Winnie's POV
"It's not that bad." I insist.
"No, it's always this bad." Paul sighs.
When Embry called me this morning, I thought it was about our second date. He was calling to tell me how he and the guys were going to Paul's this morning to help him move back into his house. Embry hadn't expected me to ask him to pick me up to join, neither did I expect how bad the place is when Old Man Lahote left.
The outside was bad enough, with it's overgrown grass and litter. The inside is much worse. It's reeks of cigarettes, the stench of nicotine so pungent and bitter everyone's eyes are watering. It feels like we've each smoked a pack ourselves. There's trash everywhere. Plates of old food, half empty beer cans on every flat surface, dirty laundry and cigarette ash everywhere. In addition to the hole Enola shot into the wall, which she did pay Paul to repair.
"Whenever he's here, he makes it his personal pig sty." Paul grumbles.
"Then it's good he left." Jacob states, opening all the windows.
"Is there a point in even cleaning if he's just going to come back and ruin everything again?" Paul hasn't look any better since his dad left the Res.
Then Enola will shoot him again. Though I don't bring it up.
Quil volunteers to help mow the lawn out front, with Seth helping clear out all the liter. Leah and Jacob are trying to patch up the bullet holes on each side of the wall, one inside the other outside. While the rest of us divide and concur the mess in the living room.
"Don't bother sorting, it's all trash." Paul stops me from picking apart a pile on the kitchen room table. Using his arm to shove everything into a trash bag, plates and utensils including.
"You sure?" I do a double take at the bag.
"I'm sure."
"Not even the dishes?"
"He usually lets them get so moldy, I have to throw them out anyway." Paul admits, then telling Jared to do the same thing with the fridge and throw everything out too. Embry pauses at the sink, trying to scrub off old food for most of the morning. Though with Paul's instructions they're both just trying to load them in the trash without breaking now.
Paul must be too use to this. Having to make everything livable after his dad destroys everything over and over again. That's a lot of responsibility to have as a kid, feeding themselves while keeping a house clean, only for his dad to trash the place. The thought of little Paul by himself living in this mess makes me see red for a minute.
"How are you going to replace them?" Embry asks, wincing at the sound of dishes breaking in the bag.
"Thrifting," Paul shrugs. "There's no point in buying full sets."
With Paul throwing everything out, it doesn't take us as long as it should to clean. When we're about halfway through the mess, Emily and Sam Uley join us. Emily coming to stock Paul's fridge with meals she cooked just for Paul. Tuberwears full of lasagna, mashed potatoes, stew, and vegetables I know Paul isn't going to touch. She must have been cooking since when she heard Paul's dad left.
"Do you want me to write down heating instructions?" Emily reorganizes Jared's work from earlier. Restacking till it looks like a perfect fridge off Pinterest.
"Can't I use a microwave?" Paul mistakenly questions, which gets Emily on a long take about how the microwave is the worst thing to happen to food since frozen meals.
"All this talk about food is making me hungry." Quil pipes up from his task of mopping the floors.
"Me too," Jared pouts. Just like Embry, his friends are just as ferocious eaters as he is. Always hungry and always with something in their mouths. It's astounding how they manage to have appetites with this mess. With the still strong smell of nicotine on the walls, food is the last thing on mind.
"What's everyone in the mood for?" Sam takes tally of the room. When the group can't decide between Chinese food or tacos, he ignores them and offers to get pizza.
"Are you tired?" Embry finds me in the bathroom, picking out cigarette buds out of the shower. The bathroom is just as poor state as the rest of the trailer. It's so bad, I don't dare stand in the shower without my shoes.
"I'm fine," The look on his face says he doesn't quite believe me. "It's not much different than working a shift at the Lodge."
"Why don't you take a break?" Embry suggests, holding out his hand to help me out the shower.
"It'll make us take longer." I point out, finding a whole ash tray behind a shampoo bottle. Paul is planning to sleep here tonight, I'm not sure how he can sleep comfortably with half the trailer still stinking of nicotine.
"A few minutes won't hurt." Embry insists, his hand never dropping. I know he won't drop the subject till he sees me sit for a bit. Begrudgingly I take his hand, carefully leaving the trash bag on the floor.
"You're still thinking about cleaning, aren't you?" Embry narrows his eyes on me.
"Yes." I admit, grinning shamelessly.
"You've been breathing Lysol fumes too long. Let's go get some air." Quil and Seth did a good job with the lawn. Quil manages to mow everything down neatly while keeping the wild flowers growing on the property. Seth's clean up job was nice, he managed to fix some of the broken lawn chairs to make patio area. The sun is dipping below the mountains, casting La Push into the evening where every shadows doubles and covers the res in blue. After being in the trailer for hours, the cool breeze feels good against my skin.
"What are you thinking about?" Embry asks, holding out a chair for me.
"How we might have to mop the walls to get the smell of cigarettes out." Embry winces a bit, his brows knitting together in a frown.
"I hate to say this, but the smell is probably never coming out." Embry breaks it to me gently. "Paul would have to throw out all the furniture and rip up the carpet."
"That's not fair. Paul doesn't even smoke." I sag into the chair, trying not to sulk but also think of ways to wash a sofa. But I know Embry has a point. There's not enough vinegar and baking soda for every inch of that trailer. The only solution would be to repaint and buy expensive vacuums. That's defiantly not an option.
"A few days with the windows open, and the smell will die down." Embry assures me. Embry looks between the trailer and me, his usually charming gleam in his eyes replaced with deep thought.
"When I introduced you two, I didn't think you'd grow to be so protective of him. I wasn't even sure you two would get along." Embry admits, watching my reaction.
"Am I mothering him?" I sit up, my face full of alarm. Sometimes the mom friend is worst than being a pick me girl. It's a different kind of needy. It's hovering and nagging more than being helpful. I don't admit out loud how I see a lot of myself in Paul. I see the same lonely kid who had to grow fast to take care of himself. And someone has to take care of kids who grew up like us.
"No," Embry laughs, "I can tell Paul genuinely likes you because he doesn't flirt with you." Embry points out.
"I guess that's flattering." I fall back into my chair, glancing up at the stars and remembering our date to go star gazing. With Paul back home, Embry should have some more free time. Maybe we'll go on that second date soon.
"Thank you for being a good friend to him." Embry adds, a warm look on his face. I'm not good with words. That's more Embry's thing. Instead, I go to sit with him on his chair to be closer to him. Letting his chest support my back, his hands hold me to him.
"We've been here since this morning. I bet Paul wouldn't mind if we left early." Embry's grin grows more and more mischievous.
"It is getting late." I almost smirk.
"Let's skip pizza. How about I make us dinner at my place?" Embry laughs the second I get up to go grab my things inside.
"I'll go tell him you have work in the morning," Embry races past me, practically jogging inside.
"Is your mom home?" I cautiously look around the front door for Embry's mom. The first time I was here I went out of my way not to meet her. I'm hell bent on making a good first impression. The first time I do meet her, I don't want to be dirty overalls covered in ash and dust.
"No, she's working late tonight." Embry waves me in, holding the front door open for me. Following his cue, I leave our dirty shoes by the door so we don't track in any dirt. While I'm untying my shoes I feel his eyes me. Looking up through my hair, I find him sitting on the stairs, watching me with a lazy smile.
"I like when you come over." I smile through my blush, not telling him how much I like to come over too.
"What's something fast we can make?" Embry asks when we get into the kitchen.
"Microwavable popcorn." The flat look I get tells me I said the wrong thing. Smiling at him sweetly, I try at another suggestion. "Mac n cheese?"
"I don't do boxed." Embry simply puts it.
"Well fast to me is instant." That makes him snort.
"Fast to me is under thirty minutes." Embry washes his hands, rolling up his sleeves to revel the muscle underneath.
"Embry's cooking school is harder than I thought." I joke with a cross of my arms. He gives me a mischievous grin, his eyebrow up and challenging me.
"You want me to teach you how to cook?" The way Embry says it, it comes off as a dirty innuendo. The words in-between telling me he'll teach me a lot more than just cooking.
"I'm teaching myself." I point out, remembering when he come over I burnt eggs and couldn't get the smell out. He looks as if he wants to laugh, but he's trying to be nice by holding it in. His trembling lips are giving him away. I rather he just laugh.
"What's the last thing you cooked?" That shuts me right up. My lips flatten out into a firm line, which makes him all the more interested.
"The French call it une crêpe brûlée."
"What does that mean?"
"Enola said it means burnt pancake." She said it right after she came to take the batteries out of my smoke detectors that morning. Embry laughs so hard he has to clutch his stomach, his other arm pulling me into a hug. Despite how it's kind of embarrassing, Embry's laugh is so infectious I can't help but laugh too. We sway with his laugh, leaning against the counter for support.
When our laughter dies out, we're left pressed against each other. Embry towers over me, the cabinets not giving me an exit, not that I would want to. I feel my head tip back on its own, inviting me him to lean down and meet me. Instead, his lips brush against my forehead rather than my mouth.
He did it again... he didn't kiss me.
"I'll make whatever you want." Embry promises into my hair. I nod, trying not to read into it. I lean my head against his chest, feeling his hand run through my hair.
"Do we smell?" Embry laughs at my question.
"Yes. Very much. I thought it was just Paul's place, but it's us." I scrunch my nose up, knowing I was sweating all day. I wouldn't want to kiss me either if I smelled like sweat and cigarettes.
"Do you want to take a shower?" Embry offers.
"No, I couldn't."
"Why not?" It's his turn to scrunch up his face. Yeah... why couldn't I?
"Because it's not my house."
"Yeah, it's mine. I wouldn't care, neither would my mom." Embry is already walking out the kitchen to find me a towel from the hallway linen closet. "The guys use it all the time. You should have seen how Paul use to get use the bathroom. Water everywhere."
"I don't have anything to change into." With a scoff he disappears into his room down the hall, returning with a t-shirt and a pair of sweats.
"You can borrow my clothes." Just by the look of them, I can tell these are his old clothes from before his growth spurt in high school. My heart does a little jump, thinking back of little teenage Embry with his long hair and lean build. Fifteen year old me would be over the moon.
"It would be imposing." I point out. He's already making me dinner, I can't just use his shower.
"Winnie, it's just some water and soap." Embry urges, pointing me towards the bathroom. "If it would make you feel better I'll let you pay me back for the amount you use. Toilet paper too the next time you come over." His eyes narrow when he sees me considering the idea.
"That was a joke." He insists hurriedly.
"It's just... I've never showered at a guy's house before."
"That's okay then, because it's my mom's house." Embry smiles patiently and understandably. "I want whatever will make you feel comfortable. Shower or no shower. I promise it means nothing, and I don't expect that you'd be showering for me." He summarizes all my worries in one neat package. He leaves the decision up to me, going back to the kitchen to start dinner.
"Smells good."
"You smell good." Embry grins at the clothes he lent me. An old pair of black sweats with a stone gray shirt that both smell like Embry. The bathroom was spotless and filled with lots of products that were probably his mom's. I had my pick of smelling like a vanilla sugar cookie, a rose garden, or a lavender field.
"Peach." I tell him, my skin feeling soft from that body wash. If I ever have to get Embry's mom a gift, it's gonna be fancy soap.
"Do you feel better?" He asks, pushing back the wet hair from my face.
"Much." I nod. "Do you need any help?"
"You can man the oven while I shower really quickly. I'll be out in ten minutes." Embry points at the oven before rushing off. He's back in ten minutes like he promised, hair dripping wet and changed into flannel bottoms and a t-shirt. Wherever he moves about he leaves a fresh smell behind him, making me want to get closer.
"I have to admit, I just reheated something. Though I did make it, just not today." Embry ladles soup into bowls. "I had some tomato sauce left over, and just added stock and heavy cream. Now it's tomato soup."
"I wouldn't even know how to turn sauce into soup." I admit, watching him pull grilled cheese out of the oven. Even though there's a perfectly fine table in the kitchen, we've fallen into the habit of eating on the floor by the sofa. There's something comforting about cushions and balancing plates with Embry. He puts something mindless on TV, whatever's on.
"This is really good." Embry flushes a bit when I tell him. Since he made dinner, I insist on doing the dishes, but he out right refuses. Instead, we end up leaving the dirty plates in the kitchen with Embry wrapped around me as we watch TV.
Embry's POV
"You two look cozy." Waking up to my mom getting ready for work tells me it's morning.
It's still dark out, the entire house blue and dim except for the bathroom light landing on my mom. She still has pajamas under her pencil skirt with her hands busy fastening her watch on with an amused grin.
My head feels groggily, my eyes heavy and threatening to close again, which means I slept good. I take up the whole sofa, feet hanging off the edge because I'm too tall to fit properly now. Which leaves no room for Winnie, who ended up spending the night on my chest. She's snug under my arm, using my left shoulder as a pillow.
The TV now off and the blanket pulled over us tells me my mom came home and found us, but decided to let us sleep instead of waking us. It's not the first time she's found out someone was staying the night on our sofa, though this is the first time it's not one of the pack.
"Did you eat breakfast?" Is all I can manage, yawning halfway through it.
"I'll grab something on the way." My mom promises. "So that's her, your imprint."
"This is Winnie," I nod, fighting sleep. Even though this is a tight fit, I've never been more comfortable.
"I was tempted to wake her up just to meet her." My mom admits.
"She'll never let herself live it down if that's how you two met." I nod along, eyes threatening to shut.
"You haven't slept that well since high school." My mom grins to herself, glancing up at the wall at my first grade picture. "It's still early. You can probably sleep a bit more."
I mumble a "thanks mom," before everything goes dark again. Ever since the change, I'm always tired and fall asleep anywhere. But this is the best sleep I've ever had.