Bella watched the moon rise, like a silver goddess emerging from the depths of the sea, before shuffling back to bed. But she didn't really sleep. She couldn't sleep well at night, when the moonlight danced and the hidden world came alive. A wolf thing. She smiled in spite of the dull ache inside her where her best friend had once warmed her.

"It's a wolf thing." Jake had said. He always smiled wide whenever he told her about his wolf, pride shining in his eyes. Those times, when he unburdened himself of his terrible secret, were the rare moments when the responsibility of his Quileute heritage as a werewolf, as a protector, felt less like a curse and more like an adventure. "Wolves are nocturnal."

"Wolf or not, you have to finish high school, Jake," she'd insisted petulantly, scribbling a few notes into the margins of her trigonometry book. "And you can't do that with Sam Uley running the pack ragged every damn night."

Jacob had stilled, his wide dark eyes suddenly serious and stern. They were so brown they looked almost black; dark like the arrow heads Billy kept in his dresser drawer. "Why do you care?"

"Because," Bella frowned, chewing on her eraser. The more time she spent with Jacob Black after Edward broke up with her during her senior year, the more she cared. She cared about him—about everything—more than she thought possible, her heart slowly waking up inside her, like ice thawing under the steady warmth of the sun just before the turn of spring. Jacob was her spring, her sun; warm, patient, steadfast. He'd slowly become everything, asking for nothing in return. She wanted him to have every good thing he'd given her. It was partly guilt and partly love. She couldn't see it then for what it was. He saw it, and still he didn't push her. "Because," she said firmly, "you deserve to be happy."

"I am happy, Bells." He'd tossed aside the wrench he was using, and wiped his greasy hands on his cutoff shorts. "I'm always happy when you're here."

And he had been. During those few short weeks before the Cullens returned, before Italy, before the newborn battle, Jacob had been so happy, shining and bright; even when Bella shouted and screamed at him, lost inside her own pit of broken misery. His love for her was the kind that burned steady, shining down into that pit to show her the way out. First, he'd found the name of the best therapist in Port Angeles. Then he convinced her dad to make the appointments, even offering to help pay. She'd been furious with them both. But Jacob drove her to every session. He sat with her after, and suffered with her, bearing her burdens as if they were his own. Slowly, she'd crawled back into herself.

Bella blinked away the memories, her tears hot on the cool cotton pillowcase. In the midst of it all, he'd found a way to smile, and to make her smile too. His simple joy had constantly puzzled her. How could one person find so much to be grateful for, even as their new monstrous reality closed in on them? She wondered if he still found joy, or if she'd stolen it all away the last time she saw him.

She shifted in her twin-sized bed inside the bungalow, listening to the rhythm of the ocean just outside her window. The gulf was so different from the Pacific. It felt different, smelled different, even sounded different. All her senses had sharpened over the months of her pregnancy. Not so keen as a true Quileute wolf, but her eyesight, sense of smell, and hearing were much better than they ought to be. Sometimes Bella thought the gulf sounded like Jacob breathing beside her. She could almost feel his body draped around her in a protected cocoon of heat. She ran her fingers over her belly, wishing for the comfort of that stolen night in Sarah Black's deserted cabin three days before her wedding. She couldn't regret that night with Jacob. Without it, she wouldn't be alive.

She remembered the way the setting sun glinted through the thick trees, pulling her through the rez woods. She'd clutched the scribbled note he'd left in her mailbox, it's short cryptic message a plea she couldn't ignore. Mom's cabin. He'd left it vague so Alice Cullen couldn't see what he was asking Bella to do, knowing she would disappear from Alice's visions if she got close enough to him. Alice was keeping close watch on her in the days leading up to the wedding, and Bella had jumped at the chance to be free from that constant gaze, even for a few minutes.

She hadn't been to Sarah Black's cabin since she was a little girl. She'd been afraid of losing her way, until she realized Jacob would find her, even if she was lost. After almost an hour of hiking, and stumbling, in silence, she crossed over a small creek, stepped around an outcrop of rocks, and there it was. Jacob had been waiting for her, his fists clenched. He was barefoot, and his shaggy hair glistened in the sunshine, so black it looked almost blue.

"Bells?" It was a whisper, strained with hope and disbelief. "You're here."

She'd nodded.

"I didn't know if," he trailed off, still keeping his distance. Things had once been so easy between them, as easy as breathing, until she'd agreed to marry Edward. Jake had changed then, his anger contorting their friendship into a torment. "I know it's not fair, Bells, but I had to ask," he stared at his feet. "I had to try."

"Try what?"

"To stop you."

She'd stepped closer, until his warmth pulled her in. It was like stepping into a beam of vibrant sunlight. She was Bells again and he was Jake. Her best friend. She laid her hand on his arm, her skin drinking in his heat like the dry earth soaks up rain after a long drought. "Jake, I—"

"I can't let go," he said simply, with a grim smile. His huge frame bent over her as he tugged her into a hug, as if he could hide her from the world and the monster that would take her and change her. His arms held her tight. "Not until your heart stops beating."

"Jake," she wanted to hide from the raw edge in his voice. "Don't—"

"Please, honey," he begged.

She nodded, and then he'd kissed her, soft and quick, the barest brush of his lips on hers. It was enough to tell her what he wanted. He wanted her to be happy, wanted her to live, wanted her to stay. With him.

"Jacob,"

"You love me. I know you love me."

"It's not the same."

"Of course it's not the same." He pressed his forehead against hers. "I'm not him." They'd had this argument before, except now it felt different. He didn't sound angry or jealous, just—desperate, and so earnest. "I'm just Jake." He'd looked at her then, and it was like he was looking into her. "And you're Bells." She nodded. "I don't want whatever version of love he needs from you. He can have it."

"What does that mean?" She'd asked, her voice almost a whisper. "I do love Edward."

"It's not the same. They have different rules, Bells. They live in their own world because they can't live in ours. Maybe they do love, in a way, but not like us. It's not the same, honey."

"Edward loves me." She'd pushed herself back, breaking free from his warmth, "He told me."

"I love you more."

"That's not fair, Jake."

"I know." He'd laughed. It was a bitter sound, but she heard his exhaustion, his fear. "We're saying the same words, honey, but we don't mean the same thing."

"I don't understand."

"Leeches aren't human,"

"Neither are you," she interrupted.

"Maybe." He'd studied her for a brief second. "But I'm still alive." He stepped closer, until his body brushed against hers. He raised his eyebrows in a challenge. "I'm not trapped in my mind, frozen in time, like those bloodsuckers. I sleep, I eat, I breathe." He laid his hand on her waist, "I dream, I laugh, I cry." He tugged, gently enough to let her pull away if she wanted. She didn't, watching his eyes darken with desire. "I crave, I lust," he paused.

"And?" She'd licked her lips. She knew what he meant, but she still wanted to hear him say it. Part of her thought he wouldn't actually do it.

"I want you."