Indiana.
I still can't believe I fell asleep on him the other night.
When his alarm went off, he gave me the gentlest kiss that left me yearning for more, and I watched him through my window as he took off into the forest, fearless and brave like he was the scariest thing in the woods.
Doesn't he know what's really out there? What kind of monsters can lurk in plain sight?
Is he really capable of doing anything to protect us like Josie insists?
I wanted to ask him. I tried to, but I guess the lack of sleep is catching up to me. The sound of his heart beating was like an instant lullaby, but the second he left I was wide awake again. I could still feel him against my lips – could still feel the hardness of his body under the tips of my fingers.
I haven't been able to stop thinking about it.
There was an earthiness to his kiss. A gentleness in the way he held me, though I could feel how eager he was to move things forward. We probably would have if Josie and Embry hadn't come home when they did. I still don't know if that was a good or bad thing.
"You know, I saw Paul's dick once."
My head snaps in Josie's direction and I give her an exasperated look. She has not let up since that night.
"Oh my god, Josie," I groan, sinking further into my chair.
We've been sitting on the front porch at Emily's, enjoying the last few hours of sunlight over a few glasses of wine while dinner cooks.
I've got chicken and vegetables in the oven to give Emily a break so she can relax. She looks like she might go into labor any day now, even though she still has a bit to go. She giggles and sips her red wine, her feet resting on a cooler. It's the only glass she's having tonight, and she's been savoring it for well over thirty minutes now. Josie and I are each on our third.
"It was a total accident, so don't get any ideas, but it's huge," Josie adds.
I cover my face and Emily giggles again.
"Don't tell Embry I said that. Not that his isn't just as impressive—"
"Okay, this conversation is over." I sit on that for a moment and then give Josie a look. "Wait, how did you see his dick on accident?"
She doesn't get a chance to answer before the guys roll up in Paul's 4Runner. My breath leaves me watching him exit the car, a case of beer tucked under his muscular arm. He's dressed so simply – a black t-shirt and a pair of khaki Carhartts that are tucked into some well-worn work boots – and still manages to be outrageously attractive.
It's the first time I've seen him since that night three days ago. We've been texting, but he's been busy working on his house.
He reaches me in a matter of seconds and hunches over, his fingers curling around the back of my neck as he presses a deep kiss into my lips. "I've been waiting to do that," he murmurs against my mouth, his breath like spearmint. He casts me a dazzling smile and follows Sam and Embry into the house to put the beer away.
Josie just smirks at me.
"Shut up," I whisper, my lips tingling from the kiss.
He's like an addiction.
The high from being around him lasts for hours after he leaves, but even then I'm always searching for more of him. Looking for the next dose. Seeking a bigger thrill. He's unlocked something inside of me I didn't know was there.
I've never felt this way before.
Not that I have much experience, but I've fooled around a few times and have never felt this kind of craving. I've never had my entire body light on fire from a simple kiss. I've never had regular, everyday things turn me on, like the way he holds a case of beer under his arm, or his hand on the steering wheel of his car.
What are you doing to me, Paul?
"I should check on dinner," Emily says, starting to stand up.
I quickly jump to my feet. "Nope! You're relaxing," I scold, pointing my finger at her.
The – empty – kitchen smells great when I walk in. I pull the oven open to check on the food, then start a few sides on the stove. It's going to be a full house tonight. Sam and Emily of course, Josie and Embry, Malachi and Sarah, Jared and Kim, Paul, the twins, and even Seth and Leah are coming.
I'm a little worried about Leah. I don't want her to feel as uncomfortable as she did at Josie's party, but I guess she wouldn't have agreed to come if she couldn't handle it.
"Hey, you're cooking tonight?"
I look over my shoulder at Paul who just walked in from the living room, an open beer hanging loosely in his hand. He smiles and walks up next to me, looking at the array of sides on the stove.
I take a nervous sip of wine. "Yeah, I thought I would give Emily a break," I explain.
"And here I was hoping I could keep your cooking skills all to myself."
We both laugh and he leans against the counter to keep me company.
"How's the house?" I ask, sprinkling some salt over the potatoes I just cubed up to boil.
"Just waiting on Jesse. I was thinking about taking you up on that offer to go to Tacoma," he says with a smile. "I'll just drag his ass back here by his hair."
"When?"
He shrugs, taking a drink of his beer. "This weekend or something. Whenever you're free and I can steal you for a few hours."
My heart skips. I wonder if he's aware that I can barely function around him. "Yeah, that would be fun."
We chat aimlessly while I finish cooking. The remaining guests arrive and everyone starts situating themselves around the table and on the stools at the bar counter. I originally thought I cooked plenty, but by the time people start asking for thirds, I realize I made a crucial mistake.
I forgot these boys inhale their food like vacuums.
Tucked between Josie and Leah, I watch from across the table as Jared reaches for the spoon and scoops what's left of the chicken and vegetables onto his plate. He then grabs the last two rolls and the final scoop of mashed potatoes.
I make a face at him over the rim of my wine glass. "How are you still hungry?" I ask.
With a mouthful of potatoes, he makes a face back at me and motions at me with his fork. "Looking at you makes me hungry."
Seth and Malachi laugh and Paul jabs him with his elbow, giving him a what-the-hell look.
I just laugh and sip my wine. "Fair enough."
"Yeah, and for someone who never eats, she's a surprisingly good cook!" Seth adds, earning a high-five from Malachi and a smack in the head from Leah.
Emily leans back in her chair. "Where did you learn to cook, Indie?" she asks with genuine interest, her hands rubbing her belly.
"My dad was a chef."
She frowns at the word was, but recovers quickly. "Can I ask his name?"
It doesn't make me sad to talk about my dad. I miss him, of course, but I feel like talking about him keeps a part of him alive. The restaurants will likely always be there, but the owners and business partners only know who he was as a chef.
They don't know that he used to spend hours teaching me to cook. They don't know he realized early on my aversions to eating, and that he desperately tried to help me develop a positive relationship with food. They don't know that he would drop everything to make me something to eat if I asked – no matter how busy he was. They don't know that every time my mother commented that I looked a little bloated in my leotard, he fell a little more out of love with her.
They don't know, and no one ever will if I'm not the one that keeps that part of him alive with me.
"Yeah, of course, his name was Gerard Lavelle."
She surges with excitement. "Really?" she asks, getting to her feet with Sam's help. Her hand reaches out for me and I follow her to the utility closet next to the pantry. She opens the door and the middle shelf is lined from wall-to-wall with books. "I own every single one of his cookbooks."
Warmth spreads through me. I don't know if it's the alcohol or the fact that someone close to me is keeping him alive through his recipes and I didn't even know it.
I run my fingers over the worn spines of the books. It's apparent she uses them a lot.
"This is amazing, Emily," I tell her happily.
She reaches in and pulls the thinnest of the books out. One of his very first books. "This one is my favorite," she tells me, flipping through the pages. "And… is this you?"
On the page she pauses at, there's a picture of a little blond girl standing on a footstool in front of a cutting board. There's an oven mitt on one of her hands and a wooden spoon in the other, and she's covered in flour, a cheesy grin on her face.
A recipe for children's sugar cookies is below the picture.
"Yep, that's me," I reply with a laugh. That same picture used to be framed on one of the walls in the house before he died. My mother took them all down when he never came home again.
"I have got to see this," Jared calls from the table, and I hear the sound of chair legs screeching against the floor.
Emily hands the book over her shoulder and everyone takes turns passing it around and commenting on how cute I was as a kid. I think I was only five or six in the picture, wearing a long t-shirt and fuzzy socks.
Back in the happier days.
I refill my glass of wine with the last of the second bottle all of us girls have shared. Paul walks up behind me and nuzzles against the back of my neck. "You okay?" he asks gently.
More warmth spreads through me, radiating from where his hands rest unsurely on my hips. He doesn't know if I'm okay with him touching me like this. How can he not when I can barely breathe around him?
I turn to face him, curling my glass into my chest and pushing up on my toes to kiss him. He cups my face with both hands and pours more warmth into my body through his lips.
Josie whistles at us, but kissing him is like being hypnotized, so I don't even care.
When we pull away, he rests his forehead against mine and takes my hand, flattening it over his heart. I can feel it thumping through his skin –the beat matching my own pounding in my ears.
"I still feel it," he whispers.
I set my glass down and take his free hand, placing it over my own erratic heart. "So do I."
We both smile and are then roped into watching a bad horror movie with everyone in the living room. It's not scary – at all – and is about some creepy clown kidnapping and murdering girls in an abandoned building. Super unrealistic, because he never dies regardless of what happens to him, but I've seen unrealistic things in real life before, so who can judge.
These people have to get their ideas from somewhere, right?
At some point, curled into Paul's side, I fall asleep, and it's pitch black when I open my eyes again.
Did everyone go home?
I shiver involuntarily. It's freezing in here, which means Paul's not next to me anymore.
I rub my eyes and force myself to sit up.
All I can see is darkness.
"Paul?"
No response.
I throw my legs off the – wait a minute.
Bed?
My stomach sinks. Every breath I take might as well be in a megaphone with how loud and shaky they are.
Weren't we on the floor in the living room?
I guess he could've moved me. I would've woken up though…
When I stand up, my feet sink into a familiar plush rug, and my eyes start to adjust to the dark. I feel like throwing up.
No. This can't be happening.
My hand smooths along the edge of the bed – it's too tall to be Paul's bed, and feels too familiar, like I've laid awake in it a thousand times before. At the end of the bed is a large dresser – Cherrywood – with a fake plant on top of it because nothing could ever fucking grow in this room with no sunlight or fresh air.
Though even if it could, I'd kill it just to spite him.
Nausea rolls through me. My pulse is racing.
Is he here? In the room? Or is he listening through the floor upstairs?
The kitchen is off to my right. Always stocked. Rarely used. Chair with restraints in the middle of the tiles. I can feel the gritty formula in the back of my throat already just thinking about it.
The bathroom is straight ahead. I don't want to the think about that either.
The lights flicker on.
Panic sets in.
I can't be back here. I can't have never left here.
Please be a dream.
I reach out and touch the edge of the dresser. It feels real. Because it is? Or because I remember the way it felt? Remember the grooves in the wood from all the years I spent touching it just to feel something.
Nothing's changed.
This room is exactly how I left it. Or thought I left it.
The walls, the bedding, the rug – they're all blush pink because he thought I would like it. But I never did. I like grey. I've always liked grey.
I peer through the adjoining door to the left – into the ballet studio.
Mirrors still line the back wall; bulletproof, because I broke them too many times just to piss him off. My reflection peers back at me from across the room. I shudder and look away.
Finally, the door.
There's a hair tie wedged in the teeth of the lock. Even now as I realize this is a dream, my trembling fingers hesitate to pull the handle. I don't think I want to see what's behind the door.
It swings open on its own.
They're there. Staring at me. Paul's warm, amber eyes are cold. Malachi's wide, childish smile is flat. Emily's swollen belly deflated, a baby in each arm silent and blue. Josie's neck cricked in a fatal angle. Leah, she—
I scream.
They start moving towards me. I slam the door shut and run, right into the cold, marble arms of the last person I ever wanted to see again.
His blood red eyes are filled with excitement – emotion he's never shown before.
"I missed you. I'll make you miss them from their graves if you don't come back to me."
I scream again and try to pry his hands from my body. I claw, push, bite – to no avail. He's still just as inhumanly strong as he's always been, but for the first time, my teeth actually leave a mark in his skin.
"Indiana!"
I keep fighting.
"Indiana, come on! Wake up!"
Leave me alone.
"Indie!"
I'm shaken awake by multiple pairs of hands.
My teeth are clamped around the warm flesh of someone's arm and my head is pounding. Blood racing. I'm covered in sweat and tears and I can barely breathe. I feel like I might pass out.
"Give her some space!" I hear Josie yell.
The hands release me.
I realize I'm not breathing, and unhinge my jaw. It was Paul's arm. The imprints of my teeth are deep in his skin, but there's no blood, even though I can taste it on my tongue.
Unsure, worried eyes stare back at me from every direction.
"Everyone get out," Josie hisses.
No one moves.
The air in the room is so thick it feels like I'm breathing water. It stings. It's suffocating. I want to drown in it.
"Out!"
Everyone but Paul and Emily slowly exits the room. The living room. At Emily's house. I'm not back in New York. I'm still in Washington. I'm still with Josie. With Paul.
I'm aware his eyes are glued on me, but I can't bring myself to look at him. Can't bring myself to check if those warm eyes are still warm or not. Not after this. How embarrassing. How embarrassing that I'll always be plagued by nightmares I'll never escape.
"I get it," Josie says softly to him. "Just let us talk to her for a minute?"
He's reluctant. Stubborn. But he eventually stands and leaves the room with one last glance over his shoulder. I feel it, but don't see it. I can't even look Josie in the eyes.
All I can do is stare at the end of the blanket thrown over me, crumpled and twisted from my nightmare. Was it a nightmare? Or a warning?
"Are you okay?" she asks, taking a seat next to me. Emily takes my other side.
My head is pounding. My stomach rolls in waves with nausea like I'm seconds away from throwing up. I mutely shake my head. I'm not okay. Just when things started to feel safe he caught me off guard and let himself in. He saw their faces. Faces of people precious and dear to me. Faces of people that have so warmly become my surrogate family without question.
She and Emily's arms wrap around me and I burst into tears.
I have to leave La Push. I have to leave her. Leave Paul, leave Emily, leave Leah – leave all the people I've met and grown to adore over these short few weeks. Leave my sudden whirlwind of a romance. Leave my job. Leave the beach and the green of the trees.
And return to hell.
"It was just a nightmare."
But it wasn't. They never are with him.
"Yeah," I whisper, throat scratchy.
How could I have been so careless?
Josie kisses the side of my head and squeezes me tightly. "Indie, I promise you that you're safe here."
It's not me I'm afraid for.
It's them.
We walk home in silence.
It's dark outside, now.
Sarah looked at me like I was the plague. I don't blame her. Sometimes I feel like I'm the plague. A parasite. Attaching to the host and wreaking havoc in a previously balanced ecosystem.
I have to leave before they end up having to rebuild everything.
You never wait for things to get worse. Not when you can prevent it.
I repeat that in my head over and over again.
Leave before things get bad. Leave before the people you care about get hurt. Go back to him before he comes for you.
It's only a matter of time until he figures out where I am.
I should leave in the morning. Grab enough money to get back to New York and leave the rest for Josie.
My chest tightens. I look over at her, her hand clasped with Embry's and head against his shoulder.
She's my person. My best friend. My hero.
She'll be safe in La Push as long as I'm not here. He won't look for her if he has me. I'll leave her a note. I'll tell her he won't hurt me.
He won't. I know he won't. At least not physically.
I left Emily's house without looking at Paul. It hurt his feelings – I could feel it when I walked through the door. He thinks he did something. Thinks he took things too fast or scared me off.
He didn't.
He's perfect. He's always been perfect.
I just can't stand the thought of looking into his eyes and knowing it'll be the last time. So I didn't. It's too bad the last memory he'll have of me is one where I was screaming and biting him.
Josie and Embry stay up with me until they have to go to work. I'm obviously not going in today. Embry already texted his mom for me and let her know. She said it was okay, and to take all the time I needed to rest.
It's almost like the universe is urging me along back to New York. Opening doors. Removing obstacles. It's almost too easy having an instant opening like this to be able to leave.
Am I really meant to be by Malcolm's side forever?
Is that really my fate?
I sit on the edge of my bed and look around the loft that's become my safe haven.
The bracelet Paul bought me resting on the shelf near my pillow. Books I added to Josie's collection. Trinkets and small pieces of jewelry. The flower Leah gave me at Quileute Days – dried and pressed against card paper.
It feels like home.
I glance at the bracelet again.
Paul feels like home.
My collection of things is still rather small. Small enough I can probably fit it all in my single duffle bag and a backpack. I need to leave now while they're gone, but I can barely bring myself to stand up.
I don't want to leave, but I know I have to.
They'll understand, right? That I have to go to protect them? That La Push can never be safe as long as I'm here?
I wonder what Paul will think.
I hope he won't think I went back to Malcolm to get away from him.
My shaking hands work quickly; folding and rolling articles of clothing for optimal packing. I don't take the trinkets. I don't pack my books. But the bracelet Paul gave me gets clipped onto my left wrist.
The only shoes I'm taking are the ones on my feet.
I don't pack my shampoo or makeup or the expensive coffee blend I bought.
Hopefully they won't serve as painful memories. I just don't have the room for them.
Hooking the duffle bag over my shoulder, backpack snug, I yank open the front door only to find Josie standing on the porch. She's not surprised to see me. In fact, I can tell she was expecting it. Her arms are crossed as she takes a step towards me and blocks my exit.
Neither of us say anything.
What would we?
She can't convince me to stay and I can't convince her to let me leave. It'll be a standoff.
We stare at each other for what feels like hours before she finally says anything.
"I could tell something wasn't right," she announces. "You were just going to leave without saying goodbye?"
"Because I know you'd never let me go," I explain.
She nods slowly. "I'm still not going to." There's that stubbornness of hers.
And so it begins.
"Where's Embry?" I deflect.
"Work. I sent him alone so we could talk." She takes another step towards me, forcing me another step back, until she closes the door behind herself and leans against it.
I take a deep breath and sigh. "I can't stay, Josie."
"You can," she disagrees. "I'm not letting you leave. I'm not letting you go back there."
"He saw their faces," my voice starts to tremble and I drop the duffle bag to the floor.
"It doesn't matter."
My eyes widen in disbelief.
It doesn't matter?
A flicker of anger ignites in my chest. "Are you serious? It doesn't matter? The lives of our friends—"
"Are not in danger," she cuts me off firmly. She walks over and takes a seat on the edge of the couch, hands folding nervously in her lap. "Listen, I haven't been very honest about La Push."
There's more to that statement, but she doesn't deliver it. It just lingers in her body language while I stare at her in silence. Am I supposed to guess? Am I supposed to be a psychic and magically know what she means by that?
I narrow my eyes. "I'm not going to sit here and wait for him to show up and kill everyone," I snap.
"Everyone's safe here, Indie. You're supposed to trust me."
"Then tell me what's going on!" I shout.
It's time I deserved the truth.
"Tell me what supposedly makes this place so safe. Tell me what's so special about big humans that are still just humans!"
The front door opens with a loud clatter.
"What's going on?"
My eyes tear away from Josie.
It's Paul. Of course it's Paul. He's standing in the doorway, rigid, with eyes narrowly pointed at Josie. He thinks she did something to me.
"I'm leaving," I tell him, my voice void of emotion. I look away from him so I don't have to see his expression. Feeling it is hard enough.
The room is starting to suffocate me.
"Don't do that," he says softly.
I shake my head. "No one tells me anything," I say. "You all dance around me with your secrets and hushed voices and expect me just to take your word for it. Like it's supposed to make me feel better. Like it means something."
The second the words leave my mouth I immediately want to take them back.
They act like a fist to the gut of both of them.
"It's not—" Paul starts, but he's cut off by Josie.
"You're right," she says, nodding her head, fingers twisted and knotted together. This is the first time I've ever felt her feeling nervous. "I'll tell you everything. I've been keeping secrets from you and you deserve to know the truth."
Now Paul's nervous. Really nervous. He doesn't say a word as he stares at her.
Josie licks her lips and gives me a pleading look. "Can you please just wait until tonight? Just to let me get everyone together…"
I can feel my resolve slowly slipping away.
If I wait a few hours, I may never have the courage to leave again, and all of these people that I want to protect will end up being casualties.
The thought makes me sick. Overwhelmingly sick. The panic starts to bubble in my throat again and I have to hold onto the counter to keep myself from falling over.
"Let's take a walk," Paul suggests. "Just you and me, to take your mind off things for a minute."
My legs are so weak I'm not sure I'll make it through the door, but I nod.
Josie approaches me and hugs me tightly. "I promise you'll understand everything after tonight."
There it goes.
Every ounce of my anger. Every feeling of fear. All of the nerve I'd worked up to be able to leave – gone with a single hug and one look into Paul's warm eyes.
I shake off my backpack to the floor and follow Paul outside. We take the familiar paved trail I walk to and from work every day, but it looks different, somehow. Gloomy, even though the sun is sprinkling through the trees onto the pavement.
Maybe I'm just projecting. Projecting how off things feel between Paul and I with him on one side of the trail and me on the other.
There might as well be a brick wall between us.
I can't find the words to say, so I stop searching for them. Maybe there's no right thing to say in this kind of situation. I've hurt him – twice in less than twenty-four hours; leaving Emily's refusing to look at him and trying to leave La Push without even telling him.
He takes a left onto a worn down dirt trail.
It takes some time, but it eventually leads us to a stone bench cozied up to a set of rock slabs arranged as steps. They lead up to another elevated dirt trail, and I can hear the ocean in the distance, so I'm assuming that's where it leads.
"I used to come here a lot when I was younger," Paul says, sitting down with his arm along the back of the bench. I sit next to him and his fingers brush against my shoulder. "When I got really pissed, it was nice to hear the ocean and not have to deal with anyone."
I close my eyes and listen to the sound of the waves rushing against the shore. It helps me escape for a second. There's nothing out here but piney trees, clean, salty air—
A flash of red eyes.
Mine fly open with a sharp inhale.
Paul presses his leg into mine, a peace offering. "No one wants you to leave," he says quietly, but with certainty. "It if was something I said or did, I'm—"
"It wasn't," I cut him off quickly. "I promise. It's…"
He waits patiently.
I let out a deep sigh and pick at the threading of my jeans. "It's Malcolm."
Josie must've told him his name, because once I say it his entire body fills with rage.
It's so strange, being able to feel what other people feel. He looks so calm and collected on the outside, but on the inside he's seething with anger. Radiating it.
"He will never get close enough to touch you."
"It's not me I'm worried about… It's everyone else."
He moves to kneel in front of me, his burning hands curling around the back of my knees. "He's not going to hurt anyone," he assures me, but it has little effect. "If he's stupid enough to come looking for you, he'll be dead before he can even cross the border."
It occurs to me that they still don't realize what they're up against.
Impenetrable skin. The strength of power machines. Malcolm isn't just another bar fight on the street. There's something wrong with him. I can't explain it, but it's wrong. Supernatural, even.
My throat hurts from holding back tears. "You don't know what he's capable of."
"C'mon, have a little faith in me," he jokes, squeezing my legs. "I took it easy on Yocum."
It makes me laugh; comparing Ian to Malcolm. Apples to oranges. A douchebag to a demon.
"There's that pretty smile."
Silence falls over us for a moment. I'm lost in the tenderness of his eyes.
"I know a lot of things, actually."
I egg him on, feeling some of the tension lift. "Oh yeah, like what?"
He wets his lips with his tongue. "Like… I know you're extremely beautiful," he says, thumbs rubbing soothing patterns against my legs. "I know you're scared, and I know you don't have to be. I know this is the safest place on earth for you. And… and I know if you leave, I'm going with you."
His eyes don't leave mine for a second.
"I think you're really clever saying pretty things at exactly the right time," I reply, smiling softly.
A smile spreads to his lips and he reaches up to cup my jaw. I melt into him, eyes falling shut as his familiar lips press against mine.
Before him, I never knew home could be a person. I never knew that something as simple as a kiss could have such healing powers. This man I've known a matter of weeks has the complete and utter ability to destroy me, and yet, I want nothing more than to place my life in his hands.
Later that night, when they're ready at the beach and the sun is barely a sliver along the ocean horizon, I look ahead at the growing flames of the bonfire. The smoke is billowing up into the clear sky, and a sense of dread washes over me.
Paul's worried about something.
I can feel it, but he walks with his head held high and his hand protectively clasped around mine.
Every fiber of my body tells me to turn and leave, but I have to do this. Whatever they're hiding, no matter how scary or damning it might be, I have to hear it. I have to understand what's going on in this small town.
And as the feeling of dread intensifies the closer we get, I realize this night is going to change everything, and I'm not sure if for better or for worse.
A/N: 11 CHAPTERS IN AND SHE'S FINALLY GONNA LEARN SOMETHING. Fuck. Lol! Points to whoever guesses what movie they were watching :p thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you think of this chapter :) xx