Chapter 12: Deputy

The minute the wolves leave, Seth carrying his clothes in a cloth bag tied around his middle, my phone rings. It's Alice.

"Let me speak to Bella," she says, so I hand over the phone without speaking.

"Alice?"

"Charlie rang Renée earlier."

"What?!" Bella shrieks, though months of keeping her voice down to hide from Charlie have, fortunately, taught her not to make loud noises—otherwise the wolves would've come racing back, thinking something was seriously wrong.

"Sorry—he only made up his mind a moment before he called."

Bella sighs. "That's okay. Did you see what they said?"

"Yes, but I think you should call her right now—she won't wait much longer."

Bella cringes. "Thanks, Alice. Are you gonna come home now?"

"Already on my way."

Bella smiles at that. "See you soon," she says. Alice returns the salutation, then hangs up, so Bella starts dialing her mother's number straight away.

Renée answers on the second ring. "Hi, Mom," Bella says, sounding much too guilty.

"Bella!"

"I have something to tell you—"

"Edward's back," Renée interrupts, her tone droll.

"How did—Did Dad tell you?" Bella asks, with just the right amount of teenage outrage.

"He thought you were going to call me last night."

"I was… but then it got late."

Renée hmmms understandingly—with only a mild amount of exasperation—then she says, "Bella, honey, I don't think it's good for you to let that boy back into your life."

"Well, I do. He and I have discussed it all, and I forgive him. We're back together, and we're both happy again."

"You really think it can be like it was?"

"No," Bella replies stoutly. "It will be better."

"Bella…"

"Mom, I know what I want, and now he does, too." She flashes a grin at me, and I automatically smile back, though it still pains me to think about the full extent of her wishes. "We're back together, and that's final."

"I'm not arguing with you, honey. I just don't want you to get hurt again."

"I won't."

Renée doesn't answer for a moment. Then she sighs. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Mom," Bella replies. "How's everything in Jacksonville?"

Renée's natural enthusiasm takes over and, despite a lingering doubtfulness in her voice, she lets Bella change the subject. Bella listens attentively while her mother waxes lyrical on all the zany things she has been up to since they last spoke, asking all the normal sorts of questions and making the usual noises of engagement. When Renée starts telling Bella things from over a month ago, obviously encouraged by Bella's responsiveness, I try not to dwell on the reasons she hasn't been her usual open self recently.

I start hearing Alice's thoughts as Bella and Renée exchange goodbyes—she timed it deliberately so that she wasn't around when Bella would be sidelined from conversation—so she appears while Bella is passing the phone back to me. She doesn't even glance at me, but she spares a thought to let me know that Jasper and Emmett had no trouble with the newborns.

Bella accepts a hug from Alice, but she's too worked up to smile. "I can't believe Charlie called her!" she exclaims, indignant.

Alice nods, and then, as she describes the discussion Charlie and Renée had about my unwelcome return, she lets me see her vision of it. I find it interesting that Charlie hasn't told Renée about Jacob, but his emphasis on the new friends she's made since I left makes it clear he's thinking about him.

A separate strand of Alice's thoughts is focused on her intense irritation at the wolves' immunity to her gift (exacerbated by the stench they left behind). I empathize, but I feel the need to point out that my inability to read Bella's mind is just as great a sufferance—given her historic (and ongoing) amusement at that insufficiency, I would be smug about this phenomenon if we shared our usual closeness. She picks up on the comment (and my sense of amusement) in a brief vision of an unlikely future. At first, she scolds me for what she calls disrespect, but, eventually, she acknowledges the equivalency of our limitations and deigns to forgive me for my amusement.

Then she actually addresses me directly; although she asks about the riddle of Victoria's success that she is desperate to solve, it's definite progress. To expedite her complete forgiveness, I answer her as thoroughly as I can.

"When you told me she was flying to Rio, I took my time getting to the airport she'd left from. I focused on tracking her myself, trying to put together her movements as if I didn't have your insight. And then, as I searched the minds of airport staff, I caught a memory of her getting into a car."

Alice is appalled that she'd missed this drastic divergence from the path she'd seen, so I cut to the chase. "She was deliberately trying to thwart your visions. She got on the plane fully planning to go to Rio, but then she told a flight attendant that she felt violently ill and the attendant took her off the plane—so it wasn't her decision."

"She still decided something," Bella points out, questioning my explanation. "She listened to the flight attendant."

Alice doesn't like it, but she has to admit that there is a potential loophole in the way her gift works. "I missed the smaller decisions because she stuck to her decision to go to Rio even after leaving the plane."

I nod. "She carefully thought about her plans without deciding anything, and let strangers make as many decisions for her as possible."

While Alice ponders how to rectify this weakness, Bella asks me, "How did you find out where Victoria went?"

I debate what answer to give her, before deciding to come clean. "I hacked the airport security system and got the car's license plate number."

"Hacked?" Bella exclaims.

I smile at Alice; she doesn't smile back, so I refocus on Bella. "Jasper's the real hacker of the family, but I know enough of his tricks to get by."

Bella chuckles (probably at the thought of vampire hackers), then says, "Hacking doesn't count as tracking."

"I know," I agree. "That's why I said I'm not good at tracking."

While Bella rolls her eyes at my joke, Alice frowns. "I didn't see any of that that," she murmurs, questioning how she'd missed my actions.

I don't like the answer that seems most logical—we'd fallen out of sync—so I raise another possibility. "I suppose I always intended to hack various databases if the need arose, so maybe it wasn't a new decision."

"I still should've seen it," she replies. "I should've seen where you were."

I shake my head. "That's my fault," I insist. "I threw the future into chaos." And then I realize something else. "Did you ever see me going back to Forks?"

"Only every hour or two."

That makes Bella smile—and then frown. I touch her cheek and her frown disappears even as her skin floods with color.

"It's my fault," I repeat. "I should never have left you," I say to Bella; then, to Alice, I say, "and my instability helped Victoria conceal her plan for vengeance. Without the wolves, she would've succeeded." I flinch as I realize that that isn't quite true. "No," I murmur, "Laurent would have."

Alice immediately curses the falsehearted liar; Bella has already told her about his surprise visit, which means she probably knows more of the details than I do, although she seems unaware of Irina's role in Victoria's successful deception. I'm still angry at Irina for being so careless with our secrets, but as I contemplate telling Alice, my reluctance suggests that I've already forgiven her—because Alice is bound to take it badly. Thanks to Irina's misplaced trust in Laurent, Victoria had been able to completely circumvent her gift. But Alice is my sister, not Irina.

"Irina told him so much about our gifts that Victoria was able to identify a potential weakness in yours."

Despite expecting an intense reaction, the degree of fury Alice feels is shocking; I'm glad Jasper isn't here because he wouldn't be able to handle it.

"Irina," she hisses, her voice so full of spite that it reminds me of Rosalie's.

Bella cringes, and I wonder if she hadn't thought Alice could be scary, but then she reaches out and takes her hand—the last thing anyone should do with an enraged vampire. Of course, Bella is not anyone, so she gets away with it, and Alice appreciates the gesture of comfort.

To distract them both, I go on with the story of how I tracked Victoria from Denver to Seattle, calling myself a private investigator (or assistant) and alternatively questioning witnesses or hacking police databases, traffic and security camera systems, and public records.

When I am finished, Alice rewards me with the story of how Jasper and Emmett got on in Seattle. She shared her visions with Bella last night, so she only speaks aloud the parts that Bella isn't already aware of. There were four newborns; they'd already been on their evening hunt by the time Jasper and Emmett arrived, but at least it meant they were all assembled in the house. Alice saw that there was no point trying to talk to them, because Riley had instilled in them a deep mistrust of strangers, so my brothers went straight on the offensive.

Jasper had initially riled them up, but they were so volatile anyway and dispatching them was so easy that he stopped bothering. Emmett was disappointed by their lack of combat skills, but he enjoyed testing his strength against theirs. The house was destroyed in the fight, so they piled all the pieces of vampire in one room, set them alight, and then watched the house burn to the ground (until the fire brigade showed up). After checking the second house, which was empty, they did a quick tour of Seattle before returning home, taking out an entire herd of deer on their way.

Bella stares hard at me when Alice says that, eyeing my dark eyes with concern, and Alice breaks off the end of her story to tell me I should go hunting now. I would rather wait till later, when Bella is asleep, but the potential for gaps in Alice's visions doesn't allow me our usual sense of security. So I nod, then give Bella a quick kiss.

"Seth suggested we have dinner with them tonight," I tell her, thinking of dialing Seth's number so Alice can see it. "If you'd like that, you could call Charlie while I'm gone?"

Alice looks into the future and sees us cross into La Push before we disappear into the void. It annoys her that I already have my answer, while she has nothing but frustration. I touch her arm, and she acknowledges my sympathy and then looks ahead to help me find a couple of deer as quickly as possible.

"Be quick," Bella says, and I can't help but laugh.

"I'll be back in four minutes," I promise her.

Relying on Alice's vision, I let myself run on autopilot, following the route she pictured for me. The cluster of deer is drinking at a temporary pond. I snap two of their necks before they even realize I'm there.

Back at home, Bella has arranged for us to pick up Charlie from work and go to the Clearwaters'. I'm not sure that's such a good idea, especially since Alice sees Charlie glaring at me from the back seat for the entire car ride, but Alice is convinced it will ultimately be worse if Charlie drives himself.

To keep herself involved for longer, she comes with us to get the food Bella has organized to cook at their house—lasagna, which sounds complicated, so I look forward to learning her technique. Alice is peeved that she can't see the evening, but she does her best to let it go and enjoy spending time with Bella.

On our way to the garage, on the spur of the moment, I detour to grab the spare key for the Volvo—to give as a gift to Seth. I want to give him something tangible to represent our friendship and show him how much he already means to me. When Bella quirks an eyebrow, I realize I haven't told her about the lessons yet.

She is as censorious as anticipated, shaking her head before remarking, "Is there any point telling you not to teach him bad habits?"

I laugh. "Speeding isn't a habit." She waves an admonishing hand in my direction, so I don't joke further. "I will be a good teacher," I promise, "but you can come along to adjudicate if you'd like."

She nods, accepting that, then lets Alice take charge of the conversation, sharing what she knows of the Quileutes' legends. I drive us to the supermarket, listening to Bella's descriptions and conversing in thought with Alice regarding her request that I also pick Seth's brain on this matter, then man the trolley while they select the ingredients we need. Alice, naturally, goes overboard, but I'm happy to take extra food, especially given the wolves' hugely increased appetites—and Sue has two in the family.

Charlie got home early, so we drop Alice off around the corner before picking him up and driving straight to the Clearwaters'. His grief isn't enough to suppress his disapproval of me, but it keeps him from being argumentative.

We're four miles out when I begin to pick up the detail of Seth's thoughts. He is doing his counting trick again, except this time it's not merely a number—it's the number of bites of food he expects me to have. He is already up to 36 because he is counting faster than last time. I'm amazed by how clearly I can hear his mind. Does his receptiveness to my eavesdropping help me pinpoint it?

Whatever it is, I take full advantage of the extra time it gives me with his thoughts, enjoying his sense of humor and planning things we can talk about with Charlie present.

When we arrive, Charlie is understandably stunned by Seth's growth spurt, but Seth just grins and says, "It must be longer than you think since you saw me standing up."

Charlie's suspicions aren't assuaged, but he lets it go; Seth's grin even raises half a smile. Sue's offer of a beer secures the other half.

Leah doesn't come out of her room to greet us; she's listening to music and trying to pretend I'm not here. Seth assures me that she was already in a bad mood (she's been mad at the whole world since Sam broke up with her, and since her family—from her perspective—sided with him, so that anger is now magnified, and she wants nothing to do with the pack), so I don't feel the need to apologize for my presence in her house. Bad mood aside, her condition is incredible: she has almost fully recovered from her injuries. Although her left arm is still aching, it is bending again as it should (she phased again to complete the repair), and her jaw, leg, and spine feel completely normal. She can almost pretend it's just a new facet of the vivid nightmare that's been plaguing her for months.

While Sue and Charlie go sit down in the living room with Billy, Bella gets started on the cooking. Seth and I go with her to be her assistants, and this time, I pay attention to the way she cooks, not merely the instructions she gives me. Parts of it seem straightforward, but as I watch her sample the mince mixture at intervals, I wonder if it might be beyond my skill to master flavorsome human food—then again, when she munches on a raw piece of lettuce, I wonder if she's simply snacking while she cooks.

With our help, the lasagna only takes ten minutes to prepare; then, while it's cooking, we each make a sweet treat—under Bella's instruction, I make two apple pies (because they involve the most work); Seth makes peanut brownies; and Bella makes chocolate rum truffles (with rum essence, not actual alcohol).

Seth and I ferry the food into the dining room—Charlie almost catches me carrying the steaming dish of lasagna in my bare hands, so I am more careful after that—while Bella puts the apple pies into the oven. Sue asks if there's anything she can do, but Bella, Seth, and I all say no, and Seth makes her wait in the living room until everything is ready in the dining room.

When Sue asks Leah to join us, she won't let her sulky daughter decline. Leah doesn't want to argue, but she tries to say that she should be allowed to eat in her room. After her objection to my presence is shot down, she wishes she'd played the injury card first—because the experienced nurse isn't fooled when she starts bemoaning her aching back. So Leah trudges into the dining room, cursing Seth and me for our "offensive" friendship, and slumps into a chair. Bella smiles at her, but Leah just glares at all three of us.

Seth waits for the 'adults' to fill their plates, and then starts loading up the plate in front of me, but Sue scolds him and makes him take the plate himself. She assures me in her thoughts that I don't have to eat; I dip my head to thank her for her consideration.

"There's nothing you're allergic to in the lasagna, is there?" Seth asks me, fully earnest in tone despite the wicked amusement in his thoughts.

"I'm vegetarian," I remind him.

"Oh," he says with a smirk, "I'll get you some salad."

"Seth," Sue admonishes. "Leave him be."

After glancing at Charlie, he finally settles down, realizing he can't risk taking the joke too far. "I'll have his share," he says as he stabs a forkful of lasagna.

Leah snorts as she watches me select one of the smaller jacket potatoes and a piece of pumpkin (if I'm going to eat, I may as well choose hot food). She hopes I'll be offended or get sick of his "childishness", so she doesn't have to eat with a reeking corpse in the room. But even if I were irritated by her thoughts, which I'm not—Rosalie is a thousand times more creative in her insults (she's had many, many years to perfect them)—I do feel conscious that I'm intruding in her house, and I know how much my scent burns her nose.

It annoys her when I don't look the least bit irritated, so I quirk an eyebrow at her, hoping she'll take it to mean that I am annoyed but hiding it (because if she gets any angrier, she'll be at risk of losing her temper). She isn't completely convinced, but she gives up complaining and does her best to forget that a leech had a hand in making the food she's eating.

From the thoughts I can hear and the enjoyment on Bella's face, the lasagna is good. No one says anything for several minutes, but Seth speaks up before it turns into an uncomfortable silence, telling us about parkour, the latest extreme sport to get some mainstream traction. Sue has heard some of it before, but she appreciates his effort, and I join in to make a conversation out of it.

We have a bit of a break between courses, and Seth and I help Bella with dessert. The apple pies aren't quite done, but she decides it'll be okay to put the peanut brownies in already. I whip some cream to go with the pies, and Seth prepares the ice cream. It's salted caramel fudge, and as he sneaks a spoonful, he wonders if I got to taste anything remotely like it while my taste buds still worked. I shake my head, and he groans in pity for me, then holds out a spoonful for me.

"No point," I murmur. "I get more from hearing you eat it."

That makes him grin, and he happily shoves the spoon into his mouth and slowly sucks the ice cream off it, savoring each of the complementary flavors.

"Yum," I say, teasing him back.

Bella laughs at us both, then sneaks a spoonful for herself.

The apple pies and truffles go down as well as the lasagna did. I don't have any, because it seems a shame to waste it. Seth eats almost half a pie on his own.

When everyone is done eating, neither Sue nor Charlie knows what to do or say; they're both exhausted, but neither wants to part just yet. Of course, Seth solves their awkwardness.

"Mom wants to make some little wolves for Dad tomorrow," he says, picturing origami paper wolves as well as carved wooden ones. "Will you help?"

"Of course," Charlie replies uncertainly, not confident with such fiddly work.

Seth disappears into the other room to get the necessary supplies, calling over his shoulder for me to help him. I smile at the others and Bella releases my hand. While Seth tells me what to collect—enjoying bossing me around—Leah asks to be excused.

Sue makes her promise not to leave the house, and Leah, reluctantly, obeys. After she goes back to her room, everyone relocates to the living room. Seth hands Sue, Billy, and Charlie each a stack of colored paper and a pair of scissors, and asks them to cut the A4 paper into squares. Then he sets himself down in the middle of the floor, picks up a pre-cut square, and begins folding it.

"I'm the best at making these," he crows, taking care to line up the folds so that his wolf will be perfectly symmetrical.

As he works, I see another side of his personality. He effortlessly channels his boundless energy into this measured, focused task—without any awareness of the uniqueness of that ability. Bella sits down beside him, pulling me down with her, and picks up a piece of the stiff paper, turning it over in her hands.

"Don't cut yourself," Charlie warns her.

Seth chuckles, but Sue is worried that any one of them could cut themselves. Could I handle the scent of four different bloods? Perhaps in answer to Sue's nerves, Bella passes me the paper.

"I think I'll just watch," she says. Then she waves her handkerchief-covered hand. "I'd hate to get blood on anything."

"Excuses, excuses," Seth jokes. Then he nods at me. "Get going—and it better be perfect."

Charlie snorts at that, not enjoying the reminder that I seem to be so good at everything. But he isn't surprised, so I dare to start folding using the instructions in Seth's head.

The only sounds (besides their steady heartbeats and soft breaths) are the scissors cutting and the paper squeaking as we fold it. Bella watches us both, totally focused on our hands as we slowly shape the flat paper into three-dimensional wolves. I pace myself to Seth's moves, so he finishes first. He places the little wolf on his palm and holds it out for Bella to inspect. She leans forward, her lips curling into a wide smile as she admires the detail. Despite the relative simplicity of the design, Seth has managed to give it a personality.

"It's beautiful, Seth," she says.

He grins, then sets it on the coffee table and picks up a fist-sized chunk of the wood so he can show off his woodcraft skills.

"Not inside," Sue warns him.

He pouts. "I'll put paper down—"

"It's too messy."

"What about a smaller one?" he asks, trying to negotiate.

She hesitates, then sighs. Right now, it seems pointless to stop him for the sake of a clean house. "All right—but you're cleaning up all the mess."

He nods, then chooses a smaller piece of wood and spreads out some of the thinner, white paper of varying sizes to catch the peelings. As he had with the paper wolf, he begins the complex task of shaping the wood without any fear or even awareness of the true challenge he is taking on. His thoughts are fascinating.

I finish my first wolf and give it to Bella. She scrutinizes it closely, her smile widening as she notices the extra few folds I've added to its head to give it eyes. "Adorable," she deems, and Seth and I both wonder whether adorable is a higher rating than beautiful.

Seth puts down his wolf and the carving knife, then leans over to inspect it. Bella passes it to him, though he could already see it perfectly, and he studies how I've done the eyes. "Not bad for your first attempt," he says, though in his thoughts he agrees with Bella. You'll have to teach me that trick.

"Thanks," I reply. "Shall I continue?"

"Yes—but faster this time. I want at least twenty." He sets my wolf beside his one and then goes back to his wooden wolf, which is far from ready; he's obviously relying on me to provide the volume so he can work on this special one.

"Sure thing," I reply, selecting an orange piece of paper.

While we work, Sue drums up the courage to talk about tomorrow—the funeral—even as she worries more and more about slipping and cutting herself because she's so distracted. I know she needs help when her hands start shaking.

"Sue," I say, shifting up onto my knees and holding out a hand for the scissors. "I can finish that."

She hesitates a moment, then passes the scissors to me, along with the half-cut piece of paper. The others all spare her a comforting smile, and she takes a deep breath. "Tomorrow," she says.

Charlie and Billy stop cutting up paper, but Seth continues with his task; he already knows what she's going to say. He skims across the details, trying not to think too closely into it, so between Sue's thoughts and his, I get a reasonable outline of the funeral plan before she has spoken much of it. Then Seth thinks about the suggestion he made to invite me, and of his mother's hesitation.

After Sue reaches the end of the morning's program, I hear the hesitancy in her thoughts, too. She is torn between two opposing truths—Harry wouldn't have wanted me there, but he would've been equally grateful for what I've done for Leah, and for Seth. I appreciate her dilemma, but I don't know how to unburden her with Charlie here.

When she finally looks at me, I smile and shake my head lightly, hoping she'll understand. She does, but she feels the need to get it out in the open—for Seth's sake as much as mine. So she says, "Seth would like to invite you."

Seth looks up at that, glancing from her to me, surprised that she brought it up.

"I appreciate it," I tell them both, "and I would certainly like to support you any way I can, but I don't want to cause you any trouble."

Charlie's mouth turns down at the corners, expressing his disgust; despite the usual barrier protecting the detail of his thoughts, I know he's thinking that Harry wouldn't want me there, as well as all the trouble I've already caused.

Seth grins, thinking about Quil Ateara and the others in the tribe who aren't happy about me having permission to enter the Reservation (even those who know the legends but don't believe in their literal truth feel uneasy about it). "I'll tell them you made the paper wolves." They'll love that.

"Might be best to leave me out of it," I reply, worrying that Quil (at the least) might hate me enough to want to destroy my little wolves, without regard to how it makes Seth or Sue feel.

He shrugs, coming to a similar conclusion, then smiles again. "I'll just have to say I made them."

"Fine by me," I say, happy to please him.

We work in silence for another minute, Seth focusing on his little wolf's tail, Bella, Billy, and Sue watching us both, and Charlie doggedly cutting squares.

"Have you ever been to a funeral?" Seth asks me curiously; then, as he wonders if I got to go to my parents' funeral, he suddenly wonders if I went to my own.

"No," I say, answering all three questions at once.

He gives me a small smile, not sure whether I'm lucky or whether I missed out on saying goodbye—not that he thinks he'll be saying goodbye to his father tomorrow. He knows that funerals are meant to help the living move on, but that awareness chafes against both his sense of unending loss and his impressive ability to accept it and live with it.

Again, I am amazed by the maturity of his thoughts. Simply hearing them makes me feel wiser. I wish I could be there for him tomorrow, but at least I am helping now. I dare to work a little faster, only slowly slightly when Sue starts worrying about Charlie noticing.

The evening passes quickly. Because I'm trying not to alarm Charlie, it takes two hours to make twenty wolves. The multicolored crowd, including Seth's one, covers the entire coffee table, surrounding the (now mostly empty) plate of peanut brownies. Seth is still working on his wooden wolf, but it is unmistakably a wolf now, with four legs (each finished with a little paw), a bushy tail, and a proud head with upright ears and upturned nose. He has based it on himself but is thinking of it as his father's wolf form, so he makes the proportions a little different—somewhere between his and Sam's—to match how he imagines his father would've looked.

Charlie stops cutting up paper after 57 sheets and then eyes me hostilely, as though searching for something to complain about. But I assume he's focusing on me as a way of avoiding thinking about tomorrow, so I let him glare without engaging him.

When Seth finally finishes his wolf, I'm just finishing my 27th paper wolf. I set him down beside his brethren, and then rest my hands against my thighs. Seth laughs at the multitude of wolves, elated by the colorful pack I've made for him.

"Awesome!" he cries. "Thanks, Edward."

"You're welcome."

He hands me the wooden wolf. "Any suggestions?"

I study it, impressed by the evenness, in both shape and size, of the notches he's left in the wood, creating the effect of the wolf's fur and giving its head, snout, and paws definition and character. "No, it's brilliant," I say, holding it out for Bella to see.

She nods. "You're so clever, Seth."

He smiles. "Dad taught me."

Sue kneels down beside him and places a hand on his back. "He'd be so proud of you, Seth," she murmurs. Then she amends that; "He was proud."

I give back the wolf so Sue can see it. She takes one look and bursts into tears; without being told, she sees Harry in the wolf, and she knows how much Harry would've loved to become one.

Seth pulls her into his arms, while Charlie and Bella react in the exact same way—it's almost amusing watching them tense and withdraw into themselves, as though trying to hide by looking smaller and staying still. They both hate emotional scenes, especially when there's nothing practical they can do to help.

Sue knows her audience and feels bad for breaking down in front of them, but I think it's a useful trial run for the funeral tomorrow. Billy and Charlie were Harry's best friends, and she can't exactly lean on Billy for support—Charlie will have to be there for her tomorrow, to take some of the load off Seth.

"It's beautiful, Seth," Sue mumbles, pulling herself together. "Your best yet."

"Thanks, Mom," he replies, tightening his arms around her to encouraging her to relax and let him comfort her; when she does, they both sigh.

"It's been a long day," she murmurs, struggling to believe that Harry has only been gone for a single day.

"We should probably go," Charlie says gently. "But anything I can do," he says, trailing off, embarrassed by the attempt at expressing his feelings.

"I know," Sue assures him, standing up. "Thank you." While Charlie gets up, too, she wipes her eyes with the back of her hand and then gives him a brief hug.

As Billy and Charlie say their goodbyes, Bella and I stand up, and then Seth, reluctantly; he isn't ready to say goodbye yet. So I indulge him a little longer by presenting him with the spare key to the Volvo.

He laughs in delight. "Thanks!" he gushes, holding it as though it's made of gold. He feels a little guilty for teasing me over dinner, but I shake my head to show him there's no need for that. When he realizes that I could've given him the key earlier and spared myself all the taunting, he decides that he must be forgiven.

I raise an arm and he hugs me exuberantly, already looking ahead to plan our first lesson. Despite him being too young to drive, legally, he can get away with it on the Reservation—though Charlie is watching us suspiciously, we know he won't interfere if Sue gives her permission. And then Seth distracts me by wondering how good he'll have to be before I give him the key to my other car.

"Volvo only," I insist. "No one drives my Vanquish but me."

He chuckles. You wouldn't let me?, he thinks, eyes wide and innocent. "Not even Bella?" he teases, glancing at her.

I roll my eyes, because he knows I would give Bella anything she wanted (and even that I'd do my best not to freak out if she did any damage). Bella, on the other hand, grimaces. "I don't want to," she says, though I don't know if she is thinking about driving such a powerful car or about the risk that she'll damage it (perhaps both).

"Can I have your turn?" he requests, unfazed.

Bella laughs. "No!"

He looks back at me, deep into my eyes. He really wants to drive the Vanquish—he doesn't want to have to wait for the car I agreed to buy for him. He thinks of his offer to let me ride him, wondering how to sweeten it.

"We already made a deal about that," I remind him, teasing, because he's already won me over.

Bella glances between the two of us, curious, but Seth shakes his head, so she doesn't ask.

"Is it the Vanquish specifically," I ask, "or would you like to drive a supercar?"

His eyes light up. "Zonda," he blurts, picturing the sleek, garish thing.

I laugh. Of course he'd pick the world's fastest car. "When you get your provisional license, I'll hire one for you," I promise.

He pulls me into another hug, his heart racing at the idea of it. He is picturing a day hire at some racetrack somewhere in America (he knows the Pagani Zonda isn't road legal in the States, but he doesn't realize how few there are in existence), but I am thinking about a visit to Italy (staying away from the Volturi's home of Volterra) and a tour of the Modena factory as well as hiring the car for a proper test—on the open road as well as a racetrack. I smile at the excitement that'll cause when I tell him.

Charlie leads the way to the front door, then waits for Bella and me to walk out first. Seth takes great delight in unlocking the car for me; even Sue chuckles.

As I drive away, Seth reminds me to practice keeping a hold on his thoughts for longer. He teases me by saying I'd better not be sick of his thoughts already because he expects me to learn how to keep them in range pretty much permanently (he jokes that it's so he can call on me whenever he likes), but he doesn't really think I would want that. Next time I see him, I will have to spell out just how much I enjoy his thoughts, so he knows I wouldn't mind.

Four miles out, his thoughts are still clear, but as we approach four and a half miles, I start to lose the detail. I can still see what he's seeing, but his thoughts are fuzzy, mostly wordless. I focus harder, but if I'm honest, I don't actually know how to home in on his thoughts, so I don't manage to get back the distinctness I've lost, and in another half mile, I lose the connection altogether.

Failing at this (at anything) frustrates me, but I like that Seth is pushing me—learning greater control and precision at distance should help me at close quarters with thoughts I don't want to hear. Before Seth's suggestion, I realize I've only focused on blocking thoughts without thinking about narrowing my focus. Now that I've identified this oversight, perhaps I can practice even at close range.

For now, I reach out to Alice, trying to hear her thoughts at the earliest possible moment. Thinking about extending my own abilities makes me wonder if she can do the same thing. Could she learn to see the wolves? But that would presumably involve spending a lot of time with them, and I can't see that happening anytime soon.

I still haven't picked up anything from Alice or Carlisle by the time we arrive at Bella's. Ignoring Charlie, who opens his door but clearly isn't going to get out of the car until Bella does, I give Bella a careful kiss, and then we say our temporary goodbyes.

Knowing Bella will be waiting for me, I race home. Two miles out, I start to pick up Carlisle's mind; I'm not exactly sure where he is, but his thoughts are hazy like Seth's are at four miles, so he must be over six miles away, which is thrilling—until I realize he and Esme are kissing passionately. I ease off on my focus and immediately lose track of him, which suggests I'm doing something right. I can't hear Alice at all, so I figure she isn't nearby.

I drive the car into the garage, then take off, running straight back to Bella's and trying to block out my parents' lovemaking by imagining my mind-reading as a loosely woven net that captures some thoughts and allows others (of my choosing) to escape. If Kate can learn to radiate electricity through her entire body (and not just the palms of her hands), why can't I improve my precision?

Bella is lying in bed, head resting on her elbow, facing the window. For the split second it takes her to see me and react, there is a thoughtful, faraway expression on her face and her cheeks are slightly flushed. I try not to jump to conclusions, but I can't help wondering if she's thinking about Jacob.

Whatever she'd been thinking, she welcomes me into her bed as eagerly as always, so I bury the self-inflicted jealousy and focus solely on her. We kiss gently at first, trading tender kisses that warm my frozen insides, but our passions quickly escalate.

When I absolutely can't take any more, I pull back, but Bella is reluctant to stop. I let her kiss my neck for several seconds before I have to pull her lips away from my heated skin with a groan. It is too much and not enough all at once. I struggle with the desire to cross the careful lines I have established for her protection—no matter how much I want to press my lips to her neck, and run my hands all over her body.

She sighs, but settles down, resting her head against my shoulder. Her heart is still thundering, though, and it makes it hard to calm myself down.

After fighting it for a minute, I give in, letting the impossible fantasies fill my mind.