A/N: I can't believe the feedback I'm getting. I'm so glad you guys like this! I'll keep posting as long as you all keep reading :)
When I finally woke up after a restless night of nervous dreaming, my head was pounding. I heard rain pelting my window, hard even for Washington. It was unseasonably cold and dark with the storm. I ran my fingers through my hair, glancing around my room. I expected to see Alice there, but she was still gone. It was the first morning where I had woken up alone in months. I felt strangely off-balance, like I was missing a limb. I peeked out my window at the driving sheets of rain and hoped Jake had made it home before the downpour; I hated to think of him out there in the middle of the storm.
I showered and brushed my hair in a daze. Charlie was gone when I dragged myself downstairs, and I was grateful for his absence. I drank a glass of water, the only thing I trusted myself to keep down, and checked out the window again. The rain wasn't letting up, but I was scheduled to work at the library. I went back to my room to change, ignoring Alice's new clothes. Work, at least, would be a distraction.
The day was slow and people mostly stayed away because of the weather. I reorganized shelves slowly, trying to keep my mind occupied. I went up and down each row, moving books to their proper place, and I was consumed with the task, so much so that the end of the day crept up on me fast. The rain kept coming, lessening slightly but still drizzling when I finally left for the day. My truck slogged through the huge puddles with ease. When I got home, it was quiet and empty. I turned on the television just for the noise and made dinner absently.
I was floating, my headache still throbbing. I tried to think of other things: coat the chicken with marinade evenly, preheat the oven to 350 degrees, stir the pasta every two minutes. I didn't want to think about where I would be in a year. I pushed the terrifying possibilities of my death from my mind, focusing on cooking.
Dinner with Charlie was quiet. He didn't pry, but I could feel his eyes on me throughout the meal. I wanted to explain, but I didn't even know where to start. Alice knocked on the door while I was washing the dishes, and Charlie greeted her loudly, his voice travelling through the house. She helped me silently, drying each dish carefully. When she dried the last plate, I felt her hand on the small of my back, guiding me upstairs. I glanced at her, noticing the tiny water droplets glistening in her hair. I stood woodenly by the window as Alice shut the door behind us.
"I found Jake," she said after a moment. I turned to look at her. She stood with her hands entwined in front of her, her head slightly tilted. Her eyes, a beautiful light amber, were worried. "He said that he wanted to talk to you." I felt a wash of reprieve spread through me. My breaths finally reached my lungs, and I felt the release blossom in me.
"Where is he?" I asked, smiling slightly. She didn't return the gesture, her lips pursed. I was too comforted to notice her indifference.
"He's home. He asked me to wait with you until he could come over."
"How long?"
"He said he would be over once Charlie was asleep." I sighed, still relieved. I went to sit on the bed, the bed springs creaking. Alice wriggled her nose.
"Bella, you really should wash your sheets," she complained. "They smell like a dog." I laughed, my mood brighter with Alice joking and Jacob coming.
I was impatient to see him, and the few hours dragged. Alice suggested that I finally try on the clothes she had brought, her lip jutting out in a pleading pout. I agreed, and she removed the clothing from the boxes before I had time to blink. My mouth hung open as I took in the clothing, all bright and flowing, laid out on my bed. She sighed in exasperation.
"Bella," she said, frowning. "I bring you fabulous European souvenirs and this is the thanks I get?" I shook my head.
"I'm sorry, Alice," I said, still staring at the thin fabrics, "but most people just bring back a postcard or something." She laughed.
"Honestly, it's like you don't even know me." I smiled and grabbed the first piece, a flowery top, and walked to the bathroom to try it on. Everything, as expected, fit perfectly, and though I didn't want to admit it to Alice, I did like most of the tops. The dresses were beautiful but impractical for Forks, too long and dressy. But I thanked her for it all anyway, hanging the new clothes up in my closet with the extra hangers I kept in the back. There was a tiny knock on my door, and I turned at the sound.
"I'm heading to bed," Charlie said, peeking his head in. "Try not to gossip too loudly." I rolled my eyes and he grinned, shutting the door. I stacked the empty clothing boxes on top of my desk and sat in my rocking chair to wait for Jake.
The rain finally stopped, leaving the air cold and heavy. Alice heard Jake before I did, and she went downstairs to let him in through the front door. I ran after her, my excitement at seeing him, at feeling the comfort of his warmth, pushing me down the stairs faster. He was standing by the front door, his chest bare, black sweatpants covering his legs. He was beautiful, and I stared into his eyes, expecting to see my relief mirrored there. Instead, I saw anger. I stopped short, my feet on two different stairs, frozen.
"We need to talk, Bella," he said coldly, staring at me with an unreadable expression. I thought I could see a hint of disgust in the way his nose twitched. I turned to look at Alice, but she was slinking through the doorway to the kitchen, retreating to give us privacy. I unhinged my legs and continued down the stairs, stopping at the bottom. Jake crossed his arms.
"I was so worried about you," I said in a small voice. He didn't move.
"I needed to think," he said simply, his tone icy. I shrunk back, my body angling itself inward involuntarily. I felt attacked, though I wasn't sure why.
"Did it help?" I asked, still staring into his eyes though they were unchanging.
"Yeah." He looked strange standing there. I had a flashback to another time, to the way his eyes narrowed when he had first become a werewolf. It was silent, and from upstairs I heard Charlie snoring lightly.
"I'm really glad you're okay," I whispered, taking a step towards him. The way he pulled his body backwards was almost imperceptible, but I still noticed. I stopped, my hands locked to my sides. I felt my face contort in sadness, rejection, pain.
"We need to talk," he repeated, still angry. I waited for him to speak, but his eyebrows furrowed deeper in concentration, like he was trying to find the right words.
"Are you mad?" I asked finally. His expression didn't change. "Is this about me not coming after you? Because I wanted to, Jake. Sam said I shouldn't, that you had Seth. But I didn't want you to be alone." He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. I had never seen him so disorganized, and it unnerved me.
"I think I finally realized something," he said after a minute, lowering his hand. He opened his eyes to stare at me again, and this time, they were filled with pain. I took a tentative step towards him, hoping he wouldn't pull away and exhaling deeply when he didn't. I waited.
"What?" He was quiet, watching me. We were still so far from each other, and I felt an insistent tug inside of me, yearning to grab his hand.
"Bella, you're going to die." His words did strange things to my insides. I felt the phantom pain of panic, and I tried to keep my face composed. I wanted to fall into him, but he was still so angry. I couldn't understand his expression. Was he upset with me for being fragile? Was it that I hadn't come after him, after all?
"I'm here now, though," I said, the best I could do. He shook his head sharply and took a step towards me. His expression morphed into something full of pure hatred. I was momentarily terrified, seeing him so mad.
"I'm not going to wait around for you to die," he seethed, spitting the words out through his teeth. "That's just not gonna cut it. I'm done. No more waiting. I'm over it." It was absolutely silent. I could hear my breaths coming out, jagged and uneven. I waited for his words to sink in, but I felt nothing.
"You're breaking up with me," I said slowly, my voice mechanical. I was numb. He nodded, his eyes still burning.
"This is bullshit and I'm done with it all," he fumed. "You're not worth it." I blinked a few times, waiting for the pain, waiting for the anger, waiting for something, anything. My emotions didn't exist; I was outside of myself, watching, waiting.
"I guess if you really feel that way," I said flatly. He nodded once, watched me for a moment longer, and then turned on his heel, the front door open wide after him.
I climbed the stairs stiffly to my room and sat on my bed, unfeeling. Alice appeared in my doorway without a sound and moved to sit beside me. Her hand grabbed mine, and I stared at the floor, her cold marble skin against mine. We were both quiet for a moment.
"Alice," I said finally, my voice still flat. I turned to look at her, but her expression was slack, her gaze unfocused. I furrowed my eyebrows together. Her grip tightened around my fingers, and her eyebrows drew together in concentration.
"Alice?" I repeated, questioning. She shook her head, closing her eyes. A smile broke across her face, and when she opened her eyes to look at me, I felt a prickle of anger at her. She was across the room in an instant, a tiny phone to her ear. She was facing the window, her shoulders tight, when the ringing stopped and someone picked up the other line.
"Jake?" she said, her voice buoyant. "It worked. I could see her."