It's been a week so far and I'm trying to stay optimistic. Jake helps a lot with that seeing as he is literally the human male equivalent of sunshine. I've also never been more grateful for a purely platonic relationship with someone. He and I can sleep in the same room and not feel that awkward sexual tension that would normally happen between two members of the opposite sex that are strictly heterosexual.

We begin to find a routine and a rhythm to each day. We drive for four to five hours, stop for a quick break and of course stop at each and every beach. Everytime I pull into the parking lot or the side of the road, I feel that spark of hope…that little flame that burns that I'm keeping safe like a candle in a window. I step out onto the sand and it's the same thing every time so far. I stand on the sand, listening to the waves and caws of the gulls overhead, knowing that this isn't the beach…this isn't where he is…and I inhale deeply as I close my eyes and I go to him…feel myself float along the line that we have created that connects us to one another and the picture has remained steadily blurry…pixelated like a nineties video game, or an unfocused microscope lens but with each connection I make, I turn the dial a little more, seeing little things come into focus. We came to one beach and I closed my eyes and I saw him sitting on what looked like an old piece of driftwood close to the line of the trees and he had a bottle with him…brown liquid…and I swear I smelled the sticky cutting sweetness of whiskey. After each sip I wanted to kiss the whiskey off of his lips like Juliet trying to find poison on the mouth of her Romeo. And he speaks softly with his eyes closed…

…princess…

…hermosa…

…I love you…

…Bella…

And I burn and ache with every word. I ignite as the words leave his lips as I turn on my heels and slide back into the truck.

Jacob then looks at me cautiously, unsure if he should leave it be or speak to me.

We continue to drive and I've lost count of how many beaches we have been to since Forks.

We reach the Canadian border in week two and I wonder how quickly we would have arrived here if we didn't need to make thousands of stops at every beach along northern Washington state. Jacob and I hand the border patrol officers our passports and say we're going to visit a friend because I think the long winded truth would have gotten us turned back in the direction of Forks.

We drove along the coast as usual and through Vancouver which was beautiful and busy. I thought Port Angeles was busy but it had nothing on Vancouver. We finally stop in Lion's Bay for the night at a small motel which is situated close to the shore and after we put our duffle bags in the room, Jacob walks with me to the beachfront and as I step into the sand something is different. I know this isn't the beach, but almost like the feeling that one gets when there's a word on the tip of the tongue…it's there…just a hair's breadth away from being said out loud…he's close. I feel him. It's stronger here and the gravity, the electricity and heat that I feel when he is near is like a plume of smoke on the breeze. I sense it before I actually see the source.

I close my eyes like I have at every beach and the picture is the clearest it's been in weeks; the knob on the lens turns even more and the subject becomes less of a blob and details become more solid, vibrant, clear. He's in a cabin…it's small and set into the trees and he's looking out of the window from the kitchen that looks out over the shore where the waves are gentle as they lap onto the sand. He's in a black sweatshirt and his hair is long, wisps of it touch his ears in lazy curls, his normally clean shaven face now sports a beard, and he stands barefoot in old blue jeans on the faded white tile of the kitchen. I glide to him, leaning against the counter so that I can see his eyes better, and as usual, they're closed.

Lahote.

…corazon…

I love it when you do that.

…I love you, mi vida…

I'm almost there.

And his face breaks, tears streaming down his face as he brings his face to his hands, his palms to his eyes.

"Please," he whispers into the empty kitchen, "I can't take it."

Wait for me, I say and I hear my voice crack even in the confines of my mind and my eyes are wet as I watch him fall apart. He rests his back up against the wall and slides down to sit, softly crying into his palms.

"I can't do this," he whispers, "I can't."

I kneel in front of him, tears running freely down my face and I feel my chest cave as I watch his body twitch as he sobs.

Look at me.

"I can't," he whispers as he takes a shuttered breath.

Paul.

"Please stop," he says, "you aren't real, it's not real." He steadies himself as he inhales deeply.

I begin to pull away, drifting back but I do it slowly this time as I take in every detail…every tree, every stone, all clues to where he is and as I peel out more, along an unpaved road and finally onto asphalt I see a sign… "Welcome to Darrell Bay."

My eyes pop open.

Darrell Bay.

I found him.

I found him.

I turn and Jake is sitting on the sand waiting for me to turn around and tell him this isn't the beach and his eyes are wide as he sees me charging at him like a bull.

"I found him," is all I say as I trudge through the sand past him to the sidewalk and I hear him scramble up and follow after me.

"You did?" he says surprised, "where?"

"Darrell Bay," I say and he jogs up to me as I fast walk up to the motel room and grab the duffel bags.

"Wait, we're going now? We drove eight hours today, are you sure?" he says, rubbing the top of his head.

"Yes Jake, we're going," I say and as I walk out to the truck and plop the bags back behind the seats I say, "and we're getting there tonight."

*

Thirty minutes…that's how far away we were, the same distance from my house to Sam and Emily's cottage. We reach the sign that says Welcome to Darrell Bay and it's dark outside and I think Canada forgot about the necessity of street lights.

I also have absolutely no idea where I'm going, but it is uncanny to feel and follow the sensation and know that it is exactly right. We pass the sign and I nearly miss the left turn onto a small side road and everything in me screams as I wrench the wheel to make the turn.

"Jesus Christ Bella," Jacob hollers as he braces himself on the roof and the dash, "what the hell?"

"I almost missed the turn," I breathe as the truck drives along the rough unpaved road, and Jake and I hop and jump with all the bumps, the headlights light up the trees and brush along the small one way road.

I feel him…the gravity that pulls me is so much stronger now as I near his orbit…his event horizon. It's almost painful to know he is so close now.

And then I see it…the little cabin nestled in the trees, the wood siding almost invisible among the bark of the tall trees, his Harley Davidson parked along the side of the house with two helmets sitting idly on the seats. I pull up to the front, blocking the entire road, put the truck in park, and hop out leaving the engine on as I sprint to the front door. I turn the knob and it's open. I step into the house, seeing a small living room with a loveseat and two small chairs, with a black wood burning stove in the far corner, a large glass slider facing the back porch and the beach and I run to the kitchen…

It's empty…

"Paul," I yell out, and I run across the living room to a small hallway and there's a bedroom to the right with a queen size bed whose sheets are twisted and balled in wads along the mattress, telling a tale of fitful nights and tossing and turning, another window and a glass slider leading out to the porch and the beach…but no Paul. "Goddammit," I yell in frustration. I turn and the small bathroom with a tub/shower combo, a toilet and sink lay shrouded in darkness…empty.

"Bella, I don't think he's here," Jacob says from the threshold of the front door.

I yell out in exasperation feeling the angry tears start to well in my eyes, "Jake he's not far, I can feel him…I know it," I say as the first few tears run down my cheeks.

"I think he phased, Bella," Jake says as he looks around the cabin, "it feels like it anyway."

"You can feel when a wolf phases?" I ask, wiping my face with my hand, "how?"

"It's like when you come into a room and someone is having big emotions," he says as he peeks into the kitchen, "you can feel it as soon as you walk into it, the emotions I mean," he says as he plops down on the couch, "he's probably on a run and will be back sometime."

"Sometime?" I say, arching my eyebrow.

"Yeah, it's a bit of a release, running as the wolf. It takes you out of reality for a little bit," he says as he rests back on the couch.

"And how long do these runs usually last?" and I feel like I don't want to know the answer.

"Depends," and he peeks up at me making a face that I don't like, because it says that I'm not gonna like what he's gonna say and I already feel the groan in my chest, "he's known for taking days to come back from a run."

"Fuck Jake," I groan, sitting down on one of the chairs. "If I had just left him alone for a little bit, maybe he wouldn't have left."

"Yeah but then you wouldn't have found where he's staying," he reminds me and he's right. "It's pretty impressive Bella, the imprint you both share is kinda crazy."

"Well he isn't here so," I say and I know I'm being sore and pitiful but it's been weeks…and I feel like I'm dying.

"Listen," Jacob says, "let's just hang here, he'll come back. Once he sets up a spot, he always comes back," he says as he pats my knee. "But can we please be done driving for the day, my ass hurts so bad."

And I smile, wiping away a few more stray tears, "yeah we're done, Jake."

*

He didn't come back that night…I laid in the bed awake thinking I saw his silver wolf in the moonlight that shone on the sand and sea. The shadows that the trees cast upon the ground a mirage of him coming up the slope leading to the porch. I tossed and turned as sleep remained elusive to me, thinking I heard the gentle taps of pebbles on the window, only to find I was still alone. Smelling his familiar scent on the surface of the pillows and sheets and I buried myself in them, pretending they were him holding me as I closed my eyes.

I watch as the sun paints the room in pinks, oranges, and yellows as it makes its way over the horizon, cutting through the fog that blankets the water. I decide to give up the attempt at sleep as I pull on a pair of sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and wool socks and walk out to Jacob sprawled out on the couch, mouth agape and lightly snoring.

I smile as I walk to the kitchen and see that there's a coffee pot and cheap coffee grounds. Small mercies.

I make some coffee and find a small container of honey and next to it a spice container labeled, "cinnamon." I lick my lips and shake a small amount into my coffee with my honey. I take a sip and it's wonderful…warm and spicy, like autumn mornings, orange leaves in piles on the ground, more equal length of time in nights to days, and warm air that has a crisp breeze like a promise of endings…and new beginnings.

I had to continue to believe he was out there, to stay patient…even if I felt like it was slowly killing me.

The fridge is barren. There's beer and what I think used to be cheese at one point. It's now a furry green mess of mold. I throw it out, grab a pen and paper and start making a list of things we need. We had passed a small local market on the way up and although Jacob isn't going to be excited about the fresh fruits and vegetables on the list, I add on RedVines and chips just to appease him.

Jacob stirs and I hand him a mug of coffee and once he finishes I hand him the list, telling him he needs to run to the store. He eyeballs me incredulously as he says, "you want me to go grocery shopping?"

"I can't leave, Jake," I say and I know how it sounds…I know how I sound right now but I still can't leave. I just can't.

"Okay," he says rubbing his face with his hands and he gets up and heads to the bathroom as I sit on one of the chairs, tucking my knees up as I sip my coffee. I rest my head back, resting it on the top of the chair and close my eyes.

Come back.

"Please," I whisper, feeling my chin quiver as the words pass through my lips and I don't know if he hears me…if he's still blocking me out.

"...I can't take it…you're not real…it's not real…please…" I listen to his words feeling my chest cave a little more as I remember how his face twisted in pain, in frustration, in longing…I know that look so well and it seemed forever ago that Edward had left and I fell apart, that I refused to let go and grieved heavily for months; then Paul walked through my door and everything shifted. I shifted. So did he.

And I thought I understood what it was to be in love, but I had no idea until I met Paul. To have so much and nothing in common with someone, to have someone anger me as much as light me on fire with desire, to have someone to dance with and feel confident in my steps, to share that space and to fall apart, to come apart with anger and rage and know that he can take it…know that he can contain the monster within me just as I can with his.

Come back…please…

I push my palms into my eyes.

I'm begging you.

"...when you're ready, you'll be begging me,"... his words bounced in my brain as I see him in my mind crouched in my window.

Remember you said that to me once? I'm begging you now…I'm begging Paul.

The pressure of his lips on mine, his fingers in my hair, gently pulling as I opened to him…all in the space of my mind, away from everyone and everything…

Please…

"Fuck," I say and I get up, putting my mug into the sink, and walk to the room as Jacob opens the door to the bathroom.

"You okay?" and he slides by me as I storm into the room.

"No," I yell into the room, thrashing through my clothes to find my jeans.

"What are you doing?" Jacob asks as he looks at me through the hallway slightly worried.

"I don't know," I say as I change into jeans, not worrying about Jacob seeing me in my underwear.

"Oh, um," and turns away as I slip my jeans over my hips.

"It's just underwear Jacob," I yell at him as I button my jeans and then realize I'm losing it as I see his face.

"I-I'm sorry," he says and I want to die.

"Shit, Jake," I say as I put my palms to my eyes, "no I'm sorry, I'm sorry." And he steps to the side as I walk through the bedroom door and face him. "I shouldn't have yelled, I'm just feeling…I just feel," and the fucking tears again.

He pulls me into his arms and holds me while my body starts to shake as the sobbing takes over.

"Man, Bella," he says into my shoulder, "I wish there was more I can do," he rubs my back as I wrap my arms around him. "He's gonna come back though, I promise, he always does."

"Are you certain?" I ask as I pull away to look in his eyes.

"I mean, he always did before, I don't know why he'd break his habit now. It's just what he does," he says.

And I believe him…I really do…I want to believe that he is coming back but that "if," part of my brain that I swore wasn't allowed in my vocabulary at the beginning of this quest starts to scratch at the surface of my mind, reminding me that it's there on the periphery no matter how much I choose to ignore it.

I would wait for him…but how long? How long was he going to be away? How long would I have to sit in this cabin hoping he comes back. Would I be doing the exact same thing I was doing in Forks with Edward? Would I be waiting for him to come back and then just waste away when he never returns?

I promised myself I wasn't going to do that again. I swore this time it was going to be different, that I was going to be different. So am I doing the same old shit that old me would do…again?

"Enamorado de ti…I'm in love with you…mi vida…mi hermosa…"

NO.

No.

I need to be patient. We just got here. I'll give it some more time. A few more days.

A few more days, then I'll decide.