“Really?”
“Yes, really — and by quite a wide margin, too.”
I thought for a minute. “I can only think of mine,” I admitted.
“They might be the same,” he encouraged.
“Well, there was the first night. The night you stayed.”
“Yes, that’s one of mine, too. Of course, you were unconscious for my favorite part.”
“That’s right,” I remembered. “I was talking that night, too.”
“Yes,” he agreed.
My face got hot as I wondered again what I might have said while sleeping in Jacob’s arms. I couldn’t
remember what I’d dreamed about, or if I’d dreamed at all, so that was no help.
“What did I say last night?” I whispered more quietly than before.
He shrugged instead of answering, and I winced.
“That bad?”
“Nothing too horrible,” he sighed.
“Please tell me.”
“Mostly you said my name, the same as usual.”
“That’s not bad,” I agreed cautiously.
“Near the end, though, you started mumbling some nonsense about ‘Jacob, my Jacob.’” I could hear the
pain, even in the whisper. “Your Jacob enjoyed that quite a lot.”
I stretched my neck up, straining to reach my lips to the edge of his jaw. I couldn’t see into his eyes. He
was staring up at the ceiling of the tent.
“Sorry,” I murmured. “That’s just the way I differentiate.”
“Differentiate?”
“Between Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Between the Jacob I like and the one who annoys the hell out of me,”
I explained.
“That makes sense.” He sounded slightly mollified. “Tell me another favorite night.”
“Flying home from Italy.”
He frowned.
“Is that not one of yours?” I wondered.
“No, it is one of mine, actually, but I’m surprised it’s on your list. Weren’t you under the ludicrous
impression I was just acting from a guilty conscience, and I was going to bolt as soon as the plane doors
opened?”
“Yes.” I smiled. “But, still, you were there.”
He kissed my hair. “You love me more than I deserve.”
I laughed at the impossibility of that idea. “Next would be the night after Italy,” I continued.
“Yes, that’s on the list. You were so funny.”
“Funny?” I objected.
“I had no idea your dreams were so vivid. It took me forever to convince you that you were awake.”
“I’m still not sure,” I muttered. “You’ve always seemed more like a dream than reality. Tell me one of
yours, now. Did I guess your first place?”
“No — that would be two nights ago, when you finally agreed to marry me.”
I made a face.
“That doesn’t make your list?”
I thought about the way he’d kissed me, the concession I’d gained, and changed my mind. “Yes . . . it
does. But with reservations. I don’t understand why it’s so important to you. You already had me forever.”
“A hundred years from now, when you’ve gained enough perspective to really appreciate the answer, I
will explain it to you.”
“I’ll remind you to explain — in a hundred years.”
“Are you warm enough?” he asked suddenly.
“I’m fine,” I assured him. “Why?”
Before he could answer, the silence outside the tent was ripped apart by an earsplitting howl of pain. The
sound ricocheted off the bare rock face of the mountain and filled the air so that it seared from every direction.
The howl tore through my mind like a tornado, both strange and familiar. Strange because I’d never heard
such a tortured cry before. Familiar because I knew the voice at once — I recognized the sound and
understood the meaning as perfectly as if I’d uttered it myself. It made no difference that Jacob was not human
when he cried out. I needed no translation.
Jacob was close. Jacob had heard every word we’d said. Jacob was in agony.
The howl choked off into a peculiar gurgled sob, and then it was quiet again.
I did not hear his silent escape, but I could feel it — I could feel the absence I had wrongly assumed
before, the empty space he left behind.
“Because your space heater has reached his limit,” Edward answered quietly. “Truce over,” he added, so
low I couldn’t be sure that was really what he’d said.
“Jacob was listening,” I whispered. It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
I stared at nothing, seeing nothing.
“I never promised to fight fair,” he reminded me quietly. “And he deserves to know.”
My head fell into my hands.
“Are you angry with me?” he asked.
“Not you,” I whispered. “I’m horrified at me.”
“Don’t torment yourself,” he pleaded.
“Yes,” I agreed bitterly. “I should save my energy to torment Jacob some more. I wouldn’t want to leave
any part of him unharmed.”
“He knew what he was doing.”
“Do you think that matters?” I was blinking back tears, and this was easy to hear in my voice. “Do you
think I care whether it’s fair or whether he was adequately warned? I’m hurting him. Every time I turn
around, I’m hurting him again.” My voice was getting louder, more hysterical. “I’m a hideous person.”
He wrapped his arms tightly around me. “No, you’re not.”
“I am! What’s wrong with me?” I struggled against his arms, and he let them drop. “I have to go find him.”
“Bella, he’s already miles away, and it’s cold.”
“I don’t care. I can’t just sit here.” I shrugged off Jacob’s parka, shoved my feet into my boots, and
crawled stiffly to the door; my legs felt numb. “I have to — I have to . . .” I didn’t know how to finishthe
sentence, didn’t know what there was to do, but I unzipped the door anyway, and climbed out into the bright,
icy morning.
There was less snow than I would have thought after the fury of last night’s storm. Probably it had blown
away rather than melted in the sun that now shone low in the southeast, glancing off the snow that lingered and
stabbing at my unadjusted eyes. The air still had a bite to it, but it was dead calm and slowly becoming more
seasonable as the sun rose higher.
Seth Clearwater was curled up on a patch of dry pine needles in the shadow of a thick spruce, his head on
his paws. His sand-colored fur was almost invisible against the dead needles, but I could see the bright snow
reflect off his open eyes. He was staring at me with what I imagined was an accusation.
I knew Edward was following me as I stumbled toward the trees. I couldn’t hear him, but the sun reflected
off his skin in glittering rainbows that danced ahead of me. He didn’t reach out to stop me until I was several
paces into the forest shadows.
His hand caught my left wrist. He ignored it when I tried to yank myself free.
“You can’t go after him. Not today. It’s almost time. And getting yourself lost wouldn’t help anyone,
regardless.”
I twisted my wrist, pulling uselessly.
“I’m sorry, Bella,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I did that.”
“You didn’t do anything. It’s my fault. I did this. I did everything wrong. I could have . . . When he . . . I
shouldn’t have . . . I . . . I . . .” I was sobbing.
“Bella, Bella.”
His arms folded around me, and my tears soaked into his shirt.
“I should have — told him — I should — have said —” What? What could have made this right? “He
shouldn’t have — found out like this.”
“Do you want me to see if I can bring him back, so that you can talk to him? There’s still a little time,”
Edward murmured, hushed agony in his voice.
I nodded into his chest, afraid to see his face.
“Stay by the tent. I’ll be back soon.”
His arms disappeared. He left so quickly that, in the second it took me to look up, he was already gone. I
was alone.
A new sob broke from my chest. I was hurting everyone today. Was there anything I touched that didn’t
get spoiled?
I didn’t know why it was hitting me so hard now. It wasn’t like I hadn’t known this was coming all along.
But Jacob had never reacted so strongly — lost his bold overconfidence and shown the intensity of his pain.
The sound of his agony still cut at me, somewhere deep in my chest. Right beside it was the other pain. Pain
for feeling pain over Jacob. Pain for hurting Edward, too. For not being able to watch Jacob go with
composure, knowing that it was the right thing, the only way.
I was selfish, I was hurtful. I tortured the ones I loved.
I was like Cathy, like Wuthering Heights, only my options were so much better than hers, neither one
evil, neither one weak. And here I sat, crying about it, not doing anything productive to make it right. Just like
Cathy.
I couldn’t allow what hurt me to influence my decisions anymore. It was too little, much too late, but I had
to do what was right now. Maybe it was already done for me. Maybe Edward would not be able to bring him
back. And then I would accept that and get on with my life. Edward would never see me shed another tear for
Jacob Black. There would be no more tears. I wiped the last of them away with cold fingers now.
But if Edward did return with Jacob, that was it. I had to tell him to go away and never come back.
Why was that so hard? So very much more difficult than saying goodbye to my other friends, to Angela, to
Mike? Why did that hurt? It wasn’t right. That shouldn’t be able to hurt me. I had what I wanted. I couldn’t
have them both, because Jacob could not be just my friend. It was time to give up wishing for that. How
ridiculously greedy could any one person be?
I had to get over this irrational feeling that Jacob belonged in my life. He couldn’t belong with me, could
not be my Jacob, when I belonged to someone else.
I walked slowly back to the little clearing, my feet dragging. When I broke into the open space, blinking
against the sharp light, I threw one quick glance toward Seth — he hadn’t moved from his bed of pine needles
— and then looked away, avoiding his eyes.
I could feel that my hair was wild, twisted into clumps like Medusa’s snakes. I yanked through it with my
fingers, and then gave up quickly. Who cared what I looked like, anyway?
I grabbed the canteen hanging beside the tent door and shook it. It sloshed wetly, so I unscrewed the lid
and took a swig to rinse my mouth with the ice water. There was food somewhere nearby, but I didn’t feel
hungry enough to look for it. I started pacing across the bright little space, feeling Seth’s eyes on me the whole
time. Because I wouldn’t look at him, in my head he became the boy again, rather than the gigantic wolf. So
much like a younger Jacob.
I wanted to ask Seth to bark or give some other sign if Jacob was coming back, but I stopped myself. It
didn’t matter if Jacob came back. It might be easier if he didn’t. I wished I had some way to call Edward.
Seth whined at that moment, and got to his feet.
“What is it?” I asked him stupidly.
He ignored me, trotting to the edge of the trees, and pointing his nose toward the west. He began
whimpering.
“Is it the others, Seth?” I demanded. “In the clearing?”
He looked at me and yelped softly once, and then turned his nose alertly back to the west. His ears laid
back and he whined again.
Why was I such a fool? What was I thinking, sending Edward away? How was I supposed to know what
was going on? I didn’t speak wolf.
A cold trickle of fear began to ooze down my spine. What if the time had run out? What if Jacob and
Edward got too close? What if Edward decided to join in the fight?
The icy fear pooled inmy stomach. What if Seth’s distress had nothing to do with the clearing, and his
yelp had been a denial? What if Jacob and Edward were fighting with each other, far away somewhere in the
forest? They wouldn’t do that, would they?
With sudden, chilling certainty I realized that they would — if the wrong words were said. I thought of the
tense standoff in the tent this morning, and I wondered if I’d underestimated how close it had come to a fight.
It would be no more than I deserved if I somehow lost them both.
The ice locked around my heart.
Before I could collapse with fear, Seth grumbled slightly, deep in his chest, and then turned away from his
watch and sauntered back toward his resting place. It calmed me, but irritated me. Couldn’t he scratch a
message in the dirt or something?
The pacing was starting to make me sweat under all my layers. I threw my jacket into the tent, and then I
went back to wearing a path across the center of the tiny break in the trees.
Seth jumped to his feet again suddenly, the hackles on the back of his neck standing up stiffly. I looked
around, but saw nothing. If Seth didn’t cut it out, I was going to throw a pinecone at him.
He growled, a low warning sound, slinking back toward the western rim, and I rethought my impatience.
“It’s just us, Seth,” Jacob called from a distance.
I tried to explain to myself why my heart kicked into fourth gear when I heard him. It was just fear of what
I was going to have to do now, that was all. I could not allow myself to be relieved that he’d come back. That
would be the opposite of helpful.
Edward walked into view first, his face blank and smooth. When he stepped out from the shadows, the
sun shimmered on his skin like it did on the snow. Seth went to greet him, looking intently into his eyes.
Edward nodded slowly, and worry creased his forehead.
“Yes, that’s all we need,” he muttered to himself before addressing the big wolf. “I suppose we shouldn’t
be surprised. But the timing is going to be very close. Please have Sam ask Alice to try to nail the schedule
down better.”
Seth dipped his head once, and I wished I was able to growl. Sure, he could nod now. I turned my head,
annoyed, and realized that Jacob was there.
He had his back to me, facing the way he’d come. I waited warily for him to turn around.
“Bella,” Edward murmured, suddenly right beside me. He stared down at me with nothing but concern
showing in his eyes. There was no end to his generosity. I deserved him now less than I ever had.
“There’s a bit of a complication,” he told me, his voice carefully unworried. “I’m going to take Seth a little
ways away and try to straighten it out. I won’t go far, but I won’t listen, either. I know you don’t want an
audience, no matter which way you decide to go.”
Only at the very end did the pain break into his voice.
I had to never hurt him again. That would be my mission in life. Never again would I be the reason for this
look to come into his eyes.
I was too upset to even ask him what the new problem was. I didn’t need anything else right now.
“Hurry back,” I whispered.
He kissed me lightly on the lips, and then disappeared into the forest with Seth at his side.
Jacob was still in the shadow of the trees; I couldn’t see his expression clearly.
“I’m in a hurry, Bella,” he said in a dull voice. “Why don’t you get it over with?”
I swallowed, my throat suddenly so dry I wasn’t sure if I could make sound come out.
“Just say the words, and be done with it.”
I took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry I’m such a rotten person,” I whispered. “I’m sorry I’ve been so selfish. I wish I’d never met
you, so I couldn’t hurt you the way I have. I won’t do it anymore, I promise. I’ll stay far away from you. I’ll
move out of the state. You won’t have to look at me ever again.”
“That’s not much of an apology,” he said bitterly.
I couldn’t make my voice louder than a whisper. “Tell me how to do it right.”
“What if I don’t want you to go away? What if I’d rather you stayed, selfish or not? Don’t I get any say, if
you’re trying to make things up to me?”
“That won’t help anything, Jake. It was wrong to stay with you when we wanted such different things. It’s
not going to get better. I’ll just keep hurting you. I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I hate it.” My voice broke.
He sighed. “Stop. You don’t have to say anything else. I understand.”
I wanted to tell him how much I would miss him, but I bit my tongue. That would not help anything, either.
He stood quietly for a moment, staring at the ground, and I fought against the urge to go and put my arms
around him. To comfort him.
And then his head snapped up.
“Well, you’re not the only one capable of self-sacrifice,” he said, his voice stronger. “Two can play at that
game.”
“What?”
“I’ve behaved pretty badly myself. I’ve made this much harder for you than I needed to. I could have
given up with good grace in the beginning. But I hurt you, too.”
“This is my fault.”
“I won’t let you claim all the blame here, Bella. Or all the glory either. I know how to redeem myself.”
“What are you talking about?” I demanded. The sudden, frenzied light in his eyes frightened me.
He glanced up at the sun and then smiled at me. “There’s a pretty serious fight brewing down there. I
don’t think it will be that difficult to take myself out of the picture.”
His words sank into my brain, slowly, one by one, and I couldn’t breathe. Despite all my intentions to cut
Jacob out of mylife completely, I didn’t realize until that precise second exactly how deep the knife would
have to go to do it.
“Oh, no, Jake! No, no no no,” I choked out in horror. “No, Jake, no. Please, no.” My knees began to
tremble.
“What’s the difference, Bella? This will only make it more convenient for everyone. You won’t even have
to move.”
“No!” My voice got louder. “No, Jacob! I won’t let you!”
“How will you stop me?” he taunted lightly, smiling to take the sting out of his tone.
“Jacob, I’m begging you. Stay with me.” I would have fallen to my knees, if I could have moved at all.
“For fifteen minutes while I miss a good brawl? So that you can run away from me as soon as you think
I’m safe again? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I won’t run away. I’ve changed my mind. We’ll work something out, Jacob. There’s always a
compromise. Don’t go!”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not. You know what a terrible liar I am. Look in my eyes. I’ll stay if you do.”
His face hardened. “And I can be your best man at the wedding?”
It was a moment before I could speak, and still the only answer I could give him was, “Please.”
“That’s what I thought,” he said, his face going calm again, but for the turbulent light in his eyes.
“I love you, Bella,” he murmured.
“I love you, Jacob,” I whispered brokenly.
He smiled. “I know that better than you do.”
He turned to walk away.
“Anything,” I called after him in a strangled voice. “Anything you want, Jacob. Just don’t do this!”
He paused, turning slowly.
“I don’t really think you mean that.”
“Stay,” I begged.
He shook his head. “No, I’m going.” He paused, as if deciding something. “But I could leave it to fate.”
“What do you mean?” I choked out.
“I don’t have to do anything deliberate — I could just do my best for my pack and let what happens
happen.” He shrugged. “If you could convince me you really did want me to come back — more than you
wanted to do the selfless thing.”
“How?” I asked.
“You could ask me,” he suggested.
“Come back,” I whispered. How could he doubt that I meant it?
He shook his head, smiling again. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”
It took me a second to grasp what he was saying, and all the while he was looking at me with this superior
expression — so sure of my reaction. As soon as the realization hit, though, I blurted out the words without
stopping to count the cost.
“Will you kiss me, Jacob?”
His eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed suspiciously. “You’re bluffing.”
“Kiss me, Jacob. Kiss me, and then come back.”
He hesitated in the shadow, warring with himself. He half-turned again to the west, his torso twisting away
from me while his feet stayed planted where they were. Still looking away, he took one uncertain step in my
direction, and then another. He swung his face around to look at me, his eyes doubtful.
I stared back. I had no idea what expression was on my face.
Jacob rocked back on his heels, and then lurched forward, closing the distance between us in three long
strides.
I knew he would take advantage of the situation. I expected it. I held very still — my eyes closed, my
fingers curled into fists at my sides — as his hands caught my face and his lips found mine with an eagerness
that was not far from violence.
I could feel his anger as his mouth discovered my passive resistance. One hand moved to the nape of my
neck, twisting into a fist around the roots of my hair. The other hand grabbed roughly at my shoulder, shaking
me, then dragging me to him. His hand continued down my arm, finding my wrist and pulling my arm up
around his neck. I left it there, my hand still tightly balled up, unsure how far I could go in my desperation to
keep him alive. All the while his lips, disconcertingly soft and warm, tried to force a response out of mine.
As soon as he was sure I wouldn’t drop my arm, he freed my wrist, his hand feeling its way down to my
waist. His burning hand found the skin at the small of my back, and he yanked me forward, bowing my body
against his.
His lips gave up on mine for a moment, but I knew he was nowhere close to finished. His mouth followed
the line of my jaw, and then explored the length of my neck. He freed my hair, reaching for my other arm to
draw it around his neck like the first.
Then both of his arms were constricted around my waist, and his lips found my ear.
“You can do better than this, Bella,” he whispered huskily. “You’re overthinking it.”
I shivered as I felt his teeth graze my earlobe.
“That’s right,” he murmured. “For once, just let yourself feel what you feel.”
I shook my head mechanically until one of his hands wound back into my hair and stopped me.
His voice turned acidic. “Are you sure you want me to come back? Or did you really want me to die?”
Anger rocked through me like the whiplash after a heavy punch. That was too much — he wasn’t fighting
fair.
My arms were already around his neck, so I grabbed two fistfuls of his hair — ignoring the stabbing pain
in my right hand — and fought back, struggling to pull my face away from his.
And Jacob misunderstood.
He was too strong to recognize that my hands, trying to yank his hair out by the roots, meant to cause him
pain. Instead of anger, he imagined passion. He thought I was finally responding to him.
With a wild gasp, he brought his mouth back to mine, his fingers clutching frantically against the skin at my
waist.
The jolt of anger unbalanced my tenuous hold on self-control; his unexpected, ecstatic response overthrew
it entirely. If there had been only triumph, I might have been able to resist him. But the utter defenselessness of
his sudden joy cracked my determination, disabled it. My brain disconnected from my body, and I was kissing
him back. Against all reason, my lips were movingwith his in strange, confusing ways they’d never moved
before — because I didn’t have to be careful with Jacob, and he certainly wasn’t being careful with me.
My fingers tightened in his hair, but I was pulling him closer now.
He was everywhere. The piercing sunlight turned my eyelids red, and the color fit, matched the heat. The
heat was everywhere. I couldn’t see or hear or feel anything that wasn’t Jacob.
The tiny piece of my brain that retained sanity screamed questions at me.
Why wasn’t I stopping this? Worse than that, why couldn’t I find inmyself even the desire to want to
stop? What did it mean that I didn’t want him to stop? That my hands clung to his shoulders, and liked that
they were wide and strong? That his hands pulled me too tight against his body, and yet it was not tight enough
for me?
The questions were stupid, because I knew the answer: I’d been lying to myself.
Jacob was right. He’d been right all along. He was more than just my friend. That’s why it was so
impossible to tell him goodbye — because I was in love with him. Too. I loved him, much more than I should,
and yet, still nowhere near enough. I was in love with him, but it was not enough to change anything; it was
only enough to hurt us both more. To hurt him worse than I ever had.
I didn’t care about more than that — than his pain. I more than deserved whatever pain this caused me. I
hoped it was bad. I hoped I would really suffer.
In this moment, it felt as though we were the same person. His pain had always been and would always be
my pain — now his joy was my joy. I felt joy, too, and yet his happiness was somehow also pain. Almost
tangible — it burned against my skin like acid, a slow torture.
For one brief, never-ending second, an entirely different path expanded behind the lids of my tear-wet
eyes. As if I were looking through the filter of Jacob’s thoughts, I could see exactly what I was going to give
up, exactly what this new self-knowledge would not save me from losing. I could see Charlie and Renée
mixed into a strange collage with Billy and Sam and La Push. I could see years passing, and meaning
something as they passed, changing me. I could see the enormous red-brown wolf that I loved, always
standing as protector if I needed him. For the tiniest fragment of that second, I saw the bobbing heads of two
small, black-haired children, running away from me into the familiar forest. When they disappeared, they took
the rest of the vision with them.
And then, quite distinctly, I felt the splintering along the fissure line in my heart as the smaller part
wrenched itself away from the whole.
Jacob’s lips were still before mine were. I opened my eyes and he was staring at me with wonder and
elation.
“I have to leave,” he whispered.
“No.”
He smiled, pleased by my response. “I won’t be long,” he promised. “But one thing first . . .”
He bent to kiss me again, and there was no reason to resist. What would be the point?
This time was different. His hands were soft on my face and his warm lips were gentle, unexpectedly
hesitant. It was brief, and very, very sweet.
His arms curled around me, and he hugged me securely while he whispered in my ear.
“That should have been our first kiss. Better late than never.”
Against his chest, where he couldn’t see, the tears welled up and spilled over.
24. SNAP DECISION
I LAY FACEDOWN ACROSS THE SLEEPING BAG, WAITING for justice to find me. Maybe an avalanche would bury
me here. I wished it would. I never wanted to have to see my face in the mirror again.
There was no sound to warn me. Out of nowhere, Edward’s cold hand stroked against my knotted hair. I
shuddered guiltily at his touch.
“Are you all right?” he murmured, his voice anxious.
“No. I want to die.”
“That will never happen. I won’t allow it.”
I groaned and then whispered, “You might change your mind about that.”
“Where’s Jacob?”
“He went to fight,” I mumbled into the floor.
Jacob had left the little camp joyfully — with a cheerful “I’ll be right back” — running full tilt for the
clearing, already quivering as he prepared to shift to his other self. By now the whole pack knew everything.
Seth Clearwater, pacing outside the tent, was an intimate witness to my disgrace.
Edward was silent for a long moment. “Oh,” he finally said.
The tone of his voice worried me that my avalanche wasn’t coming fast enough. I peeked up at him and,
sure enough, his eyes were unfocused as he listened to something I’d rather die than have him hear. I dropped
my face back to the floor.
It stunned me when Edward chuckled reluctantly.
“And I thought I fought dirty,” he said with grudging admiration. “He makes me look like the patron saint
of ethics.” His hand brushed against the part of my cheek that was exposed. “I’m not mad at you, love.
Jacob’s more cunning than I gave him credit for. I do wish you hadn’t asked him, though.”
“Edward,” I whispered to the rough nylon. “I . . . I . . . I’m —”
“Shh,” he hushed me, his fingers soothing against my cheek. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just that he
would have kissed you anyway — even if you hadn’t fallen for it — and now I don’t have an excuse to break
his face. I would have really enjoyed that, too.”
“Fallen for it?” I mumbled almost incomprehensibly.
“Bella, did you really believe he was that noble? That he would go out in a flame of glory just to clear the
way for me?”
I raised my head slowly to meet his patient gaze. His expression was soft; his eyes were full of
understanding rather than the revulsion I deserved to see.
“Yes, I did believe that,” I muttered, and then looked away. But I didn’t feel any anger at Jacob for
tricking me. There wasn’t enough room in my body to contain anything besides the hatred I felt toward myself.
Edward laughed softly again. “You’re such a bad liar, you’ll believe anyone who has the least bit of skill.”
“Why aren’t you angry with me?” I whispered. “Why don’t you hate me? Or haven’t you heard the whole
story yet?”
“I think I got a fairly comprehensive look,” he said in a light, easy voice. “Jacob makes vivid mental
pictures. I feel almost as bad for his pack as I do for myself. Poor Seth was getting nauseated. But Sam is
making Jacob focus now.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head in agony. The sharp nylon fibers of the tent floor scraped against my
skin.
“You’re only human,” he whispered, stroking my hair again.
“That’s the most miserable defense I’ve ever heard.”
“But you are human, Bella. And, as much as I might wish otherwise, so is he. . . . There are holes in your
life that I can’t fill. I understand that.”
“But that’s not true. That’s what makes me so horrible. There are no holes.”
“You love him,” he murmured gently.
Every cell in my body ached to deny it.
“I love you more,” I said. It was the best I could do.
“Yes, I know that, too. But . . . when I left you, Bella, I left you bleeding. Jacob was the one to stitch you
back up again. That was bound to leave its mark — on both of you. I’m not sure those kinds of stitches
dissolve on their own. I can’t blame either of you for something I made necessary. I may gain forgiveness, but
that doesn’t let me escape the consequences.”
“I should have known you’d find some way to blame yourself. Please stop. I can’t stand it.”
