Bella wants to do something. And who better to do things with than... Jacob?
Besties, it has been A Month, featuring top hits like "job loss," "de-escalating a relationship," "major PTSD," and "summer depression." But my husband has a fantastic new job, my love life is thriving, and it's about to be fall, which means that my mental health is so stable you could park a horse in it. I went to the gym twice last week! Anything is possible, and I'm blowing kisses to each and every one of you about it. Mwah.
The house was dark when I crept into it. Charlie must already be asleep. Or somewhere else. The oven informed me that it was after one in the morning. I had no idea how that much time had passed, but it apparently had.
I tucked myself into bed, my mind swimming. But of one thing I was certain: I was tired of things happening around me. I wanted to do something. That was the last thing on my mind as the painkillers dragged me under into a dreamless sleep.
As soon as I woke up, I started feeling very aware of my phone where it was sitting in the drawer of my nightstand. It was like my own Tell-Tale Heart. The more I tried to ignore it, the more it weighed on me.
I gave in after my shower. I yanked open the drawer, fished the cord out from under the bed, and plugged the damn thing in. It powered on immediately and began flashing. 74 missed calls.
I scrolled through the call log. Renee. Renee. Jessica. Renee. Phil. Renee. Angela. Renee. None of them were from Edward. I already knew that, but… it still hurts.
All the way at the bottom, I saw a voicemail from Jacob. It was dated the day after our fight.
His voice played from the tiny speaker on the phone. "I'm sorry, Bella. I'm being a bad friend. It doesn't matter why you're hurting, just that you are. I was shitty yesterday. Call me when you forgive me."
I knew what it would have cost him to back down and swallow his pride. For the first time since Edward has left, a spot near the edge of the hole in my heart felt warm.
I hit call. It took several rings, but he picked up.
"Bella!" He sounded happy. "You're alive!"
"I'm alive," I repeated, almost smiling. "I just got your voicemail."
There was scuffling in the background. "Oh, yeah," he said, a little breathlessly. "Sorry."
"Nothing to apologize for." More scuffling. "Are you—you sound busy?"
"Not really." There was a thump and a soft ow. I didn't think it was Jacob. "Wanna hang?"
"I'd love to. If you're sure," I added, suddenly uncertain.
"Sure-sure," he said, sounding amused. "They letting you out of the house yet?"
"Yep!" I could feel the smile breaking out across my face at the idea of just… hanging out. I've been spending too much time cooped up. "Your place?"
"We'll start there." The line went dead.
Well, that's my day planned. I felt lighter than I had in a while.
We hadn't set a time, but I hurried anyway. I wanted to be out of the house. Away from Charlie. Away from everything. Partway through getting ready, I realized that most of my clothes were in the laundry basket… which I had been studiously avoiding. Something else I need to do, I sighed to myself, before grabbing a pair of jeans and yesterday's flannel. Which, now that I came to think of it, was also the day-before's flannel.
Laundry, I resolved. First thing.
On my way out, I saw my little cactus sitting on my nightstand. It looked dry. Drier than a cactus was supposed to be, that is. I couldn't remember the last time I'd watered it. Guiltily, I took it to the bathroom and ran the faucet until the soil was wet, then set it in the sink to drain. At least I can take care of one thing properly, I resolved.
Charlie was in the kitchen when I came down. He sat at the table, swirling his coffee thoughtfully.
"Morning, Bells."
"Morning." I got down a bowl to pour myself some cereal.
"You were out pretty late last night," he said quietly.
I froze in the middle of reaching for the top of the fridge. "I guess. Sorry."
"I tried calling, but it went straight to voicemail." My father sounded like he was talking about the weather, not parenting. "Busy?"
I felt my shoulders settling back. "I guess."
"Do you want to tell me where you were?" Now I could hear the tension underlying his voice.
"No." I emphatically did not. "Sorry I didn't call."
Charlie set the coffee cup down gently. "I have to admit, I'm a little concerned," he said, conversationally. "You lock yourself in your room for six weeks without telling me why, and then the first time you leave the house you disappear for hours. Without telling me why. Can you see things from my perspective?"
The very fact that he was being so—so—reasonable—made me want to dig in my heels. "I didn't know I was accountable to you for my whereabouts," I said snippily.
He breathed out slowly and tapped the table. "You're not. But I'm accountable for your wellbeing. Do I need to be worried, Bells?"
"No," I snapped, knowing that I was not doing a good job of proving my point. "I'm fine."
His mouth set. "That the only shirt you own?"
The fact that he was right didn't make me any less angry with him. I slammed the cereal down on the counter and stalked—well, limped—out of the house, only remembering at the last second that I needed to grab my keys. He let me go without further comment.
Nobody answered the Blacks' door.
I knocked again, starting to feel a little silly for having hurried. Jacob hadn't said a time, after all. He might be gone, or busy, or—it had sounded like he'd been with someone…
With someone, I wondered, or… with someone?
The idea that my best friend might have started dating someone while I'd been locked in my room bothered me a little, but I couldn't put my finger on why, exactly. Maybe just the fact that I'd been missing out on so much of my friends' lives.
"Bella!"
I whirled to see Jacob jogging up the driveway toward me. Despite the fact that it wasn't a particularly warm day (even by Forks standards), he wore only a pair of cutoff jean shorts. His long black hair was tied up casually on one side with a leather braid. It looked like he'd been working out lately. A lot.
"Sorry for being so prompt," I said, fighting down embarrassment. "Making up for lost time?"
Jacob grinned from ear-to-ear and scooped me off my feet in an enormous hug. I shrieked.
"Put me down," I demanded, thumping him on the chest for emphasis. "I just healed my leg—I have no desire to break it again and start all over!"
He leaned his chin against my forehead. "As if I'd let you break anything," he scoffed, then took his sweet time to set me on my feet again. "Long time, no see," he said, grinning unrepentantly down at me.
And it was down. Once I was on my feet, I realized he was now head and shoulders taller than me. I practically had to stand on tiptoe just to look him in the eye. "Jesus Christ, Jake," I complained. "What has Billy been feeding you?"
"Everything I can get my hands on," Jacob said with a laugh. "You're just in time for second breakfast. Come in?"
"Sure," I agreed, following him into the small house. He had to duck slightly to fit through the door and I marveled at the change again. How did he get so tall? When did he get so tall?
I perched on one of the old kitchen chairs while he poured us both bowls of Cap'n Crunch. He supplemented his with a scoop of protein powder and then grabbed a protein drink from the fridge, too.
"Wow," I said, "and this is your second breakfast?"
"Yep," he answered around a mouthful of cereal.
"Are you, like, getting really into bodybuilding?" It would explain the food and… the muscles. That I was not looking at.
"Nope," he said around another mouthful of cereal.
"So…" I prompted, taking another bite of my cereal, which hadn't even gotten soggy in the amount of time it had taken him to nearly finish his bowl.
He shrugged. "Growth spurt?"
I had heard what they said about teenage appetites. I just hadn't realized they meant it so literally. "I don't think 'spurt' is a big enough word to capture it," I said drily.
Jacob set down the bottle, which seemed to already be empty. "Look at this," he said, gleeful. I didn't miss how carefully he levered himself out of his chair, like he was afraid of breaking it. It was how…
I stopped that thought in its tracks and followed him to the door of the kitchen.
"This," he said, gesturing to the door frame. On it, I saw lines and dates and initials. Rebecca and Rachel's stopped just above my head, and I remembered that the twins were about my height. Jacob's initials kept going up, and up… and up. It was hard to make out the numbers, but it looked like the last few were all from the last couple of months. The last line stopped about two inches below the top of the frame, but I could see that he was already taller than it.
"Jesus, Jake," I said again. "That can't be good for you."
He grinned, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. "I'm fit as a fiddle. Here—will you measure me? I think it's time for a new mark."
I stood on tiptoe and stretched my hands up toward the top of the door frame. "Hm, I dunno."
He rolled his eyes and pulled a chair over. "Pipsqueak."
"Giant," I retorted caustically. "Stand still."
He handed me a sharpie and shuffled carefully sideways. His head just exactly fit under the top of the doorframe, hair flattened completely clean against his skull.
"For fuck's sake," I complained again, making a little tick mark right at the top of the frame. "If you get any taller, you're going to need a new measuring door."
He grinned up at me and I could feel my heart lightening a little. Spending time with Jacob just felt… good. It was hard to be sad when he was around.
"Six foot seven," he said, sounding very self-satisfied.
I bopped his nose with the pen. "Nobody needs to be that tall. Cut it out."
"Or what? You'll bite my ankles?" His smile got sharper.
I bared my teeth. "You'd never see me coming—I'm too far below your line of sight."
"Oh no," he said, mockingly, "I'll have to get on a step-stool so you can't reach me."
"You—" I spluttered, yanking the cap off the sharpie threateningly.
Jacob wrapped both hands around my waist and scooped me off the chair. Once on the ground, my head barely came up to the middle of his chest. Outraged, I scribbled half of a dick on his chest before he snatched the pen from me.
"Hm," he murmured, glancing down. He drew a nice, symmetrical line on the other side, turning it into a heart. "Aww, thanks, Bella," he said, in a tone that made me reach for the sharpie again even though he was holding it well outside of my reach. "I heart you too."
I stuck my tongue out at him and he swiped at it with the pen, stopping just short as I yanked it back into my mouth. We stared at each other for a second, then both collapsed into giggles.
"It's good to see you again," I said, when I could speak, rubbing tears out of the corners of my eyes. The hole in the middle of my chest still ached, but… there was something else in there too. It felt like… hope.
"Good to see you too, squirt."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Bud."
"Champ," he retorted.
"Sport," I shot back.
"Kiddo."
"Tiger."
That made him snicker, for some reason. "Pal."
"Skippy."
"Boss."
"Pup."
That startled a laugh out of him. "Okay, you win."
I smiled smugly up at him. "And don't you forget it."
For a minute his face looked… strange. There was something in his eyes that I couldn't read, and something about it made me feel… strange. Unsettled. Then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone, and Jacob was his usual cheerful self. "Yes ma'am," he drawled cheekily. "I know when I'm beat."
I heaved a deep, contented sigh. When I was with Jake, all of my problems felt unimportant. Small and faraway. "Well," I said, smiling up at him, "what do you want to do today?"
