Winnie's POV
Starting your day in a toilet really humbles you.
I'm use to being the one who holds people's hair back, the one who gets aspirin and Gatorade. I've never been the one whose head is halfway in the toilet bowl, dry heaving while the bathroom tile makes my knees ache.
For most of my life I'd wake up before school to sit next to my aunt while she puked up whatever she had the night before. The sound of car doors slamming or loud music in the early mornings were my alarm clocks. I'd be up at whatever's time she got home to make sure she'd remembered to lock the door behind her, to help her get food in her stomach, help with getting her up the stairs or down beside the toilet when she couldn't hold her liquor anymore.
Now here I am at nineteen, face down in the toilet like my aunt.
"There you go," Embry ties my hair into a ponytail behind me, his big hands slow but expertly moving at the nape of my neck. At first, the slight breeze is relieving against my sweaty skin. Then the breeze chills over, a chill bolting right down my spine and then I'm lurching forward with another wave of nausea.
"You'll feel better once you get all of it out of your system." Embry promises in a low murmur, his hand rubbing smoothing circles on my back. Admittedly, he's being much nicer than I had ever been to my aunt during these situations. She'd just apologize and ugly cry between vomiting while I ignored her.
"I think..." I slowly lift my head up, taking in a big gulp of clean air. My voice is unfamiliar from the hurling. Sounding hoarse and scratchy as it does low and thick with nausea. "I think it's over."
"How much did you had to drink, Winnie? I thought you had a few sips of Enola's brew." Embry asks, helping me from my crouch to sit down against the far bathroom wall.
"Leah may have dared me to drink a bit more on the hike back down." I admit sheepishly.
"How much did she dare you?" Embry is slow to sit beside me, watching me with careful eyes as if I'll barf again at any moment.
"A few mouthfuls." Through the waves of nausea I force a wobbly grin. "She was so sure I'd puke it up on the trail, but I didn't." I just puked it up later, but I still consider this a win. Though Enola certainly did win as she downed the most, and didn't even stumble once the entire walk back down.
"So shots not sips." Settling down next to me, Embry gingerly drops his arm around my shoulders, trying to be as gentle with me as possible as if any motion will make me nauseous. To signal I'm feeling better, I lean into him. My head dropping onto his shoulder and letting him support all my weight. He answers with a squeeze of my arm, pulling me in closer. "That's like Leah to start a drinking game even when she can't drink."
"Do you miss drinking?" Embry was just like any other high schooler. He was just starting to learn how to drink from stolen sips of our parents beer or whatever someone else could sneak to party before he shifted. While he'll never experience a hangover like me, he'll miss out on that part of being an adult for the rest of his life. "It must suck so much that you shifted before turning 21."
"At first, yeah I was pretty annoyed," Embry shrugs off while he thinks about it. "But until ten minutes ago I'm not. you're making the no-alcohol thing look pretty good right now."
"You're not missing much. It tastes like ass anyway." I assure him which earns me a grin. I curse so far and in between, when I do swear Embry always finds it hilarious. "Sorry for waking you up with this."
I was out cold not too long after I got home. Embry helped as much as he could while I stumbled into bed. Then I bolted awake around 6AM completely sick to my stomach. I was hunched over the toilet ten minutes later. Embry's pajamas remind me of how he broke out of his sleep to follow me into the bathroom, probably woken up from the sounds of my gagging. I'm still in my hiking clothes from the day before, all crumbled up and sweaty.
"You have nothing to apologize for." Embry insists, using the sweetest of touches to tuck strands of my hair back.
"You must be grossed out." I rasp.
"I'm not." Embry waves off.
"You saw me puke." I remind him in a croak.
"You're not feeling well, Winnie." Embry reminds me in a gentle voice.
"You have to be so exhausted." I point out.
"We have the rest of the morning to sleep in."
"The smell alone has to be bothering you with that werewolf sense."
"I'll makeout with you right now." Embry threatens with a coy but determined grin. That'll make morning breath seem like daises compared to what I must smell like right now.
"Please don't." The laugh that wrenches itself out stings my throat, but Embry always knows exactly what to say to me to lighten the mood. Embry keeps me company on the bathroom floor, letting me take all the time I need till the dizziness in my head ebbs away and I feel okay to stand on my own. He forces me to sip on water after I brush my teeth, his tone playful but his gaze cautious on me. When I come back from the shower, I find Embry changing the sheets on my bed because he already knew I was planning to do the exact same thing or I wouldn't be able to fall back asleep thinking about how dirty I had gotten the first pair.
"Feeling better?" Embry asks, not letting me help.
"Yes," I lower on the edge of the bed with a tired but sincere smile. "I have you, of course I feel better."
"Does a burger sound like an equal trade for an oil change?" I stand in Jacob's garage with a to-go bag from Lodge in one hand and a paper tray of sodas in the other.
"Did your car really need an oil change? Or did you come to check up on me, Winnie?" Jacob asks, an easy grin on his face but an unconvinced look to his eyes. Grease stains his Tshirt and coating his tan arms, with a matching smear of oil across his nose, like he forgot his hands were dirty and rubbed at his face. I recognize Jared's bronco, the hood of the car propped open and what looks like half of the engine not with the rest of the car as it should be.
"What makes you say that?" I raise a brow, the friendly tone in my voice wavering.
"Because Winnie, you brought food. I know all your moves." Paul most have told the guys I'll use food as a bargaining chip. Inviting me to sit, Jacob points to a stool by a cluttered work bench where most of Jared's engine is spread out. "Plus, I just changed your oil a month ago."
Busted.
"Well," I drop down on the stool with a defeated pulp. "You got me there."
"Did you bring onion rings? Paul got onions rings." Paul may be an only child, but he certainly should have been someone's annoying little brother.
"No, you got cheese fries."
"You must really want me to tell you something." Jacob chuckles, the sound just nearly as comforting as Embry's but doesn't have the same feeling to it. While Jacob's laugh can make anyone smile, Embry's laugh can make laugh too.
"I also brought you a pie."
"What kind?" Jacob is up and wiping the oil off with an even dirtier cloth, his eyes bright with earnest.
"Banana cream."
"Let's go eat inside." Jacob is halfway out the garage, pausing at the door connecting the garage to the house to invite me in with a nudge of his head.
"Should I wait to ask why you came over now, Winnie? Or after we eat?" Jacob jokes, washing the grease off in the kitchen sink.
"Not till we eat." I shrug.
"Trying to wine and dine me, huh." We set up the kitchen table with the spread, while Jacob is already eating fries out of the bag. Jacob is halfway down into his seat and he's already taking a big chunk of his burger. Jacob let's eat my own food, filling in the conversation so easily with jokes and more than a simple 'how are you?'
When I'm full he leans his elbows on the table and gives me a easy grin then asks what he's been asking since I walked in. "Not that you're not always welcome, Winnie, but..."
"I don't come over often." I finish for him gingerly, knowing Jacob would never be the one to say something so frank or unpleasant. So I say it for him.
"Well," He looks like he wants to laugh it off, but thinks better of it. "You're still always welcome. It's nice hanging out with a girl instead of all the guys. Makes me miss when my sisters still lived here." God, Jacob is the sweetest.
"You weren't at the bonfire," I explain, giving up the jig. A look of realization fills Jacob's big warm brown eyes, his face going soft with understanding.
"You're checking on me, Winnie." Jacob concludes with a flattered smile. It's true, but Jacob would have done the same for any of the pack. "I don't go to the bonfires much."
"So I won't see you at the next one?" I guess.
"Probably not. Someone has to patrol, so I do so everyone can get a night off." It seems like he's trying to convince himself more than me.
"You deserve a night off too, Jacob." I suggest.
"Thanks Winnie." Jacob pauses. "Do we have to talk about it?" Jacob asks to his plate.
"Not at all." I give Jacob a knowing look, knowing better than anyone about not wanting to talk about the touchier subjects. I don't like to talk myself, my childhood, high school, my family or really anything before the age of seventeen. So if Jacob doesn't want to talk about something, I'll never be the one to make him.
"Thanks Winnie," Jacob looks relieved, a hand wrapping around the back of his neck.
"Is that the 1969 Volkswagen Beetle punch buggy out front?" The front door swings open and shut, then Billy's deep and brassy voice fills up the house.
"Hi Billy," I grin at the excited look on Billy's face, his eyes bright.
"It's good to see you, Winnie. What brought you out here to our side of the woods? Oil change?" Billy inquires, rubbing his palms together.
"I changed her oil last month." Jacob points out much to his father's disappointment.
"Just stopping by for lunch." I pull out the extra to-go dish I had stashed away. "I brought you your regular order, Billy."
"You even remembered the pickles." Billy lifts the lid to his favorite sandwich, giving the sandwich an inspection like how he does with every sandwich Billy orders. It's his little habit to double check his order is right, and he won't take a bite till he checks. "You shouldn't have. Thank you, Winnifred."
Billy and Jacob exchange a happy smile. I can tell my small gesture means a lot to both of them. Billy and Jacob think of everybody else, it's not often when someone thinks about how it's just them here.
"It's not everyday we have a lovely young lady at our table." Billy rolls into the empty spot at the table, "Did Enola send you on an errand out here, Winnie?"
"Just routine maintenance on the Punch Buggy," I shrug, exchanging a knowing look with Jacob.
"Where you coming back from, dad?" Jacob smoothly changes the subject, eating the second burger I made sure to bring.
"From Forks. I was up at Charlie's house helping him put up a new TV." Billy answers, a careful tone in his voice.
"New TV?" Like every guy, I expect Jacob to excited at the sound of a brand new gadget, but his usual easy demeanor stones over. His grin dropping into a frown as if he's thinking something over.
"Yeah, you know how he had that huge boxy one since the 90s. Now we can finally watch the game on a flat screen." Billy tries to grin but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.
"Good for Charlie." Jacob nods. "Be careful up there in Forks."
"Always." Billy nods solemnly. Both referring to the vampires.
"I should go finish Jared's car. He'll be needing it back soon." Jacob excused himself, thanking me for lunch and inviting me to come sit with him after I finish up my own food.
"He's not usually like that," Billy assures me.
"Oh, I know. Jacob's one of the nicest guys on the Res."
"He is, isn't he?" Billy grins briefly before frowning. "Jacob doesn't like talking about Forks or the Cullens."
"I'm noticing no one does." Not even Leah or Enola go into detail. If someone does mention the vampires, it's either an insult or a reference to the Legends. I should inquire, especially given how I work in Forks. Yet I keep avoiding the subject. From what I can already tell the details are unsettling as they are gruesome, and keep putting it off.
"Bella bought Charlie a new TV." Billy explains, forgetting his lunch halfway through as if he completely lost his appetite. With a tight shake of his head, Billy's tan face sinks into a disappointed expression. "We don't talk about Bella."
"Bella Swan?"
"Bella Cullen now." Billy corrects, folding his hands in his lap.
"They turned Bella, didn't they?" I'll never forget when I saw Bella with her 'family' at the Forks market. How there was no life in their matching yellow like eyes, how still they were, how lifeless their marble skin was, how perfect yet wrong they looked. Her features looked too perfect to be real, all of her looked too unnatural. Bella looked life-like instead of alive.
"No, what Jacob and the pack did was Turning. What they did to Bella—they killed her." It's unsettling hearing Billy Black speak with such brutality. His usual wisdom and good naturedness completely gone, only leaving room for the god forsaken truth.
"When did she die?" I force myself to ask, knowing if I don't ask now, I'll most likely never get the answer.
"Not too long after she graduated high school. Bella had just gotten back from her honeymoon. We all knew she didn't have too long left when she got married. Her wedding was more like a funeral." Billy explains, giving me more information on the vampires than anyone else has.
"She was so young." Bella must have barely been eighteen. "How did she die?"
"Brutally." Billy sighs, pushing away his food. "It was carnage... that little bloodsucker they say is Bella's daughter slaughtered her—killed her from the inside out. The Cullens said they saved her, but Bella died on that table. Whatever is left is walking around in her skin."
"I get why Jacob didn't want to talk about her." I mutter, done with my meal too. I'm so disturbed, I don't even think I could pack it up to eat later, I'd be sick to my stomach all over again from just looking at it and remembering what was discussed over it.
While Billy's words ring harsh, yet there's something to them. I've felt those exact words when I encountered the vampires. Felt them right above that pit in my stomach, next to my heart, at my core; I felt the wrongness. And I wonder if Jacob does too when he sees Bella now.
"Is she why Jacob wasn't at the bonfire?" I inquire, assuming he didn't want to hear the stories of the original Cold Ones. Bella is a vampire now. The treaty keeps her out of La Push just as much as the other vampires.
"Yes," Billy answers simply, clearing out the table. He leaves it at that, either deciding he has said enough of Jacob's and Bella's history or that he can't bare another word. Not blaming Billy, I don't want to hear much more either. I help him clean up, falling into a stunned quiet that later grows into something near a comfortable silence.
"Not to overstep, but I have an important but unpleasant question for you Winnie." Billy breaks our mutual quiet after we move into the living room.
"Not sure how it can get much worse than vampires." I try at a joke, "Go ahead, Billy."
"Now you don't have to answer if you're not up for it. You just let me know, and we can pretend I didn't ask." Billy offers.
"Noted."
"In a couple of weeks, the anniversary is coming up," Oh. Speaking of death—I make the connection.
My parents' death anniversary.
"Yes, it is." I confirm with a solemn nod. It's not till the end of next month.
"That'll be a hard day." Billy nods. "Your parents were good folk. Would it be alright if I joined you to pay my respects?"
"You'd be willing to come with me to visit their graves?" I don't mean to sound so taken aback. Right besides the feelings of shock, there's a feeling of... something that warms when I realize someone else still remembers my parents' death anniversary.
"It would be an honor, Winnie." Billy insists.
"If you don't have anything going on that day—"
"Nonsense, even if I did, I'd clear my schedule." Billy states.
"It would mean a lot to me if you'd come." I agree softly. Taking off his hat, Billy holds it against his chest, his dark eyes going soft with emotion.
"It humbles me you'd let me join. Thank you, Winnie." Billy tips his hat to me, and I'm suddenly fighting the urge to hug him.
"I should be the one saying thank you,"
"You're the one who brought lunch." Billy points out with a grin. "I do hope you'll stop by again, Winnie. You're welcome anytime. No need to change your car oil."
"Speaking of the car," I pull out the keys. "Wanna take it for a spin with me?"
Billy is already maneuvering to his front door.
Embry's POV
The rain had just cleared when it was my shift for patrol.
It hasn't been the easiest shift, with the ground
soaked from the rain, now too soft and muddy for us to run on. The smell of wet earth had dampen everything, coating all of La Push
with a musky scent we can't differentiate. Half of me is soaked, legs down I'm cold and damp while the rest of me is covered in mud.
Yet, the shift isn't terrible. I'm with Paul, who finds any excuse to run on all fours exhilarating. The mud and cold don't matter to him. From the moment he shifts, Paul charges ahead. Running into the horizon as if he could catch the moon itself if only he runs fast enough.
His laughter fills my head like music, the thrill of his run overflowing into my own head and motivating me to run faster.
"Want to race?" Paul challenges, slowing down just the slightest to turn back to look at me.
"Ran out of squirrels to chase?" I joke, taking the moment to gain on him and pass him altogether. Taking my speed as an answer, Paul guns after me. There's a literal bark of laughter, then Paul is neck and neck with me.
"Where's the finish line?" I send down our mental bond, banking right to throw him off. It only encourages Paul to only speed up.
"Jared and I use the cliffs. We jump, then whoever lands in the water firsts wins."
"That's on the other side of the res," My point is halfhearted, but I'm already speeding up.
"Can't make the distance, Call?" Paul's taunt chimes in me head, his snout matching the sneer on his voice. "If you need something easier, we can make a halfway point—"
"When I get there first I'm pushing you in." Mud be damned. Gunning ahead, I let out a bark of my own. Paul curses in my head, but we're both so focused neither could make out what he said even if we wanted to.
The Rez condenses under our feet, like a carpet that rolls till it's completely folded over. The mountains are far behind us, the town blinks pass, then the woods are thinning the closer we get to the beach.
We each fight for the lead, one over taking the other over and over again.
The trees clear away. Then we're running up hill, and Paul rushes up the incline with everything in him.
"When I win Embry, you're going to have to—" Paul pants, his gloating loud in my head but cut short. Right when the slant of the hill levels out, I catch up. Faster than he's ever seen me, I eat the distance between us in three strides.
Paul is tired at this point but I have just enough left in me to laugh at him. There's a growl, a curse then the edge of the cliff rushes at us too fast. Neither of us make the jump, instead we just fall off.
I'm not sure if we shifted back, but we should so we don't doggy paddle. There's a loud peel of hollering, I can't tell if I'm the one laughing or if it's Paul.
The water comes up fast if not instantaneously. We have seconds.
"Shit! Shit! Shit—shit! shit!" We smack into the water. The impact stings my skin then the cold water shoots pins and needles through my limps. We fight through the waves back up, bursting through with loud mouthfuls of air. Paul is an ungraceful swimmer, thrashing about with big splashes to keep level or because he's still wired from our race.
When we pull our heads out from the water, we're laughing through chattering teeth.
"Did you see who landed first?" I ask, swimming for shore to get out of the icy waters.
"No," Paul swims after me.
"Tie then?" I offer, the sand coming up to meet my feet so I can walk the rest of the way. When we reach the shore, we dropped down to sit on the sand, right where the waves reach our feet. Without the warmth of the sun, the grains of sand are icy cold against us but we ignore it.
"It's that or you lose, so sure." Paul jokes.
"I had you there at the end." I point out, which Paul waves off.
"It's all about the launch—the jump," Paul excuses. After a beat we both end it with a whatever and a chuckle.
The sand under my hands start to grind into my palms and joints. The way it sticks to my skin is a reminder how we're on the very beach that Winnie had her incident on.
"Are you thinking about Winnie?" Paul asks me.
"Yeah..."
"I can tell by the look on your face. You get this look in your eye." Paul has the exact tone he used when he first asked me what it was like to have an imprint.
"I didn't know I make a face." I scratch the back of my neck. The realization does make me grin a bit. I have a Winnie Face. It's sappy but endearing.
"Oh, you make a face alright."
"Paul, can I ask you something?" Probing carefully, I debate with myself if I should bring this up at all.
"Shoot."
"Okay, but if I ask I need you to swear on your life that we never bring it up again. No jokes, no backhanded remarks. We only talk about it now then never again." Paul stiffens under the warning look I give him, my eyes pleading with him to not joke around but to take this seriously.
"Damn." Paul looks taken aback. "Maybe you'd be better off asking Jacob."
"That's not a good idea." I admit. It'll only remind Jacob of Bella, and I can't put him through that. He's been making a lot of progress moving on, and this will only make him feel alone.
"Damn." Paul mutters. "What about Quil?"
"Nope,"
"Seth?"
"Definitely not."
"Damn. How bad is this thing you want to ask?"
"I shouldn't ask," I sign. That catches Paul's attention.
"If you need to ask, then ask me. I promise it'll stay on this beach, and if I do ever talk about it—which I won't—you get one punch."
"That doesn't make me feel better, but thanks." I give Paul a pat on the back. I go quiet to figure out exactly how I'll put this into words but Paul doesn't let me stay quiet for long.
"If you keep thinking about it Embry, you're going to talk yourself out of it. Just say it!"
"How do you have sex without losing control?" I blurt out. The immediate silence is deafening, but decidedly better than the snort Paul lets out.
"Don't." I warn Paul. He sobers up the slightest bit, forcing down his laugh like he's corners of his mouth keep twitching, just near failing from letting loose a booming laugh.
"Why don't you ask Jared?" Paul suggests. The reasoning being because Jared has an imprint.
"Because he'll tell Kim, then Kim will tell Emily. Then it won't be long till Emily brings it up to her Sue and then—"
"Seth will tell Leah, and she won't let you live it down." Paul finishes for me. Or worse, Leah will tell Winnie.
"What about asking Sam?"
"Sam will tell Emily, and she'll still tell Sue who will tell Seth, and Leah still chews me out."
"Damn. You really had to ask me." Paul blinks. "So, I'm taking it as you and Winnie haven't?"
"No." I sigh, my weight sinking into the sand. "I keep losing control every time things start to..."
"Have you with any girl since you Changed?" Paul questions, throwing a shell into the water.
"No," I admit lowly. "I hadn't been in complete control, so I never put myself out there."
"You haven't had sex in three years?" Paul is god smacked.
"You're cock blocking yourself." Paul states like it's obvious. Regret immediate fills me, confirming I shouldn't have asked Paul. Maybe I should have just risked it and asked Jared "Sorry, that was stupid." Paul tries for an apology when he sees me sigh.
"So I'm guessing you have had sex since you changed?" My voice is flat, bordering on impatient.
"It would be pretty shitty of me to say fuck yeah, right?" Paul cautions.
"You technically already did."
"Damn, sorry man."
"So... how did you?" I ask again "How soon after the Change did you?"
"Have sex? I figured out your first problem, Embry. You're afraid to even say it."
"Noted." As much as I don't like it, Paul has a point there. I'm holding back in every way. I even avoid the word.
"Honestly? I've only had sex twice since we've Changed. I'm not the ladies man I use to be." Paul admits lowly.
"No way." I'm stunned, bulking at the truth.
"Yeah." Paul nods. "It took me over a year to put myself back out there. I wasn't ready, I didn't have control yet. Then the week of Bella's wedding I tried—I tried hooking up with a girl from Forks on the beach."
"How did it go?"
"Terrible." Paul admits with a defeated chuckle. "I told myself I would pace myself. Really take my time to listen to my body, take breathers when I needed and wait to see. Then I got arrogant. Nothing happened at first, so we kept going farther and farther till five minutes in I almost shifted. Not like when I get angry and there's still some control. No, I had to stop all together and run for it. I've never ran so fast in my life. I barely made it to the edge of the beach before I shifted."
"Fuck." I mutter under my breath, gaping at Paul.
"Girl number two was better. That was another whole year later. But I had to take a lot of pauses in between to keep from shifting."
"Both girls are alright?"
"Yes." Paul nods, staring at me for a long moment. "You're scared you're going to hurt Winnie, like how Sam hurt Emily?"
"More than anything." I admit, feeling like a complete jerk for even thinking that. We've all been in Sam's head. We all know how much that eats away at him, how one moment is now permanent on Emily. How he won't forgive himself even when Emily has, and how we all know if he wonders if he's just like his own father every time Sam looks at Emily.
"You won't." Paul shakes his head. "Sam and Emily were arguing. Not during intimacy. It was when Sam first Shifted, when he was still learning to keep control. You wont hurt Winnie, Embry. You don't even raise your voice."
"I lost control at the Lodge." I point out lowly.
"Embry, you ran it off before you turned. That asshole put his hands on Winnie, then threw a punch at you. Yet, you didn't hurt anyone, Embry. You defended her then ran it off. Out of all of us, you have the best control. Give it a year, and you'll have better control than all of us, even Sam."
"You think so, Paul?"
"You're damn right I do. Take it from me, I'm still learning how to keep control."
"We all are." I refuse to let Paul be hard on himself but he just shakes his head.
"Not like me." Paul looks out across the ocean, and I'm not sure how but I can tell he's thinking about his dad. Comparing how he can't keep control to his father Terrance beating Paul and his mom, and how that piece of shit wasn't even a werewolf. Paul's dad is all human and absolute evil.
"You're going to get full control, Paul. You've been tough on yourself, but you've made strides—"
"I know I'm pretty awesome, but we're talking about you." Paul smirks, but his usual coyness doesn't reach his eyes. "Winnie is consenting?"
"Yeah, but I'm not sure she's ready."
"Don't do that." Paul jabs a warning finger in my direction.
"What?"
"Doubt Winnie because you're doubting yourself." Paul states, looking a lot like Sam for a moment. "You've shifted in front of Winnie, right?"
"Yeah,"
"See? She's safe with you, Embry. Either wolf or human you're in full control. As a wolf you never even barked at Winnie."
"If I do—"
"You won't." Paul grunts. "Listen Embry, you're going to take things slow. Who said you had to hit a home run on the first try? You're still at first base? Just try to get to second." While his wording isn't the most refined, it's sound advice. Uncomplicated, straightforward; just like Paul.
"I never thought about it that way," I admit, looking at the sand dumbfounded. The words sink in, straight plummet down like a weight in my stomach with the reality. Paul did a lot of convincing, and maybe it's because he's a fighter but his every argument had a point. I won't voice it out loud, but I have been looking at it as all or nothing. Kissing and straight to intercourse.
No wonder Winnie's been frustrated.
"Well, I'm a genius." Paul boosts with a smirk. "There's sand in my ass crack. Let's get out of here."