naked in my shower. It had been an excellent turning point. Now we kissed all the time – and it was natural and not awkward for him at all like I thought it would be. We blended rather seamlessly into that portion of our relationship.
But the 'pack stuff' excuse was back. And it wasn't like last time where they were hesitant to tell me about Seth and Leah. No, they just wouldn't tell me period. Both Jake and Paul – and I even asked Quil and Jared – just kept telling me they would let me know when they knew the whole story.
Bull.
Jake had been gone every night this week. And he always came home – at godawful hours – sweaty, dirty and beaten up. I didn't ask; I just made him some food and did the laundry.
This morning I had woken up and after noticing the funny shadows cast around my room, I turned to my window. There was a large dry-mud paw print on the glass. I shook my head and smiled. Paul did this whenever we went long stretches of time without seeing each other. I think it was just his way of saying he missed me. On patrol during late nights or simply passing by, he'd press his huge front paw to my window. I never saw him do it, never heard him through my sleep, but it was nice.
It was nice when I went a few days without seeing him and he explained that it was his turn for day shifts on patrol. Understandable. Recently, I had just been fucking pissed because I hadn't even seen him – not like stopped and talked, I mean actually seen with my eyes – in ten days. I was glad to know he hadn't fallen off the fucking planet, but the paw print just reminded me that they were all gone all the time and I had no idea why.
So, I had started my day half pissed, half antsy. I decided to get some work done and yesterday a tile fell off the bathroom wall. The bathroom grout had all but dissolved and molded over in its near constant exposure to Washington moisture and Pacific salty air. And that brings us up to now. The asshat with a goddamn death wish on the other side of my door, trying to break it down like fucking Mongoloid. And me in the bathroom with a spackling knife.
I marched over to the door unlocked the deadbolt; not waiting for the banging to pause I ripped the door open. "WHAT!" I screamed. I had about .7 seconds to realize that it was Paul trying break through the wooden door before he just barreled in the house. He disappeared into the living room and I simply followed – mouth agape. Seemingly unaware of his royally pissed off girlfriend giving him a glare fit to smite Genghis Khan, he grabbed a pair of his shorts out of the clean laundry I'd just folded and stacked on the couch. He dropped his phone on the table and proceeded into the kitchen.
I followed at a slower pace and was standing in the doorway, watching his back as he pulled an apple out of the fruit bowl and set his stuff on the counter.
He finally slowed and turned around and looked at me with an expression I couldn't quite read. I stood there, my hands on my hips, my mouth a tight line.
"If I kiss you are you going to hit me?" he asked.
"Probably," I growled.
He nodded, processing my answer. "I'll chance it," he shrugged. He took a step, closing the distance between us in the tiny kitchen, he dipped his face to my own and I felt the heat roll off him in waves as his mouth met mine.
My tight-lipped expression loosened immediately. It was practically a reflexive reaction for me at this point. His cedar smell flooding over my cheeks, my lips. He was right about my smacking him, because I can't simply let him bail on me for days – without so much as a word – and let him walk away unscathed.
However, I missed him terribly. And I missed this. I missed the way he bent over me when we kissed. I missed being pulled right against him and feeling his natural body heat slowly tingle through me. I missed his fingers in my hair and his hand at my back. I missed his lips and their adventurous travel across my jaw, down my neck, over my shoulder. I missed the post-kiss buzz I usually rode for a few moments after the fact. I just missed the shit out of him. So fuck it all, if I was at least going to get something good out of this situation before I retaliated.
His hands rested on my hips, threading lightly through my belt loops. I felt his thumbs begin a warm and gentle rhythm. I felt his teeth graze my bottom lip and knew if I went any further I would be a lost cause for the anger train. I lifted my right hand off of his forearm, reached up and slapped him.
"Ow!"
His face turned only slightly with the force of my attack. It broke our locked lips and I was now facing his reddening cheek. "What the fuck is going on, Paul!" I growled. He sighed, both of us already knowing where this conversation was bound to go.
"You disappear off the fucking planet – and I know, okay, I know – it's just part of the job description. I know you'll leave at weird times and come back at weird times. I know you're going to get beat up. I know you're not going to be able to tell me everything. I get it. But I can't take it all at once! I need something!"
He sighed still not moving any further away from me, his hands still on my hips. "Remember that pack of newborn vampires I told you about last week?"
I nodded in affirmation. I could feel the remnants of last week's rolling nausea coming back to me. I knew where this was going. "They're here," it wasn't a question.
"They're here," he nodded. "We've been out every night learning how to fight the newborns. The Cullens have an old veteran on their side. Half an hour ago they were an hour away."
Then, like something from a bad horror movie his phone vibrated against the table in the living room. A moment later it rang. I had programmed Paul's phone to ring with that same tone you hear constantly in Jurassic Park 3 when they're all drowning to Sam's number. Because Sam was nice to everyone except the morons in the pack. Admittedly they were morons, but it still made me laugh hearing him roar like a dinosaur from the other end sometimes. It was funny then. Now it was just freaking ominous.
"Shit," he muttered, "Look, Rach, I gotta go. Do me a favor. Stay here? You remember what I taught you?"
"Paul," I sighed, "I'm not throwing a damn grenade in the front yard…" recalling his and Jacob's instructions on how to possibly defend myself against a vampire. After that, I had to talk him and Embry out of making napalm.
"Just stay in the house, please?" he pleaded with me. He was begging. I really didn't want any of them going, but I had accepted the fact that I was going to have to live with it. This was my job. As someone who would inevitably spend some degree of the rest of her life with these boys, I knew I would have to do this more than once. I would have to just put on my big kid face and let them go. Because it was their job.
"Yes, yes. Fine," I muttered trying to remain as calm as I could, and ignoring that tell-tale nausea's return. "Doors and windows closed and locked. Keep my lighter on me and the gun locker open," I repeated his instructions back to him.
"That's my girl," he leaned forward and gave my forehead a quick peck. He picked up his shorts and the apple and made for the door. I followed him over, knowing he wouldn't leave the front porch until he heard me lock the dead bolt. "If anything goes wrong, just scream like hell. Collin and Brady will be around."
I nodded not having enough confidence in my stomach to not betray me should I open my mouth. He slipped out and I bolted the door behind him. I pressed my back to the door and slid down to the floor. I leaned against my knees and tangled my hands in my hair. What was I doing? I really couldn't care less what happened to me. Okay, that's a lie; I did care. But wherever they were going was a decent ways off and I doubted any of these vampires would find little old La Push. The very stench of the pack I would think would drive them away, not bring them closer.
I was worried about all my family and friends. Paul, Jake, Quil, Embry, Sam, Leah, Seth, Jared – all of them. And all because the Cullens had to go befriending the humans. They couldn't simply stick with their own damn kind like every other mythical creature on this godforsaken planet. They got tangled up with Bella the maneater. If I had some eerie feelings about her before, I down right hated her now.
The Cullens had returned a few weeks ago and she just fucking bolted. I don't deny that she did make a few attempts to at least try and explain to my brother that she didn't like him like that. But regardless, she broke his damn heart by running right back to the bastard that had dropped her like a hot potato. Way to rep all us strong womenfolk, Bella.
I am convinced now more than ever that she's an evil bitch. She clung to Jacob for a few months like some parasite, just trying to survive and he actually did her so much good – despite my feelings about her – and in the end, she completely blindsided him. Who does that someone? Who? How spineless do have to be to go crawling back to that kind of guy. A guy who wasn't even human. Through and through, clearly. Especially when someone else is practically making themselves sick to help you.
And now the whole Cullen family was out there getting ready to protect this sadistic little chickadee. Do I want her killed? Not particularly. I'm not that mean spirited. But do I want my family, my boys, putting their lives on the line so she can stay that way? Not particularly. I'd much rather they simply watch our own lands. But Jake – as is understandable – has developed a really strong attachment to this girl. She poured her soul out to him and he all but kept her alive. It's natural for him to want to help her. It is not natural for her to have all but abandoned the bond they shared.
And I'll be damned if I lose these boys to a pack of ravenous vampire babies – just so we can keep a girl that my brother cares about alive. I care about him and Paul and all their brothers. Doesn't that entitle me to wanting to protect them? He wants Bella alive because he cares. Well that's just one girl; I would like them all to stay alive because I care about he whole pack. I'm sorry, but I feel my concern over a dozen boys should outshine my brother's care for one girl. Color me a bitch but the math just doesn't work.
These overwhelming feelings of regret and anger just poured over me. So much I never got to do or say to any of them – my brother and Paul especially. I think the last thing I said to Jake was to 'shut the hell up and just buy some gas for the damn lawn mower, already.' And Paul? I'd just repeated his own words back to him.
And they were all headed into the woods to face this horde of psychotic, rabid, feral vampires. And they were all bent out of shape. From what I had seen and learned, these boys got worried about nothing. When it was just the one vampire and her accomplice, they were excited – practically gleeful. It was fun for them, like average dogs they enjoyed having something to chase. But now this was a big deal and I could tell it made them antsy.
I could hear the wind outside beginning to pick up. The local weather had reported three feet of snow dropped in the mountains where they were all headed. It was only supposed to bring a few rain showers and howling wind to our area. I could hear the wind whip around the house like it was in a vacuum.
It felt like I'd been sitting there on the floor for a while, but it had only been about thirty seconds. I ignored the revolution taking place in my stomach and stood up abruptly. I thought I could deal, but I couldn't. I just couldn't handle it. I was weak. I turned around and fumbled with the deadbolt, I wiped at the bleary tears pooling in my eyes. I twisted the doorknob and the wind gusted it open. I ran down the steps into the yard. The wind was going steadily. It swept at the yard's layers of pine needles and brushed all my hair to one side.
I looked around the yard and the street before me. It had been thirty seconds, he couldn't be gone already. "Paul!" I shouted through the wind whistling in my own ears. Nothing. I rubbed the back of my hand over my eyes to clear my vision. I jogged across the yard and to the wall of forest that began on the other side.
It was midday but the sky was darkening. Leaving that almost imperceptible glow of light on Earth as the inevitable hellfire brewed in the sky. I couldn't see into the woods more than ten feet. "Paul!" I shouted again against the wind, willing it not to take my words to the sea with its own course.
I clapped my hands over my face as I stood on the road staring into the thick of trees. He was gone.
I felt the tears silently stream down my face in earnest now. I looked up to the rolling, tumultuous sky and felt a few pine-scented drops from the trees kiss my face.
Then I thought I heard something and snapped my neck upright. I peeled my eyes as wide as they would go but saw nothing. Maybe I was losing it. But then I heard it again. I swear it was someone calling my name.
A moment later, a set of trees a dozen feet down the road rustled out of sync with the wind. I watched Paul hop out of the woods as he pulled his shorts on. He ran towards me as I was all but frozen on my little patch of pavement. "Rachel! What are you doing out here?" he asked with his arms outstretched.
There isn't really a decent or even classy way for me to say what I did next. So I'm just going to say it. He got within two feet of me and I jumped on him. Yes, I literally jumped on him. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he caught me.
"I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry," I babbled. "I just– It's just… I mean, I–"
Having all but wrapped my legs around his waist made his holding me rather unnecessary. "Babe," he interrupted my incoherent blather and reached up and held my face, "spit it out. I really need to go."
I closed my arms around him; giving him the tightest hug I could offer and dropped my feet back towards the ground. "Paul," I shouted against the wind, "I love you."
He reached up behind his neck and took my hands in his own, he pulled back and ducked to look at my face. "What!"
"I love you," I said again through a half sob, half laugh. "I just wanted you to know that."
"I love you too, Rachel," he smiled so wide I thought he might split his face in two. He picked up my hands he was still holding and kissed them. "Now, get in that goddamn house and just hold that thought for a few hours, okay?"