The next few days pasted by in a blur. Everyone in the house was on edge, waiting for something that didn't appear to be coming. I had received no texts or calls from Jacob or any of the wolves since I had been saved from there house.

Alice was more on edge than anyone because her power to see the future was made almost useless as she could not see the wolves. Her only solution was to try and see if she saw any blackness around us at any time in the future. She didn't. I was course happy that the pack didn't seemed to have any retaliation planned but a small part of me felt guilty for not calling Jake age I know his intentions were good. Then the rest of me feels guilty for feeling that way.

Jake is nothing in comparison to what I have right where I am. A house full of friends and family and a boyfriend that loves me. Still, I had enjoyed having a friend that was outside of my house. Someone that wasn't a vampire and lived in a world that seemed completely different then mine. Of course, his world was no where near normal either.

Then, when I put Jake aside I have Charlie looming over me. As I have not seen Jake I haven't seen him either. The more I thought about the situation the more I understand that there was a very slim chance that he wasn't my biological father.

What was I supposed to do about that though? It's not as if I could tell him. Telling him that would give him a very good start at figuring out the biggest secret of all: that my family is vampires. He would be in danger if he fount out. The Volturi could come after him. I didn't want that.

So I had no choice but to try and move on. I went to school and did my homework and went on dates with Edward. I continued my same routine and did the same things I had before I'd ever met Jake or Charlie. Yet every night I would find myself laying next to my wonderful Edward and thinking about Charlie and about Jake and about all thing that happened and the different scenarios that could have played out.

This nightly event was wearing on me and soon I found these thoughts slipping into my mind while I was at school and then while I was on dates and soon it was all I could think about.

So on one rare day where I was driving home from school without Edward and suddenly couldn't take it anymore and I found myself driving to the police station and Charlie had already left. One of the benefits of a small town though was that they just gave me his address as though it was nothing. While I was driving to his house I idly wondered why Alice had not sent someone to stop me but pushed that aside.

His house was a white paneled two story with a dirt driveway that had a police car—which I assumed was his—parked on it. I pulled up on the sidewalk and hopped out of the car. Here we go.

I knocked on the door and waited. I heard his loud footsteps heading towards me.

"Who is it?" He called gruffly.

"Bella! Bella Cullen," I responded. The door practically flew open and in its way was Charlie in his uniform with a light five o'clock shadow.

"Oh, hey Bella. Er, come on in." He gestured me inside.

"Thanks," I muttered. His living room was quaint with a green couch and a large television that was playing a football game. On the brown coffee table in between the two sat a six pack of beer missing one can.

"Well, uh, why don't you sit down and tell me what brings you by?" I took a seat on the couch and he sat down at the other end, turning himself to face me.

"I had a question I wanted to ask you," I began as quietly.

"Shoot."

"Well I was wondering if you had any pictures of your daughter?" I asked.

His face grew dark. "Why?" He asked, suddenly sad.

Why? "Um, I er, have something I want to compare it to."

He looked dumbfounded but none the less pulled a photo album out from under the coffee table. It was pink. He opened it to a page and pulled out a photo that he handed to me. I gasped pulling out the crumpled up picture that I had been carrying in my pocket for a few days. Un-crumpling it I held it next to the other one. My photo was of me the day my family fount me on there doorstep with a white outfit that was discolored by dirt and the photo next to it was also of me, laying in a crib wearing the same outfit except it was clean in that photo.

Charlie saw the photos and gasped, "Where did you get that picture?" He asked, his voice suddenly filled with hope.

"That's a picture of me." I looked up at his slightly wrinkled face with awe. "You're my father."