Chapter 5: For Blue Skies

A/N: A HUGE thank you to Kristina (aka the lovely kapers_in_pink) for her help and guidance for the setting on this chapter… it's been a long, long time since I've been to Oregon, so I was drawing from a very hazy memory. Thank you SO much for your expertise on the beautiful state! I included a special little shout-out to your hometown, hope it makes you laugh ;)

With an old suitcase
I swear I'll leave this place
I'll get you back in time
Can't drink you off my mind
So I'll see you when I'm sober

Midnight Train to Memphis – Kid Rock

x.x.x

Bella.

I woke up to someone picking at the hair on the back of my neck. I flinched away and it stopped for a second, then started up again.

"What the hell?" I mumbled into the blankets, my voice sounding like I'd eaten a bucket of sand the night before. I swatted blindly behind me, hitting nothing but air.

"Bella, what the hell did you do to yourself?" Jasper's stony voice drifted to my ears through the fog clouding my brain.

"I think I drank my weight in whiskey," I groaned, burying myself deeper under the pillows. Sleep. I needed sleep. Not to be picked at or prodded by Jasper, or whatever the hell he was doing back there.

I groaned again into the blankets.

I fucking hated hangovers. Hated them so much that some nights I drank my alcohol with water. And trust me, you don't mix whiskey and water together for fun.

"Bella." He was getting angry. "What the fuck is this?" His hand was on my shoulder, shaking me.

I let out a long breath, realizing he wasn't going to leave me alone. I bit the bullet and peeked opened my eyes, squinting carefully as everything slowly came into focus. Thankfully the thick curtains in the hotel room were still drawn shut, blocking out most of the light from outside. I was curled up on my side, almost in the fetal position, the blankets tangled around my body and my head nearly touching my knees. My hand was wrapped around something hard and plastic, and as my eyes squinted in the dim light I realized I was gripping the handle of my guitar case. My guitar was in bed with me?

What in the fuck…?

I could feel Jaspers fingers pulling at something on the back of my neck. It felt like he was slowly peeling off a band-aid.

"Aw fuck, Jazz, cut that out," I groaned, my hand uncurling itself from the handle and instinctively reaching out and grasping the back of my neck. My fingers were numb and stiff, and it took me a moment to realize there was something stuck there, on the back of my neck. I furrowed my brow, wondering why in the hell I had plastic on the back of my neck. What in the hell happened last night? Was this Emmett's idea of a joke?

Emmett. The moment I thought his name, I was hit with a hazy flashback of the night before.

The bar, the waitress, sneaking back into the hotel room, zigzagging drunkenly down the vacant street, the tattoo shop, a man with long wavy hair and extremely crooked teeth, a loud constant buzzing…

"…Oh fuck," I hissed, rolling off the bed and away from Jasper. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh fuck." The room spun around me and I clutched my hand over my mouth as I stumbled to the bathroom. My knees hit the tile floor in front of the toilet just in time.

When I finished emptying the contents of my stomach into the clean porcelain bowl, I staggered to my feet and rinsed my mouth out with water a few times, then slowly, cautiously, lifted my hair and turned away from the mirror.

I ripped bandage the tattoo artist from the night before had taped over it off and tried to get a better look. I kept twisting and turning, awkwardly trying to catch a glimpse of it in the mirror. Then I realized I'd left my makeup bag sitting on the counter and I began digging through it frantically, in search of the little plastic mirror I kept in there.

I could hear Jasper yelling at Emmett now from the other side of the door and I tried to block them out.

Emmett kind of did deserve to get yelled at by Jasper. It was kind of his fault. It had been all his stupid talk about seize the day and shit that got me into this mess in the first place. At least, I liked to think it was.

When my trembling fingers finally grasped the mirror I spun around so my back was facing the bathroom mirror and cautiously held the small one out in front of me so I could see.

I was shaking uncontrollably; a mixture of the hangover, nerves, and pure dread. But I still couldn't see anything - the tattoo was dirty, muddled with a layer of excess ink and blood. I tried not to breathe as I grabbed a washcloth and soaked it in warm water, slowly, gently, blotting it clean as I leaned over the sink. I grabbed at bar of soap for safe measure and washed it until it was clean.

When I half turned away from the mirror again to try and get a look at it, I gasped.

"BELLA!"

Jasper was at the door now, pounding forcefully against the hard wood.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

And I stood, still frozen in shock.

"Bella, open the fucking door!"

He slammed his fist against it again, the entire door shaking against the doorframe.

I couldn't tear my gaze away from the mirror.

My eyes traced over every line, every color, trying to memorize it, wishing I could stare at it with my own eyes. Without the assistance mirror. I reached back and touched it because I had to know that it was real. I traced it gently with my fingers, wincing at the tenderness but unable to stop.

Because it was perfect.

Perfect because the tattoo artist hadn't changed a single thing about the drawing, besides adding a touch of color.

Perfect because it was real.

Perfect because it was now a part of me.

Memories, they fade… but this. I would always have this.

"Bella, I swear to God -"

"Jasper!" I cried, snapping from my trance. I glared at the door; at the person on the other side of the door, for ruining this perfect moment. God, I was such a masochist.

"Just… shut the fuck up! Give me a fucking second!"

He stopped banging and he didn't reply, but I knew he hadn't moved. He was standing outside the door, his arms crossed, probably shooting me the same glare I'd just shot him.

And I was pissed because I was hung-over and Jasper was yelling at me and I felt like shit and he'd just ruined my perfect moment to stare at my beautiful new tattoo.

So instead of going out there to confront him, I pulled a towel from the rack and turned on the shower. I was in no fucking hurry. He could stand there glaring at the door all morning for all I cared.

When I finally walked out of the bathroom I found Emmett sprawled out on his stomach, watching Beetlejuice on the TV, his burlap sack on the bed beside him. Jasper was on the other bed, sitting with his back up against the headboard, his legs crossed in front of him, his arms crossed over his chest.

I watched him as I crossed the room to grab some clean clothes. His eyes never left the TV, although I knew he wasn't really watching it. I smirked as I grabbed an old pair of cutoffs and a beat-up T-shirt and walked back to the bathroom.

"Let's see it."

I stopped and turned. Jasper was leaning forward, his eyes now fixed on me.

"What?"

"Come on," he half-smiled, his form of an apology. "Let's see."

"O-okay." I adjusted my towel and sat down on the edge of the bed, my back to him. I felt him slide forward and then I felt his breath on my shoulder.

I waited, but he didn't say anything. I just sat there for a moment, my body tensed as I awaited an explosion, but nothing came. And when I worked up the nerve to glance back at him, he was still staring at it with an odd look on his face. My best guess was a mixture of awe and disappointment. But at least he didn't look too angry... Something wasn't right.

I turned toward him suspiciously. "You're not pissed?"

He hesitated. "Well. Emmett might have had a point when he said I was overreacting. Besides, can't really take it back now, can you?"

"Yeah, not exactly."

"And I mean, I'm not going to tell you it was a bad idea, but it probably wasn't a great idea."

I rolled my eyes and pulled away. "Yeah but... I really like it," I said. "I think it looks kind of good, right?"

"I think it's sexy as fuck," Emmett stirred from across the room, stretching and grinning over at me.

"Now you shut the hell up," Jasper glared at Emmett. "I'm still pissed at you."

"What? You forgive her and you still hate me?" Emmett laughed and rubbed his stomach. He obviously wasn't taking it too hard.

"Yeah, I trust you for three hours and this is what you pull? Bella doesn't get into trouble like that when she's by herself."

"Jasper!" I objected. "Trouble? I was never in any trouble last night. Yeah, maybe it was Emmett's idea, but it's not like he held a gun to my head. I had as much a part in it as he did."

"Yeah, look dude I told you I was sorry I didn't realize you were so protective over her. I didn't think it'd be such a big deal. But you want to know one great thing about being human? Free will, man! Seriously, I just gave her a little nudge in the right direction. I know you're not some tight-ass conservative fuck, so what's the big deal? It's just a tattoo man, and whatever, if you gotta you can cover that shit up."

"The big deal isn't about a tattoo, it's about that tattoo. You don't fucking know -" he cut himself off, turning to me, "It's just not healthy, Bells."

I rounded my shoulders and squared off with Jasper. "Don't tell me what's healthy for me and what's not, all right? It's my fucking body, and it's my fucking life, Jazz. And I love it, okay? So just deal with it. And don't blame Emmett."

He stared me down, not moving, his grey eyes boring into mine. Now this was the explosion I was waiting for. I could see his jaw working as he tried to control his temper, reign it in, and be rational. And I waited, not removing my eyes from his.

"Fine," he finally breathed, his voice soft. "I'm sorry Bella, but I just hate the fact that you… you still haven't let him go, after all these years."

"Oh, Jasper," I sighed. I took his hand in mine, and looked up at him, smiling sadly. "I let him go the second we left home, five years ago. Just please don't worry about me like this all the time. I'm fine; I'm happy. It's just… like a memento, because no matter how much you hate it, you have to realize that for a long time he was one of the most important people in my life. It's a reminder of the happy times. There's nothing wrong with that, Jazz."

He nodded. "All right, Bells. I get it, I'm sorry."

I smiled, and then purposefully glanced over at Emmett, who had turned his attention back to the TV, the looked back at Jasper, raising my eyebrows.

He rolled his eyes, getting the point. I patted his hand and grinned, making my way back to the bathroom.

Jasper cleared his throat from behind me. "Hey, Emmett?"

I chuckled and shook my head as I shut the bathroom door behind me, blocking out their apologies. Guys apologies were always so awkward and monosyllabic. It drove me insane.

I touched the tattoo with my fingertips as I dressed, wincing slightly at the pain but smiling to myself all the while. Maybe I did it because I was terrible and sick and lonely and a bit of a glutton for pain, but I also did it for the reason I'd explained to Jasper. I wouldn't let the tattoo remind me of the heartbreak, or the bad times. It was a tribute to love and friendship, because I knew that no matter how far or how long Jasper and I travelled, I'd never find anything like what we had again.

Because when it came down to it, Jasper didn't understand. He saw that relationship for the heartache it caused me, never for the life it pumped into my veins. Which was okay, because those were my experiences, my memories, and I didn't have to share them with Jasper.

Those were mine to keep. Between me… and him.

I grabbed my comb and began working the tangles out of my hair, then got dressed and brushed my teeth. When I came back out of the bathroom, both the guys were sitting on the end of the beds with their bags beside them, looking like they were waiting for me. I tossed my make-up bag in my suitcase and zipped it up.

"Em," I said, looking over my shoulder. "Let's see yours."

Emmett grinned proudly and held out his arm for me, and I wandered over to where he sat so I could inspect. The tattoo ran up the length of his thick inner forearm, and simply read Carpe Diem in beautifully shaded script.

I nodded approvingly. "I like it, you like it?"

"Love it. Oh, and here." He tossed me a tube of something and I caught it, looking down to see what it was. "It's some ointment shit, you gave it to me last night. Said that you knew you weren't going to remember getting it in the morning, so I should look after it for you."

I laughed. "Aw, thanks. Drunk me is always looking out for sober me." I spread some of the white goop out onto my finger and gently rubbed it into the back of my neck.

"So," I asked, looking over at the guys, "What's the plan?"

"Getting the fuck outta here," Emmett replied. "I think I might have given that waitress our room number last night."

"So you're coming with us?" I asked, hopeful.

"Well I don't exactly want to be stranded here. You guys wanna see the coast? My family has a beach house; it's just outside of Florence. It's probably about a five-hour drive from here. We could break in and stay for the night. It's not like anybody's using it. It'll give you guys a break from hotels, too."

It sounded too good to be true. Then I caught the key work. "Break in?"

"Well, I didn't bring a key with me, I didn't really expect to be coming this way. But it works out perfectly. And it's not a problem, I swear. It's a killer pad, you'll love it."

I glanced over at Jasper. "You sure, man? I don't want you getting us fucking arrested or anything."

Emmett laughed. "I swear."

So we all piled back into the Mustang. I offered Emmet the front seat, seeing how he was about four times the size of me, but he refused like a true gentleman. I settled into the seat excited; anxious. A five-hour drive was nothing when you were accustomed to drive twelve and fourteen hours a day. It was early still, only about seven a.m., but the sun was shining and it felt like it was going to be a gorgeous day.

I rolled down my window, my hair air-drying as Emmett, Jasper and I all sung along to every song Jasper managed to pick up on the radio. When songs came on that we'd never heard before, we belted out our own made-up words for those ones too. And we stopped in Eugene for gas and smokes where Emmett barely made it out of the car before puking all over the gravel parking lot of the gas station.

"See Jazz," I said, swatting his arm and laughing while he started filling up the tank. "I'm not the only one who thinks you drive like a maniac!"

I could hear Emmett laughing from where he was bent over about fifteen feet from the car. "It's - uuuah - hung - uuuuah - over."

"Oh, god. Please don't tell me you're trying to talk to me while you're ralphing, Emmett."

Emmett just laughed until he was interrupted by another mouthful of vomit. I turned away and covered my mouth with the sleeve of my hoodie and choked back a gag. My stomach was still not exactly happy with me either, and I had a feeling if I kept watching him I'd be joining him.

"Man, it's feels so great to not want to puke my guts out right now," Jasper goaded, stretching as he grinned at us.

"Shut up," I mumbled through my sleeve, holding back another gag. His grin only widened.

But before long we were back on the road, but not before we took the top off the car – we only had about an hour left on the drive and the sun granting us with its presence, and Em had been insistent that it couldn't be a road-tip without a convertible. I had a feeling that the real reason was the air blowing on his face would keep him from up-chucking round two all over the worn leather seats of the Mustang. And my guitar was back there, so I definitely didn't object. When Emmett started looking a little less green, he began a Cheezie throwing war, which basically involved him nailing me in the face as hard as he could while I laughed and tossed the pieces I could grab into the back seat. And poor Jasper looked like he couldn't decide if he should give us shit for messing up his beloved car or give up and join in on our ridiculous antics. By the time the war battle over we all looked like we'd dove headfirst into a bag of orange powder. I wiped off my face and dusted off my hoodie, resisting the urge to lick my fingers clean. My stomach growled obnoxiously and I wished I'd maybe rescued some Cheezies from the war to eat. I prayed Emmett had something for food at this cabin of his that wasn't alcohol or munchies.

We drove until about noon, making fun of the small town names along the way - a tiny town boasting the name Nimrod stood out for all of us had us howling in laughter for a good hour. I felt like I'd been doing this my whole life; like this was all I ever knew. And I couldn't be happier. I don't think I stopped grinning and laughing the entire drive.

Emmett directed us to his family's beach house as we neared the coast. It was remote, down a gravel road that seemingly led to nowhere. And then suddenly a giant house rose out of the rolling, sandy hills and the car came to a halt. The massive beach house sat perched on a hill, grand in its solitude, off a long beach that led to the grey, rolling ocean. The color of the water reminded me of Jasper's eyes: friendly yet turbulent; powerful and majestic.

The sky was overcast but it was still very warm. I stripped off my hoodie as we all emptied from the vehicles, Jasper and I taking in our surroundings with mouths hanging wide in awe. The vegetation was next to non-existent, with low lying brown bushes and yellowing grass scattered along the ground. The rest of the landscape was sand. Rolling hills of sand for as far as the eyes could see, that cut to the vast ocean waters. I could hear it roaring, and I gazed out into the distance, nothing but water stretching until the horizon. A warm wind whipped around my face, tangling in my hair. I closed my eyes, breathing in the salty, bitter air.

I'd never experienced anything like it. It was beautiful.

Emmett led us up the stone walkway to the door of the house, slipping around the side and promising he'd be right back to let us in. Jasper and I just stood in silence as we waited, our eyes both wide as we continued to take in our surroundings. The beach was littered with gnarled, sandy-colored driftwood, and birds cried loudly from far above us, swooping down and playing in the friendly gusts of winds.

I glanced as Jasper, who cracked a smile as we both heard a thumping coming from the other side of the door, and then it was being yanked open. Emmett stood in the entrance, beaming at us.

"Told you, motherfuckers. Come in."

Jasper stepped aside so I could enter first.

The house… well, it took my fucking breath away. It was spacious and open. The windows were almost all ceiling to floor and all the were furnishings white. I felt like the space was an extension of the outside; all the chairs and couches were low seating so they didn't block the view, the coffee tables made out of curving, tangled pieces of driftwood, all painted white. The floors were hardwood, the color of sand, and all the cabinets and railings and trim was the same light sandy color. That was art mimicking nature. It was stunning.

"Dude, this is a fucking killer pad. What are we not staying here forever?" Jasper asked, his jaw slack as he looked around us with wide eyes.

"Because you do not want to meet my folks," Emmett said, slapping him on the back. "Trust me."

"They won't… know we're here?" I asked, suddenly nervous.

Emmett chuckled, shaking his head. "Fuck no. They live in Idaho; they pretty much bought this place more for bragging rights than anything else. They don't come here often, but trust me, I do not want to risk running into them."

"I thought your dad was a potato farmer?" Jasper asked, scratching his head.

Emmett shrugged. "Business is good." Something about the tone of his voice told me that conversation had come to an end.

Jasper seemed to have caught that drift too. "Wow. Well… this place is incredible."

"Thanks man." Emmett strolled to the fridge, yanking it open and then bending down, coming back up with three bottles of beer in his arms. I cringed as he passed them out. I looked at mine and set it on the counter.

"So, what do you guys wanna do first? Drinking, swimming, take the ATVs out on the dunes?"

"ATVs?" Jasper asked, perking up immediately. Men and engines, I tell you.

"Yeah. Well, we've got two. Someone's gotta ride bitch." They both turned to me.

I rolled my eyes. "I don't care, just don't call it that."

"Well…"

I narrowed my eyes. "Don't say it."

Emmet held up his hands defensively. "All right, all right. Well, quadding it is. Dude, there's a blue cooler in the drawer there… the one next to the sink," Emmett directed a very lost-looking Jasper around the kitchen. Jazz started pulling open random cabinets until he found what he was looking for. He held up a navy blue fabric cooler for Emmett to see.

"Yeah, that's the one. Load 'er up with beer, I'm gonna spin us up a doob." Emmett plopped down on a stool at the island and pulled a bag of weed from his pocket, setting it down on the beige tiled countertop. "We should eat something before we get out there. I'm willing to be the only thing here is Spaghetti-O's. That cool with you guys?"

"It's better than the Doritos I had for lunch yesterday," I said, my stomach growling again at the mention of food.

Emmett snorted. "And you call me the stoner."

I rolled my eyes, wandering out of the kitchen and leaving the guys to their devices. I began exploring the house, creeping up to the second floor but felt too weird to peek in the bedrooms, so I basically just looked around in awe. The place was incredible. Everyway I turned, I had a different view out into the breathtaking surrounding landscape. It made me wonder if this was Emmett's "beach house"… what had his actual house like? How much had he truly left behind?

Where Renee and I lived in Phoenix had definitely been more a more modest home than our place in Jacksonville. Phil had purchased us a beautiful house, but with Renee's personality had been reflected in the design scheme – sporadic and unpredictable. It was nothing like this place. Here, everything fit together perfectly, existing in harmony. I'd only seen pictures of places like this; I never thought I'd actually be walking around such a perfect home.

By the time I'd finished my exploration of the upstairs and main floor, Emmett had three can's of Spaghetti-O's warmed up and divided into bowls. I plopped down beside him at the island and began shoveling the sorry excuse for food in my mouth. Spaghetti-O's never sat well with me, but at this point I was so hungry I really didn't care.

"Jesus Christ woman. Breathe." I looked up to find both Jasper and Emmett watching me.

I swallowed. "Er… sorry. I'm hungry."

"I can see that," Emmett laughed.

I went back to eating, taking deliberately slow bites. If there were any chance of me drinking anything today – and I realized that chance was very high – then I'd need to get some food in my stomach, STAT.

When we all had our share, Emmett led us out to the shed where they kept the quads. I rode with Jasper, and we spent the afternoon racing up and down mountains of sand. We'd stop every once in a while atop a tall sand dune and drink a beer and light a smoke, the wild wind whipping our hair around and burning our faces with it's unrelenting gusting.

It was exhausting, but I was having a blast. The dunes were never ending, stretching out as far as the eye could see, and I think our only guide back home was the constant shoreline to our right. It seemed that we were alone in the world out there and the earth was made of nothing but sand and water. I clung to Jasper as we'd race up one hill and then down the next, leaving our stomach's behind us. It was like a rollercoaster ride; flying so fast I didn't even have a moment to catch my breath. I'd been both bungee jumping and skydiving, yet the feeling of racing up and down the dunes was completely new and exhilarating. I'd scream when we'd climb to the top of one hill then race down the other side, moving impossibly fast, sand flying around us like a desert storm.

I had no idea how long we'd been out there, but the sun was getting low in the sky when Emmett finally guided us back to the house. It was exactly how we'd left it: isolated and empty. We poured out our shoes full of sand at the door and brushed off our clothes before going back inside. My hair was wild and tangled from the wind and I pulled it back into a ponytail, knowing there was no way I'd ever work through the knots. I put some more ointment on the tattoo, grinning to myself all the while. I was with Jasper – I could have stayed here the rest of my life and been perfectly content.

After another can of Spaghetti-O's, Emmett suggested we relax in the hot tub out on the back deck. I hadn't even realized there was a hot tub, but I wasn't all too surprised. So we all changed and went to soak in the bubbling hot water, just drinking and smoking and relaxing, watching the sun set in the distance.

It was all too perfect. And this is exactly why I loved how Jasper and I lived so very much. Because one day we could have jobs and living in the world's crappiest hotel in the middle of nowhere, and then three days later we could be lounging in a mansion, drinking beer and getting high in a hot tub with one of the most gorgeous views of the coastline I'd ever seen.

Later on, Emmett showed me where the washer and dryer were and I did a quick load of laundry and then went upstairs to shower while my clothes dried. As I undressed, it seemed sand poured from every orifice of my body. I had sand in places I didn't even know existed. I hopped in the shower scrubbed myself clean, until I was positive I had every tiny grain off my body. The floor of the shower was gritty with it. I sang to myself as I stood in the hot spray, letting the conditioner soak in my matted hair.

So far we'd done a pretty good job of making our last hurrah quite the journey. I was happy as hell, and hopeful as to what the next few days would bring. It seemed impossible to predict, but I had a good feeling about it all. A change was coming, that much I could feel, and maybe it was all the beer and weed I'd consumed throughout the day, but something deep down told me that this change would be good.

Soon we'd be crossing the border. Soon we'd be home.

x.x.x

"You have got to be fucking KIDDING me!"

I leaned back against the side of the car, my arms crossed over my chest. Jasper booted the tire I was leaning next to and cursed a few more times, storming to the back of the car in a huff. Emmett still had his head buried under the hood, fiddling around with something or other while chuckling quietly to himself.

I watched Jasper and lit a cigarette, trying to keep the smug smile off my face. He kicked some dirt in his tantrum and spun back around to face the car. I immediately looked away, gazing off into the dense forest that the highway broke through. It was so green; too green. I felt like I'd entered another dimension, the landscape such a harsh contrast from the sandy Oregon coast.

Emmett appeared from under the hood, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Well, I'll call us a tow truck, I guess."

Jasper just nodded and muttered something under his breath as he reached for his smoke pack from the front seat. He went to lean against the trunk of the car, presumably to cool down.

"How far did that last sign say the next town is?" Emmett asked me.

"Uh… 12 miles or something," I shrugged, taking a drag of my smoke. "Not far."

"All right. Well…" he pulled his iPhone from his pocket and began scrolling through it. "Yeah, 10.7 miles to booming Forks, Washington from here… I wonder if they even have a company that I can call or if we have to call Port Angeles… ah, here we go. Wild Rose Mechanic." He put the phone to his ear. "I'll call and see what they can do."

I nodded slowly, tuning him out as he began rambling to somebody on the other end of the line. I sighed, glancing over at Jasper who was sucking back his cigarette. The humor in the situation was quickly fading. Watching Jasper throw a fit was generally amusing to me, as long as it wasn't me he was freaking out on. I especially enjoyed it when it was his beloved car that let him down. Well, I enjoyed it until the reality that we were stranded sunk in. Then it began to suck big time.

I looked up and down the deserted highway. We were literally in the middle of nowhere. This morning Jasper had been adamant on taking the "scenic route" up the coast, which basically meant driving through forests so thick that the only glimpses of the ocean we'd catch was when we'd climb some big winding hill. The drive had soon lost its novelty. And I'd woken up this morning with a strange, ominous feeling – such a strange contrast to the way I'd been feeling when I'd laid down my head for the night. But whenever something went wrong on mine and Jasper's journeys, it was usually on the fourth day of straight driving. And here we were, day four, stranded on the side of some empty highway, 10.7 miles from a town called Forks.

"Tow truck's on its way," Emmet called, pulling open the passenger door and ducking inside. Her came out with three beers in his hands. "Drinks?" he asked.

I nodded and he tossed one over the hood of the car for me and I caught it, wondering if hanging out with Emmett was going to truly turn me into an alcoholic.

"Jasper?"

"Please." Jasper turned slightly and Emmett hurled a beer in his direction. He caught it and cracked it immediately, taking a long sip as he turned his back to us.

Emmett raised his eyebrows and glanced at me, his eyes full of unspoken questions. I just shrugged and rolled my eyes. Jasper would get over it soon enough.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"Five-thirty," Emmett replied. "We're fucking lucky that anybody even answered. Especially since it's Sunday night."

I groaned, unable to even imagine the possibility of having to walk all the way to town in the misty, damp weather. I pulled my sweater tighter around me. The dreamland I'd expected Washington to be was fast losing its appeal. We hadn't seen the sun all afternoon.

We'd left the beach house at a decent hour this morning. I was depressed to leave it behind. We hadn't spent as much time there as I'd hoped. The day and evening had passed by in a complete blur, and it left me wondering if it even happened at all or if it was some crazy dream. But Jasper and I were both running low on funds, and we knew that if we were going to make it to Canada before stopping again to work for a few months, we had to get on it. Jasper had expected us to make it to the border tonight. I still had no idea what he planned on doing for passports – I knew that the law now required passports to drive across the border, but I assumed he had to have something up his sleeve. I was leaving all that up to him. If he was going to cheat our way to Canada, then fine. But I didn't want to have a part in it.

"This weather is depressing," Emmett commented, looking up at the grey sky. "I don't know how the hell people live like this. Like, fuck, I think this area gets the most precipitation out of the entire country. I couldn't handle it – I need the sun. I heard it makes people bitchy and depressed living in places like this."

"Yaaay," I said, clapping my hands together sarcastically. "That's just what we need – to be stranded in a town of sun-deprived lunatics. I think the weather is already getting to me."

"Drink your beer, you'll survive," Emmett grinned.

I took a deliberate sip and grinned back at him.

"So how major is the repair going to be?" I asked, setting the can down on the hood of the car and leaning against it, facing Emmett.

Emmett hesitated, making a face. "It's not gonna take long to fix, couple days, tops. But the money is a different story."

"Money?"

"Well… the transmission went in it."

"Uh-huh…" I nodded, having no clue what that meant. I had a feeling it was under the hood, because that's where Emmett had been digging around. But he could have told me the leprechaun that lived under the steering wheel had gotten sick, and I would have believed him.

"It's what transfers the power from the engine to your wheels so you can move. Which is why we are stuck here," Emmett explained.

I nodded slowly. "How much to fix it?"

"It'll probably be between three to four thousand," Jasper answered, speaking normal words for the first time since our drive had come to an unexpected halt. I looked over at him in shock.

"Three… to four… thousand?" I gaped.

Jasper nodded, his expression stressed. "Unless I can find one used… which is pretty unlikely, and not the best fucking idea anyway."

I sank back against the car, staring out into the trees. Three thousand dollars… Three thousand dollars. Jasper and I didn't have that kind of money.

"What are we going to do?" I said, more to myself than anything. Now I understood Jasper's fit. We were fucked.

"I knew it was shifting weird," Jasper muttered angrily. "I was just fucking praying it wasn't the tranny. I can do it myself but Christ I can't afford to buy the fucking parts."

"I can," Emmett offered, his voice the quietest I'd ever heard.

I looked over at Jasper, awaiting his reaction. Jazz shook his head forcefully. "Sorry man, but I can't ask that of you."

"You're not asking, I'm offering. You guys have been-"

Jasper cut him off. "No." His answer was so final, so resolute. So… stubborn. The man wouldn't take handouts from anybody, even if we did pay Emmett back.

"Looks like we're living in Forks for awhile, huh?" I said, laughing weakly.

"Looks like it." Jasper turned back around.

"Look on the bright side," Emmett quipped, "We could be stranded in Nimrod."

"We could be Nimrodians right now."

"Or Nimrodites."

"Nimrodes?"

"Nimrodi." Emmett nodded seriously. "Sounds like... seafood."

I shook my head and laughed, but deep down wanted to cry. We had been so close. A couple hours to the border, if that. So close…

This was great. This was just fucking great.

x.x.x

When it started to rain, we all piled unwillingly back into the Mustang. We sat in silence, all frustrated and depressed. This morning had been so full of hope and promises… and now we were stranded for God-knows how long on the coast of northern Washington.

A few minutes into the uncomfortable silence, a bright orange tow truck rolled down the highway, pulling onto the shoulder where we sat. Jasper got out to meet the driver, slamming the door forcefully behind him. Emmett and I followed reluctantly after him, pulling our jackets tight and our hoods up to block out the chilly rain that pelted down on us.

"You guys hop in the cab, get out of the rain," the driver called, waving at us with a friendly grin on his face.

I smiled and waved back and Emmett and I climbed in the toasty warm cab of the tow truck.

"I wished he'd let me buy that fucking part," Emmett muttered angrily as I held my hands over the heat register.

"He won't. Jasper doesn't like to take handouts. From anybody."

Emmett shook his head. "But I want to get out of here just as bad as you guys do."

"You can," I told him. "You don't have to wait here on us."

"Aw, I don't wanna leave you guys behind," Emmett said, his face breaking into a grin. "You're way too much fun."

I forced a smile back. "Well, looks like I'll be waitressing again… and living in a hotel…" I sighed, rubbing my hands together and gazing out the window at the raindrops on the windshield. It usually didn't bother me this much, but the fact that Jasper had dangled a completely new life in front of my eyes, using words like home and permanent, and now that's all I could see.

"It might be cheaper to buy a new car," Emmett suggested.

I almost laughed. "Jasper's put way too much money into the Mustang to buy a new car. It's his baby."

Emmett nodded, and we fell silent.

Before too long, the driver's door was being ripped open, letting a gust of cold, damp wind in the cab, and the driver hopped in his seat.

I watched as he pulled his hood down and shook the water out of his dark hair. He turned to us. "Hi, I'm Jake," he smiled warmly. My first thought was that he was a extremely handsome – he had beautiful russet–colored skin and dark eyelashes framing his dark brown – almost black – eyes, and a wide friendly grin on his face. It was hard to tell his age with his goofy grin and contrasting matured features. If I had to guess, I'd say he was around twenty-five or so.

"I'm Bella," I smiled back easily. Emmett stuck his hand across the seat and introduced himself as well. Jasper climbed in the other door and Jake put the truck in drive, heading down the meandering highway towards Forks, towing Jasper's beloved Mustang behind us.

"So you figure it's the transmission, huh?" Jake asked conversationally, glancing over at Jasper in the passenger seat.

"It is the transmission," Jasper stated, his face hard.

"What? Are you a mechanic or something?" His voice was teasing, but I cringed, knowing Jasper was not in the mood for games.

"Yeah, actually." Jasper glared out the window.

"Oh." Jake was silent for a moment, then he chuckled quietly. I looked over at him curiously. "Rose is just going to love this."

"Rose?" Emmett asked in confusion.

"She owns the shop. We don't work Sundays, I usually get the phone forwarded to my cell on weekends, you know, in case of emergencies." He smirked, and I wondered why about it was so funny.

"So what's the problem?" I asked.

"Oh, you'll see in the morning."

"Oh," was all I could think of to say.

The truck was silent for a moment, then Jake spoke, ""So I'm going to take a wild guess and say that Forks was not your planned destination?" He grinned knowingly over at us.

"Not exactly," Jasper muttered.

"Well then," Jake slowed the truck down and pulled off the highway, onto a paved side road, "Welcome to thriving town of Forks." His voice was just dripping with sarcasm.

I looked around at the gloomy, sleepy little town as the truck rolled slowly through. There were the necessary stores, the tiny public library, a police station, a courthouse, diner, a grocery store… nothing exciting, nothing out of the ordinary. It was almost an exact replica of all the towns Jasper and I had lived in over the years. It was comfortable… and it was home, for the next few weeks, at least. Which reminded me, "Uh, where's the hotel?"

"Turn left at the light we just went through," Jake directed us. "It's just past the diner. You won't miss it. Actually, I can drop you guys off there, you'd like. You don't look very prepared for the rain."

"That'd be great, thanks."

Jake stopped at the motel, letting us out at the front door. The place looked older, the outside of the building was painted a dark, peeling brown, the doors to the rooms a dark forest green. It mirrored the environment here perfectly, which disappointed me. A little color wouldn't hurt anybody, maybe some bright yellows or reds – unless the people living in this dreary town had forgotten what bright colors were. There was a flashing sign hanging out front which read "For s I n."

Emmett nudged me as up unpacked our bags from the car. "Just imagine a k between the 's' and the 'i'."

I snorted in laughter, hitching my bag over my shoulder and reaching for my guitar case. Foreskin. Seemed fitting, somehow.

We filed through the lobby door and Jake drove off, still laughing to himself at some private joke, promising that he'd see us in the morning. We entered the lobby, the heat running full blast despite the fact that today was the first of June. The small area was decorated with twisting driftwood and pictures of the ocean – it was like this place was taunting us with all we'd just left behind. The lady greeted us behind the desk, not even bothering to mask her surprise.

"Hello there!" she said cheerfully, patting the bright red hair she had piled a top her head. "What can I do for you?"

Jasper leaned against the desk, setting his bag on the floor. "We'd like a room please," he said, rubbing his face tiredly.

"Just one?"

Jasper glanced back at Emmett and I, then nodded. "Yep."

"I have a room with two queens and a pull-out couch, if that works for you kids," the lady said brightly, shuffling around some papers on her desk.

"Sure."

I took a seat in a driftwood bench as Jasper took care of the paperwork. Soon we had our card keys and we back outside in the rain, trudging to room 117, our bags in tow.

I caught Jasper in a hug as we entered the musty-smelling room. He dropped his bag to the floor and wrapped his arms around my shoulders.

"We'll be okay, Jazz," I said gently. "It's just a little detour… we'll make it to Canada eventually."

"Yeah," he sighed, resting his chin on my shoulder.

"Besides, we're in Forks, Washington. What's the worst that could happen?"

x.x.x

"LISTEN, bitch. This guy knows what he's fucking talking about-"

"No, you listen, asshole. I don't have fucking time to deal with you ignorant pricks right now! I told you come see me tonight, and we'll work something out. I don't know if you're fucking blind or just stupid, but you're just going to have to WAIT YOUR TURN."

"Emmett-" Jasper reached out but Emmett jerked away from his grasp, facing off with the blonde shop owner.

"Jesus Christ woman, are you always this fucking rude, or did we get an extra side of bitchy today?"

"Fuck you," she spat. "You know what, find yourself another fucking mechanic, because I am not helping you. You can push your hunk of junk home, see if I fucking care."

"Emmett," Jasper growled, grabbing Emmett's arm and shoving him forcefully in my direction. "Go wait over there with Bella."

Emmett opened his mouth to protest, but Jasper cut him off. "Now."

Emmett shot one last menacing glare at the blonde and came over to sit next to me on the hood of the Mustang, crossing his arms over his chest in a huff. I laughed to myself, hiding my face in my hands because I did not want that chick to see me laughing and snap on me next. She had some heavy looking tool clenched in her hand, and I would prefer to keep my face in one piece today, thank you very much.

I peeked through my fingers to see Jasper chasing the girl, Rose, back inside the shop. I let my hands fall to my side, a giggle escaping my throat.

"Shut up," Emmett muttered angrily.

"Sorry," I apologized very insincerely, unable to hide the laughter in my voice. "But you just got told off by a chick."

"That is no chick," Emmett shuddered. "That is a very dangerous man in a very hot bitch's body."

I snickered. "Still…"

I glanced over at him to see his lips twitching as he fought back a smile. He glanced sideways at me. "Shut up."

We fell silent for a moment; my fit of giggles slowly subsiding. I lit a cigarette and leaned back on my elbows, pulling my sunglasses down low on my face. I felt almost bad for making such a big fuss about the rain yesterday; the sun had been dancing in and out of the clouds all morning. And it was almost warm out.

"So no luck down at the diner?" Emmett asked.

I exhaled. "Nope," I replied, frowning slightly. I'd stopped by the diner down the road from out motel early this morning while the guys came down to the shop to talk to the infamous Rose about getting the Mustang fixed. The family who owned the diner had been nice enough to me; a short woman with dark curly hair by the last name of Stanley had helped me out, and had seemed genuinely regretful to tell me they had all the staff they needed at the moment. It was a family-run business, she'd told me. Her and her husband worked full time, and their three sons and daughter pitched in when required. She had directed me down the road to Newton's Outfitters, an outdoorsy sporting-goods store, which was just about as generic as it sounded, where I found out that Mrs. Newton had just hired two students that were off for the summer to work there full-time. She wouldn't need any help either. So I trudged back down the road to meet up with Jasper and Emmett, and had walked in on a screaming match between Emmett and Rose in the parking lot of the shop. And of course I'd plopped myself down on the hood of the car – I had a front row seat to the show.

"I guess I'll try the grocery store next," I sighed. I'd never worked at a grocery store before, but I knew how to work a register and I figured I could just pick up the rest as I went. It couldn't be too hard.

"Yeah," Emmett nodded absently.

Emmett and I smoked while we waited for Jasper to emerge. I half-wondered if that Rose girl had lost it on him and was busy burying his body out back. I wouldn't put it past her. The girl seemed to have a temper problem.

I realized that it had probably thrown both the guys for a loop to find out that the owner of Wild Rose Mechanic was a tall, supermodel-looking blonde, only about in her mid-twenties. I'd expected to find a thick lumberjack-esq woman who chewed tobacco and swore like a trucker, like Bertha, a woman Jasper had worked along side with at a shop in Colorado a few years ago. Rose swore like a trucker, but that was about a when the similarities ended. But she'd held her own against Emmett, that was for sure. And I had to instantly admire her no-bullshit attitude, even if it did sort of scare the hell out of me.

A few minutes later, Jasper pushed opened the front door of the shop, stepping out into the sunshine. He was whistling and spinning a ring of keys around his index finger as he walked towards us.

"Got myself a job," he grinned proudly.

"What?" Emmett bellowed in shock. "With that bitch?"

Jasper chuckled and nodded. "She was only a bitch to you, Em. She's pretty fucking cool, actually."

Emmett shook his head, muttering something that sounded a lot like "traitor" under his breath.

Jasper just grinned and shook it off, turning to me. "So, any luck, Bells?"

I shook my head, flicking my cigarette across the parking lot. "Tried two places, they were both full staffed." Summer was always harder to find jobs – money hungry students were always clogging up the market.

Jazz nodded, unconcerned. "Rose mentioned that her friend has a bar just down the main drag, and they're always looking for help."

I wrinkled my nose. "A bar?" I went to bars to drink, I didn't work at them.

"You'd make good tips."

I sighed. It would probably be much more interesting than bagging groceries all day long. "Yeah, I'll go check it out."

"Cool. Rose said you can head over there anytime, someone should be there." Her craned his neck, peering down the street. "Said it was a block that way, it's called The Whiskey. You won't miss it."

"Bella and The Whiskey?" Emmett snorted. "Sounds like a match made in heaven." I rolled my eyes but was glad to see he'd regained his sense of humor.

"What are you guys doing now?" I hopped off the hood off the car and dusted off my jeans.

"I'm on the clock," Jazz grinned. "I'll be back around six."

I glanced at Emmett. He shrugged, looking a little sad. "There's a Supernatural marathon on TV, guess I'll go do that."

"You can come with me," I offered.

He shook his head. "No way, you'll probably try and con me into working there with you or some shit."

I laughed. "Suit yourself."

So I wandered down the road until I found The Whiskey. The outside was fairly predictable – a dark-red brick building with a saloon-style veranda and a carved wooden sign proclaiming the 'best beer in town.' I didn't doubt it for a second – it was probably the only place that served beer in town. I walked up to the front door and pulled on it, but not surprisingly, it was locked. I rapped my knuckles on the door a few times and folded my arms over my chest as I waited. A few moments later there was movement on the other side of the door and then it was being yanked open. I pushed my sunglasses up on my head and put on my best smile, preparing to meet the owner. When I looked up, it took me a few seconds to realize that I knew the man standing before me.

"Jake?" I asked, my smile slipping off my face and turning into what I imagined was a look of confusion.

"Hey," he said cheerfully, adjusting the box he had under his arm, "Bella, right?"

"Yeah."

"What can I do for you?"

"Ummm…" I looked around awkwardly. "Is this your bar?"

"It is."

"But I thought you worked with Rose…" my voice trailed off.

"I do," he chuckled. "I own the bar, but I don't really work here... I maintain it and pay the bills and that's about it. So what are you doing here?"

I shook my head, smiling again. "Right. Sorry. Um, I actually wanted to see about a job."

His eyebrows flew up in surprise. "Really? Well, come in, come in. I've got a few more boxes to unload, but come check the place out and we can chat."

He led me inside the door, and I looked around in surprise. The place was actually really nice. It had a country feel to it, the floor was made of thick wooden slabs, the tables all looked handcrafted and unique. A long bar stretched along the length of the interior, shelves and shelves of liquor behind it. A dance floor and a tiny raised stage were set up in the back corner. And there was a smell of pine mixed in with the alcohol and faint smell of cigarette smoke.

"Have a seat," he said, nodding to one of the stools at the bar. He set his box down on the back counter and turned to face me.

"This is really cool, Jake," I said, my eyes still surveying the place.

"Thanks. Me and some buddies renovated the interior a couple years back when my old man still owned the place. When I turned twenty-one, my dad handed it all down to me and I added a few extra touches."

"Impressive. How old are you, then?"

"Twenty-one," he admitted with a laugh.

My eyes bugged out in shock. "You're kidding me!"

"Nope. My dad wanted out of the business, and I wanted in so… I hired on a few friends and took a run at it. This place can get pretty crazy, it's the only good place in town to go for a drink, and we always seem to be short-staffed." He rolled his eyes. "Apparently people would rather drink than serve the alcohol."

"Imagine that," I giggled.

"Yeah. So, you're serious about wanting a job, then?"

"Sure am. I have a transition to pay for."

"Transmission," he corrected me with a chuckle. "So how'd it go this morning, anyway?"

"You mean you couldn't hear?"

"That bad, huh?" Jake laughed heartily. "I figured as much. As soon as I saw that big burly guy… I had a feeling shit was gonna get crazy. And as soon as your friend said he was a mechanic, I knew Rose wasn't going to be too impressed. She doesn't like it when dudes know too much about cars because they always doubt her expertise. Not that they should – Rose is the fucking Queen, she's been working on cars since before she could walk, I think," Jake rambled. "She was actually named after that shop, believe it or not. Her old man lived and breathed that shit. Man, I just wish I could have been there to witness that showdown though. I bet it was a good one."

"It was pretty intense," I agreed. "I thought at one point Rose was gonna knock Emmett out with a wrench."

"Naw, she leaned her lesson last time."

I laughed, not sure if he was kidding or not.

"So what time can you be here tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? Well, I'm pretty swamped. I have a whole lot of… nothing planned. When do you need me? Hell, I can start right now."

"Wow, you really wanna get that transition paid for, huh?" he teased. "I've only got a couple more boxes to do right now, but thanks. We're closed today, but tomorrow night we open around seven; so come by a little early, I'll make sure Alice is here and she can show you what needs to be done. You guys will have fun," he winked. "I have the night off tomorrow, so don't steal anything or Alice will kick your ass, and if you break anything… well, hide it good so I don't find it. Other than that… don't get too trashed, and don't let Quil drink whiskey, no matter what he tells you."

"All right," I nodded, beginning to feel somewhat nervous. No stealing, no breaking shit, no drinking, and no whiskey for a Quil… whatever that was.

"Thanks Jake. I'll see you around," I said, hopping down off the stool and making my way back to the door.

"See ya," he said, ripping open the box and beginning to pull bottles from it. "Oh, wait, Bella!" he called just as I reached the door.

I turned and faced him. "Yeah?"

"Have fun," he grinned.

I felt myself relaxing just looking into his friendly face. I returned the smile. "Thanks, Jake."

"And good luck."

I pushed my way out the door, hoping like hell that I wouldn't need it.

A/N: So. Fun fact: the chapter song, Midnight Train to Memphis is completely the inspiration for my penname. Even if you aren't a Kid Rock fan, but can stand a little bit of Kid rapping, you REALLY should check it out. I absolutely love it. It's my go-to song for drunken karaoke. Yes, I'm a girl, and yes, I love to sing Kid Rock. Call it a guilty pleasure…

Reviews are better than our trio finally ending up in Forks ;-)