Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Jacob’s voice is amused, and Bella jerks upright, glaring at him in surprised outrage.

“Jacob, it’s six in the morning. I’m tired, I’m cold, and if what you’re doing right now is insulting Carol’s ability to get us to school, you’re going to regret it,” Bella says, narrowing her eyes and daring him to say one more thing about her truck.

Jacob snorts. “How people can still think you’re straight after one good look at you, I’ll never understand.”

He’s not necessarily wrong. Straight people had an annoying habit of assuming everyone else was just like them—unless explicitly told otherwise. With words.

Bella’s extensive collection of flannel shirts didn’t seem to do the trick, somehow.

“Your words would mean a lot more if I hadn’t been forced to listen to Lady Gaga’s new album on repeat these past few days.” Bella adjusts her black aviator sunglasses before turning on the engine. “If you’re trying to imply that I’m a bigger stereotype than you, I’m afraid you’re going to lose that battle, buddy.”

“I was only trying to pass on valuable, life-changing musical knowledge to you and Charlie, you know,” Jacob tries—and fails—to reason. “If you can’t appreciate it, that’s not my fault. At least the universe knows I’ve tried.”

Bella rolls her eyes, choosing not to answer. When Jacob got like this, indulging him only made it worse.

“Do you think the new school will be that much different from what I was used to back at the Rez?” Jacob asks, changing the subject.

Bella sees from the corner of her eye how he’s fidgeting with the zipper of his white hoodie.

“I think they’re all pretty much the same, Jake. You’ll settle in no time. We both will.” Bella squeezes his hand with her free one, trying to offer some comfort, and he smiles warmly at her.

After everything his dad had done to him, Jacob had become more nervous and unsure of himself in a way Charlie swore he’d never seen before, and Bella couldn’t help but be glad she hadn’t seen Billy around town since arriving in Forks.

“I don’t want you to think this right here is going to be an everyday thing,” Bella says, her tone playful. “But today, because I’m feeling generous, I’ll let you choose the music. Okay?”

“What?” Jacob looks shell-shocked.

“Don’t make me regret it, Jacob,” Bella says, her eyes focusing on the cloudy road ahead. “No Gaga.”

She didn’t think she had it in her to listen to Chromatica for the hundredth time.

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.

.

It’s not like Bella hadn’t known that this would happen.

Still, part of her had been stupid—or naive enough—to hope that maybe she and Jacob would’ve been able to manage the situation here on their own.

That they would've been able to navigate the school without any kind of help.

So when they’re ambushed by an eager student with a camera around his neck, Bella has no choice but to do one of the things she hates the most.

Mingle. Socialize. Pretend she likes people.

“Hey!” the stranger greets them, way too cheerful for someone awake at this hour on a Monday. “I’m Eric Yorkie. You’re Isabella Swan, and you’re Jacob Black, right?”

“Just Bella’s fine,” she says, waving her hand, while Jacob keeps looking at Eric like he’s about to deck him in the face if he doesn’t tone down his excitement.

Sometimes, Bella had learned, Jacob could be worse than her in the morning.

“Do you guys need some help getting to your classes?” Eric offers, and Bella nods before Jacob can scare him off.

She really didn’t want to wait around for another good soul to take pity on them.

“Sure, Eric. Lead the way,” Bella says, snatching Jacob’s schedule from his hand with way more force than she would’ve liked.

“Okay, okay. Let me see what we’ve got.” Eric analyzes both schedules, making some weird noises while he does. “Alright, I think I have it. First, we’re going to drop your boy Jacob in English. Then it’s History for me and you, Bella.” He smiles her way. “How awesome is it that we both have the same timetable today, new girl?”

“God must be looking out for me.”

Jacob, who knew very well that Bella didn’t believe in God, snorts. Eric just gives him a quizzical look.

“Don’t pay him any attention. Jacob’s not a morning person. Thanks, by the way.”

Eric grins before leading them down the corridor.

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“Okay, tell me if I got this right. They don’t serve coffee here because it’s bad for our health, but pizza’s fine?” Bella’s outraged.

She wasn’t one to let herself get worked up about meaningless things, that was true, but this was a step too far.

Bella could overlook a lot. She couldn’t overlook this.

“Are we supposed to answer that?” Angela, a nice girl Eric had introduced Bella to in their History class, asks.

“Not if you want to live, you don’t,” Jacob says, taking a bite of his apple, not bothered or surprised by her behavior.

After living together for a few weeks, he was more than used to her by now.

“I kept my cool waking up at an hour that should be illegal. I didn’t roll my eyes when Ms. Vinet made me introduce myself like I was five—I didn’t even complain. Not out loud, anyway. All because I was holding on to one thing.” Bella stares at her water bottle like it has personally betrayed her. “The promise of coffee. A basic human right, last I checked. But no. Apparently, caffeine’s a danger to our health now. Meanwhile, the pizza’s just over there, doing crimes in plain sight."

Jacob raises his eyebrows, clearly impressed by her ability to be dramatic. “You do know you can have one before we leave home every day, right?”

“That is not the point, Jacob,” Bella says, not really knowing what her point is but just wanting to complain about the unfairness of life. “The point is that…” she trails off, trying to think of something.

“First days suck?” a girl who has just joined the table offers.

“Exactly!” Bella nods her way. “That’s exactly my point—”

“Jessica.”

“That’s exactly my point, Jessica. The universe is trying to tell me something here, and I’m not liking it.”

Eric looks interested. “What is the universe trying to tell you, Bella?”

“I don’t know yet, but if it’s starting by denying me coffee, I’m sure it can’t be good.”

“Guys,” a blonde guy Bella also doesn’t know the name of interrupts the conversation. “I think the Cullens are staring at us.”

“What?” Jessica exclaims, her eyes almost popping out of her head.

“You’re kidding me!” Eric turns, making Bella follow his movements.

Whatever she’d been expecting to be staring back at them was nothing compared to what actually was.

At an isolated table—one Bella immediately decides she needs for herself—sit five teenagers who look less like students and more like the main cast of a CW show.

Bella has no idea how she didn’t notice them before now. 

She glances over the group, trying to take them all in—until she hits the last member, and promptly forgets how to function.

There, sitting in the corner of a packed cafeteria is a…blonde goddess.

Someone who, for all intents and purposes, shouldn’t be walking on this earth among mere mortals.

Someone who looked like she should be modeling for perfume ads in Milan, not sitting five feet away from a vending machine that only took quarters.

And somehow, someway, Bella can’t shake the feeling they’ve met before.

Golden eyes lock into hers, and her breath stutters. Her heart—the traitor—skips a beat. Her brain short-circuits just enough that Angela nearly knocking over Eric’s camera feels like divine intervention.

Bella blinks, turning her focus back to her table. While she won’t deny part of her is still intrigued by the group—by blondie—Bella knows it’s not polite to stare.

Ever since moving to Forks, she has felt like a contestant on a reality show she didn’t sign up for.

No prize, just judgment.

She’s not about to return the favor. Not if she can help it—and Bella can help it, okay? She can.

Because even if Reneé hadn’t been all that interested in teaching young Bella any type of manners, her grandmother Marie had, and staring at people you didn’t know was considered rude—or flirting—and Bella wasn’t rude.

Okay, she was. Sometimes. When the situation called for it. But Bella definitely wasn’t flirting, or about to flirt, so she stays put, waiting for the rest of the table to catch on.

They never do.

“Guys?” Bella clears her throat, making them turn. “Maybe someone could explain what’s happening to the new kids?” She gestures to both herself and Jacob.

“They’re the Cullens,” Eric says, like that explains everything. “They don’t interact with anyone here. Like, ever. Not if they can help it.”

“That’s because they don’t think we’re good enough,” a girl Bella doesn’t know—but already dislikes—says with a sniff. “Looks like that’s changed now that you’re both here.”

“We’re new blood, huh?” Bella says dryly, shaking her head. “Don’t take it so personally—” she pauses, waiting for no-name to name herself, but the girl never does. “I’m sure it’s not your fault,” she lies.

In reality, she’s about 100% sure it is her fault. Bella had barely exchanged a full sentence with no-name, and she was already mapping out an exit strategy for next time.

Jacob nudges her, and Bella gives him a look—impressed he’s managed to tear his eyes off the bronze-hair Cullen long enough to rejoin the conversation.

“They’re the doctor’s kids, Bella. Charlie mentioned him yesterday, remember?” Jacob says, and Bella nods.

“The one Charlie’s glad stayed in Forks instead of running off to some high-end hospital?” Bella asks and Jacob hums in agreement.

“They’re full of themselves. That’s the truth no one wants to say it,” no-name presses on, irritated no one’s signed up to join her hate parade.

“Lauren…” Jessica warns.

“What? I’m not the only one who thinks it.” Lauren huffs. “And it’s gross that Jasper and Alice are together. They live in the same house—they’re brother and sister.”

“You know the only ones who are related are Rosalie and Jasper, Lauren,” Angela says, shaking her head. “I think it’s nice that Dr. Cullen and his wife adopted them. That they’ve given them a home.”

Jessica thins her lips. “Angela’s right. You're just mad that Edward isn’t into you.”

“Don’t act so superior, Jessica. Last I checked, you were still pining after—”

Bella clears her throat before the argument has a chance to go anywhere.

The only thing worse than relationship drama was straight relationship drama. And Bella wasn’t about to spend her limited caffeine-free energy listening to that.

“Can someone explain to me why there’s a hole in the wall of Ms. Varner’s classroom?” she asks, steering the conversation elsewhere.

Blond guy (who she’ll later learn is named Mike) bursts out laughing before launching into a dramatic story involving the football team, a baseball bat, and two people who were into each other.

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The first day of school had finally ended.

Bella sat in her truck, patiently waiting for Jacob to finish his last class so she could go home and drink Charlie’s horrible coffee.

Before today, Bella had been living under the impression that Forks High would be able to provide her with some form of caffeine—but that illusion had been thoroughly shattered.

All Bella had left was the knowledge that Charlie’s sewage water was going to become her faithful companion for the foreseeable future.

She’s so busy daydreaming about what her life would be like if there was a Starbucks in town that she doesn’t even notice Jacob walking over.

He opens the door, making Bella jump with the noise.

“You won’t believe who my biology partner is,” he says as soon as he’s inside.

“Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta?” Bella offers. He frowns. “Lady Gaga, Jacob. And you call yourself a fan.”

“Ha ha,” he deadpans.

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Who?”

“A Cullen.”

Bella hums, resting her chin in her hand. “Well, there’s like seven of them, so you’re gonna have to be a little more specific.”

“The hot one.”

“Blondie?” Bella says before she can stop herself, her brain going straight (well, not straight) to the blonde.

Jacob sighs, pressing his lips together. "Would I call a woman hot?”

Bella knows he’s trying to make a point—but it’s a stupid one.

“If you had any sense in that thick skull of yours, yes.”

Jacob was gay, sure, but he wasn’t blind.

“The bronze-haired guy. The one I couldn’t stop staring at in the cafeteria,” Jacob clarifies. “Edward Cullen,” he says, for the first time, the name Bella will later come to hate.

“You could’ve just led with that information, buddy.”

Jacob liked to drag out dialogue like it owed him something; Bella just wanted to put him on 1.5x speed.

“Can you believe he didn’t even say a word to me the whole class?” Jacob presses his lips together. “Do you think he was uncomfortable because I kept staring at him in the cafeteria? Do you think he’s a homophobe?” He starts spiraling. “I can’t spend the whole year with a homophobe as my lab partner!”

“Take a breath.” Bella puts a hand on his arm, giving it a quick squeeze. “I’m sure pretty boy isn't a homophobe.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

“Because I’m like, ninety percent sure he’s gay,” Bella says, but Jacob doesn’t look convinced. “C’mon. No straight guy puts that much effort into his hair,” she adds, gesturing vaguely as she mimics the swoop of it.

Jacob’s face turns pensive. “I mean…when I stared at him, he kind of stared back. But then he looked at you.”

“Gay recognizes gay, my friend. I’m sure it was that.” Bella shrugs, trying to soothe his nerves. “Now, can we go home?”

“Sure.” Jacob fastens his seatbelt. “How was your last period?”

“Physics,” Bella sighs. “Mr. Banner spent the whole period talking about Newton like he personally knew the guy and was the president of his fan club.”

“I like physics. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Newton was a genius, Bella, and you should give him some praise.”

She gives him a slow, judgmental blink.

“Okay. First, don’t quote that phrase like you know it by heart. It’s weird. And second—no one in the history of the universe has ever liked physics, Jacob. No one.”

He chuckles and Bella turns her truck on.

In her blissfully unaware and naïve mind, this right here meant the subject of Edward Cullen was over. Done. Dead and buried.

Later, she’ll come to realize just how wrong she’d been.

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The second time she hears about Edward Cullen, Bella is wholly unprepared for it.

One week of classes had passed and Jacob had failed to mention his name even once.

That means Bella’s none the wiser when he decides to broach the subject again.

She’s sitting at an isolated cafeteria table she’s managed to claim as her own—courtesy of her ability to intimidate a few nervous first-years into giving it up—when a sudden noise jolts her out of her reverie.

“Edward Cullen!” Jacob whisper-hisses, pretending he hadn’t just scared the life out of her by slamming his tray down like a neanderthal.

Bella stares at him like he’s lost it.

“It’s been a week. A week, Bella. And he still hasn’t said anything. Today we actually had to work together, so I asked if I could look through the microscope first, and instead of answering like a normal human being, he just nodded! No words. No sounds. Nada.”

“I wish he was my lab partner,” Bella says before she can stop herself, and immediately regrets it.

Edward was weird, and every time he looked at her this week, it was in an even weirder way. If he wasn’t gay, she’d be halfway convinced he was interested.

“No, you don’t.”

”No, I don’t,” she repeats, agreeing with him. “But Jessica isn’t any better, honestly. Yesterday, I had to hear her explain the entire plot of Riverdale to me, Jacob. I don’t even know what the fuck Riverdale is.”

“It’s a TV show,” he says, waving her off. “You’re not missing much. First season was okay, then it just... spiraled.”

“Oh, I know.”

Jessica’s one-hour monologue had made sure of that.

“What do you think his problem is?” Jacob comes back to it.

“Pretty boy?” Bella shrugs. “No idea. Maybe he’s shy. Maybe he’s rude. Maybe he thinks human interaction is beneath him. Who’s to say?”

“Remember when Lauren said the Cullens thought they were better than everyone, and you made fun of her?” Jacob asks, trying to sound reasonable but failing miserably.

Bella scoffs. “I didn’t make fun of her.”

Jacob gives her a look.

"Okay, I did. But she’s Lauren. If a Cullen blinks too slow, she takes it personally,” she pauses. “She’s very obsessed. I’d avoid her too if I were them. Hell, I’m not them and I already do.”

Jacob doesn’t say anything, so Bella keeps going.

“You’re making a storm out of a drop of water. Just be glad your lab partner doesn’t make you want to pull out all your hair. Things could be so much worse.”

She thinks of Jessica and her ability to speak a thousand words per second. She thinks of poor Angela, silently praying for divine intervention every time Lauren opened her mouth.

Jacob huffs. “Him ignoring me makes me want to pull my hair out.”

“Because you crave acceptance,” Bella says. It’s easier saying this than pointing out he wanted something else entirely.

Like Edward Cullen’s tongue in his mouth.

“Fine. What do you think I should do?”

“Forget he exists,” Bella says. “He’s playing a game and you’re falling right into it.”

This wasn’t her first rodeo with this move. Her mother had basically invented it, and Bella knew that the best way to react was, ironically, not to.

“You think so?”

“Yes. Can you fake being unbothered? Like, acting super chill even though you're being aggressively ignored?”

Jacob presses his lips together. “Probably not.”

Well. So much for the Edward Cullen saga being over, Bella thought.

.

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The tenth time Bella hears Jacob complain about Edward, she’s ready for it.

She’d even go as far as to say she saw it coming—saw the moment his eyes started twitching, the way he had sat down next to her at the kitchen table with all the subtlety of a minor earthquake.

“Edward Cullen is the most confusing person in this whole damn town, and that’s saying something,” Jacob announces. “Can you believe he—”

Bella tunes him out, eyes drifting back to her homework.

He snaps his fingers in front of her face. “Are you listening to me?”

Bella drops her pen. “Jacob, we’re really doing this again? Look, like I’ve told you a million times, I don’t think you’re the problem, okay? I’ve never seen any of the Cullens talk to anyone at school—or outside it, for that matter. They seem like a close-knit group that keeps to themselves. I’m sure it’s nothing personal.”

Well. Almost sure.

Because lately, it kind of felt like the Cullens were going out of their way to not keep to themselves—at least when it came to her.

Rosalie Hale, for example, seemed to appear at every hallway Bella turned into. And while Forks High could feel like a shoebox, that was still suspicious.

To make things even weirder, Emmett Cullen always looked like he was on the verge of striking a conversation with her before one of his brothers or sisters interrupted him—and by one, Bella meant Rosalie, who was almost always the culprit.

If that wasn't enough to ring some alarm bells in Bella's head, Edward still seemed to find a way to stare and be inconvenient every single day.

“You’re not listening,” Jacob says. “I wasn’t complaining about him ignoring me. Not this time. I was saying that he finally spoke to me. Like, out of the blue.”

Bella looks up, eyebrows raised. “He did?”

“Yeah. He even invited me over to his house to start our biology project. Crazy, right?”

“I mean...not really? It’s smart to start early.”

Jacob rolls his eyes. “I don’t mean the project, Bells. I mean him inviting me after all this time,” he says before doing his best puppy dog look. “You know, you could come—”

“No.” Bella cuts in. “Hard pass. I’m not tagging along to the house of a guy I don’t know.”

“C’mon, please? There’s something off about him. He ignored me for weeks and now he’s being weirdly nice? That’s not normal.”

“Right. People can’t be inconsistent. Or complicated. They should just pick a choice and stick with it forever. This is real life, not a book."

God, Jacob’s worldview could be so black and white sometimes.

He frowns, missing her point. “I can’t believe you’re defending him after everything.” "

“I’m not defending him. I’m defending common sense.”

Jacob runs a hand through his hair. “I’m a people pleaser, okay? I spiral when I'm ignored.”

Bella rolls her eyes, resisting the urge to say that she knows—that she's seen him spiraling nonstop for weeks.

“You could invite him here,” she offers. “If he’s a jerk, I’ll kick him out. If he ignores you, I’ll tell him to fuck off. Win-win.”

A dream scenario, really.

“I can’t reschedule now, Bells—I already said yes.”

“So go.”

Bella would never understand Jacob's need to overcomplicate everything in his life.

“I just think it’d be easier if you came with me,” Jacob fidgets. “I’m still not convinced he’s not a homophobe. And if something’s off, I’d feel better knowing I could leave. That someone has my back.”

“So it’s not me you want, it’s Carol.”

“Well, I haven’t gotten my license, so technically I need you too.”

Bella sighs. “If I did say yes…and I’m not, what am I supposed to do while you guys work on your project? Just stand there? I’m not even in your year. I don’t know what Banner’s teaching you.”

I don’t even like the Cullens, she thinks, but doesn’t say.

“Don't sell yourself short, Bells. You're pretty great at striking a conversation with people you don't know.”

“That's called being polite, not an extrovert, Jacob. There’s a difference.”

“What if I go and it turns out he is a psychopath? What if his whole family’s in on it, and they bury my corpse in the woods?”

Bella raises an eyebrow. Jacob’s been watching too many horror movies lately.

“That escalated quickly, buddy, but...okay. If that’s the case, explain how me going helps the situation. At least if I stay here, I’m not dead. And if I’m not dead, I can report your murder.”

“I’ll owe you one.” Jacob’s voice softens. “You know what happened with my dad, and I would feel safer with you there. That way, if something felt off, I’d be able to leave. If I’m alone, then…”

“Alright, alright. Say no more. I’ll go.”

Billy Black was a son of a bitch. Of that, Bella was sure.

“Even if it’s weird?” Jacob grins.

“Yes.”

“Even if it gets you killed?”

“Even if it gets me killed, buddy. Even if it gets me killed.”

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It’s a longer drive than she expected.

So long, in fact, that Bella starts to think maybe Jacob had the right idea in dragging her along.

“Are you sure this is the right path?” she asks, eyeing the road ahead with suspicion.

There’s nothing but green in every direction, and Bella has to admit: if a masked killer wanted to leap out of the trees, this would be the perfect place.

She can picture it all, unfortunately.

They escape the ambush here—barely—only to discover they’ve walked straight into a trap.

The road? A setup. The house? A lair. The killer? Edward Cullen, obviously. Jacob’s crush—and now, potential murderer.

Bella, naturally, would be the first to die. The lesbian. They never lasted.

While she spirals, Jacob is still glued to his phone, oblivious to the fact that the truck is practically stopping.

“Edward said to follow the road to the end. There’s an intersection—turn left, go a little further, and we’ll get there.”

“And we’re trusting him why, exactly?” Bella asks, resisting the urge to do a U-turn and go home.

Jacob looks at her like she’s crazy. “Because it’s his house?” he finally notices the drop in speed. “Why are we stopping?”

“Maybe I’m rethinking everything. Maybe the whole ‘Cullen family of psychopaths’ theory isn’t as far-fetched as I once believed. Maybe, well, driving into the woods like we’re starring in a low-budget horror movie isn’t filling me with confidence either.”

“Bells, this is Forks. Everything’s a road in the middle of the woods.”

She squints at him, not swayed. “Fine. But if I die because you have a crush on Edward and you survive? I swear to God, Jacob, I’m haunting you for eternity.”

She presses the gas again, and the truck lurches forward.

“What?” His outraged scoff gives him away immediately. “I do not have a crush on him. I don’t even, like, like him. That’s insane.”

“The first time you saw him, Jacob, I nearly had to scrape your jaw off the floor.”

“You say that like you weren’t impressed by them. I saw you too, don’t forget that.”

“I didn’t stare.”

“Exactly my point. You’ve been actively dodging them ever since that day. That’s not normal. You’re the only person in school—not even just school, in town—who does that.”

“It's called having a life, Jake. You should try it sometime.”

“You think I don’t know you, but I’m observant. I’ve seen how hard you go out of your way not to look at Edward’s sister.”

”Edward has a sister?”

Jacob gives her a knowing look. “You think Rosalie is hot. Admit it.”

Rosalie.

Hearing her name is enough to affect Bella even the slightest bit—enough to make her recollect all the times she'd spotted the girl at school with her perpetual 'I'm better than you' attitude.

“I’ve seen Cate Blanchett up close, Jake. Up close.” Bella lifts her chin with dignity. “That’s an angel. My future wife. The one I named my truck after. There’s no room in my heart for anyone else, and frankly, I’m insulted you’d suggest otherwise.”

“You’re way too good at lying. You know that, right?” Jacob shakes his head. “You should get that checked out.”

Bella doesn’t answer.

She doesn’t even look at him. No, sir. Her eyes are now totally focused only on the road.

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As soon as they reach the Cullens’ house, Bella pulls the truck to a stop, her eyes widening in spite of herself.

Tucked behind a ridiculous amount of trees is the most beautiful house she’s ever seen—sleek and modern, all glass and angles.

Bella had expected something weird. Maybe something old. What she didn’t expect was a forest hideout so polished it probably belonged to a Bond villain with strong opinions about open floor design.

“If there’s a koi pond inside, I’m leaving,” she mutters.

Jacob doesn’t hear her—he’s too busy gawking at the glass walls and towering pines. “Wow. Now that’s living.”

Bella shuts off the engine and unfastens her seatbelt. Next to her, Jacob’s expression shifts—wonder slipping into visible anxiety.

“I think I’m having second thoughts. What if I text him and say something came up?”

Bella, who just drove twenty minutes through what was basically a scenic horror movie set, is not about to turn back now.

“Jacob. Let’s go. If we’re getting murdered today, I’d prefer it to happen sooner rather than later.”

“This whole ‘bring it on, death’ vibe you’ve got going on? Not exactly comforting.”

“Well, why drag it out?”

“Says the person who drove like a snail the entire way here.”

“Jacob, let me remind you that I’m only here because you asked me to. If I want, I can leave. So be nice, yeah?”

He gives her a look—half amused, half bewildered. “Did you have coffee today?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you in such a mood? Wanna talk about it? Wanna share?”

Bella briefly considers throwing her keys at his head. All she wanted was to finish her homework and watch something dumb on TV.

Instead, she’s here. Standing in front of a literal mansion in the woods because Jacob has a crush.

Bella exhales, asking the universe for some patience. When she opens the truck door, the outside air hits her with force.

“You ready?” she asks, rubbing her hands together for warmth.

Jacob grimaces.

“Not even a little. But let’s go.”

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The walk to the Cullens’ front door is quick, and with every step, Bella can feel Jacob growing tenser behind her.

“You should ring it,” she says once they’re there. He’s the one who got the invite, after all.

Jacob nods and smooths a hand down his white T-shirt like that’s going to magically unwrinkle it.

He’d actually tried today—left the khaki shorts at home, went for light-wash jeans, the whole deal.

Bella hadn’t bothered. She was still in her school clothes: ripped black jeans, a turtleneck, and her most beat-up pair of white Nikes.

If she was going to die in a serial killer’s foyer, she might as well be comfortable.

“You look fine,” she says, trying to be supportive. “Relax. Edward’s definitely going to think you’re hot.”

Jacob gives her the finger before ringing the doorbell.

Chapter Text

Bella wasn’t being rude. She wasn’t.

Anyone else in her position would be acting the same way she was acting.

Okay, maybe not anyone else. Jacob wouldn’t.

And Bella knew that because he’d been here ten minutes and he had already made small talk with Edward’s brother, Jasper, and their mom, Esme.

He’d even complimented the abstract painting above the fireplace, which—Bella was pretty sure—was just three shades of beige fighting for dominance.

Jacob hadn’t said a word to Rosalie, though. Which was funny. But also…fair. Blondie had the kind of presence that made you rethink your entire personality.

Jacob was polite, sure. He wasn’t suicidal.

If Bella had only stayed ten minutes, though, maybe she could’ve pulled it off like he had. Said a few well-timed things, smiled on cue—left before the existential dread had a chance to kick in.

But she’d passed the ten-minute mark, and now she was here.

Awkwardly perched on the edge of a couch that probably cost more than her truck, having to pretend to stare at nothing while Rosalie flipped through a book like Bella was a speck of dust in her peripheral vision, Jasper played an intense solo game of chess, and Esme made some snacks for them in the kitchen.

Bella uses the opportunity to take the place in.

The living room was as modern as the outside promised—clean lines and floor-to-ceiling windows that made the forest outside look like a National Geographic documentary.

Everything inside the house was color-coordinated in a way that suggested “minimalism”, but instead whispered obscene wealth.

The furniture was sleek, stylish, and, as Bella had just learned, incredibly uncomfortable when you weren’t sure what to do with your hands.

The silence that permeated the room wasn’t hostile, exactly. Just…aware of itself.

Back in Phoenix, silence had been a luxury Bella didn’t have. Renée had filled every room she was in with a running monologue, afraid that stillness might reveal something she didn’t want to know.

But this…well, this wasn’t that.

The Cullens didn’t chatter. They existed in a curated, quiet rhythm that Bella hadn’t been invited into.

Silence, back home, had meant peace.

Here, it felt more like a spotlight.

.

.

.

Bella should’ve known better than to fall for Jacob’s puppy dog face.

It was a rookie mistake—one she’d already made more than once since moving in with him and Charlie.

If there was a pattern to Jacob’s bright ideas, it was this—the end of them. The part that left Bella regretting everything without fail.

And now, to prove her point, here she was—abandoned in the Cullens’ unnervingly quiet house, flanked by two blondes and an unnecessary amount of glass.

Jacob had, apparently, left her to her own devices.

Bella should’ve known that “I just want backup in case it’s weird” was code for “I’m going to ditch you the second Edward Cullen breathes in my direction.”

Which meant her friend thought infatuation trumped loyalty, and wasn’t that something Bella would have to dissect later.

Now, her options were limited. Like it or not, Bella was going to have to engage. Unlike Jacob, though, who hadn’t given a second thought to the act, she wasn’t about to bolt.

No. Instead, Bella was going to do her best to analyze the situation and make an informed choice. Like an adult.

Here? It felt like she only had two.

Bella could join Jasper, who looked genuinely entertained by his chess match—his eyebrows slightly raised, like the board was keeping him on his toes. Or she could try her luck with Rosalie, who was still silently turning pages like Bella’s presence was a background noise she was doing her best to ignore.

But, well, taking into consideration the fact that Rosalie hadn’t looked at Bella once since Jacob had left the room—which was almost impressive, considering Bella had felt her presence like a physical thing from the second she walked in—there wasn’t really much of a choice to make here.

Unlike Jacob, Bella was brave. But she was also…smart. And this? It felt like the stupidest thing she could do.

So Bella stands, trying to be confident when she feels anything but. She crosses the living room with her head held high until she reaches the chess table.

Out of the corner of her eye, Bella catches Rosalie’s gaze flick upward. Quick, subtle, and unmistakable.

Jasper, when she arrives, looks up from the board—his expression curious, warm, and maybe even a little... grateful.

“My grandmother used to say chess was more fun with two people,” Bella says, offering him a crooked smile. “Though she also used to say whiskey cured headaches, so. Take that as you will.”

Jasper smiles back, already resetting the pieces. “You want black or white?”

Bella drops into the chair across from him. “Whatever you decide. I’m flexible.”

It wasn’t much. Just a seat and a board between them. But compared to the cold, quiet indifference of the rest of the house?

It felt like a relief.

Even Rosalie’s stare—sharp as it was—looked a little less dangerous from across the room. At least for now.

.

.

.

“Who knew chess could be this vicious?” Bella mutters, grimacing as she gives her fallen bishop an apologetic sendoff. “Sorry, man. I should’ve seen that coming.”

She hadn’t expected to win—yes, but she had expected to last more than ten minutes before getting absolutely obliterated by Jasper.

The guy played chess like he’d been born on a battlefield: calm, ruthless, and four moves ahead.

It was weirdly impressive.

“If you think I’m being vicious,” Jasper says, eyes still on the board, “you should never play this game with Alice. Or anything card related, to be fair. Better yet, never play anything that involves strategy or luck with her.”

Bella raises an eyebrow. “That bad?”

“She once beat Emmett at poker before the cards were dealt.”

Bella huffs out a dry laugh, nudging a pawn forward with exactly zero confidence. “Noted. I should avoid Alice if she proposes a game night. Also, apparently...I should never bet money while I'm at it.”

Jasper leans back slightly, his arms resting on the edge of the table. “You’re not bad, by the way, Bella. Most people who are about to lose don’t last this long without getting...frustrated.”

Bella snorts. “Most people didn’t learn how to lose from an Italian woman who used to call them tesoro while wiping the floor with them.”

He chuckles, and Bella feels herself relax just a little. The quiet tension in the room hasn’t gone away, but at least here—across this board—it feels less sharp.

“My grandmother used to say chess mirrored life," Bella tells him. "That if you could predict your opponent’s next steps and block them effectively, you’d never lose a battle.”

Jasper looks up, interest piqued. “Smart woman.”

“She was,” Bella nods, tapping a knight like it’ll absolve her for sucking. “Unforgiving with her strategies, though.”

“Sounds like she taught you more than chess.”

Bella hesitates. “She did,” she admits, then glances at the board. “Not enough to help me survive this game, but still.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she catches a flicker of movement—Rosalie turning another page, spine straight, expression unreadable. If she’s listening, she doesn’t show it.

Bella forces herself to focus. On the game. On Jasper. On anything but the unsettling weight of being noticed and dismissed all at once.

“Can I ask you something?” Jasper’s voice cuts gently through her thoughts.

“Sure.”

“Why did you really come today? It didn’t look like you wanted to be here.”

Bella considers lying. Then, against her better judgement, she tells the truth.

"I didn’t. But Jacob didn't want to be here alone, and I felt he had a good enough reason for it, so I came. Wasn't exactly expecting him to ditch me like, a few minutes in, but that's life."

“Well,” he says, “for what it's worth. I’m glad you’re here.”

Bella gives him a small smile. “Me too. Even if I leave here emotionally scarred by a game of chess.”

Jasper bites back a laugh. “So, how’ve you been liking Forks so far, Bella?”

“I haven’t been murdered yet—at least not at anything other than this—so I’d say it’s going alright.” She grins, but quickly senses he might not get the joke. “It wasn’t something I planned, coming here. Just...a personal necessity. It’s nice having Charlie in my life again, though.”

“But do you like it?” He asks the right question while making the right move at the board.

“Yes.” And if she’s a little surprised by how much she means it—well, that’s her business. "What about you? How long have you been here?”

“A year or so. Give or take.”

“And do you like it?”

His eyebrows lift in surprise. “I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me that.”

“Not even your family?”

“No.”

Bella files that away for later. “So? Do you?”

Jasper smirks. “Haven’t killed anyone yet. Well, besides you at chess. So I’d say it’s been alright.”

Before Bella can say something, there's a loud clatter from the kitchen.

All three heads turn at once.

Esme appears in the doorway, smiling softly. “Sorry. I just...dropped a bowl. Everything’s fine.”

“Are you sure? Do you need some help?” Bella asks before she can stop herself.

“It's okay, dear. Don't worry,” Esme says kindly, and then disappears again.

Bella looks back at the board, but her attention catches on Jasper again. There’s a flicker in his eyes—something easier, lighter than before.

From across the room, Rosalie turns another page without looking up.

.

.

.

“Checkmate.”

“God, that was painful,” Bella mutters, pressing her lips together. There was losing, yes—and then there was whatever that had been.

“You lasted longer than I thought you would,” comes a new voice from behind her.

Bella turns just in time to catch Rosalie Hale, in all her terrifying glory, studying the board like she’s deciding whether the game is worth her time.

“That’s…encouraging. Thanks.”

It wasn’t, obviously. But Bella had a feeling Rosalie wanted her to take offense—so naturally, she was going to do the exact opposite.

Bella kind of had a thing when it came to giving people what they wanted. Especially if said people were blonde, hot, and someone Bella was doing her best to ignore.

Rosalie steps closer, now directly across from her. If Bella wanted, she could look. Stare, even. But she doesn’t. So that's progress, at least.

“I wasn’t trying to encourage you,” Rosalie says flatly. “I was only stating a fact.”

Her progress doesn't last long. Bella gives in and looks up—because fine, she’s only human—and the sight is, well...something, alright.

Rosalie is absurdly close, and she's absurdly...Rosalie. Because even Cate Blanchett would struggle to make black jeans and a white t-shirt look this…you know what?

Nope. Bella was not doing this. She wasn't.

She schools her face and shrugs. “Okay. I'm still gonna take it as encouragement, though.”

Rosalie narrows her eyes. “Just because you decided something’s true doesn’t make it so.”

Bella almost grins. Almost. She wants to lean in, tip her head, offer the full deadpan experience. But she won’t flirt her way through this. No sir. Bella will see this through some other way.

“If it’s about me and my perception of the truth, blondie, I’m pretty sure it does,” she says coolly.

Rosalie crosses her arms. “You’re delusional.”

“Well, sweetheart, that’s your perception. And unlike you, I’ll respect your right to have one.”

Rosalie’s eyes flash dangerously. “Don’t ever call me sweetheart or blondie again. Not unless you want to lose more than a chess game.”

And with that, she turns on her heel and disappears. Bella watches her go, vaguely impressed.

When she turns back, Jasper is staring like he’s just witnessed a shark try to flirt with a knife.

“Is your sister always like that?” Bella asks.

“Yes,” Jasper says, deadpan. “Though... that was a little more theatrical than usual."

“Charming,” Bella says, rolling her eyes.

.

.

.

Bella is halfway through her coffee, enjoying the kind of silence only possible when Jacob isn’t around to narrate his every thought, when Charlie almost gives her a heart attack.

“Dad!” She slaps a hand to her chest. “I thought you were already at the station.”

“Late morning,” Charlie says, sheepish.

Bella glances at her watch. “Me too,” she grumbles and takes another sip.

Without Jacob there to drag her out the door on time, she’d taken her sweet time getting ready.

For once—finally—she was enjoying a morning in which the name Edward Cullen hadn’t been uttered even once.

If Bella believed in God, she would’ve offered a formal thank-you by now.

“Where’s Jacob?” Charlie asks, settling at the table with her.

“He decided to betray Carol in favor of a pretentious Volvo,” Bella says dryly. At Charlie’s blank look, she adds, “He went to school with Edward Cullen this morning.”

And just like that, the spell is broken. Her Cullen-free morning? Over.

“Why?” Charlie asks, still baffled.

“Who knows?”

“I thought you did.”

“Nope.”

“And you didn’t ask?”

“Would you?”

Charlie huffs a laugh. “Maybe.”

Bella gives him a knowing look. They both know the answer is no. If one thing had become apparent in these past few weeks, it'd been how much the two of them were alike.

If Bella hadn't asked, Charlie wouldn't have either.

“So why are you still here?” he asks—not accusing, just curious.

“Is it weird I’m not even a little excited about going to school today?” she says, nursing her mug with both hands.

“Are you ever excited?” Charlie asks, tilting his head. “Because that would be weird.”

“Eh. Not really.”

Bella didn’t hate Forks High. But calling it “tolerable” would be like calling quicksand “slightly inconvenient.”

Especially with the way people kept whispering like she was the plot twist in a poorly written teen drama. Honestly, shouldn’t she be old news by now?

It’s no wonder the Cullens keep to themselves. Bella’s only been exposed to half the scrutiny they dealt with on a regular basis, and she already wanted to shove someone into a locker.

“Can I ask you something?” Charlie says, a little more tentative this time.

“Haven’t you been doing that for the past five minutes?” Bella smirks, but goes along. “Sure, go ahead. At least you’ve got some tact. Mom, on the other hand, never did.”

Charlie winces in sympathy, but Bella can tell—like always—that when it comes to her mother, he still doesn’t really get it.

No one besides Marie had ever understood.

“I actually wanted to ask you about her. Has she called you?”

“This week or in general?”

“In general.”

Bella pauses. “She sent me some pictures last week. Said Toronto was ‘all the rage,’ whatever that means. But that was it. Why?”

“She hasn’t asked how you’re doing? If you’re settling in okay?”

“No. No. And yes,” Bella says, frowning. “Why?”

“She hasn’t asked me either.”

“Were you expecting her to?” Her tone comes out sharper than intended.

“Maybe,” he says, but his expression is soft, almost disappointed. “People change.”

“Mom sure as hell didn’t.”

Charlie doesn’t reply.

Bella stands, grabbing her bag and walking out of the kitchen without saying goodbye.

School wasn’t great, yeah. But right now, anything was better than sitting here and pretending like Renée’s silence was something new.

Honestly, it’s not like Bella really cares.

She doesn’t. She’d expected this. Had seen it coming from a mile away. Had seen how little her mother had cared when Bella had spiraled after her grandmother had passed away.

Yet, somehow, a part of her couldn't help but feel like this.

A little sad, a little...angry. And very, very tired.

.

.

.

“Bella,” Jessica whispers, slicing into the quiet of Bella’s lunch break. “Don’t look now, but I think Rosalie’s staring at you.”

Bella exhales slowly through her nose, nudging a small apple across her tray with the corner of her thumb. “Staring or glaring?” she asks, not looking up.

Apparently, Blondie was still holding a grudge from their little chess match postmortem yesterday.

“What’s the difference?” Mike asks, like the answer isn’t obvious. Men.

“Does she seem interested in what I’m doing, or does she look like she wants to drop a piano on me from a great height?”

Angela, ever the peacemaker, offers gently, “I think that’s just how she looks at people.”

“I don’t know, Ang.” Jessica leans in, brow furrowed. “This one feels...personal.”

Bella could work with personal. Honestly, vague hostility was better than whatever weirdness had been in the air when they’d talked yesterday.

“Not even at Robert?” Eric cuts in. A beat later, he flinches—Bella doesn’t have to look to know Angela’s probably kicked him under the table.

“Can you blame her?” Jessica says, picking at her cookie. “He asked her out without making eye contact.”

Eric tilts his head. “Technically, eye-to-chest is still a kind of contact. Just not the kind that wins you points with the ladies.”

“To be fair—” Mike raises a hand.

“Don’t.” Bella cuts him off with a look. She’s never in the mood for this kind of conversation, but today—especially—she’s reached her limit.

The cafeteria is its usual chaos: too many voices, too many chairs scraping across scuffed linoleum, and too few tables with decent lighting. After losing her regular window seat to a pack of seniors, Bella isn’t about to listen to Mike being...his usual self, actually.

Bella tugs at the sleeve of her soft, oversized black hoodie, trying not to notice the sharp, unmistakable weight of Rosalie’s gaze from across the room.

Angela shifts the subject like a pro. “Do you think Jacob’s going to keep sitting with Edward from now on?”

Bella shrugs. Jacob could sit with pretty boy every day of the week, as long as he didn’t ask her to join in.

Honestly, if it were up to her, she’d eat lunch somewhere else entirely. But that’s the thing about small towns. And small-town cafeterias.

And Rosalie Hale.

Still—Bella isn’t going to focus on that. No.

She’s not about to give Rosalie the satisfaction of knowing she’s somehow getting to her.

.

.

.

“Okay, what did you do?” Jacob asks out of nowhere, making her jump.

Bella hadn’t seen him approach—she’d been too busy stuffing her books into her locker to realize she wasn’t alone.

“Are you leaving already?” he asks, eyeing the backpack on her shoulder and the obvious absence of gym clothes.

“Yes. I’m not in the mood for gym today, Jake. Figured I’d go home instead. Save everyone the trouble. Mostly myself.”

Bella was good at a few things: sarcasm, emotional detachment, and—unfortunately—being the adult in every room her mother entered. But gym class? Sports? Yeah, that wasn’t making the list.

“Bella…you’re dodging my first question.”

She shoots him an unimpressed look. “Which was?”

“What did you do? Why is Edward’s sister so mad at you?”

“How should I know?” she lies. Because she’s not getting into that—not with him, and not today. “Why do you assume I did anything?”

“Because I live with you,” Jacob replies, deadpan.

“You left me alone with Edward’s family for two hours yesterday. Two. Hours.”

To his credit, he at least has the decency to look a little ashamed. “Okay, and?”

“At some point, I had to socialize. It’s not my fault I—actually, you know what? I’m not explaining myself to you. Not when this entire thing is your fault.” She jabs a finger at his chest.

“Bells…” His tone is knowing, infuriatingly so.

“Look, I didn’t do anything, alright? Rosalie was the one trying to—God, I don’t even know what she was trying to do.”

Be intimidating? Be hot? Be…something else entirely? An enigma wrapped in silk and sarcasm that Bella might be tempted to unravel if she wasn’t so certain that avoiding the Cullens was the way to go.

Jacob still doesn’t look convinced.

Bella tries again. “She wanted me to act a certain way, and I didn’t. So...she got mad.”

“If that’s all it was, why is she still acting like you murdered her cat?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know?” Bella’s patience finally snaps. She liked Jacob, she did. But sometimes he acted exactly like the annoying little brother she never asked for when she decided to move to Forks.

“Are you on your period?” he tries, with the confidence of someone who clearly wants to die.

Bella, to her credit, chooses restraint over homicide. “Jacob, do you actually want something, or are you just testing how far you can push me before I snap?”

“I need something,” he says, pressing his lips together. “Well…we need something. Edward and I.”

Her eye twitches. Jacob barrels ahead anyway.

“It’s for our bio project. There’s something we need to pick up, but I don’t think it’s going to fit in Edward’s Volvo. And even if it did, he’s, like…weirdly precious about his car. So I was wondering if we could use Carol.”

Bella breathes in deeply. Weirdly precious? Jacob could’ve just said “entitled asshole” and saved Bella some time.

“Do you want my truck, or do you want me to drive said truck?”

Jacob tilts his head, clearly weighing his options. “Both?”

Her eye twitches again.

The truth was, Edward hadn't done anything overt to warrant her hostility—and yet...he didn't have to. There was just something about him that made Bella feel on edge.

Maybe it was the way he looked at her, like she was a puzzle he needed to solve. Maybe it was the endless stream of too-personal questions he always seemed to ask.

Whatever it was, Bella didn't like it. Didn't like him.

“Bella?” Jacob touches her arm lightly. “Don’t worry about Rosalie, okay? I’m sure it’s not your fault. Edward told me she can be kind of...difficult.”

“Excuse me?” Her words are sharp, reflexive. She feels that familiar shift—the one that signals she’s officially done here.

Bella doesn’t know Rosalie. Has barely interacted with her. But if anyone around here had been difficult, it’d been Edward.

And after enduring Mike’s casual misogyny earlier, Bella wasn't about to let this slide.

“He didn’t say those exact words. He just—he called her a—" Jacob hesitates. “You know. A bitch.”

“What?” Her voice cracks with disbelief. “He said what? About his sister?”

“I think it’s just a sibling thing, Bells,” Jacob backpedals quickly. “I'm sure they tease each other all the time—that Edward didn’t mean it like that.”

Later, Bella will look back on this moment and realize that her reaction, her anger, her instinct to defend Rosalie—it all meant something.

Right now? She’s only seeing red.

“You know what, Jacob, I don't care if this is how siblings act. You can tell perfect hair to leave me alone. To stop harassing me with his obnoxious questions because, frankly, I don't like him.” Bella says what she’s been wanting to say for forever. “Edward’s an entitled asshole, and he’s not getting anywhere near my truck. I don’t care if you both have to hike through a forest carrying your precious project—if his stupid expensive car can’t handle something big. Fuck him."

After that inspired speech, Bella storms out. Behind her, Jacob stands stunned in her wake.

Chapter Text

The walk to her truck takes longer than Bella had anticipated.

By the time she reaches Carol, she doesn’t bother climbing in. Instead, Bella leans against the passenger door like it’s the only solid thing in the world, arms folded, cheek pressed to the cool metal in quiet defeat.

She should’ve skipped school. Should’ve followed her instincts and disappeared to some mythical, moss-covered corner of Forks in search of a half-decent cup of coffee—preferably somewhere that didn’t smell like grease—but maybe that was asking too much of this place.

Instead, Bella had played it safe. She'd been responsible. Mature. And now, here she was. Not just tired—but done.

Bella exhales and closes her eyes.

The cold metal of the truck is grounding, comforting, but the throb behind her eyes sharpens with every second that passes.

Her grand plan—drive home, collapse into bed, ignore everything else—starts to feel wildly optimistic for the state she's in.

Bella's halfway on deciding whether or not napping in her truck is a socially acceptable choice, when something shifts.

There isn't a sound. Just…a feeling. Like static under her skin.

Bella opens her eyes.

Across the empiest parking lot in existence, stands one Rosalie Hale.

The girl is just…watching her. And Bella—she doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t get inside her truck.

Doesn’t run. Doesn’t blink. No.

Bella just watches back as Rosalie starts walking toward her, calm and composed, like this was always going to happen.

.

.

.

“Are you alright?” Rosalie asks once she’s close.

And Bella—well, she isn’t about to make this easy on her.

“Yes,” she lies flatly.

She doesn’t need Rosalie's help. Especially not after everything that happened between them yesterday.

Rosalie raises an eyebrow. “Give me your keys.”

“No.”

“I won’t ask again, Bella.”

“Fine.”

God, this woman was relentless when she wanted something—and Bella was too out of it to mount a decent comeback.

“Do you think you can get inside by yourself?” Rosalie asks, nodding toward the truck, “or do you need some help?”

“I can do it.” Bella has at least enough self-respect left to try.

“Then let’s go. I’m taking you home.”

.

.

.

Bella doesn’t know how long they’ve been sitting inside Carol—she just knows that Rosalie hasn’t started the truck yet.

Maybe she’s waiting for Bella to stop looking like she might pass out. Or puke. Neither of which Bella plans to do, but still.

It wasn’t like Rosalie knew that important fact.

“Your truck is a safety hazard,” the blonde says eventually, casting a glance around the interior like she’s bracing herself against tetanus.

“Carol is wonderful,” Bella croaks, defensive. “A classic. Wise beyond her years. Brave. Loyal.”

“Carol sounds like a dog.”

“She was a gift from my dad,” Bella says, her tone flat, daring Rosalie to say anything else. “So I’d tread very carefully if I were you.”

Rosalie raises a perfectly unimpressed brow. “That still doesn’t make her brave. Or loyal. Inanimate objects shouldn’t have personalities.”

“You sure about that?” Bella tilts her head. “My phone is very temperamental. This Led Zeppelin shirt I’m wearing? A Badass. A killer of men.”

Rosalie’s mouth twitches. “Are all your belongings women?

“Well, I am a...feminist.”

That earns Bella the barest hint of a smile from Rosalie—more of a twitch at the corner of her mouth, really—but Bella will still take it as a win.

“Fine,” Rosalie concedes. “I’ll give you ‘classic.’ But wonderful? No. My car’s wonderful.”

“Your Volvo sucks.”

“That’s Edward’s car.”

“Then Edward’s Volvo sucks,” Bella says, without missing a beat.

Rosalie doesn’t argue. Instead, she narrows her eyes, taking in Bella’s pale face with a level of focus that makes Bella shift slightly in her seat.

“Do you have any sunglasses around?”

“Is that a trick question?”

Rosalie sighs. “Why would that be a trick question?”

“I don’t know. All of your questions sound like trick questions. Like you’re secretly grading me as a person based on my answers.”

“Hm. That might not be entirely inaccurate.”

Bella squints at her. “Okay… how am I doing so far?”

A beat.

“Do you really want to know?”

“Actually, not really.”

“Didn’t think so.”

“The sunglasses are in the glove box,” Bella mutters, nodding toward it.

Rosalie opens the compartment, retrieves the case, and hands it over.

Their fingers brush for just for a second—but it’s enough to make Bella feel like she’s touched a live wire.

“You should wear these,” Rosalie says, completely unfazed. “The light’s probably making your headache worse.”

Bella fumbles with the sunglasses, still a little rattled. “You can turn on the heat if you want,” she says, grasping at conversation.

Rosalie frowns. “What?”

“Your hands,” Bella murmurs, gesturing vaguely. “They’re cold.”

“I’m not...cold.”

“Sure. Okay.” Bella shrugs and slides the glasses on. If Rosalie wanted to pretend she was immune to the temperature, that was her business.

Rosalie rests a hand on the steering wheel but doesn’t start the engine yet. “Think I can drive this thing without you throwing up on me?”

Bella bites her lip. "You can try.”

.

.

.

“I don’t like your brother,” Bella says, unprompted.

Rosalie had been quiet for most of the drive—probably for Bella’s sake—but now that the headache and nausea had faded, Bella figured it was time to say what she wanted to say.

Before...well, the universe decided to shove Edward Cullen even more so in her life.

“I don’t like him,” Bella repeats. “There isn’t a super valid reason for it. I know. But I still don’t.”

Rosalie hums, eyes fixed on the road. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll find some soon enough.”

“Well, I already have some. I just don’t know if they count.”

“For you, or for everyone else?”

“For everyone else.”

“Do you care what people think?”

“No,” Bella answers instantly. “Never have. Doubt I ever will.”

“Then I’d say they count,” Rosalie replies, like it’s obvious.

Bella leans her head against the window. “Fuck people, right?”

Rosalie arches a brow.

“Wait. No. Don’t—” Bella groans. “That’s not what I meant.”

Rosalie almost—almost—smiles. “Want to try again?”

“Yes. What I meant was…you should absolutely fuck the people you want to fuck. But when it comes to what they think about you—who cares?”

“Who cares indeed,” Rosalie echoes, voice lighter than before.

Bella clears her throat, trying to save face. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful or anything, but how are you getting home if you’re driving my truck?”

“Would you mind if I took it with me?” Rosalie glances over, worried.

Apparently, giving her a ride home hadn’t been on Rosalie’s to-do list. But then again, collapsing in the parking lot hadn’t been on Bella’s either.

“No, I won’t mind.”

“Okay.” Rosalie sounds relieved. “Jasper can pick you up in the morning. You’ll have to give him a ride to school, though. Is that okay?”

“Sure. I like Jasper,” Bella says. “And I get the feeling it’s either that or riding with Jacob and Edward tomorrow, so…you'll get no complaints from me.”

Rosalie hums. “Speaking of Edward. I heard what you said earlier. When you and Jacob were talking.”

Bella stiffens. “What part?”

“All of it.”

“Oh.” Bella rubs the back of her neck. “Didn’t see you there.”

“I know it probably wasn’t your intention to defend me,” Rosalie says. “Still, thank you.”

“It was my intention.”

Rosalie brakes at a red light, turning to face her. “Wait. What?”

“To defend you,” Bella says, all at once. “That was the point.”

“I—” Rosalie starts.

“Look,” Bella says, cutting in. “I don’t know what kind of relationship you and Edward have. Maybe this is normal. Maybe he calls you names and people just—pretend it’s fine. Maybe you don’t really care. But I do.”

Rosalie’s eyes flick back to the road, but her grip on the wheel tightens.

“I just...I’ve spent too much of my life seeing people excuse awful things because it’s easier to ignore them than it is to say something,” Bella says, a little softer now. “And I’m tired. I’m so tired of men calling women difficult just because they seem to possess a personality. It's not right, or fair, and I won't ignore it. And I know, I know you don't need anyone to fight your battles for you, but I just…God, I don't know. I just felt like it was uncalled for.”

Rosalie exhales, but she still keeps quiet. And Bella—well, she's not about to stop now.

“He’s your brother,” Bella continues, more gently now. “But that doesn’t give him a free pass. Especially when he’s been the one making my life hell.”

“I am difficult, Bella. I’ve been difficult to you. Yesterday, to be more precise—”

Bella cuts her off. “I wouldn’t call it that.”

“What would you call it then?”

“Charming,” Bella says, half a smile creeping in. “Interesting. A little intense.”

Rosalie blinks at her.

“Blondie, I don't know you, alright? But I’ve seen how people in this town treat you. And I doubt it’s any better outside of Forks.”

Rosalie was…Rosalie. Bella doubted she managed to go anywhere without people objectifying her and being gross.

The girl nods, and Bella is well, she’s mad.

“So yeah,” she says. “You get to be rude to me if you want. You get to be complicated, and guarded, and...intense. I can take it. I’m a big girl. I can hold my own. What I won’t take is Edward thinking he’s better than you when every conversation with him has felt like an interrogation. He has been walking around town acting like a smug little creep and I'm supposed to what? Find him endearing?"

Rosalie turns to look at her again. “So he’s a creep and a nuisance, and I’m...charming?”

“Exactly.”

Whatever Rosalie had been planning to say next is forgotten, and the rest of the drive home is spent in silence.

.

.

.

“So…I guess we’re here,” Bella says, uncertain about what the polite thing to do is.

“For a second there, it looked like you didn’t know where you lived.”

“It’s not my fault you’re awful at following directions, Rosalie.”

The blonde scoffs, but the sound is missing its usual venom. Bella can’t help but think—hope, maybe—that Rosalie might’ve softened toward her. At least a little bit.

“You’re the one who’s awful at giving them.”

“Let’s agree to disagree,” Bella offers, trying—genuinely—to be the bigger person.

“Let’s not.”

It doesn't work.

“Are you always this stubborn?” Bella asks, raising her eyebrow.

Rosalie’s mouth twitches—sharp, amused, like she’s barely tolerating the conversation but not hating it either. “Are you always this maddening?” she asks, biting out the words.

Okay, maybe she hadn’t softened at all.

Bella glances sideways at her, taking in the clean lines of the black Balenciaga jacket Rosalie’s wearing—impossibly tailored, collar sitting just right, sleeves pushed up in that casually intentional way that only someone like Rosalie could pull off.

“Thank you, I guess?” Bella says, blinking.

“Let’s never do this again.”

Bella raises a brow. “That’s fine by me.”

“Even finer by me, Bella.”

The truck idles, its low engine hum filling the silence between them.

Bella pushes open the door and steps out onto the sidewalk, cool air slipping under her hoodie. She leans down to the open window, one hand braced on the doorframe, her fingers flexing lightly around her backpack strap.

“Do you always need to have the last word, or—”

“Yes.”

Bella blinks. Then Carol pulls off like this had been Rosalie’s exit strategy from the beginning—which, to be honest, really tracks.

“That went well,” she mutters to no one but herself.

.

.

.

“Bella?” Jacob says softly from the threshold of her bedroom. “Can I come in?”

Bella closes her Kindle and sets it on the nightstand, blanket pulled up to her waist, one leg tucked under the other.

“I talked with Edward,” Jacob begins as he sits beside her. He's still wearing the hoodie she’d loaned him—charcoal gray, a little too big for her but perfect on him—sleeves pushed up to his forearms. “About what he said…about Rosalie. And the way he’s been with you. He listened. I know that’s probably not enough to change your opinion of him, but I wanted you to know.”

Bella exhales. “Jake, I appreciate the intention. I do. But it doesn’t make me feel better that he listened to you. It just proves my point. That he’ll take a man’s word seriously, but not a woman’s.”

“You don’t know that,” Jacob says gently.

“Actually, I do. I told him—repeatedly—that I didn’t want to answer any of his questions. Did he ever listen? No. But you say one thing, and suddenly he’s enlightened?”

“He’s intrigued by you. It’s not his fault. Half the school’s intrigued. Half the town, even.”

“That’s not the winning argument you think it is, Jacob,” Bella mutters. “Look, I’m not saying he’s some monster. I’m just saying he doesn’t respect boundaries. And if he only treats you well, Jake, that’s not a charming trait. That’s a red flag.”

“I know. You’re right. It’s just—”

“You like him.”

“Yeah.”

“And I’m sure there’s something worth liking, or you wouldn’t feel this way. But still. Tread carefully, okay? Set boundaries. Don’t let him dictate your life.”

“What?” Jacob blinks, confused.

“I saw you today at lunch,” Bella says, leveling him with a look. “You looked anxious. I don’t know if he asked or just announced that you’d be sitting with him instead of me, but if that made you uncomfortable, you should say something to him.”

“It’s just...he’s him. And I’m...me.”

“Hey.” Bella bumps her shoulder against his. “I happen to like you very much. Edward? Not so much. If he doesn’t think you’re worth it then he’s the one who’s not.”

“Okay.” Jacob nods, voice softer. “Thank you. I’m sorry I didn’t realize earlier that something was off with you. And I'm sorry that I keep dumping stuff on you, Bella. You and Charlie have been amazing since my dad kicked me out. I hope you know how grateful I am.”

“Don’t say that, Jake. I was the one who was tired and mad and I took it out on you. I should’ve said those things to him, not you, buddy. That’s on me. We love having you here. I hope, with time, you’ll start to feel like this is home.”

Jacob tilts his head. “I hope, with time, you will too.”

Bella raises her brows, impressed that he’d picked up on that. Forks was...fine. But it wasn’t home. Not yet.

“Charlie said something about Renée this morning,” Bella says, sighing. “And it got to me. The funny thing about my mom is that she has this superpower. She can ruin my day without even trying. Hell—without even being in the same zip code.”

“Was that a regular thing? Renée being committed to ruining your day?”

“Well...” Bella hesitates. “Only when she was bored.”

“She sounds like a real treat,” Jacob says, shooting her a look that says more than words ever could. “Is there a reason Carol wasn’t outside when I got here?”

“No.”

“So, there is a reason. Are you going to tell me?”

“No.”

Jacob huffs. “Alright. A woman of mystery. It suits you, Bells. No wonder half the town wants to know you.”

Bella rolls her eyes and shoves his shoulder. “Okay. Now off you go. I want to read, and you have homework to do.”

“Okay, Mom.”

.

.

.

“I thought that since this was your car, you should be the one driving it,” Jasper says, greeting her.

He’s holding the door of her truck open, and Bella gives him a small, crooked smile.

“Didn’t know I was in the presence of a gentleman,” she says once they’re inside. “Oh, Carol, how I’ve missed you.”

Bella strokes the steering wheel like it’s an old friend, too distracted to acknowledge Jasper’s quiet snickering.

“I also brought you some coffee.” He hands her a red Starbucks Christmas cup that looks untouched. Bella eyes it with pure envy.

There was no Starbucks in Forks. Bella knew that because she’d searched the whole town for it—twice.

“Jasper,” she says. “I know you and Alice are together and I’m dating my truck, but if you keep bringing me coffee every morning, we’re going to have a problem.”

“You sure about that?” Jasper drawls, amused. He glances at her black and white flannel shirt with interest. “I don’t think things would work out between us, darling.”

“You’re right. We’re from two different worlds. It would never last,” Bella says, wiping away invisible tears.

“Sure, that’s the reason.”

“Cheeky now, aren’t we?”

“Just on the days that end in Y.”

The most surprising thing about Jasper, Bella had learned, was how funny he was.

He looked quiet and serious at first glance, sure—but underneath all that? The guy was a total sweetheart.

He was warm. Laid back. Easy to talk to.

If he wasn’t already dating Alice—and if he wasn’t straight—he might’ve been Bella’s top choice for Jacob.

“What are you thinking about?” Jasper asks, his voice curious.

“That Jacob has terrible taste in men.” Bella sips her coffee, then pauses. “God, this is a good coffee.”

“Esme made it.”

“Well, please send my regards to her. Do you think there’s any way I can bribe her for more? Charlie’s coffee maker is older than I am and makes everything taste like burnt rubber.”

“You told me you drink coffee the second you wake up.”

“Out of necessity. Not because I’m living my best life, Jasper.”

“I’ll inform Esme of your struggle. I’m sure she’ll hear your plea. She sort of became your fan.”

Bella raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Well, let’s see. First, you came over to keep your friend company. Then, you didn’t leave even after he ditched you two seconds in. You were polite, funny, and you held your own against Rosalie that day. To top it all off, yesterday, you stood up for her while simultaneously telling my brother off. I think it’s fair to say most of the family is impressed.”

“Wait. You know about all that? Rosalie told you?”

Jasper grimaces.

“Let’s just say privacy isn’t a big part of our family culture. Things tend to become public knowledge faster than they should.” He pauses “Also…Rosalie kind of went off on Edward after she dropped you off.”

“Good.” Bella crosses her arms. “Honestly, who says stuff like that about their own sister? To a guy they barely know, even? Jacob and Edward have been… whatever they are for what, three days?”

“She didn’t go off on him because of what he said about her, Bella. She went off because you told her he was bothering you.”

Bella blinks. “What?”

Jasper doesn’t answer. He just keeps going. “If Edward keeps being a creep, please let me know. My brother should know better.”

“I’m still struggling with the part where she did that on my behalf. Are we sure she didn’t just use me as an excuse to yell at him?”

“Rosalie doesn’t need any excuse when it comes to Edward,” Jasper says. “She has a long enough list of her own grievances. Usually, though, she just ignores him.”

“Well, then your sister is a very difficult person to figure out,” Bella says. “I tried being honest with her yesterday, and I thought—for a second—that she had softened a little. But wasn’t that short-lived.”

“You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

“That’s really the bar? It’s pretty low.”

“Yes, it is.”

Bella shakes her head. “It’s just…you said she usually ignores people when they bother her. So why doesn’t she do that to me? Why does she go out of her way to let me know that she hates me? It makes zero sense, Jasper.”

“Does her hate really bother you?”

“No,” Bella lies. “I mean. A little. Mostly because she’s doing her best to show me her disdain. She should just ignore me, and be done with it.”

“Like you were doing to her?”

“Yes.” Bella answers automatically before realizing what she’s done. “No. Wait. I’ve never…ignored her.”

Jasper doesn’t buy it.

“Okay,” Bella relents. “I did. A little. But it was only because I was doing my best to keep a respectful distance from you guys. The way people in town should. I have manners, Jasper.”

“Right. Because ignoring and keeping a respectful distance are totally different things.”

“Exactly.”

“I wasn’t agreeing with you,” he says, shaking his head.

Bella groans. “Fine, okay. But you know what I think? I think your sister needs a friend.”

“She has friends.”

“Outside her family?”

“That’s a fair point.” Jasper pauses. “Are you volunteering for the position?”

“God no. I’m telling you to help her make one. Encourage her. Be the supportive brother you look like you are.”

He doesn’t look particularly convinced.

“Friends are good,” Bella tries again. “Especially if she has a hard time letting people in. Walls are great until you realize you’re the one stuck inside.”

Jasper’s quiet for a second. Then he says, “Maybe I need a friend.”

Bella glances over.

Jasper’s voice had been smooth, even a little teasing, but there was something just below the surface. Something almost unsure.

A beat passes.

Bella shifts in her seat, just slightly. “Okay. For that, I’m definitely volunteering.”

If the universe was going to do its best to throw her into the middle of the Cullens, then the least Bella could do was pick the one that she liked.

Chapter Text

It was early.

The kitchen smelled like burnt coffee and toast crumbs. Saturday morning sunlight filtered through the half-tilted blinds above the sink, casting striped shadows across the worn floor.

A soft stillness settled in the air—the kind Bella had slowly grown used to over the last few weeks. She heard the familiar creak of the floorboards behind her and turned.

Charlie stood in the doorway, his hair still mussed from sleep. He wore his usual weekend uniform: sweatpants and an ancient Forks Spartans shirt so old it was basically town history at this point.

Bella lifts the coffee pot in greeting. “Morning. Want some?”

“Yes, please,” Charlie says, easing into his usual kitchen chair with a sigh.

Bella grabs two chipped mugs from the cabinet before pouring the liquid. She hands him one before sitting at the table.

The surface between them held a folded newspaper, a clean cup waiting to be used, and the bottle of Tabasco Charlie insisted belonged on everything. A bowl of fruit sat off to the side—mostly apples, because Bella kept throwing out the bananas when they got too brown.

“I would warn you about the taste,” Bella says, lifting her mug, “but I think you know.”

Charlie gives a small shrug. “Once you get used to it, kiddo, you’ll start thinking every other coffee tastes bad. Not this one.”

“So I should quit while I still have some taste?”

“Probably.”

“Appreciate the honesty.” Bella chuckles. “How was work this week? Anything exciting happened?”

“Exciting like murder?”

“I didn’t say that,” Bella drinks her coffee carefully, trying not to grimace. “But in all honesty? It would’ve been.”

Charlie gives a dry chuckle. “This is Forks, Bells. Around here excitement means mostly bar fights and speeding tickets.”

“Good.”

“Not boring?” His tone was light, but there was something underneath it. Another question he didn’t want to ask.

And Bella—well, she knew very well what it was.

“What? You can’t possibly be serious, Bella. Forks? I know things haven’t been perfect between us, but choosing your barely-present father over me—don’t you think that’s extreme?”

“Mom, it’s not about that.”

It wasn’t that Bella thought living with Charlie would be better. It was that she knew, with certainty, it couldn’t be worse.

“You deserve to be happy with Phil,” Bella had told her. “And I’ll just get in the way.”

“You won’t survive in Forks,” Renée warned. “You won't. You’re like me, Bella. That town will break your spirit just like it broke mine.”

Back in the kitchen, Bella presses her mug to her lips. “I could use boring,” she says quietly.

Charlie lets out a breath, like that had been the answer he was hoping for all along. “Alright. And how’s school?”

“Eh. Fine.”

“Jacob settling in okay?”

“Honestly? Yes, better than me.”

It wasn’t that Bella wasn’t adjusting. She was. But Jacob had been waking up singing, which was—objectively—a human rights violation.

“Why?” Charlie asks, curious.

“Edward Cullen.”

He frowns. “Carlisle’s kid? The one who gave Jake a ride this week?”

Bella gives him a look. “I think they’re…getting to know each other.”

Charlie doesn’t seem to get it. “Well, it’s nice he’s making friends.”

“That’s one way to put it, sure, but I didn't mean it like that.”

A beat passes. Then his expression shifts, and his eyes widen.

“Oh, that's good too. Great even.” Charlie says, his voice gruff. He fidgets with the newspaper on the table. “Speaking of Jacob—have you seen Billy around?”

Bella’s stomach tightenes. “No. Have you?”

“No.” Charlie hesitates. “But if he shows up, I want you to tell me, okay? Right away.”

“You thinking he might?”

“I don’t know.” Charlie doesn't look at her when he answers. “I just have a feeling.”

“Okay, I’ll let you know.” Bella doesn't push.

She hadn’t been there that night—had only heard the bare facts secondhand, mostly from Jacob, and in the silences Charlie never dared to fill in. But Bella knew enough. Knew that when Jacob called—shaken, devastated—Charlie hadn’t hesitated.

He’d driven over, taken one look at the situation, and said, in his steady, no-nonsense way: “Pick up your things, Jacob. We’re leaving”.

“He didn’t take it well. When Jacob told him,” Charlie says, quieter now. “I wouldn’t put it past him to show up and say something stupid.”

“If he has the guts to show his prejudiced face around here,” Bella says, voice sharp, “you’ll be the first to know. Promise.”

Charlie nods. Then, he gruffs. “That Cullen kid. You think he’s alright?”

Bella sighs. “I don’t know. He likes Jacob. But he’s…weird. I’m not exactly a fan.”

Charlie studies her. “Okay. We’ll keep an eye out. Jacob’s one of us now.”

Bella smils, soft and sure. “Yeah. He is.”

“If it comes to it, I can always intimidate him with my gun,” Charlie adds, deadpan.

Bella laughs. “You should do that regardless.”

Charlie raises a brow. “You’ll change your tune when it’s your turn.”

Bella freezes.

“Has any nice girl caught your eye yet?” he adds, just to twist the knife.

“Oh my God,” she groans, burying her face in her hands. “Please, don't. Go bother Jacob with these questions, will ya?”

“I would, but he’s asleep.”

“Lucky him.”

.

.

.

“Buddy, I need a favor,” Bella says, sprawled across the couch with the gravity of someone fully committed to not moving for the rest of the day.

Her feet are parked in Jacob’s lap, one sleeve of her maroon sweatshirt tugged halfway over her hand like she’s trying to disappear into it.

Jacob doesn’t look away from the screen. “Okay. Shoot.”

“I need you to ask Edward for his brother’s number.”

That got his attention.

Jacob blinks, turning his head slowly like he thought he’d misheard. “Emmett?”

Bella steals some of his popcorn while he’s still absorbing her request. “No. Jasper.”

“Wait. You are being serious, aren't you?" He stares at her, narrowing his eyes. “Why?”

“Because I want to talk to him. Why else?”

Jacob slaps her hand away when she's trying to reach for his popcorn again. “I thought you hated the Cullens.”

“Just your Cullen, buddy. The rest seem alright."

“Right,” Jacob mutters, still eyeing her suspiciously. “So what, Jasper’s your friend now?”

Bella shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Sure. He’s...quiet. Smart. Funny”

Jacob makes a face. “Edward’s smart.”

“Edward’s weird,” Bella says, deadpan.

“You’re weird,” Jacob nudges her leg.

“And yet here you are, enjoying my company,” she shoots back. “You gonna help me or not?”

“Fine, fine.” He rolls his eyes but doesn't argue. “But can we please watch the movie now? Like, actually pay attention?”

Bella narrows her eyes at the screen. “Why is this woman running half-naked through the woods? Why hasn’t she put on a shirt? Where is her shoe?”

“She didn’t have time, Bella. Guy with the axe, remember?”

“Sure. Just like I remember her having sex with Stoner McFlannel five seconds ago. Such a dumb thing, honestly. Rule number one in these types of movies is to never have sex. If you do, well...you die. In the next scene, most likely.”

Jacob groans. “Are you seriously an expert on them now? I thought you hated these.”

“I do. Want to hear rule number zero in a horror movie?”

“No.”

“Too bad. I'm going to tell you anyway.” Bella gives him a smug look. “Everyone in them is an idiot.”

Right on cue, the woman on screen trips over nothing and screams into a walkie-talkie that somehow still works despite being dropped in the river two scenes ago.

Jacob sighs. “You are the worst person to watch movies with.”

“And yet,” Bella says again, stretching like a cat, “here you are.”

.

.

.

Dinner is a quiet affair, aside from the clink of forks against chipped plates and the occasional hum of the game playing on the TV.

Charlie's living room is doing double duty tonight—his recliner pulled closer to the coffee table, a folded napkin perched on one knee.

Bella and Jacob sit cross-legged on the floor with their plates, using the low coffee table like it was meant for this all along.

The lamp in the corner casts a warm yellow light across the room, softening the angles of the space. The throw blanket on the couch is half-folded, half-forgotten. A fishing magazine lies open on the armrest, and Bella’s sweatshirt from earlier still hangs over the back of the chair like it belongs there.

“Dad?” Bella asks halfway through her dinner. “Do I have carte blanche with my room?”

Charlie squints at her over his glasses. “I’m sorry, what now?”

“Can I redecorate it any way I want?”

Bella's room still looked exactly like it did the last time she visited Forks—when she was six and deeply invested in dinosaurs and space.

The bedspread had faded comets on it, and there was a glow-in-the-dark solar system still stuck to the ceiling.

Bella’s been pretending not to care, but every morning when she wakes up, she feels like she’s the only thing in the room over the age of seven.

Charlie shrugs, spearing another bite of food. “Sure. It’s your room. Do as you please. Matter of fact, if you want to redecorate the whole house, you go right ahead, kiddo. God knows I won’t.”

“Can I call over a friend to help me?” she asks, keeping her tone light.

Jacob glances up from his plate, his fork still midair. “What friend?”

Charlie just nods. “I’ll leave you some money in the morning. Go crazy, Bells. You deserve it.”

Bella shoots him a soft smile. “Thanks.”

“You don’t have to call anyone over,” Jacob says. “I can help. I’m good at that kind of thing, you know?”

Bella hesitates. “Aren’t you going to the Cullens’ tomorrow? Didn’t you ask me for a ride?”

“Yeah, but I can cancel. It’s not a big deal. Edward just invited me to watch some movie with him. We can do that some other time.”

Charlie gives Bella a look—one eyebrow raised, the corners of his mouth twitching like he’s trying not to grin. It’s the closest he comes to a wink, and Bella fights against the urge to throw her napkin at him.

“It’s fine, Jake,” she says. “You should go. Enjoy your friend’s company.”

Jacob doesn’t answer right away. He narrows his eyes, probably not pleased with the way she'd said the word friend.

“There’ll be other opportunities for you to help, alright?” Bella adds. “I just want to get started on the makeover. I’ve been staring at dark blue space walls for a month now, and I’m starting to feel like I’m Sandra Bullock in Gravity.”

Jacob laughs, but he doesn't seem swayed by her answer. “You could do that, sure...or you could go to the Cullen’s with me, Bells. I’m sure they would all love to have you there."

“Yeah, because that went so well the last time,” Bella says, sighing. “I'll pass.”

She's not going to give Jacob any room to guilt-trip her into going with him. No, sir. She’d learned her lesson the last time.

Charlie clears his throat, coming to her rescue just in time. “If either of you want to paint the living room while you’re at it, let me know. I’ve got a gallon of something beige in the garage.”

Bella chuckles, rolling her eyes at him fondly. “Duly noted.”

.

.

.

how good are you at painting walls?

Jasper

I'm sorry, who is this?

your ‘maybe I need a friend’ bella

Jasper

Hey, sure

Could say I’m a pro by now

Esme loves redecorating

great. you busy tomorrow?

Jasper

Completely free

i'm driving jake to your house around one

i can pick u up?

Jasper

It’s a date

quick question

do you know a place that might sell what we'll need?

Jasper

Glad to see you have this all planned out, Bella

it's called being spontaneous, jasper

Jasper

Whatever you say

And yes, I know a place

see you tomorrow, buddy. good night

Jasper

See you soon, Bella. Goodnight

.

.

.

The store smells like sawdust, air conditioning, and something vaguely lemon-scented. Fluorescent lights buzz faintly overhead, washing everything in a cold white glow.

Bella leans against the paint display wall while Jasper stands next to her, flipping through the giant book of swatches.

“Can I ask why the sudden need for a change?” he says without looking up.

Bella crosses her arms. “I just can’t spend another day with those walls around me. It’s driving me insane, Jasper. I feel like I’m being smothered by the cosmos.”

Jasper raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. Instead, he taps a page. “What about this one?”

Porcelain White.

Bella glances at it and immediately shakes her head. “Absolutely not.”

“Too fancy?”

“Too traumatic,” she says flatly. “Phil’s great-grandmother had a porcelain tea set, and I…broke it. Let’s just say Christmas last year was a very somber affair.”

Jasper lets out a quiet laugh and flips to the next option. “Isn’t blue supposed to be a calming color?”

“Yeah, but that’s light blue, my friend. Dark blue? Definitely not. Last night, before I went to sleep, I stood right in the middle of my room and felt like I was this close to floating into the void.”

“Can’t have that,” he says lightly.

“Right?” Bella gestures vaguely at the wall of swatches. “I need a blank slate, buddy. A neutral color.”

Jasper nods and turns another page. “How about this one?”

Daisy White.

Bella doesn’t even hesitate. “That’s the one. We’ve found our winner.”

He looks pleased—whether at her decisiveness or just glad they’re finally moving on, Bella can’t tell. Probably both.

They start collecting supplies—rollers, tape, drop cloth. Bella grabs a paint tray before she decides to open up.

“My mom used to paint every room in whatever color she was obsessed with that year,” she explains. “I’m pretty sure she did it just to irritate me.”

Jasper gives a thoughtful hum. He doesn’t push her to share more—he just listens. Maybe that’s why Bella feels comfortable enough to continue.

“I always told myself that when I finally had a space of my own, I’d go white. Neutral. Clean. Boring in the best way.”

“Your mom sounds like a lot,” Jasper says, his tone even.

Bella lifts the paint can off the shelf and into their cart. “If by ‘a lot’ you mean emotionally chaotic with a god complex and a thing for beach-themed dishware, then yes.”

Jasper watches her. “I get it, you know. You’re taking control of your life."

Bella shrugs. “Or I’m just painting walls, buddy.”

His mouth quirks. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

.

.

.

“Oh my God, I can’t feel my arms,” Bella groans, flat on her back on the newspaper-covered floor.

The room smells like fresh paint and sweat, the open window doing its best to keep up. Afternoon light spills across the half-painted wall, catching on a roller streak someone—probably her—abandoned halfway through.

Jasper laughs. It’s low and genuinely amused, and Bella’s too impressed by his stamina to tell him off for laughing at her.

“Don’t worry,” he says, still painting. “I can finish without your help if you’re tired.”

Bella winces. It’s technically her room, and she knows it isn’t fair to let him do most of the work. But also—well—her body has entered full shutdown mode.

“That doesn’t sound right,” she mutters, attempting to sit up and immediately regretting it. “But I don’t have the strength to argue with you.”

Jasper keeps rolling paint up the wall with effortless calm.

“What’s your secret?” Bella asks, narrowing her eyes at him.

He glances down. “What?”

“Do you work out? Are you one of those… exercise people?”

He snorts. “I run every morning, but that’s it.”

Bella flops back down dramatically. “That’s it, everybody,” she announces to the ceiling. “Just casually running at dawn like it’s no big deal. Easy. Chill. Fun.”

Jasper raises an eyebrow. “Who are you talking to?”

“I don’t know. The universe. My ghost. Whoever’s listening.”

“Do you speak to the universe often?”

“Only when it’s ruining my life.”

He chuckles. “And that happens a lot?”

“You’d be surprised.”

Jasper pauses, roller still in hand, and looks at her. Really looks at her. “I am surprised,” he says quietly. “Not about the universe, though, but about you.”

Bella blinks. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

“A very good thing.”

Bella doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she shifts slightly, tugging her sleeve over her hand like the fabric might protect her from the feeling of being known.

“Okay,” she deflects. “Now I have an extremely important question. Are you thirsty? And if you are, how likely is it that you’ll get me a glass of water—even though this is technically my house?”

Jasper stares at her, and Bella knows he knows she’s deflecting. “You really need to start exercising. You have zero stamina.”

“I know you’re making a very solid point, my friend,” Bella sighs. “But let’s circle back to this conversation in the distant future.”

“Alright,” he says, laughing. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“If I survive. You’re holding me to it if I survive.”

Jasper rolls his eyes and sets down the roller. “I’m going to get us some water. Stay where you are.”

“I wouldn’t dream of moving. Thank you. You’re the best.”

.

.

.

It’s almost dark by the time they finish. Or better yet—by the time Jasper finishes.

“I don't think I remember the last time I saw that many stars,” Bella says, watching the sky from the steps of Charlie's front porch. Jasper sits beside her, his knees bent and splattered with dried paint. “I used to sit on the roof with my grandmother almost every night, but they were never this big. Or this bright.”

Jasper glances at her. “If you don't mind me asking… how long ago did she pass?”

Bella turns, surprised. He doesn’t ask like he’s prying—more like he already knows.

“I can see how much you loved her,” Jasper adds gently. “And I know you wouldn’t have left your life to come here—”

“—If that life didn’t exist anymore,” Bella finishes. “You’re right.”

“I’m sorry,” Jasper says softly.

“It’s okay,” she replies, though it isn’t. “Dying is inevitable. A part of life. Everything ends eventually, Jasper.”

“And that’s what makes it beautiful?”

“You could say that.” She sighs, adjusting on the steps and leaning back against the porch. Bella didn't know if endings were beautiful—just that they were very fucking hard.

Jasper shifts beside her. “You know, you were right,” he says, switching tracks. “Your room does look better with white walls.”

“Yeah, I know. Thank you. For everything.” Bella pats his knee with paint-streaked fingers, then squints at him. “You’ve got paint in your hair.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Yours.”

Jasper stares at her.

“Okay, mostly mine. But a little bit yours,” she admits.

He laughs. “This was fun, Bella. Thanks for inviting me. I didn’t realize how much I needed time away from my family.”

“With that many siblings, I can’t say I blame you.”

“You’re an only child, right?”

“Well. I used to be. But I think I’ve acquired a pseudo-little brother recently.” Bella rolls her eyes fondly.

“I think we can all attest to that.” Jasper nods. “Jacob looks up to you, Bella. Every time he’s in our house, he’s always talking about you in some way.”

Bella groans. “Anything I should be worried about?”

“Maybe.” Jasper grins, then glances up at the stars. “It’s nice here. Quiet. You can think. In my house, with all of us, it’s hard to find space where anyone can just be.”

“It’s a pretty big house,” Bella says, remembering how absurdly massive it felt compared to Charlie’s.

“Sometimes it’s not big enough, I’ll tell you that.”

“Well, if you ever need to escape, you can call me. We can do something fun, or we can do absolutely nothing. You can even murder me at chess, if that’s your thing.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course. That’s what friends are for. Well—that and painting walls.” Bella waves him off, then pushes to her feet. She offers him her hand. “Come on. It’s getting late, and I still have to pick up Jacob. God knows how long he’ll take to meet me outside. Also, Alice is probably missing you.”

Jasper takes her hand with a smile that could light up the whole sky. “She was a little jealous.”

Bella tugs him up. “Of me?”

“Of me, actually. She loves DIY projects. She and Esme are always hunting for new ones.”

“Next time, I’ll make sure to include her,” Bella says, and Jasper’s grin widens. She eyes his hair again. “God, this paint is going to be a nightmare to get out, isn’t it?”

“I could wait if you want to shower first,” Jasper offers, all Southern politeness.

“That’s very chivalrous of you,” Bella says. “But no. Suffering together feels like a rite of passage in a friendship.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that’s true,” Jasper mutters, amused.

Bella just grins. “If it gets too bad, I’ll shave half my head. I’ve always kind of wanted to rock a Sarah Paulson look but never had the guts.”

She heads toward the driveway, toward Carol waiting under the porch light. “Do you think I have the face for it? Be honest. I’ll know if you’re lying.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that’s true,” Jasper says, amused, and Bella just grins.

“If worse comes to worst, I’ll just cut half of my hair. I kind of always wanted to rock a Sarah Paulson look, but never had the courage to just go for it,” Bella tells him while walking toward Carol in the driveway. “Do you think I have the face for it? Be honest. I’ll be able to tell if you’re lying.”

.

.

.

“Oh, you both look adorable,” Alice beams, giving Bella a small wave and Jasper a quick kiss on the cheek.

“You’re being too kind. We look like a mess,” Bella says, a little shy.

She’s wearing black leggings and a sports bra—though they aren’t exactly black anymore, thanks to the white paint streaked across them—and an open green flannel that’s definitely seen better days. Her hair is up in a messy ponytail, and yes, it’s also full of paint.

On her side, Jasper isn’t faring much better either. Bella doubts he’ll be able to salvage his gray t-shirt, which now looks more like a white shirt with specks of gray than the other way around.

“It’s so good to see you again, dear,” Esme says, pulling Bella into a light hug. Bella returns it, a little awkwardly. “Are you joining us for dinner?”

“Actually, I just came to pick Jacob up,” Bella says, still feeling slightly weird about being here after… last time. “And to return your son, who is apparently a natural at painting walls,” she adds, nodding toward Jasper.

Esme gives him a warm look. “I’d imagine so. He helped me paint most of the house last summer.”

“Bella!” a booming voice calls, and a very large guy strides over enthusiastically.

Bella chuckles at the energy radiating off him. “Emmett, right? I’ve seen you at school,” she says, and he nods. “Can I ask you something? Have you been trying to talk to me these past few weeks?”

“Yes,” Emmett grins, offering zero explanation. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you—I’m the coolest Cullen.” He sticks out a hand.

Bella rolls her eyes, but accepts the handshake. “That doesn’t sound like a high bar.”

Jasper nudges her lightly while Alice gasps.

“What? It doesn’t,” Bella says.

“I’m cool,” Alice pouts.

“You are,” Jasper says, giving her a quick kiss. “The coolest.”

“You’re staying for dinner, right?” Emmett asks, hopeful.

“No?” Bella frowns. “Is Jacob staying for dinner? I can come back later if that’s the plan.”

Everyone’s face drops slightly at her response.

“He said he would stay when I asked,” Esme says kindly, “but now that you’re here, I’m sure he’ll follow your lead, dear.”

“Or he’ll stay because you’re staying too?” Emmett tries, giving her puppy-dog eyes.

Bella shakes her head. “Maybe some other time,” she says, glancing down at herself. “I’m not really dressed for the occasion. And I…really need a shower.”

Alice gives her a once-over with a glint in her eye. “That’s a terrible excuse. You look hot.”

Bella blinks. Jasper, of course, just smirks.

“You could shower here if you want,” Jasper offers, way too innocently. “I’m sure Alice wouldn’t mind lending you some clothes.”

“Oh! I have so many great ideas for what you could wear,” Alice adds, looking far too excited.

Fantastic. Amazing. Perfect. How was Bella supposed to get out of this?

“…Okay,” she says, relenting.

After everything Jasper had done to help her today, the least she could do was survive one dinner.

But next time? She was staying in the car.

.

.

.

Bella walks slowly down the hall, her fingers fidgeting with the buttons of her flannel shirt. By now, she’s already regretting her choice to try to be a good friend.

Honestly, that had never gotten her anywhere.

Exhibit A: Jacob.
Exhibit B: Also Jacob.
Exhibit C: Jasper.

Bella’s on the verge of turning back, mid-retreat, when the door beside her opens. And there—framed in the doorway with an unreadable expression—is Rosalie.

The blonde’s gaze drops, trailing over Bella’s clothes and lingering a second too long on her half-unbuttoned shirt.

“My eyes are up here,” Bella says, trying to sound cheeky.

Rosalie doesn’t respond to her provocation. “Are you lost?”

“No.”

Rosalie raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“…Okay. Maybe,” Bella concedes. “I’m looking for Jasper. I think he’s in the shower, and I’m next in line.”

“He’s still in there,” Rosalie says, offering no explanation for how she knows.

Bella doesn’t ask. Instead, she contemplates how rude it would be to sit on the floor and give up entirely.

“Alice kind of implied he was finished. She told me I should come,” she explains, not wanting Rosalie to think she’s just wandering through the house unsupervised.

Rosalie narrows her eyes. “Alice, huh? And did she say anything else?”

“No. Just gave me some very complicated directions. I think she forgot not everyone lives in a mansion.”

“Or maybe she was just leading you right where she wanted to.”

“…I’m sorry, what?”

“Nothing.” Rosalie shakes her head, glancing at Bella’s shirt again. “Fun day?”

“Yeah. Although DIY is definitely not my thing.”

Rosalie gives her a dry, unimpressed look. “What is your thing?”

Bella crosses her arms. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Yes. If I didn’t, why would I have asked?”

“Who knows when it comes to you.”

Rosalie ignores the jab. “Jasper isn’t the only one with a bathroom, Bella. If you want… you can use mine.”

“I don’t know, blondie. I’m usually not comfortable using a girl’s bathroom unless I’m her friend,” Bella says, fighting off a smirk, and Rosalie scoffs. “Okay, that’s a lie. Unless she’s my friend or she’s, you know… testing the colors of the rainbow with me.”

Rosalie moves like she’s about to shut the door in Bella’s face.

“Wait. Wait.” Bella steps forward quickly. “You won’t mind if I say yes?”

“If that were the case, why would I have offered in the first place?” Rosalie asks, her tone sharp and full of “are you stupid” energy.

“Because you were trying to be nice?” Bella guesses—then remembers who she’s talking to. “Okay, no. My mistake. You’re definitely not that type of person.”

“You’re saying I’m rude?”

“No. But if the shoe fits… well, that’s not on me.”

Rosalie reaches for the door again.

“Wait! Sorry, sorry. I’m always under the impression I’m way funnier than I actually am,” Bella says, scratching the back of her neck. “Let me try that again.”

“Last chance,” Rosalie warns.

Bella takes a breath. “Thank you for your generous offer, Rosalie. You’re a lifesaver. It would be my honor to use your illustrious bathroom.”

Rosalie smiles—a little sharp around the edges, like a predator who just caught a prey. “Was that so hard?”

“Yes,” Bella says truthfully.

Rosalie steps aside to let her in. As soon as she’s inside, Bella tries to take it in quickly. The room is warm and lived in—elegant without trying too hard.

Before she can study the room further, Rosalie speaks, and Bella’s attention snaps back to her.

“If you want, I could lend you something to change into. I’m sure I have shorts you could pass as jeans.”

Bella raises an eyebrow, impressed. “I think I’ve stepped into a parallel universe. You, making a joke?"

“Careful with your next words, Bella. I can still kick you out—you’re not in the shower yet,” Rosalie says, her voice low and dangerous.

Bella surrenders to her impulses. “And if I was? Would you still?”

Rosalie doesn’t take the bait. “Yes or no on the clothes?”

“Alice said she’d lend me some, and I… agreed.”

“Rookie mistake. Everything she owns is designer clothes.”

“And I’m supposed to pretend yours aren’t?” Bella isn’t buying it.

“No need to pretend when it’s the truth.”

“They don’t seem like regular clothes,” Bella says, looking her up and down.

Rosalie’s in high-waisted black jeans and a beige cashmere sweater that’s unmistakably Burberry, if the pattern at the cuffs and collar are anything to go by.

“That’s because I’m the one wearing them,” Rosalie says like it’s obvious.

And honestly… is Bella in any position to say it isn’t? Probably not.

“I should definitely argue with you on that, given the very Burberry nature of your sweater. But I won’t. You know why?”

“Because you know better? Because I’m always right?” Rosalie tilts her head. “Because accepting my offer when I’m already here makes way more sense than waiting for Alice to come up?”

That last one is painfully valid, but Bella refuses to give her the satisfaction.

“No. Because I’d like to take a shower before I have to cut half my hair off. Jasper said I could totally rock the look, but I have doubts.”

Rosalie remains stoic, and Bella knows she’s trying to pretend not to be amused by her antics. But Bella knows better.

Rosalie’s definitely amused—for sure. Okay, maybe. Possibly.

“The bathroom’s through that door,” Rosalie says, nodding toward the right side of the room. “Towels are in the cabinet under the sink. I’ll leave something clean on the bed. When you’re done, come downstairs.”

Bella hesitates. “I’m not kicking you out, am I? I can always wait for Jasper if this is… weird.”

“Nonsense.” Rosalie waves it off. “I was heading downstairs anyway. And this isn’t weird. Just… unexpected.”

“Whatever you say.”

“I’ll see you down there.”

Bella watches her leave, still trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

Chapter Text

“Okay.” Bella frowns. She tries to remember all the things Emmett said when he explained the game—but fails miserably.

They’re both sitting on the floor in the Cullens’ living room, in front of a wall-mounted TV that’s probably larger than every screen in Charlie’s house combined. The furniture behind them is sleek and modern—muted gray and white, all smooth leather and sharp angles.

Rosalie is stretched across the long, low couch like she owns the place. Which, in a way, she probably does.

“Just tell me what button to press if I want to shoot.”

“R2,” Rosalie answers lazily from behind them.

“You play this?” Bella twists around to look at her.

Rosalie’s entire vibe didn’t exactly scream gamer. Then again, it also didn’t scream person capable of making a joke, and Bella had witnessed that happen less than thirty minutes ago—so maybe it was time to stop assuming things about her altogether.

“Surprised?”

“Of course not,” Bella lies.

Rosalie tilts her head, giving her a look that says “please.”

Bella hesitates. “Okay. Yes. I’m a little surprised.”

“Are you allergic to giving people honest answers?” Rosalie asks.

“As a matter of fact, I am,” Bella says. Honesty hadn’t exactly worked in her favor when Renée was in charge of her fate, and some habits were hard to shake. “I can already feel my throat closing up.” She presses a hand to her neck, dramatically.

Jasper snickers from the armchair near the fireplace, and Alice—perched cross-legged on the arm of his chair like it’s her designated spot—grins like she’s watching her favorite show.

Emmett presses his lips together to hide a laugh, and Rosalie, of course, remains unmoved.

Trying to get a rise out of the blonde was like trying to offend a statue—technically possible, deeply unlikely.

“But if it’s true,” Bella continues, “if you do play this game—blond—” She stops the moment Rosalie narrows her eyes. “Rosalie. Then you’ll probably be a better coach than Emmett. I’m getting the feeling he’s not being as forthcoming as he should be.”

“Are you afraid Bella’s going to beat you, Em?” Alice teases. “Because if you are, you can rest assured she’s—”

“I’m not afraid,” Emmett cuts in, fast.

“That’s not a no on the ‘being forthcoming’ part,” Bella adds.

“Bella—” Emmett starts.

Rosalie cuts him off without looking up “Emmett. Is it true?”

“I’m not answering that. Not when you’re using that tone. I know better.”

“That sounded a lot like being afraid,” Bella points out.

“Of course I’m afraid of her! You don’t know what she’s capable of, Bella. The last time I lied to her, she threw my PlayStation off the roof. The roof!”

“Because you crashed my BMW into a tree, Emmett. And then told me Esme had done it, and that I shouldn’t say anything because she was embarrassed.”

Alice leans forward before providing context. “And then Emmett told Esme she shouldn’t say anything to Rosalie because our dear sister was so devastated. So Mom, being Mom, tried to comfort her by being overly gentle, which just made Rose think she was overcompensating for the crash.”

Bella laughs under her breath. “How did anyone figure out it was him?”

“Edward,” Alice says, lounging back. “Rosalie was mad at him, and he tried to deflect. Told her it was Emmett who had done it, not Esme, and that he’d lied to everyone trying to cover it up.”

“If it weren’t for him, no one would know to this day,” Emmett groans. “To this day, Bella. It was a flawless plan. A masterclass in knowing your family and how to manipulate them.”

“There are so many things wrong with that sentence I don’t even know where to begin,” Jasper mutters.

“I would’ve known,” Alice says, straightening with pride. “I knew it was you from the start. But unlike Edward, I stayed out of it.”

“I’m not sure that makes you a good sister or a bad one,” Rosalie says. “Really, Alice? Letting me go on believing it was Esme all along.”

“I’ve learned the hard way to stay out of whatever you two have going on. That way no one can accuse me of taking sides. I’m neutral ground. I’m Switzerland.”

“You’re always keeping secrets, Al. That’s kind of your thing,” Jasper adds fondly. “And you’ve never been neutral ground. You always pick a side—whether you mean to or not.”

“Are you guys going to let us play, or are you going to keep tarnishing my image?” Emmett groans.

“You brought it up,” Rosalie says coolly.

“Yes. As a footnote. Not a full-blown conversation.”

“You should know by now there’s no way to control what people are going to talk about when you enlighten them with your so-called footnotes, Emmett. After all, they're so interesting. Not at all damaging to my image if not explained further,” Rosalie tells him.

“Like your image could ever take a hit, Rose.” Emmett rolls his eyes. “You could murder a baby dragon in the middle of the town square, bathe in its blood, and ninety percent of Forks would still want to screw you.”

Rosalie’s eye twitches. “Do you have to be so crass?!”

Alice wrinkles her nose. “A baby dragon? That’s your choice?”

“Wait. Forks has a town square?” Bella asks. She’d been here for more than a month and had no idea that existed.

“Bathe in its blood?” Jasper frowns. “Are you borrowing my Game of Thrones collection again? You know Esme banned you from borrowing books until you can learn how to take care of them properly.”

“Bella, I’m pressing start,” Emmett announces.

“Alright, alright. Let’s play.” Bella leans forward. “So… are you going to help me or not?” she asks Rosalie, who still hasn’t moved from her throne on the couch.

“Yes. I want to see him lose,” Rosalie replies smoothly.

Bella chuckles—right up until Rosalie slides off the couch and drops down next to her on the floor. Then, Bella's laughter becomes a violent choke.

Rosalie raises a perfectly arched brow, waiting for her to recover. “You have to aim with L2. See this button here?” She reaches over, brushing Bella’s fingers as she takes the controller gently.

“Yeah,” Bella says, eyes fixed on her face instead of the screen.

She hadn’t realized asking for help meant they’d be this close. At this rate, she was never going to win a game in her life.

“This stick moves your character. X jumps. Circle rolls. Square reloads,” Rosalie says calmly, like she hasn’t noticed the effect she’s having on Bella. “Got it?”

Bella hums, thoroughly distracted.

“Any questions?” Rosalie asks.

“Yeah. About a hundred,” she mutters.

“I’ll help you when the match starts. I’ll even give you instructions while I watch,” Rosalie promises. Then, turning to her brother: “Emmett’s not as good as he thinks he is.”

“Hey!” Emmett protests.

“Okay. I can do this,” Bella whispers to herself, more a prayer than a declaration.

Just then, the sound of the front door closing echoes faintly from the hall. A moment later, Carlisle appears in the doorway, still in scrubs, his white coat folded neatly over one arm, stethoscope hanging from his pocket.

He takes in the room with quiet amusement—the game, the laughter, Emmett, Bella and Rosalie sitting cross-legged on the floor like overgrown kids.

“I see everyone’s hard at work,” he says, voice dry.

“Hi, Dad,” Emmett calls, not looking up from the screen. “How was the work?”

Carlisle taps his fingers lightly against the doorframe. “Good. I’m going to go shower before dinner. I’ll see you kids soon.” He nods once in parting.

Then he disappears down the hall, his footsteps muffled by the polished floor and the ongoing chaos behind him.

.

.

.

“That was cheating,” Bella says, pointing accusingly at Emmett. “I could’ve won if you hadn’t cheated.”

“Bella, you weren’t even close to winning,” Emmett fires back, rolling his eyes. “And it’s not cheating just because I know how to play the game.”

They’re still sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the massive TV, controllers in hand.

The glow from the screen flickers across the hardwood floor, and behind them, the Cullens’ sleek, modern living room feels almost too elegant for something as chaotic as a first-person shooter. 

Fresh from a shower and now dressed in a soft gray sweater and dark slacks, Carlisle walks in with quiet ease. He scans the room—still full of laughter and scattered controllers—and settles into the empty armchair beside Jasper.

Bella watches him lower himself into the seat, balancing a hardcover book on his knee. Of course Carlisle would return to this chaos with the calm of a man who probably thrives in operating rooms.

“You did good, Bella,” Alice offers, trying to sound supportive as she perches sideways on the arm of Jasper’s chair. “It was your first time. Emmett, on the other hand—”

“Spends way too much of his time playing this game,” Rosalie finishes from her new spot on the couch—this time seated right behind Bella, close enough to lean in and guide her through each round. Her eyes narrow at her brother, unimpressed.

“Hey, I don’t tell you that you spend too much time fixing up your cars,” Emmett retorts. “We all have hobbies. Let’s show some respect here.”

Rosalie scoffs. “That’s because my hobbies are worthwhile. Yours, on the other hand…”

“Are even more worthwhile,” Emmett says with a grin.

“Are you sure about that? Because I distinctly remember you begging me to fix your Jeep last night.”

“And if you had already done that, I could say whatever I wanted right now.”

“Nobody wants that, Emmett.” Rosalie waves a hand dismissively like she’s brushing away a bad idea.

Bella leans sideways toward the armchair, lowering her voice. “Are they always like this?” she whispers to Alice and Jasper, half-expecting them to shrug.

But before either can answer, a dry voice does.

“Kids, behave.” Carlisle’s tone is mild, but the effect is instant—Rosalie and Emmett freeze in a perfect sibling standoff, eyes locked, neither willing to break formation first.

The silence breaks a second later as Edward and Jacob wander in from the hallway, confused by the sudden lull.

“Are you guys playing?” Edward asks, his voice already edging toward smug. “We heard you screaming upstairs.”

He points vaguely at the ceiling, as if soundwaves needed a visual aid.

“Want to go again, Bella?” Emmett asks, already reaching for the controller.

Bella really, really doesn’t. “Are you going to cheat?”

“No,” he lies, with a smile that’s all teeth.

“You got this,” Rosalie says, voice softer as she leans forward slightly. “Remember what I told you,” she whispers, very close to Bella’s neck.

Bella exhales, trying not to shiver. Instead, she mutters a quiet curse under her breath, resetting her grip on the controller.

Apparently, not disappointing Rosalie now outranked everything else.

.

.

.

The first thing Bella notices when she steps into the Cullens' kitchen is how pristine everything looks—like either no one ever used this room, or someone had a serious compulsion for cleaning. Maybe both.

The second thing is that, like the living room and Rosalie’s bedroom, the kitchen has the same sleek, modern vibe.

White walls, black appliances, elegant lines. Even the island countertop gleamed like it was installed this morning.

If Bella had to guess, the whole house had been decorated by one person—someone with vision, taste, and probably access to a very well-funded Pinterest board.

“Hey,” Bella says, clearing her throat as she drags her attention away from the polished floor and toward the woman standing by the counter. “Need some help?”

Esme looks up at her, her face lighting with a kind of warmth Bella doesn’t know what to do with.

She's luminous in the soft kitchen light—barefoot, wearing a soft beige sweater and jeans, her hair swept up effortlessly in a ponytail. 

“Bella,” Esme says, delighted.

And Bella has to remind herself—firmly—that this woman is someone’s mother. That she should not, even for a second, entertain the thought that Esme Cullen was a very beautiful woman, standing in a very beautiful kitchen, giving her an equally beautiful smile.

“Are my kids being too much?”

Bella hums, trying to sound casual. “No, no. I was playing with Emmett, but I died. A lot. Now it’s Jacob’s turn.”

“I’m sure you did your best, dear.”

She hadn’t. Not with Rosalie sitting directly behind her the whole time, close enough to lean in and murmur tips into Bella’s ear.

No one could be expected to concentrate under those conditions. Her character had been decimated repeatedly while Bella had just… sat there and stared.

“You can help me with the salad, if you like,” Esme offers, already sliding a wooden bowl across the counter.

“That’s a safe choice. Good call.” Bella nods, stepping closer and grabbing a knife.

Esme’s eyes flick over her outfit, amused. “You look quite lovely.”

Bella flushes. “They’re Rosalie’s. She insisted.”

“Oh, she did?”

“Yeah. She also tried to convince me most of her closet wasn’t wildly expensive.”

“And did she manage to?”

“No. But, well, here I am. Wearing it anyway. So she convinced me of something, alright.” Bella shrugs. “She convinced me it’s easier to let her win.”

Esme chuckles, pleased. “My daughter can be very persuasive when she wants to be.”

“You know you can just call her stubborn, right? I won’t judge you. I’ll still think you’re a good mother.” Bella smirks, slicing a tomato cleanly.

“What makes you so sure of that, dear?”

“I’m taking an educated guess.” She leans into the counter, her voice a little softer.

Bella knew how to spot bad parenting from a mile away, and Esme wasn’t even in the same galaxy.

“I’m glad you decided to stay.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” Bella says as she scoops the tomatoes into the bowl.

Esme watches her with quiet curiosity. “Are you used to cooking?”

“Yes. My mom couldn’t cook to save her life, so I handled most of it back home. Since moving here, not as much. We rotate meals at Charlie’s.”

“That’s nice.”

“It’s fun,” Bella admits. “I’m trying to teach the boys how to cook, but not everything works. Last Friday, Charlie tried to make enchiladas. You can imagine how well that went.”

She laughs under her breath. The memory of that disaster still smelled faintly of burnt cheese and stubborn optimism.

“I’m sure he’s loving having you back.”

“Yeah,” Bella says, pausing mid-chop. “But I wouldn’t put too much stock in his judgment. I mean—he loved having my mom around, too. And that’s kind of the biggest red flag known to man.”

Charlie was good. Solid. But Bella still couldn’t understand how anyone—at any point in time—had been in love with Renée. Or friends with Billy Black.

And…sure, people could deceive you, they could lie, and you never really knew who they were until you knew, but still.

Bella always felt like Charlie preferred not to notice those parts at all. And that, more than anything, was what truly bothered her about his actions.

Esme’s smile fades, her brow furrowing just slightly. “I take it your mother isn’t the best company?”

“If you want someone to go out partying with, sure. Living together? Not so much.”

“Partying was never really my scene. Not even when I was younger.”

Bella snorts softly. She can't help but think how disastrous a meeting between Renée and Esme would be.

Disastrously fun, if Bella was nowhere around it.

“You’re still young, Esme.”

“You flatter me.”

“I really, really don’t,” Bella replies, shaking her head. “I’m just telling you the truth.”

For once.

.

.

.

The dining room was a sleek extension of the Cullens’ kitchen—minimalist, elegant, and bathed in warm overhead light that bounces off the polished wood of the long rectangular table.

Said table, by the way, looked like it was imported from a high-end catalog in Italy. Long, heavy, and clearly designed for aesthetics more than function.

Bella had half-expected it to be for show, not actual use.

“How was work, dear?” Esme asks, passing a generous scoop of salad onto Bella’s plate. Her voice is light, but attentive. “Do you want some more, Bella? Or is this fine?”

“No. That’s perfect, thank you.” Bella nods and lowers her plate, the silverware clicking gently against the porcelain.

“It was good,” Carlisle says, folding his napkin into his lap with deliberate grace. “How was everything here earlier? Did the kids behave?”

“The kids are right here,” Emmett grumbles, spearing a piece of roasted potato. Jasper nudges him with a low, warning smile.

“We behaved,” Edward answers smoothly.

Bella fights back a snort. Right. She seriously doubted Edward and Jacob had behaved while unsupervised upstairs. But if perfect hair wanted to lie to his father, who was Bella to interfere?

“I’m sure you did, son,” Carlisle replies, smiling faintly before turning toward her. “So, Bella—how are you liking Forks so far?”

It’s a simple question. Polite, even. But it hits with the weight of someone who hasn't yet spoken directly to her. He was the only Cullen she hadn’t had a one-on-one with—until now.

“It’s been nice,” Bella answers, polite but noncommittal.

From across the table, Rosalie’s gaze sharpens.

“Charlie looks pretty happy that you're here,” Carlisle continues, sipping from his glass.

“He is,” Jacob says, backing her up quickly. “I haven’t seen Charlie like this in a long time.”

“He’s your fan,” Bella says, trying to redirect the conversation. She picks up the pitcher of juice and carefully pours herself a refill, watching the liquid swirl against the sides of the glass like it’s the most fascinating thing in the room.

“Who?” Carlisle asks, brows lifting.

“Charlie,” Bella replies. “He thinks you’re the best doctor this town’s ever had.”

“He’s right,” Edward says proudly, sitting up a little straighter.

“Your father’s being too kind,” Carlisle murmurs, looking faintly embarrassed.

“What I want to know is—” Emmett begins, and Bella already knows this won’t end well. “What are your thoughts on Forks High School?”

“Small. Crowded.”

“I was actually asking about the student population,” Emmett presses, eyes sparkling. “Found anyone interesting in particular?”

“Would it be rude if I told you no?”

“No,” Rosalie answers before anyone else can.

“Yes,” Alice counters instantly. “I’m very interesting, Bella.”

“You guys are also the only thing people seem to talk about, so—” Bella starts, only to flinch when Jacob kicks her under the table.

“What?” she hisses at him. “They are. I’m sure they know that already.”

“We do,” Jasper says easily.

“That doesn’t mean you have to say it out loud,” Jacob mutters, elbow on the table like he’s regretting every decision that brought him here.

And you know what? It serves him right. If he had just been waiting for her outside, Bella wouldn't even be here right now.

“Wouldn’t the fact that people only seem to talk about us make us just that much more interesting?” Alice chimes in, grinning.

“No. Not to me. It gets old,” Bella says, slicing a green bean in half with her fork. “Tiresome. There’s only so many times I can stand to hear the Cullens before I start to lose it.”

Jacob kicks her again.

“What?! It’s true.”

“That’s either very flattering or very rude,” Alice says thoughtfully.

“Flattering,” Rosalie declares, raising her glass like she’s toasting a war win.

“Rude,” Emmett pouts.

“I’m with Rose,” Jasper says, clinking his glass gently against hers. “Definitely flattering.”

Carlisle interjects, maybe to keep things from escalating. “What about you, Jacob? How have you been liking school so far?”

“It’s been cool,” Jacob says, shrugging one shoulder.

“You’ve been enjoying your classes?”

Jacob nods. “Physics is my favorite.”

Rosalie’s eyes narrow. Bella doesn’t miss the way she murmurs something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like, “He’s crazy.”

Emmett nearly chokes on his juice. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Physics is awesome,” Jacob replies, unfazed.

“I have to agree with Jacob,” Edward says, his tone just this side of smug.

“Pathetic,” Bella mutters automatically.

“I’m sorry, what?” Edward turns, blinking at her.

“Nothing,” Bella says quickly, shaking her head. “Nothing at all. I was just about to say how good the food is.” She pivots sharply, turning toward Esme with a bright, polite smile. “It’s perfect, Esme.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you, dear,” Esme replies sweetly, but there’s a knowing glint in her eyes that tells Bella all she needs to know.

Esme had heard what she'd said to Edward. Jacob too, if his unimpressed stare was anything to go by.

“Anyone want more salad?” Jasper offers, tone casual as he lifts the bowl and breaks the tension like it’s his job.

.

.

.

Bella’s outside, a few steps away from the open front door, standing in the quiet just beyond the porch light.

The Cullens’ front yard is bathed in pale moonlight, the trees swaying gently in the wind, their shadows long and fluid on the gravel path. The air smells faintly of pine and damp earth, and the cold sneaks under the collar of her white turtleneck.

She’s weighing the pros and cons of leaving Jacob behind after the way he behaved at dinner when Rosalie appears at the threshold.

“Hey,” the blonde says, stopping in the doorway and leaning one arm casually against the frame. The porch light casts a warm halo around her hair, and Bella tries not to stare. “So… dinner was nice.”

Bella squints, unsure. “Are you being sarcastic?”

Jacob’s passive-aggressive kicks had already ruined her mood. If Rosalie was about to join the disapproval parade, Bella was going to lose it.

But Rosalie looks genuinely confused. “You didn’t think it was nice?”

“I had fun,” Bella admits, dragging a hand through her hair. “But taking into account the many—many—times Jacob kicked me under the table, I thought that had just been me.”

“It wasn’t,” Rosalie says, pressing her lips into something that might be a smile. “I can’t remember the last time we had dinner like that—as a family. I’m sure everyone enjoyed it, Bella.”

“Except Jacob.”

“Yes. But don’t mind him. Jacob’s nervous, he’s anxious. He wants us to like him.” Rosalie tilts her head, considering. “He’s not you.”

The you lands so gently, so fondly, it steals Bella’s breath for a second.

But Bella doesn’t let it land. No. Instead, she deflects like a pro. "Are you trying to imply I don’t care?”

“Never have. Doubt I ever will,” Rosalie quotes back at her. “Wasn’t that what you told me when I asked if you cared what people thought of you?”

Bella blinks, surprised. “You remember that word for word?”

Rosalie just lifts a shoulder, and for a moment, Bella wants to take a step closer. But before she can do that, Rosalie moves, glancing back toward the house.

“I think Jacob’s coming down.”

Bella shifts slightly on her feet, the wooden step creaking beneath her. “Thank you for the clothes,” she says. “I’ll get them back to you as soon as I can.”

“It’s alright. You can take your time.” Rosalie’s voice lowers, lazy and smooth. “I’m in no rush, Bella.”

Bella’s name lingers in the air, pulled slightly by the wind—soft, almost reverent.

And maybe it’s the way the moon is high up in the sky. Maybe it’s the cold air between them, sharpened by something Bella can’t name.

Maybe it’s the fact that she’s spent the last few hours within inches of Rosalie Hale and hadn’t minded a second of it.

Or maybe, just maybe, it's the fact that part of Bella had always known this was going to happen, that there was this spark—sometimes literally—between them.

Whatever it is, Bella doesn’t know for sure, but it’s enough to make her take a step forward, getting closer to the blonde.

“If you’re trying to make me reconsider my stance,” she says, quiet and dry, “I have to admit it might be working.”

Rosalie raises an eyebrow. “Your stance?”

“You know. The whole keeping a respectful distance thing I had going on.”

Rosalie’s lips curve. “Ah. That’s what you’re going with?”

“Yes.”

“Ignoring seems more truthful.”

“Does it?”

“Mm. Yes.”

“Well, as you may know, I’m kind of allergic to being truthful, so…” Bella starts, but the sound of footsteps cuts her off.

Jacob steps into view, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.

Bella instinctively takes a step back.

“I’m ready to go, Bells,” he says, narrowing his eyes at them.

Bella ignores him. She turns toward Rosalie, resisting the urge to linger.

“See you at school, blon—” she catches the warning gleam in Rosalie’s eyes and corrects, “Rosalie. See you at school, Rosalie.”

“That’s better.” Rosalie’s tone is dry, but her smile isn’t. “See you at school. Have a good night, Bella.” She hesitates just long enough to say in the softest way. “Try to remain alive, if you can.”

Then she turns and disappears inside, the door swinging shut behind her.

Bella just stands there, staring after her. Charmed once again.

“What was that about?” Jacob asks, frowning.

“I don’t know,” she says, and it’s not quite a lie.

Because Bella doesn’t know exactly what that was—but if she had to guess, Bella would say that felt a lot like a truce.

.

.

.

“Dear God, why is the weather like this here?” Bella groans, swatting away cold droplets clinging to her jacket. “My jacket’s still wet from this morning, Jacob. Who knew a ten-minute walk without an umbrella could destroy a piece of clothing?”

“Me. I knew,” Jacob replies smugly. “That’s why I told you to leave one in your truck at all times. I’ve lived here my whole life, Bells. When I give you survival tips, you should actually listen.”

“Jacob.” Bella holds up a hand like a traffic stop. “I don’t even own an umbrella, buddy. I lived in Phoenix. We had this nice, underrated thing called the sun.”

He eyes her face. “Am I supposed to pretend you used to be tan?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault I only come in two default colors. It’s either this or pink. Don’t be an asshole.”

He snickers and doesn’t deny it. They reach the lunch line, stepping into the familiar smells of bleach and mystery meat.

Bella picks up a tray with visible reluctance. “The food here is awful, I’ll tell you that.”

Jacob hums in agreement but continues piling food onto his tray like he’s loading up for winter. “Could be worse.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Bella mutters, eyeing what might be a tuna sandwich. “Are you really going to eat that?” She nods toward the sad, drooping slice of pepperoni pizza he just claimed.

“Yes.”

“Gross.”

Jacob just rolls his eyes and grabs a juice box. They walk together toward the tables, weaving past backpacks and scuffed-up sneakers.

“You sitting with the Cullens today?” Bella asks, balancing her tray.

“Yep.” Jacob nods, then grins. “Why? You wanna come with me?”

“No.” Bella pauses. “Okay, yes.”

“Oh my God. Is the world ending?”

“Isn’t it always?”

Jacob lowers his voice dramatically. “Are we going to sit with them from now on? Is this a thing? Are you—”

“Jacob.” Bella cuts in flatly. “A drop is not an ocean, okay? Baby steps.”

.

.

.

The cafeteria hums around them—forks scraping trays, sneakers squeaking on linoleum, the low drone of whispered gossip that never quite dies down in a town this small.

But over the white noise, there’s a tension Bella can feel hovering just above the table, like fog that hasn’t quite settled.

“People are watching,” Edward says, stating the obvious—just like Bella knew he would.

Perfect hair had a thing about hearing his own voice, she figured.

“Aren’t they always?” Rosalie snaps, and Bella has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning.

Edward narrows his eyes at his sister. “I meant to say they’re watching her, not us. Maybe you should care, don’t you think?”

“Do they look jealous?” Jacob asks, mouth full of pizza. “They always look jealous when I sit here.”

“Yes, but…” Edward trails off, frowning.

“But?” Emmett prompts, raising an eyebrow as he leans back in his chair.

“They don’t know who to be jealous of. Us…or Bella.” Jasper says it simply, like it’s just another fact on the table between them.

“I don’t care what it is—I don’t like it,” Rosalie mutters, voice low enough that only their table hears her.

Bella shifts slightly in her seat. The overhead lights flicker faintly, buzzing with age. Somewhere near the back, a lunch tray clatters to the floor, followed by a burst of laughter.

None of it breaks the coil of unease forming in her gut.

“They’re not going to do anything, Rose,” Alice says calmly, brushing an invisible crumb from her sleeve. “Not now. Not after. They’ll keep their distance—from all of us.”

“How do you know?” Jacob asks, unconvinced.

Alice doesn’t blink. “I have a feeling.” 

Bella glances toward the other tables. Some students are openly staring; others pretend not to be. All of it puts a bad taste in her mouth.

“Are they always like this with you, Jake?” she asks quietly, her fingers tightening slightly around the edge of her tray. “Do they always stare?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Jacob says. Edward nods beside him, slow and thoughtful.

Bella’s mind flashes to Billy. To the questions people don’t ask out loud. To the danger of whispers and long-held grudges in towns like this.

She straightens. “If anyone—anyone—says something to you that you don’t like, Jacob, you come to me. I don’t care if it’s a student, a teacher, a parent—you come straight to me.”

Jacob blinks at her, startled. “Yes, jeez. I’ll come to you, don’t worry. You’re very scary when you go all protective. Did you know that?”

Bella doesn’t answer. She picks up her tuna sandwich, takes a bite, and chews like the matter is settled.

“Scary’s not the word I’d use,” Alice says, studying her with a glint in her eyes.

“Hot’s the one I would,” Emmett adds with a grin. “But maybe that’s just me.”

“It isn’t,” Jasper mutters into his water bottle.

Bella swallows, then sets the sandwich back down. “Are you trying to flirt with me, Emmett?”

Emmett glances at Rosalie—who looks like she’s one second from commiting an act of actual violence—and then turns back. “And what if I am?”

Bella grins. “You’re not exactly my type, buddy.”

“Not blonde enough for you? I could dye my hair—if that’d help.”

Jacob snorts. Jasper tries to smother a laugh behind his hand. Edward sighs, long-suffering. 

Alice watches it all like a soap opera she’s emotionally invested in. Rosalie, meanwhile, looks seconds away from leaving the table.

“Not girl enough, unfortunately,” Bella says, calm as anything. No one flinches. No one blinks. That part feels… weirdly good. “Still. You should try going blonde, Emmett. They supposedly have more fun, don't they?”

“If that were true, I wouldn’t be here… watching you two have this conversation,” Rosalie huffs, stabbing her fork into a slice of untouched melon.

Jacob wipes his hands on a napkin, shifting the tone. “You guys aren’t going to eat anything?”

“The food here is dreadful,” Jasper replies. “We have breakfast before school. At home.”

Bella eyes her half-eaten sandwich and sighs. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna start doing that too.”

Edward tunes the rest of them out, leaning toward Jacob. “Excited about your physics class today?”

Jacob perks up. “Yeah. Mr. Riley’s doing a demonstration—”

Bella lets their voices fade, turning slightly to Alice. “You a fan of physics?”

Alice looks at her like she just said something sacrilegious. “No.”

Bella smiles. “Harry Potter?”

Alice lights up. “Yes. You?”

“Of course.”

“Favorite book?”

“Goblet of Fire, hands down,” Bella says without hesitation. “No competition. You?”

“Prisoner of Azkaban,” Alice replies immediately. “I just love Sirius. His relationship with Harry is one of my favorite parts of the series.”

“I still can’t believe J.K. Rowling killed him,” Bella says with a shake of her head.

“I still can’t believe she killed all my respect for her with her transphobic crap,” Alice mutters.

Bella nods, decisive. “That’s it. We’re friends now.”

Anyone who loved Harry Potter but hated J.K. Rowling? That was someone worth getting to know.

.

.

.

It happens too fast for Bella’s brain to catch up.

One second, she’s standing next to Carol in the parking lot, watching Jacob and Edward laugh about something in front of his stupid Volvo, and on the next, she hears it.

A horrible screech—rubber on wet asphalt—the low, sickening sound of something heavy sliding sideways.

Her eyes snap left. A dark blue van is skidding across the lot. Spinning. Sliding. Coming right at her.

There’s no time to scream, no time to move, no time for anything but to stand there like the world's dumbest final girl in a horror movie.

Great.

Bella’s body locks up. All she can do is stare as death barrels toward her like an old friend.

And weirdly, all she can think is: Alice would be super proud of that Harry Potter reference.

Death as an old friend. Real poetic.

Except, well, Alice wouldn’t know. No one would, really. Because Bella was about to die in a high school parking lot, soaked and annoyed, with a half-eaten tuna sandwich still in her backpack.

She shuts her eyes. Braces herself for the impact. But when it comes, Bella can't help but feel something’s wrong.

The angle’s off. The sound is different. The blow doesn’t land the way she expects.

Bella’s shoved sideways—hard—and her head smacks the pavement with a sickening crack. Her breath whooshes out as something cold and solid pins her to the ground.

Pain blooms behind her eyes. And then—nothing. Just wet concrete, and the cold.

Then even that slips away.

Chapter Text

“Hey, kiddo?”

The voice cuts through the haze, muffled like it’s coming from underwater. Bella hears it, knows it, wants to reach for it—but her limbs feel too heavy. Her body won't move. Her head aches in slow, rhythmic pulses.

“Please wake up.”

This time, she claws her way up with everything she has.

“Marie?” Bella croaks, her voice cracked and strange in her throat. She blinks against the brightness above her—harsh fluorescent light, sterile and unblinking. “Am I dead?” The ceiling swims. Her skull throbs. “Okay, not dead. Just injured.”

If she were dead, it probably wouldn’t hurt this much.

The world sharpens a little. White walls. A curtain pulled half-closed. The scent of antiseptic, too clean and too sharp. A heart monitor beeps steadily beside her.

“Don’t joke about that,” Jacob says, and when she turns her head slightly, she sees his face: pale and tense. His eyes are red-rimmed and wet.

“You gave us quite a scare, kiddo,” Charlie adds from the other side. His flannel shirt is wrinkled. His hair is sticking up at odd angles like he’s run his hands through it too many times.

Bella swallows, but her mouth feels dry. “What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” Jacob leans forward. His hoodie is damp at the shoulders, like he’s been outside in the rain.

“That’s a normal reaction,” another voice says, low and even. Carlisle steps into view, white coat buttoned neatly, a stethoscope around his neck. “Hey, Bella. How are you feeling?”

“Like something ran me over,” she mutters, shielding her eyes with a hand.

“You’re not far from the truth,” Jacob says, quiet now. “If Rosalie hadn’t pulled you out of the way, that’s exactly what would’ve happened.”

The words hit like a delayed blow. Bella’s breath stutters. Then comes the rush—images tumbling together in her brain: Carol’s silver door handle. The wet blacktop.
Edward’s laugh. The sound of tires sliding.

A van. Coming right at her.

“I—” Bella starts. “The van came out of nowhere. I was standing next to Carol, and you were with Edward, and—” her brows pinch together. “Wait. Rosalie? What does she have to do with anything?”

The last time she’d seen Rosalie was in the cafeteria, not in the parking lot.

“She pulled you out of the way, Bells. Right before the van hit,” Jacob says, shaking his head.

That explained the strange angle of the impact. Why it hadn’t felt like metal—it had been a body. Cold. Solid. Hard.

“Is she okay?” Bella sits up too fast and immediately regrets it. Her head spins. The ceiling shifts.

“Easy.” Carlisle places a steadying hand on her shoulder. “She’s fine. I promise. Just shaken. And worried about you.”

Bella doesn’t exhale until she has to. “Okay, doc. What’s the verdict?”

Carlisle’s eyes are gentle. “After she pulled you away, you hit your head on the pavement. You lost consciousness.”

Bella grimaces. “So it’s bad.”

“It could’ve been worse. You have a minor concussion.” He says.

Charlie lets out a breath that sounds like it’s been stuck in his chest since this morning. “Minor’s good, right?” he says gruffly.

Bella squints. “It doesn’t feel minor. It feels like Voldemort’s redecorating my frontal lobe.”

Jacob gives a short, surprised laugh. “That was a good one.”

Bella gives him a look.

"Okay, not good, you know. It’s bad, what happened to you."

“Nice save,” Charlie mutters, shaking his head.

Carlisle offers a half-smile. “Normally, we’d discharge you to rest at home.”

“But?” Bella knows there’s a but. There’s always a but.

“I think you should stay overnight for observation. Just as a precaution,” Carlisle answers.

Of course. One near-death experience wasn’t enough—now she had to sleep in the fluorescent horror show that was Forks General.

“And there’s no convincing you otherwise?” she tries.

Carlisle laughs quietly. “If you can get out of bed without dizziness or nausea, we’ll talk. But I doubt it.”

“Don’t encourage her,” Jacob warns, folding his arms. “Seriously.”

Bella exhales and relaxes against the pillows. Her temple pulses in time with the beeping machines. “Fine.” Then her eyes dart back to Charlie. “Wait. What about Carol? Is she okay?”

Charlie’s face softens immediately. “She’s fine. Not even a scratch on her.”

Jacob rubs the back of his neck. “It was close, Bells. I’m not gonna lie.”

Bella closes her eyes for a second. Thank God. “And Tyler?”

Jacob huffs. “Aside from Rosalie nearly ending him? He’s alive. Scared out of his mind, though.”

Charlie shakes his head, jaw tight. “If she had hit him, I wouldn’t have blamed her. Driving like that in this weather—”

Carlisle interrupts gently. “He had a minor cut. He’s okay.”

“Yes,” Jacob adds. “I really thought you were going to die, Bella.”

“Jacob,” Charlie warns.

“It looked bad,” Jacob insists. “Worse than bad. You didn’t see—”

“I get it,” Bella cuts in, voice quiet but firm. She glances at both of them. “I know I can’t go home yet. But you two should.”

They blink at her like she’s lost her mind.

“You both look like hell,” she adds, not unkindly. “Go shower. Eat something. I’ll still be here when you come back.”

Charlie crosses his arms. “Not a chance. I’m staying.”

“Me too,” Jacob says, resolute.

Bella sighs. “Didn’t you say Carlisle was the best doctor in Forks?”

Still, they hesitate.

Carlisle steps in smoothly. “If the concern is Bella being alone, I might have a solution. Esme, Rosalie, and Alice are still in the waiting room. I’m sure one of them would gladly keep her company.”

Charlie frowns. “We don’t want to impose…”

“Please,” Carlisle says. “They’re anxious for news. Seeing her will help.”

Charlie turns back to Bella. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.” She nods. “Also, could you bring me my toothbrush? And maybe some clothes that don’t smell like antiseptic?”

Jacob chuckles. “I’ll bring the whole closet.”

“Just for one night, Jake.”

Charlie relents. “Okay. But we’ll be back soon, kiddo.”

Bella’s voice softens. “Don’t forget to eat, okay?”

Charlie presses her phone into her hand. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I will.” She gives Jacob a faint smile. “I’ll behave.”

“You better,” he mutters, then squeezes her hand. “Let’s go, old man. The sooner we leave, the sooner we’re back.”

Bella watches them go, the curtain swaying slightly behind them as it settles.

Carlisle raises an eyebrow.

“What?” she asks, wary.

He just smiles. “Nothing. I’ll check your vitals, then get you something for the pain.”

Bella lets her head fall back. “Go ahead, doc. I’m all yours.”

.

.

.

It’s not long after Carlisle leaves that the door opens again.

Bella’s half-watching the tiny wall-mounted TV, poking at a plastic cup of red jello with the kind of enthusiasm she usually reserves for dental work, when she hears it—soft footsteps, the click of the handle—and then sees the last Cullen she expected.

Not Esme. Not Alice. But Rosalie.

The blonde steps into the room slowly, her arms crossed like she’s not sure she’s allowed to be here.

“Hi,” she says. “How are you feeling?”

Bella blinks, surprised—then smiles. “I’m fine. You?”

“I’m okay.”

But Rosalie doesn’t look okay. She looks pale and strung tight, like a violin string wound too far. Her hair is slightly mussed. Her mascara’s faintly smudged. She looks like someone who’s been holding her breath for hours.

“You don’t look okay.”

Rosalie huffs and drops into the visitor’s chair near the bed. “I almost saw my—” she stops, biting her lip. “Someone I know die. Of course I’m not okay.”

Bella freezes. Was Rosalie about to call her a friend, or was Bella starting to hallucinate from the pain meds?

“Well,” Bella says, opening her arms in a grand, dry gesture. “As you can see, not dead. Still here. Very much alive. Jello and all.”

Rosalie’s mouth twitches, but she doesn’t quite smile.

“I heard I have you to thank for that,” Bella adds. “So… thank you. That was either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.”

“Every act of bravery usually comes from stupidity,” Rosalie mutters.

Bella raises an eyebrow. “Should I be offended you’re agreeing with me?”

Rosalie had never agreed with Bella on anything, ever. Okay, maybe that was a little bit of a stretch.

But yeah. Bella usually felt like Rosalie was never in agreement with her, even if the blonde herself said she was. There was just something about Rosalie's face that left Bella feeling like the blonde was in disapproval of whatever she was saying at any given point in time.

Bella gives her a look. “Are you going easy on me because I almost died?”

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or disturbed that almost dying hasn’t managed to dent your sense of humor.”

“It would take a lot more than that, blondie,” Bella says automatically—and then pauses.

Rosalie sighs. “What is it with you and that horrible nickname?”

“It just fits. I don’t know what to tell you. And it’s not that bad. You’ve heard worse, I bet.”

“Of course I’ve heard worse,” Rosalie says, deadpan. “But that shouldn’t be your metric for choosing one.”

“Oh? Enlighten me, then. What should I base a nickname on?”

“Literally anything else.”

Bella taps her chin like she’s considering. “Grumpy?”

Rosalie’s eyes narrow. “No.”

“So not personality-based, got it. Terms of endearments?”

“No, thank you.”

“Hm. Difficult client, difficult audience.” Bella grins. “Cupcake? Sunshine? Princess?”

“Dear God. No.”

That gives Bella an idea. “Goddess?” Rosalie stares at her, but Bella beats her to it. “Okay, yeah, too on the nose.”

Rosalie actually laughs—a short, startled sound that ends with a little smile. “You’ve definitely hit your head.”

“Why?”

“‘Goddess,’ really? Are you trying to flatter me?”

“You did save my life. Calling you hot feels like the least I can do.”

Rosalie gives her a long look. “Is that what you think you’re doing?”

“It isn’t?”

Rosalie shakes her head. “Do you always answer a question with another question?”

“Not always,” Bella says, and grins.

Maybe being stuck in a hospital bed wasn't the worst thing in the world when you had Rosalie Hale to keep you company.

“You really don’t remember anything?” Rosalie asks, tone shifting. She fidgets, a little unsure.

Bella squints at the ceiling. “I remember thinking up a great Harry Potter reference right before I thought I was going to die. Then something hit me. Hard. Which I now understand was you, being an idiot.”

Rosalie tilts her head. “You didn’t see me in the parking lot before? Where I was?”

“No. I just remember Carol’s door. The van. Everything else is a blur.” Bella closes her eyes briefly. “I didn’t even realize you were that close.”

“That’s understandable. I think most people are in a fog about it.”

Bella nods. “Yeah. Guess it’s good it’s all fuzzy. If I’d really been able to process it… I don’t know. Might’ve been worse.”

Rosalie watches her for a moment. “Esme and Alice wanted to come, but Carlisle said you looked overwhelmed. Thought one of us would be better than all three.”

“That explains the look he gave me when Charlie and Jacob left.” Bella leans back against the pillow. “Yeah, he was definitely reading my discomfort.”

“Discomfort?”

“They were fretting. It was weird.”

“You don’t like people fretting over you?”

“I don’t like people. Period.”

Rosalie rolls her eyes, but then her face gets serious. “If I asked you something, would you answer honestly?”

Bella looks at her. “Sure.”

After what Rosalie did, the least she deserved was Bella's honesty.

“How are you feeling? Really?”

Bella hesitates. “I’ve been better.” A beat passes. “I don’t… like hospitals,” she says.

And just like that, she’s somewhere else.

“Tesoro?”

Bella squeezes Marie’s hand gently, even though it shakes. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

“Isabella, I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. You don’t need to say that.” Bella’s voice breaks. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“Bella?” Rosalie’s voice cuts through the memory.

Bella blinks, pulled back to now. “Sorry. What?”

“Is there a reason you don’t like hospitals?”

She pauses. Then nods. “Bad memories. Last time I was in one, my grandmother died.”

Rosalie’s voice softens instantly. “Bella, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Bella lies. “It was a while ago. It’s fine.”

Maybe if she kept repeating it, one day it would be the truth.

Rosalie clearly doesn’t believe her but doesn’t push. “Alright.”

Bella decides to pivot. “Jacob told me you almost killed Tyler.”

Rosalie lifts her chin. “He almost killed you.”

“It was an accident.”

“I don’t care. He should’ve been more careful.”

Bella shakes her head. “All right, all right. No more Tyler talk.” She shifts in the bed. “Are you staying?”

“Yes. I’m not leaving you alone.”

Bella smiles. “Wanna watch some bad soap opera with me?”

Rosalie glances at the TV. “Sure. What’s it about?”

“No idea. But that brunette?” Bella points with her spoon. “She was talking to some old guy earlier. I think that was her husband.”

“So who’s this guy she’s kissing now?”

“Not her husband.”

Rosalie squints. “Are we supposed to like her or not?”

Bella swallows a spoonful of jello. “I’m totally on board. Feminist, remember?”

Rosalie smirks. “Right. Feminist. It has nothing to do with her being hot.”

“You said it, not me.”

“Doesn’t mean you didn’t think it,” Rosalie teases.

“Reader of minds now, are you?”

“No,” Rosalie deadpans. “That’s my creepy brother.”

“Edward?” Bella frowns. “I seriously doubt that.”

If pretty boy could read minds, he’d know by now she wanted him to stay far away from her.

Rosalie just laughs—quiet, warm, amused—and Bella lets the sound settle between them.

.

.

.

“Bells?” Jacob’s voice floats across the room, soft but strained.

Bella glances up from her Kindle. They’re both perched on her bed—Jacob sprawled sideways at the foot like a lazy dog, and Bella sitting up against the headboard with her legs under the blanket, a pillow wedged behind her back.

The room is dim except for the slant of afternoon light leaking through the curtains and the low hum of the heater.

Charlie had banned her from doing anything more strenuous than breathing, so here she was. Resting. Healing. Going quietly insane.

Jacob, on the other hand, had installed himself like a particularly loyal golden retriever. He’d shown up that morning with a backpack full of snacks and a tragic playlist, and he hadn’t left since.

“Hm?” Bella hums, not looking away from the page she’s pretending to read.

“You really don’t remember anything? From the accident?”

Bella closes the Kindle with a soft snap. There it is again. That same question. For the third time today. Maybe the fourth.

She studies Jacob. His elbows are braced on his knees. His brow furrowed. He’s been like this ever since she got home from the hospital—quieter, moodier, jumpier.

Not his usual storm of jokes and snack runs and unsolicited movie opinions.

“No,” Bella says slowly. “Why?” Then she gives him the look—the don’t-lie-to-me look. “And don’t you dare say it’s nothing. You’ve been asking me the same thing for two days, Jake. You’ve been off. Weird. Distant. Quiet.”

Jacob scowls. “I haven’t been that weird.”

Bella just stares at him. “You’re never quiet. It’s how I know something’s wrong.”

He exhales, rubbing his palms over his jeans. “Okay, fine. It’s just… when everything happened, I was standing next to Edward. You know, in the parking lot.”

“I remember,” Bella nods. “You two looked cute. Like a couple in a toothpaste ad.”

Jacob shoots her a disbelieving look. “You’ve definitely hit your head.”

“Can’t a girl give someone a compliment without being concussed?”

“I’m not even going to answer you,” he shifts on the bed, twisting to face her. “Anyway. Going back to what I was saying. I was with Edward in the parking lot when I heard the screech. So I turned. And then I saw you.”

Bella nods slowly. “Okay…”

“And I didn’t stop looking at you.” His voice dips, serious now. “From the moment I heard it. And Rosalie—she wasn’t anywhere near you, Bella. She just—she wasn’t there.”

Bella blinks. “But she pulled me out of the way.”

Jacob’s voice drops to a whisper. “That’s just it. She wasn’t there, but then she was. In a blink of an eye. I didn’t even see her run.”

Bella stares at him. “Jake, everyone’s confused. It was chaos. People screaming, time slowing down. You think you saw everything—”

“But I didn’t,” he says. “That’s what scares me. I didn’t see her, Bella. And then I did. Saving you. Like it was nothing.”

Bella frowns. “Okay, but that doesn’t mean she wasn't—”

“Look. I didn’t want to bring this up while you were still dizzy and concussed. While you were still throwing up in the tiny bathroom bin.” He says.

“That was one time.”

Jacob ignores her. “I didn’t want to pile this on you. But now I… I feel it is my duty to tell you something.”

Bella rolls her eyes but says, “Alright. Go ahead.”

“Have you ever noticed anything weird about the Cullens?”

Her eyebrow twitches. “You mean like Alice insisting she’s a Gryffindor when she’s clearly a Ravenclaw?”

“Be serious.”

“I am serious. That girl is not brave, she’s chaotic.”

Jacob sighs. “No, I mean like—okay, did you ever see them eat? Like really eat?”

Bella blinks. “At school? C'mon, I barely eat there too. That place serves cardboard in sandwich form.”

“Not just school, Bells. Remember dinner at their house?”

“Not really. I was too busy being kicked under the table by someone who thought he was subtle.”

Jacob ignores that. “They didn’t eat, Bella. They pushed food around, they talked. But eat? No. They faked it.”

Bella tilts her head. “Maybe they weren’t hungry.”

“Bella, come on. None of them? Not even Emmett?”

“You’re overthinking this,” Bella says. “What’s next?"

Jacob leans forward, serious now. “Have you ever touched one of them?”

She stares at him. “What kind of question is that, Jacob? Have you touched them?"

“They’re cold.”

Bella stiffens, just slightly. She remembers Rosalie’s hand on hers. Twice. Cold like marble.

“It’s Forks,” she says evenly. “We’re all cold.”

“I don’t mean chilly. I mean ice. Like touching a freezer door.”

Bella crosses her arms. “Okay, what’s this really about?”

“You know my dad, right?”

“Unfortunately.”

“You saw him, what, once or twice? Ten years ago?”

Bella nods.

“So you don’t know him. Not really. Not in a way that counts." Jacob sighs, shaking his head.

She doesn’t answer. No. Bella just waits for him to continue.

“The first thing you need to know about my dad, Bells, is that he’s obsessed with the past. With our ancestors and our tribe. That's all he talks about. Our Family, our legacy. It's, well, it's who he is. I always thought he was weird. Eccentric. That this was his way of coping with losing my mother.” Jacob takes a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say is that...since I was very little, Billy has told me the same story over and over again. This tale. This legend. I just figured it was one of those things, you know? Those stories families like to pass down from one generation to another.”

Bella just stares at Jacob, beyond confused. She has zero idea where this is going, but she continues to hope her friend is going to start making some sense eventually.

“My Dad always took the story more seriously than I thought he should. He spoke of it like it was true, and I just figured he was a little bit crazy.”

Okay, Billy was crazy. That made sense. Bella could jump on that train.

“I don't think Renée’s very sane either, Jacob, so it's not like I can judge.”

“Don't you see, Bella? That's the thing. I don't think my Dad's crazy. Not anymore.”

“Jacob, I don't see anything because you haven't explained anything. All you have told me is that your Dad's obsessed with the past, with some story, and that he's crazy. Except now he's not crazy. So, I’m –"

“If you let me finish you’ll understand everything. I promise.”

Bella gestures with her hand. “Okay. So go on, finish.”

“The tale my father used to tell me, the one he was obsessed with, was about the cold ones,” Jacob states, his voice barely a whisper. 

Then he proceeds to explain a crazy, crazy tale about a pack of werewolves, vampires, and a treaty.

.

.

.

“Do you finally understand everything I’ve been trying to tell you?”

Jacob's eyes are wide with intensity, his voice breathless like he’s just revealed the secret of the universe and is waiting for Bella to bow to its brilliance.

Bella tries very hard not to look at him like he’s completely lost his mind. “You mean… that the Cullens are vampires—and your great-grandfather was a werewolf?”

Jacob shrugs. “I don’t know about the werewolf part. But the rest, yeah.” He says so casually, like they’re talking about someone getting a bad haircut, not…blood-drinking immortals.

Bella blinks. “Vampires, Jacob.” She repeats it, slower this time. “Vampires.”

"Yes."

Bella gestures broadly, like she needs to physically hand him the absurdity of the statement. “And not only that—they’re what? Over a hundred years old? Pretending to be in high school? And they only drink animal blood? That’s just… I don’t even know what part of that is supposed to be the most unhinged.”

Jacob doesn’t flinch. “I know it’s a lot. I do. It’s why I’ve been weird. You can’t just find out there are vampires in your town and not start rethinking, well, everything.”

Bella drags a hand down her face. “Jacob. I say this with love—but I’m the one with the concussion. Why are you the one acting like a lunatic?”

“You don’t believe me.”

“Jake, if the roles were reversed—if I sat you down and told you this exact story—would you believe me?”

“Yes,” he says, quietly. Honestly.

Bella gives him a long look. “Now you’re just lying to win the moral high ground.”

“I’m not lying. I’m not being a lunatic. I’m finally seeing the truth.”

She narrows her eyes. “Okay. Say you’re right. Which, to be clear, I am not saying you are. What do you want to do about it?”

Jacob straightens up. His face hardens with resolve.

Bella immediately regrets asking.

“I’m going to tell them I know.”

She stares. “You can’t possibly be serious.”

“I am.” He’s already on his feet, shoving his socked foot into his boot like he’s getting ready to march off to war.

Bella swings her legs off the bed, fighting off a headache. “Wait—you’re going to tell them now?”

“I know you think I’m crazy. That I sound like my dad. But once I tell the Cullens I know, they’ll have to admit to it. They’ll have to confirm it. And then you’ll believe me.”

Bella rubs her temple. “Jacob, please. If they’re actually vampires—which, again, I’m not agreeing to—but if they are… won’t they just, I don’t know, kill us to keep their secret?”

He shrugs. “If they were gonna kill us, they’ve had plenty of chances, Bella. Rosalie could’ve just let you get crushed by Tyler's van.”

“That's not as comforting as you think it is.”

Jacob steps toward the door. “I want the truth, Bella. Don’t you?”

“No.” That stops him for half a beat. Bella stands, crossing her arms. “The truth has never done me any favors,” she mutters. “And so far, it’s mostly given me stress migraines and a lifelong fear of school parking lots.”

“I’m going,” Jacob says firmly. “You can stay, or you can come with me.”

Bella sighs and throws her hands in the air. “Fine. Let me get my damn jacket.”

As she grabs her hoodie off the back of her desk chair, Jacob tosses her a smug look.

“You’re not driving,” he says.

“Of course I’m not driving. Charlie would kill me before the Cullens even got the chance.” She pauses, zipping up the hoodie. “Speaking of—which one of us is explaining this to him when he calls?”

Jacob freezes at the door. “You are evil.”

“We could always stay here,” Bella offers sweetly.

He doesn't even blink. “Nope. If Charlie calls, I’ll tell him.”

“Good. Let’s go before I come to my senses.”

They head for the front door—Jacob brimming with righteousness, Bella dragging her feet like she’s about to walk into a courtroom without a lawyer.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Bella asks, gripping the passenger door like it might save her life.

Déjà vu curls at the back of her throat like smoke. Two months ago, she'd been in this exact position: Jacob at her side, Carol on the road, and the looming weight of a Cullen house visit pressing down on her like a bad omen.

The difference between then and now? For starters, back then, Bella thought she might be murdered when she got there—not die in a car crash on the way.

Second, this Jacob was nothing like the last one had been. Past Jacob had been hesitant. Timid. Still caught between skepticism and awe.

Present Jacob is all conviction, sharp-eyed and deadly sure of himself.

“Yes, I’m sure,” he says, flicking her a glance like it’s obvious. “You’re the one who isn’t.”

“Eyes on the road!” Bella snaps. “For God's sake, Jake. I swear this is the last time I let you drive us anywhere.”

Jacob just grins and taps the steering wheel like he’s conducting an orchestra. “Chill out. Your baby’s in good hands.”

It absolutely wasn’t. They’ve been on the road for ten minutes, and Bella had already counted three near-death experiences, two illegal turns, and one squirrel that narrowly avoided a tragic end.

“I’m creating a new special rule just for you,” she mutters. “Effective immediately: this vehicle is now a women-only driving zone.”

“Carol loves me,” Jacob says smugly.

Bella levels a flat stare at him. “I seriously doubt that.”

“You do know I was the one who sold her to your dad, right?” His voice turns insufferably proud. “I fixed her up, took care of her for years. Carol was mine before she was yours, Bella.”

She exhales through her nose. “Everyone’s got a past.”

Including her.

After Marie died, Bella had unraveled in slow, quiet chaos. No dramatic fall from grace—just a lot of silent nights, forgotten parties, unfamiliar beds. Grief shaped her into something glassy and numb, and it had taken everything to glue herself back together.

“You sure about that?” Jacob teases, still riding his high.

“I don’t care who Carol belonged to, Jacob. I care that she’s mine now.”

He lets out a low whistle. “That’s… surprisingly mature of you. Didn’t expect that.”

Bella doesn’t even blink. “I’ll try not to be offended.”

Jacob laughs. “You know, you’re something to behold. My worldview has been completely shattered, everything I thought I knew is a lie, and you—you're still just so...you. Stubborn, sarcastic, weirdly calm in the face of chaos. It’s kind of charming.”

Bella arches her eyebrows, not the slightest bit fooled. “If you're trying to flatter me as a way to make me forget just where we're going, and why, you're going to fail. Quite spectacularly, I might add.”

She was still trying to wrap her head around the fact they were here. And by here, Bella meant, in a state of mind where Jacob thought vampires were real, and she hadn't been able to do anything to stop him.

Jacob smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m not trying to make you forget. I’m trying to do the opposite of that.”

“You're trying to make me remember?”

That didn’t sound right. Jacob needed an English teacher and psychological help—not necessarily in that order. The English teacher had to come first, obviously.

“I’m trying to make you see.” His voice drops—quiet, serious. The shift in tone makes Bella’s stomach twist.

It could’ve been the gravity of the moment. Or the concussion. Probably both.

“See what?” she asks warily.

“That we don’t live in the world we think we do. That there’s more out there. Things that don’t fit into normal logic. Things that rewrite everything we’ve been told about the world. You’ll see.”

Bella doesn’t answer.

The sky outside is low and gray, mist curling through the trees like something half-alive. The windshield wipers click steadily as Jacob takes the familiar left turn toward the Cullen house—each second ticking closer to the unknown.

.

.

.

Edward is already standing in the driveway when they arrive, hands tucked neatly into the pockets of his charcoal coat like he’s posing for a moody teen drama poster.

His hair doesn’t move in the wind. Bella raises an unimpressed eyebrow. Did perfect hair use gel? Or was that just…natural?

Jacob parks with the delicacy of an elephant. “What? No. I didn’t tell him we were coming.”

Bella frowns. “So…he’s just standing there? Waiting?”

Jacob shrugs. “He does that sometimes. Acts like he knows what I’m about to do. Or say. It’s weird.”

Weird? Maybe. But not blood-sucking, undead weird.

Bella keeps her eyes on Edward—his posture still, unnervingly elegant. His presence feels…intentional. Like a scene from a play that started before she got there.

But come on.

Maybe he just heard Carol’s engine—a distinct and not exactly subtle presence—and stepped outside. Maybe he was being polite. Or dramatic. Or both.

“How are you feeling?” Jacob asks, glancing over like he’s just remembered she technically shouldn’t be out of bed.

Bella rests her head against the cool window. “Like Tyler’s van did hit me, and this is the resulting coma dream. A very elaborate, very unfortunate hallucination.”

Saying like shit felt too simplistic. Bella preferred imagery with more flair.

Jacob snorts. “If someone had told me you were this dramatic, I wouldn’t have believed them. Now c’mon. It’s truth time.” He hops out of the truck with all the confidence in the world.

Bella doesn’t move.

The heater hums. Outside, mist curls through the trees.

Edward still hasn’t shifted. He’s just there. Unmoving.

Bella exhales. “Yay.”

No one hears it but the steering wheel.

Jacob might be feeling bold right now—puffed up with certainty and righteous, conspiracy-theory energy—but give it ten minutes. Once he accuses the Cullens of being vampires to their model-perfect faces and gets hit with a wall of blank stares and a polite suggestion to go lie down?

That confidence is going to vanish faster than his logic.

Of that, Bella’s sure.

.

.

.

Bella had been wrong.

Not just a little off. No.

She'd been catastrophically, cosmically wrong. The kind of wrong that usually ended with someone’s picture in a cautionary tale slideshow at school assemblies.

This... couldn’t be real. It couldn't. If Cate Blanchett were standing in front of her right now, naked, reciting a love poem while holding a bouquet of flowers, Bella would've found that more believable than the sight in front of her.

“I know what you are,” Jacob had said, standing there like some junior detective.

And the Cullens? Nothing.

No shocked expressions. No scoffing. Not even a twitch of surprise. Just a quiet, collective stillness that made Bella’s stomach lurch.

“We know you do,” Edward answers after a long pause. “That’s why we’re here. We’ve been waiting.”

Bella’s eye twitches. Her face remains outwardly calm, but inside? Alarms. Fire. Flickering exit signs.

The Cullens were lined up like a panel of judges on a reality show, perfectly still and perfectly beautiful. Bella and Jacob, by contrast, stood like two underdressed contestants who’d missed the theme, the memo, and the lighting cue.

“This feels like a very elaborate prank,” Bella mutters, narrowing her eyes. “Like one of those YouTube social experiments. Am I being filmed?”

“If only,” Esme says gently. Her voice is soft, warm.

Too real. Esme wouldn't lie about this, would she?

Bella turns toward Jacob, her voice low and urgent. “You were right?” she says it like it physically hurts. “You were actually right? No. This isn’t happening,” she adds, louder now. “I’m dreaming. I’m hallucinating. I’m still at the hospital, I’m hooked up to a morphine drip—”

“I think she’s going into shock,” Alice announces cheerfully, and Jacob, traitor that he is, just looks smug.

“I told you I was right,” he says. “Do you believe me now?”

Bella stares at him. “No. Of course I don’t believe you. You know why? Because I’m not fucking insane, that’s why.”

Okay, truth be told, Bella did sound a little insane right now. But who could blame her? Vampires weren’t real. They weren’t.

The same way werewolves weren’t real, or the earth wasn’t flat, or she wasn’t straight.

Carlisle winces. “Language.”

“She’s having a moment, dear,” Esme soothes, laying a hand on his arm. "Let her be.”

Emmett laughs. Of course he laughs.

“You think this is funny?” Bella snaps, rounding on him.

“A little,” he says, grinning. “You’re kind of intense.”

“Glad you’re enjoying my spiral,” Bella mutters.

One second he’s in front of her. The next, he’s across the room, hoisting that high-end catalog table—the one Bella had assumed was mostly for show—like it was made of plastic.

Her jaw drops, and Bella forgets how to blink.

Emmett flashes her a winning smile. “Do you believe us now?”

Rosalie sighs. “Was that really necessary?”

“What? She was spiraling,” Emmett says, setting the table down with a thud. “I had to do something. It was either this or… I don’t know, drain her dry.”

“Emmett,” Carlisle says, sharp now.

“Kidding!” he throws his hands up. “Obviously. We’re vegetarians. Duh.” He turns back to Bella and Jacob. “You guys do know we’re vegetarians, right?”

Jacob nods. “We know.”

“I don’t know anything,” Bella snaps. “That should be abundantly clear to everyone in this room by now.”

Edward smirks. “Is she always this dramatic?”

“I’m having a breakdown, perfect hair,” Bella says, throwing her arms up. “How would you react if I told you mermaids were real?”

“Perfect hair?” Rosalie repeats, one brow arched.

“Mermaids?” Jasper adds, amused.

Jacob sighs. “Bells. Focus. Do you believe me now?”

Bella considers that. “Maybe,” she says grudgingly.

Carlisle steps forward. “It’s the truth, Bella. We are vampires. A coven, to be more specific.”

“I doubt they know what that terminology means, dear,” Esme murmurs, her hand still on his arm. “We should sit down,” she says to Bella and Jacob. “There’s a lot to explain. And I have a feeling this is going to take a while.”

.

.

.

“You understand now why we didn’t tell you both anything?” Edward says, shifting in his seat. “The Volturi are basically our government. And this is their number one rule. We have to keep what we are a secret. We have to protect our existence from the outside world.”

“Like the Ministry of Magic in the Harry Potter books. Yes. We get it,” Jacob replies, nodding slowly.

Bella narrows her eyes. “Speak for yourself, Jake. I’m still stuck on the ‘they will murder all of us if they ever find out’ part.”

“As you should,” Rosalie says, the first time she’s acknowledged Bella all evening.

“They won’t,” Edward insists, his voice too calm for someone whose name is also on the Volturi’s hypothetical hit list. “And if they ever do, we’ll know. Alice will see it first.”

Rosalie scoffs. “So that makes it right? What we’re doing here… what you’re doing?”

“Not this again,” Edward groans, dragging a hand through his hair.

“You don’t get to choose when, brother. Not after lying to us.” Rosalie’s voice sharpens. “How long have you known Jacob was starting to suspect something?”

Bella frowns—how would Edward have known that?

Rosalie presses on. “How could you have been so careless, keeping that crucial piece of information from us?”

Edward exhales like the victim in all this. “I kept it a secret because I knew what you would’ve said if you knew.”

“We should’ve left when we had the chance,” Rosalie growls. “This is a tragedy waiting to happen. Can’t you see that? Tell me you’re not this naive, this self—”

“We can do this after Bella and Jacob leave,” Edward snaps, voice rising. “I won’t say it again.”

Rosalie goes quiet. Her silence is weaponized, though. Her eyes meet Bella’s for a beat too long, and Bella understands: this conversation with Edward isn’t over. Not even close.

“If you can’t refrain from being an asshole, Edward, at least try to be polite,” Bella says, flat. Not bothering to cushion the blow. Maybe the Cullens were used to Edward's dramatics, but Bella had zero plans to adapt. Especially when Rosalie was right and he clearly couldn’t stand it. “Also, don’t talk about me like I’m not in the room.”

Edward leans forward, one hand on the table. “What did you just call me?”

Bella mirrors the motion. “An asshole.”

His nostrils flare, and for a second Bella almost hopes he’ll say something else just so she can escalate it.

Funny how someone so quick to throw around “bitch” had such a delicate reaction when it came to being insulted himself.

“Son,” Carlisle says, low and warning. Then to her: “Bella, let’s not fight. Do you and Jacob both understand that you’ll have to keep this a secret from everyone? If the Volturi found out we broke their rule, we’d all be in danger. And if anyone else gets involved—it will only get worse.”

“We understand,” Jacob answers, his voice steady.

Bella doesn’t say anything. It doesn’t feel like she’s allowed to disagree anyway.

Edward shifts toward Alice. “Alice?”

“My visions haven’t changed,” she says quietly. Her mouth is drawn tight. She doesn’t look thrilled to be backing him up.

“I’m sorry—what?” Bella blinks. “Your visions?”

“Alice can see the future,” Jasper says, as if that’s a perfectly normal sentence.

Bella looks at Jacob.

He just shrugs. “Makes sense.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Bella says, resisting the urge to rub her temples.

“I guess this is as good a time as any to tell you she's not the only one in the family with a gift,” Emmett says, clearly delighted by her spiraling confusion.

“Gift?” Bella echoes, slowly losing her grip on reality.

“Like a superpower,” Emmett grins. “Take me—I’m way stronger than your average vampire. I’m like the Hulk.”

“The Hulk?” Jasper raises a brow. “Isn't that a bit much, Emmett?”

“No,” Emmett says, without irony.

“And everybody else?” Jacob asks, clearly intrigued now. “Alice is a seer, Emmett is the Hulk, Edward’s a…” He trails off, waiting.

Hypocrite, Bella thinks. But doesn’t say.

“He can read minds,” Rosalie says flatly.

“Really?” Bella lifts an eyebrow. She remembers Rosalie kind of implying that before—but she'd chalked it up to sarcasm.

“Yes,” Edward answers, his gaze fixed on her again. “I can read people's thoughts.”

Jacob grins. “So you’re Jean Grey?”

“No.” Bella cuts in sharply.

Jean Grey was cool. Jean Grey was kind. Jean Grey was hot. Jean Grey was… not Edward Cullen.

“Professor X?” Jacob tries again.

“I don’t care, but he’s not Jean.” Bella narrows her eyes. “If you can read minds, what am I thinking right now?”

“I don’t know.” Edward bites his lip. “I can’t read your mind.”

Bella pauses. That… wasn’t what she expected. “Has that ever happened before?”

“Never.” Edward sounds almost frustrated. “It’s why I’ve been so curious about you.”

“You say curious,” Rosalie says, arms crossed, “I say stalker.”

“Edward,” Esme says, with just enough warmth to be dangerous. “I think Bella deserves an apology.”

Actually, Bella thinks, she’s not the only one who does. Still. It would be a start.

“I’m sorry if I’ve crossed some boundaries because of my curiosity,” Edward says.

That… seemed to be the full extent of the apology. One and done.

“Is that the best you can come up with?” Bella asks.

“Yes,” Jasper answers for him, without hesitation.

Jacob shoots Bella a pleading look. Let it go, it says.

She sighs. “Fine. I accept your apology. Now—about the whole Professor X thing. Does that mean you can read Jake’s mind?”

“Yes,” Edward says.

“Oh, buddy.” Bella elbows Jacob. “Here you were, thinking you were being subtle about your crush.”

Jacob flushes. “So many things are starting to make sense.”

Edward actually looks guilty. “I wanted to tell you. I just… I didn’t know how, Jacob. I’m truly sorry. It was never my intention to violate your privacy, but it’s not like I can turn it off.”

Bella raises an eyebrow. Interesting how he suddenly figured out how to say sorry—to Jacob.

“It’s okay,” Jacob says, smiling faintly. “Might even be a good thing, in some ways.”

“I don’t see how,” Bella mutters, and most of the family nods along.

No wonder Jasper had said privacy was a foreign concept in this house.

“So who’s next?” Jacob asks, eager to change the subject.

Bella couldn’t exactly blame him for that.

“Jazz?” Alice offers.

“The same way Edward can read minds, I can read emotions. I can feel and manipulate them.” Jasper turns to Jacob. “Right now, for example, you’re embarrassed, excited… and a little afraid.”

Jacob flushes again but doesn’t look away. “And Bella?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” Jasper says. “I can’t read her either.”

Bella frowns. A chill crawls up the back of her neck.

So something was either fundamentally wrong with her. Or, well… fundamentally right.

“Isn’t it ironic,” she says slowly, “that Jake’s the one who blew the lid off this whole thing, but I’m the one who can keep her thoughts and feelings to herself?”

“I wouldn’t call it ironic,” Jacob says, sulking.

“He’d call it unfair,” Edward mutters. “As would I.”

Bella narrows her eyes. “I know you can’t read my mind, Edward, so I’m going to make it easier for you—”

Rosalie beats her to it. “Fuck off.”

“Rosalie,” Carlisle says, clearly out of patience.

Rosalie ignores him. “Can we get this over with? Some of us have better things to do.”

Esme clears her throat delicately. “After years of working as a doctor, my husband has the second-best tolerance to blood I’ve ever seen.”

“Who’s the first?” Jacob asks.

“Rosalie,” Jasper answers.

“Really?” Jacob says, surprised for the first time in a while.

Bella turns to Rosalie. “There’s no way the best superpower belongs to anyone but you, huh?” she says, smiling at her. She refrains from calling her blondie—the girl looked like she could use a break, and the nickname felt oddly out of place in a room full of Rosalie's family.

“The best superpower?” Alice huffs. “How is that the best superpower? I can see the future, Bella. The future.”

“Yeah, personally, I think Emmett has the coolest one,” Jacob adds. Emmett holds up his hand for a high-five, which Jacob returns.

“That’s just wrong.” Bella rolls her eyes. “As a human—you know, something you are, Jake—you should always give first place to the vampire who has the power to resist drinking your blood.”

“Sure, control is an awesome superpower, Bella. But the best? The coolest?” he says.

Boys. Always so short-sighted.

“You think the best superpower is the one that makes it easier for the vampire to kill you, not the one that helps you survive. Are you insane?”

Jacob shrugs. “Control just isn’t cinematic enough.”

“You can have the movie moment. I’ll take staying alive.” Bella shakes her head.

“You might want to rethink that,” Rosalie says, her tone almost soft. “Your blood doesn’t… affect us. It’s like you don’t have any. Which should be impossible, I know, but that’s how it feels.”

Bella blinks. “That’s…weird. Isn’t it?”

“It’s unusual,” Jasper says gently. “But it’s a good thing, Bella. Don’t doubt that for a second. If you started to bleed right now, none of us would feel the urge to feed on you."

Feed. What a word.

Bella suppresses a shiver. “What about Jake?”

Edward shakes his head. “It calls to us, sure. But no more than anyone else’s. We’ve gotten used to it. You’re both safe.”

Bella nods. She was still going to worry.

Jacob clears his throat. “Have any of you ever encountered someone like Bella? Someone whose blood didn’t call to you at all?”

“No,” Esme answers for the group.

“Alice, can you see my future?” Bella asks.

“I can,” Alice nods.

“Alright. So some of them work. Others don’t. That’s…”

Weird. Definitely weird.

“A mystery,” Carlisle finishes for her. “I’m afraid that when it comes to you, Bella, we’re at a loss.”

“I know what it means,” Emmett says, and Bella immediately braces for impact. “It means she would make a very kick-ass vampire.”

“Would that change anything?” Jacob asks quietly. “If the Volturi saw her as valuable?”

“Emmett,” Rosalie’s voice is strained.

“Would that change anything?” Jacob asks, thoughtful now. “If the Volturi saw what Bella could do, would they rethink killing her? Killing us?”

“Maybe,” Edward admits, and Bella starts to dread where this is going. “Aro has a fascination with gifted vampires. So yes—if he saw Bella’s potential, he might be tempted to have her turned. And that might mean he’d overlook the fact that Jacob knows, if we promised he would be turned too.”

“If we’re both vampires, you guys technically wouldn’t be breaking the rules,” Jacob says, connecting the dots.

“Exactly.” Edward nods.

“That’s a very big if, Edward,” Rosalie interjects. “Either way, the story ends with Bella and Jacob dead.”

“Yeah, that part’s been made very clear,” Bella says flatly.

“So what do we do?” Jacob asks.

Alice leans forward. “I’ll keep an eye on things. If anything changes, I’ll know.”

Jacob relaxes.

Bella does not. “And what else?” she asks, her headache blooming again.

“That’s it,” Carlisle says. “I’m afraid there’s nothing more we can do.”

“We can leave,” Rosalie suggests.

Jacob tenses beside her.

“It’s not that simple,” Edward bites out.

“Yes, it is.” Rosalie doesn’t blink.

Edward raises an eyebrow. “Just because you like to lie to yourself doesn’t mean I have to. You know what’s different. Can you leave? Really?”

Emmett tries to defuse. “They already know what we are, Rose. That changes everything.”

“We’re staying,” Carlisle says, voice final. “If that changes, we’ll regroup. Bella? Jacob? More questions?”

Bella has a thousand. But her skull feels like it’s caving in.

“No,” Jacob says.

Carlisle reads her silence as a second no. “Great. I’m going to the hospital. I’ll be back later.” He kisses Esme on the cheek and exits.

“So what now?” Edward asks. “Want to watch a movie, Jake? Maybe talk?”

Jacob glances at Bella, gets her nod, then follows Edward out.

Bella knows he’s anxious to finally be able to talk with Edward, to ask whatever else he wants to ask… to maybe make some sense of their relationship now, and she's not about to deny him that.

Rosalie stands. “I have places to be. Don’t bother me unless someone’s dying.”

“Or someone will die?” Emmett calls after her.

“Exactly.”

After she’s gone, Alice turns to Bella. “She’s going to the garage. Fixing things helps when she’s angry.”

Bella doesn’t respond.

Esme steps closer. “Would you like me to drive you home, dear?”

“Actually,” Bella says, eyes fluttering shut, “would any of you mind if I laid down for a minute?”

“Of course not.” Esme’s voice is gentle. “I’ll help you. And I’m sure my children can find something quiet to do in the meantime.”

.

.

.

“How are you feeling now, dear? Better?” Esme asks gently, settling on the edge of the bed beside Bella with the ease of someone who’s done this a thousand times.

“I’m okay,” Bella says, grateful for the soft lighting, the quiet, and Esme’s calm.

Esme gives her a knowing look. “You can be honest with me, Bella.”

Bella presses her lips together. “Alright. I feel… well, I don't want to sound like a broken record, but this still feels so crazy.”

“Not one of those people who can easily believe in the supernatural, are you?”

Bella snorts. “No. I don’t believe in the occult. Or fate. I don't believe in destiny either.”

“Ah. A skeptic.”

“Yeah.” Bella shrugs, leaning back against the cool headboard.

Her mother used to call her boring. Unimaginative. Faithless. But skeptical worked just fine, too.

“I see how this must be hard on you, then,” Esme says, her voice free of judgment.

Bella exhales slowly. “I don’t believe in God either.” She waits for the moment—the pause, the cold shift, the soft gasp. It doesn’t come.

Esme simply raises her eyebrows. “You were expecting me to chastise you for that?”

“Honestly? Yeah. Try not to take this the wrong way, Ms. C, but you guys do give off a very Republican vibe.”

Esme laughs—really laughs. It echoes across the bright, empty upstairs like sunlight on glass.

“Oh, Bella,” she says, hand over her chest. “You're something else, aren’t you?”

“If by something else you mean Democrat, then yes.”

Esme smiles, eyes warm. “We might be vampires, dear. But Republicans?”

Bella chuckles. “A step too far?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. That’s… good. I mean, vampires I can try to be okay with. But Republicans? That’s where I draw the line, Ms. C.”

“As you should,” Esme grins, pleased with the nickname.

Bella lets the silence sit for a moment. The bed is ridiculously soft—white sheets, thick duvet, faint scent of something expensive and floral.

It's calming, sure. Still, Bella's fingers twitch against the cover.

“Are you sure your daughter won’t mind that I’m in her bed?” Bella asks, running her hand across the impossibly smooth sheet.

“Bella, Rosalie was the one to suggest it to me. She said you might be more comfortable staying here, in a room you already knew.”

Bella blinks. “Are you serious?”

“I am,” Esme says, watching her closely. “Are you surprised?”

“Sure.” Considering Rosalie had barely looked at Bella today, yeah—“surprised” didn’t even start to cover what she was feeling. “Wait. When did she say that to you?” she asks.

Esme had been with her since they left the living room, and Rosalie had vanished in the other direction.

“She told me from the garage.”

Bella frowns. “I didn’t see her—”

“Hearing works… differently for us.”

Bella straightens a little. “Exactly how differently?”

“We can hear most things in the house. Voices. Movement. Conversations.”

Bella’s eyes widen. “So you can hear everyone? What Jacob and Edward are doing right now?”

“Yes,” Esme says without hesitation.

Bella stares at her. “Okay. So when Jasper told me privacy was a foreign concept for you guys… he really meant it.”

“I’m guessing he did, dear.”

That explained a lot. More than Bella wanted explained, honestly. Like how Rosalie probably hadn’t been anywhere near the school hallway when Bella went off on Jacob. Or how when Jasper said the house didn’t always feel big enough, he’d meant it literally.

Bella sinks back into the bed. “Alright. Let me see if I’ve got this right.”

Esme waits, hands folded in her lap.

“Rosalie told you I might be more comfortable in this room,” Bella says, counting on her fingers. “From the garage.” She raises a second finger. “And you heard her, across the house, because vampires have super hearing.” Third finger.

Esme nods at each one. “Yes.”

Bella exhales. “Anything else I should know?”

“You should know,” Esme says carefully, “that although my daughter likes to act like she doesn’t care, Bella… that’s not the truth at all.”

Bella doesn’t move.

“Rosalie has a very big heart,” Esme continues. “And I do wish—and hope—that you’ll be able to convince her to show you that side of herself.”

Bella doesn’t doubt the sincerity. Not even a little. The few times Rosalie had let her guard down, Bella had seen glimpses of something quieter. Fiercer, maybe. Real.

But seeing it happen was different from trying to make it happen. And Bella wasn’t sure she had that kind of influence over someone like Rosalie Hale.

“Hm,” she murmurs, fingers toying with the hem of the blanket. “Rosalie doesn’t strike me as someone who’d enjoy us having this conversation behind her back.” The blonde really, really didn’t. “Or someone who can be convinced.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Esme says, still calm. “My daughter will never take the first step—she has her reasons. They’re hers to share, if she chooses to. But if you did? If you tried? I’m quite sure she wouldn’t be able to say no.”

Bella raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Yeah… let’s just agree to disagree on that one, Ms. C.”

.

.

.

“Okay. So tell me again how it works,” Bella says for the second time.

After Esme had gone downstairs to make sure no one had destroyed the house—or each other—Alice had joined her in Rosalie’s room. The rain had picked up again outside, tapping against the wide windows like it had something to say.

Alice, perched cross-legged on the foot of the bed, had been patiently explaining her powers for the last twenty minutes. Bella had absorbed roughly five.

“It’s not an infallible science,” Alice says, her voice light but focused. “People make different choices all the time. They’ll plan one thing, but then—bam—they change their minds.”

“Okay, that’s true.” Bella nods. “But do you see all the possible future outcomes, or just the ones that stick?”

“Before someone makes a decision—a real one—I can only see fragments. Possibilities. Nothing solid. Just outlines.”

“Yikes.” Bella grimaces. “How do you even sort through all that?”

“With time. And a lot of patience,” Alice says, a faint glow in her golden eyes. “It’s hard. I won’t lie. But it’s also… beautiful. There’s so much to learn in the paths people don’t take, as much as the ones they do.”

Bella nods again. That did sound like something Alice would say. Still, it didn’t seem nearly as smooth as she made it look. “Well, it would drive me nuts. That’s for sure.”

“It’s part of me,” Alice says simply. “It’s who I am. I wouldn’t trade it. And you’re only thinking about the hard parts—seeing the future does have perks.”

“Like what?” Bella asks, mouth quirking. “Lottery numbers?”

“Like knowing I would find Jasper before I did. Knowing I’d find my family,” Alice says softly. “But sure. That too.”

Bella’s just about to ask if Alice has a winning Powerball combination she’d be willing to share when there’s a light knock at the door.

“Come in,” Alice calls.

Esme steps in, smiling, with Jasper beside her. The hallway light pools behind them, making the room feel even warmer by contrast.

“Emmett’s decided the only way to end the day is with a vampire-themed movie night,” Jasper announces, his expression amused. “You up for it, Bella?”

“I would be,” Bella says, sighing as she sits up straighter. “But I think I’ve already stretched house rules beyond their limits today. Charlie kind of implied I wasn’t allowed out of my room.”

“I can go get Jacob for you,” Jasper offers. “I’m sure he won’t want to leave you alone at home.”

Bella tilts her head. Jasper’s expression gives him away—he’s the one who doesn’t want her to be alone.

“Don’t,” she says gently. “Let him stay. Charlie’ll be home soon anyway. I won’t be by myself for long.”

“I can drive you,” Alice offers, already hopping off the bed. “I assume you’ll let Jacob take Carol home later?”

“Sure. As long as I’m not the one in the passenger seat, he can drive her all he wants. Charlie won’t love it though. Jacob doesn’t have a license yet.”

“I’ll drive him home myself,” Esme says, matter-of-fact.

Bella nods, relieved. “Thanks. I’m already pushing things with Charlie today—I’d rather not totally blow past his boundary.”

“Ready to go?” Alice beams, already halfway to the door.

Before Bella can answer, Jasper steps forward and places a gentle hand on Alice’s shoulder.

“I can take her, Al,” he says, voice soft. Then to Bella, “I know you said your dad will be home soon, but I don’t love the idea of you being alone—not when you’re still clearly recovering from a concussion. I’d like to stay with you, if that’s alright.”

Bella pauses. The room softens around them for a second.

“I can see why you’re with him,” she tells Alice, tilting her head. Then she looks at Jasper and smiles. “Of course I won’t mind, buddy. It’ll be my pleasure to let you keep me company.”

.

.

.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth before, Bella,” Jasper says, his eyes fixed on the road.

The dashboard glows faintly in the low light. Outside the windshield, trees blur past in tall, shadowed lines. The rain has slowed to a fine mist, streaking diagonally across the glass. Jasper’s grip on the steering wheel is steady—but his jaw is tight.

Bella figures this was always part of the plan. His offer to drive her wasn’t just about safety—it was about this conversation here.

“I’m not mad,” she says after a moment. “You were protecting your family. Probably protecting me, too. And I’ll be honest with you, man… even if you had told me the truth before, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have believed you.”

“It’s a hard reality to come to terms with.”

“Yeah. Especially in one day.” Bella exhales. “How long ago did it happen to you?”

“Becoming a vampire?” he asks, glancing her way. She nods. “Are you trying to get me to reveal my age?”

“More like trying to wrap my head around it, to be fair.”

“I can give you a historical reference, and you can do the math.”

“I hate math,” Bella mutters. “But sure. I’m curious.”

“I fought in the Civil War.”

Bella blinks. She does the mental calculation. “Holy fuck. So you’re older than a hundred and fifty?”

He nods.

“Wait.” Her face shifts, suddenly pensive. She squints at the windshield like it’s going to offer her a better answer. “What side did you fight for?” she regrets asking the second the words are out.

“I was a Confederate soldier,” Jasper says, his voice low. Shame threads through the sentence.

Bella closes her eyes. Exhales. The silence stretches between them like a crack in glass.

This was her life now. Conversations like this were normal. Learning your new vampire friend had once fought in support of slavery was just another fun addition to an already absurd day.

“That’s messed up, Jasper,” she says plainly. “Do you at least regret it?”

“Yes,” he says. No hesitation. “Of course I regret it. But… is it enough? To regret it?”

“I can’t answer that for you.”

“I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life, Bella.” His voice doesn’t waver. “The version of me you know—the one you think I am—that’s not the whole truth.”

“No, it’s not. But it’s not a lie either.” Bella glances at him. “I’m not saying the things you’ve done can be excused. Or forgiven. That’s not mine to grant. Our past shapes us, that's true—but it doesn’t define us—unless we let it. And if you’ve changed? If you regret it? Then yeah. It matters. It’s a start, at least.”

Jasper stares ahead, speechless. His expression flickers—relief, surprise, something like gratitude.

Then Bella deadpans, “Anything else you want to confess? Any deep dark secrets? Were you a Nazi?”

“Not a Nazi,” Jasper says, lips twitching. “But maybe I should just lay it all out now, huh?”

“If you want.”

“I fought in what’s now called the Southern Vampire Wars. Killed a lot of vampires. And a lot of people who didn’t deserve it.” His voice is quiet now. “I saw so much bloodshed, Bella. Enough to forget what life was supposed to mean. And then…”

He trails off.

“Then you met Alice,” Bella finishes for him, softly.

“She changed more than my life,” Jasper says, staring straight ahead. “She changed me. In every way a person can be changed. She saved me.”

Bella leans her head back against the seat. “We can only save people who want to be saved, Jasper. I don’t doubt that Alice helped you. But you had to let her do that.”

“You’re giving me too much credit.”

“You’re giving yourself none.” Bella shrugs. “We can’t change the past. We can only move forward. One step at a time.”

“You’re reacting way better than I would’ve guessed. To… all of this.”

“Well, I’m not exactly thrilled that vampires exist,” she says dryly, “but I’ve got more pressing matters. Freaking out won’t help.”

Jasper glances over at her, brows raised. “More pressing than realizing the world isn’t what you thought it was?”

“Learning that finding that out might get me killed,” Bella says. “That feels a little more urgent, honestly.”

Jasper hums.

Bella watches the road, trees slipping by like ghosts. “I know you said there’s nothing I can do,” she continues. “But that doesn’t make it better. Honestly, it kind of makes it worse.”

“There’s nothing you can do,” Jasper agrees. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t. Like Rosalie said—more than once—we could leave.”

Bella turns her head. “Do you think that would work? Would that even keep us safe?”

Jasper is quiet for a beat. “I don’t know,” he admits. “It’s complicated. There’s more going on than you realize. Rosalie and Edward—they’re both coming at this from different angles, and neither of them is wrong.”

“I see,” Bella says, even though she doesn’t.

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” she agrees, dry.

“They’re just… different people,” Jasper says. “Rosalie thinks Edward’s being selfish for wanting to stay. Edward thinks Rosalie’s being a coward for wanting to leave.”

“I don’t think she’s a coward,” Bella says immediately. “I think she’s trying to protect her family. In her place, I’d do the same.”

Jasper exhales. “The problem, Bella, is that we’re not the only ones she’s trying to protect.”

Bella frowns. “Who else is there to protect?”

“You. Jacob. Herself.”

Bella’s heart kicks. “So… she’s trying to protect us too.”

Jasper nods.

“That doesn’t make her a coward,” Bella says. “That makes her a good person. A good pseudo-friend.”

“You should tell her that.”

“Your sister barely looked at me the entire time I was in your house, Jasper. I doubt she wants to hear anything I have to say.”

He shakes his head, smile faint. “This isn’t going to be easy, is it?”

Bella looks out the window. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But… probably not.”

If Jasper’s speaking to himself out loud, it’s probably a lost cause already.

Chapter Text

It had been two weeks since the grand revelation that took place in the Cullens household.

Two weeks since Bella’s worldview cracked open, spilling out everything she thought she understood about reality and replacing it with… vampires. In Forks.

Still, Bella had to give herself some credit here: she wasn’t actively spiraling. Not anymore, at least. Her brain had more or less adjusted to the idea of immortality, superpowers, and the fact that Emmett Cullen had once fought a grizzly bear and won.

Probably. No one had confirmed that story, but it felt right.

And weirdly, life had started to settle again. Or at least masquerade as normal.

Jacob was still obsessed with Edward, practically living at the Cullens’ under the pretense of studying. He hadn’t learned a single thing about math, but somehow knew Edward’s entire Spotify history by heart—which was its own problem, because she had zero interest in pretty boy’s tragic taste in soul-crushing music.

Bella, on the other hand, had taken a step back. Okay—had been quietly forced to take a step back.

The reason? Rosalie Hale.

The blonde had been furious. Not the dramatic, table-flipping kind of mad, but worse—the cold, silent, get-out-of-my-house-and-my-life kind of thing. She hadn’t said anything directly to Bella, hadn’t looked at her, hadn’t so much as nodded in her direction.

But Bella had felt it all the same.

Felt it in the way Rosalie left rooms the moment she entered. In the silence that followed any mention of her name. In the barely-contained tension humming in the walls of that too-perfect house.

And Bella got it. She really did.

After all, if Rosalie hadn’t saved her life, none of this would’ve happened. No accident, no drama, no secrets exposed. Just another forgettable Tuesday in Forks.

So when Rosalie’s unspoken please go away became obvious, Bella listened. She stayed away.

And yet—because the universe apparently had a sense of humor—Bella had somehow ended up closer to the rest of the Cullens than ever before.

How? Easy.

Technology and boredom.

. . .

Emmett

i would like to welcome everyone

to the best group chat ever created

how to get away from murder?

isn't the tv show called 'how to get away with murder?'

Emmett

you’re avoiding us. we’re avoiding u

all because we’re scared of Rosalie

so away from murder

when she finds out abt this group

she’s going to kill us all

isn’t that going to defeat the whole purpose?

Jasper

Yes. but when has Emmett made any sense?

And why is it when she finds it, and not if she finds it?

because it’s Rosalie. of course she’s going to find out

btw i’m just trying to respect her boundaries

she looks like she needs time, the least i can do is give her some

Unknown number

She does. thank you for that, dear

Children, try to learn from Bella and stop pushing your sister. You know how she is

Esme?

Unknown number

Hi

Jasper

I’m sending you everyone’s number, Bella

thanks JH

see? there’s a reason you’re my favorite

Emmett

ouch

i’m wounded

Alice

we don’t want B to respect Rosalie’s wishes

we want her to get through to her

who knows how long Rosalie’s going to avoid everyone if B doesn’t

that’s not going to happen, Alice

your sister was just starting to tolerate me

Jasper

You’d be surprised. That’s all I’m going to say on the subject

Emmett

yeah. Rose always wants to see your face B

even if she won’t admit it to herself

i seriously doubt that

Esme

Rosalie isn’t known for letting things go. It’s the right thing to give her some time

For everyone to give her some time

But Bella, if you change your mind about reaching out to her, our door is always open. Don’t forget that

thank you, Ms. C. i won’t

. . .

Alice

i still think I belong in Gryffindor

the sorting hat disagrees with you

you’re clearly a ravenclaw

Emmett

exactly

there’s only one lion in this family, and it’s me

Esme

And I, for one, thank God every day for that

c’mon Esme. your tie would be red and gold too

there’s no use trying to pretend it wouldn’t

Jasper

Mom’s a Hufflepuff. Like me

hm, i don’t think so, buddy

she’s brave, loyal, determined

she might look like a Hufflepuff, but she isn’t one. trust me

Alice

have to agree with B on this one

mom’s definitely a lion, Jazz

Jasper’s a hufflepuff

Emmett and Esme are gryffindors

Alice and Dr. C are ravenclaws for sure

Rosalie is, without a doubt, a slytherin

Emmett

and Eddy boy?

perfect hair is a squib

Jasper

Hahahahahaha

What about you, Bella?

Esme

Gryffindor

Alice

she’s Harry P

the sorting hat would’ve tried putting her in the house of snakes, but she would’ve convinced it to place her with the lions instead

Jasper

And Bella would’ve asked that because she met Rosalie on the train, and didn’t want to be in the same house as her

Emmett

yes

i can totally see that happening

to be fair, so do i

. . .

Esme

We miss you

i miss you guys too

have fun watching HP without me

:(

Emmett

it’s impossible

nothing’s fun without you. especially not an HP marathon

i know, i’m delightful company

isn’t Jacob there? he can be fun, most of the time

Jasper

he and Edward are staying in his room

again? are they at least making out?

Alice

no

i don’t know if that’s better or worse

Emmett

it’s both

now that’s just sad. please ask your brother to kiss Jacob already

Jasper

Yeah. That’s not going to happen

i don’t get how it can be this difficult. it’s clear Jacob wants more

pretty boy can read his mind. what’s there to question?

Esme

Edward can be very old-fashioned when he wants to, dear

I don’t think he’s going to do anything before taking Jacob on a date

Alice

that’s true

just remember that if Jacob’s suffering

I’m suffering

Jasper

poor Bella

Emmett

yk, maybe if u were here, you could help

;)

that’s…true

. . .

that’s it. i’m done waiting

i’m going to talk with Rosalie right now

Emmett

it’s been nice knowing u

jk, i’m glad you’re finally going to do it

we missed you around here

Esme

She’s working on her car in the garage, dear. Good luck

thanks, Ms. C

i have a feeling i’m going to need it

Jasper

We’re rooting for you

Alice

everything’s going to work out great, b

trust me ;)

thanks Al

. . .

“Jacob,” Bella says, snapping her phone shut and grabbing her keys off the coffee table. The metal jangles in her hand like a decision locking into place. “I’m going to the Cullens. You coming?”

Enough was enough. Bella missed Rosalie.

Her sharp remarks. The eye-rolls. The way Rosalie smirked like she knew exactly which nerve she was pressing.

Bella even missed the way she never let anything slide—always calling her out, always pushing for the truth.

So if Rosalie wanted distance now, if she was serious about cutting Bella off, on going back on their truce, then she could say it to Bella’s face.

Across the room, Jacob looks up from his notebook, brows furrowing. He’s halfway through a problem set he’s clearly been struggling with.

“I thought you were avoiding Rosalie,” he says. “Not that I blame you. She can be… scary.”

“I was giving her space,” Bella replies.

“Sure,” Jacob says. He leans back in his chair. “Cause that's totally different.”

“It’s not my fault you don’t know what that means.”

He rolls his eyes, but doesn't bite the bait. “You’re going now?”

“Yes.”

Jacob glances at the worksheet in front of him, as if hoping it’ll finish itself. “You literally just said I had to finish this before I could do anything.”

“You do.” Bella shrugs, already pulling on her jacket.

Jacob squints at her, testing the waters. “So… what if I finished it there?”

Bella raises an eyebrow. “Sure. Your boyfriend can help you. He’s probably gone to high school a dozen times already.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Jacob says automatically.

“Your friend, then,” she amends, with a pointed edge.

“That’s better.”

“Is it?” Bella shoots him a look.

Jacob wisely chooses silence. “Do you want me to text them?” he asks after a second. “Let them know we’re coming?”

“They already know.”

That catches him. Jacob pauses, eyes narrowing. “How?”

Bella doesn’t answer.

“No, really. How?” he asks again.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

Bella smirks, stepping into her shoes. “Suit yourself. I'm still not telling you.”

.

.

.

“Hey,” Bella says quietly, her voice unsure—timid.

Rosalie is under Emmett’s Jeep, doing something vaguely mechanical—Bella has no idea what—but at the sound of her voice, Rosalie slides out from under the car in one fluid motion.

She stands, wiping her hands on a small, oil-stained red towel, and looks at Bella like she hasn’t decided yet whether her presence is welcomed.

“Hey, yourself,” Rosalie says, lifting an eyebrow.

Bella doesn’t answer. She’s too caught up in the fact that Rosalie is wearing dark green overalls over a fitted white T-shirt, faintly smudged with grease.

It’s borderline criminal.

Sometimes Bella really did wonder if the universe enjoyed testing her gayness. The answer, obviously, was yes.

“Bella?” Rosalie prompts, brow raised. “You okay? You’re… staring.”

“Hm?” Bella blinks. “Yeah. No. I’m fine.”

Rosalie doesn’t look convinced. Bella clears her throat.

“Look,” she starts. “Before we spiral into whatever it is we usually spiral into, I just wanted to say… I’m sorry. For everything.”

Rosalie frowns. “You’re sorry?”

“Yeah.” Bella shifts her weight. “I know that if you hadn’t pushed me out of the way that day, none of this would’ve happened. Your secret would still be safe. Your family would be safe. You’d be safe.” She runs a hand through her hair. Rosalie’s eyes flicker, sharp. “And I get it—if leaving is what you think is best, then I support that. Not that you need my support. You can do whatever you want, obviously. I’m not trying to—God, I’m not giving you permission or anything, I just—”

She cuts herself off. Fuck.

Rosalie stares at her, trying not to smile, but the corners of her mouth betray her.

“This is a trainwreck, huh,” Bella mutters. “It sounded so much better in my head.”

“As most things do, I'm sure,” Rosalie says dryly. “Then you speak, and there's that.”

“I walked straight into that one, didn’t I?”

“I wouldn’t say straight, but yes.”

Bella laughs—short, surprised. “If I knew you’d react like this, I would’ve come sooner.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because you looked like you needed space. I was trying to respect that. To give you time.”

Rosalie watches her for a beat. “And now you’re here.”

“I got tired of waiting.” Bella shrugs. Without thinking, she adds. “I missed you.”

That stops Rosalie. Her expression cracks in real time. “You… missed me?”

“I know. Shocking. But true.”

Rosalie recovers quickly, crossing her arms. “You should be running for the woods, Bella. That’s what you should be doing. Not missing me.”

“Me, running? In the woods? That’s a great way to break an ankle.”

“This here—” Rosalie gestures between them, “—is a great way to break your life. Also, a recipe for disaster.”

Ouch.

“You’re not wrong,” Bella says carefully. “But you’re not exactly right either. Jacob and I already know the truth. Edward and Jacob are in some undefined vampire-human romantic limbo. So yeah—the Volturi might show up and kill us all—and things could end in tragedy...but—”

“Will,” Rosalie corrects. “Not could. Will. Being around vampires doesn’t do much for your life expectancy, Bella.”

“That’s not true. If it weren’t for you, I’d already be dead,” Bella says, meeting her eyes. “And I know you probably regret that—”

Rosalie cuts her off, voice hard. “I’m only going to say this once,” she steps closer. “Don’t ever think I regret saving you. And don’t you dare think any of this is your fault. The only person responsible for this mess is Edward.”

Bella exhales. “Alright,” she says, even if part of her doesn’t believe it. “So… you’re not mad at me?”

“I’m not.”

“Then why have you been avoiding me?”

“Because I can’t be okay with this.” Rosalie’s voice is tight. “I can’t act like he’s acting. I can’t pretend nothing happened. “I can’t risk everyone I care about just to feel... just to be selfish.”

“I’m not asking you to pretend. I'm not. But hiding in the garage forever isn’t the answer either. Don't you think?”

Rosalie doesn’t answer right away. She presses the towel between her fingers, stalling. “What do you want me to do?” she asks eventually.

“Let it go?” Bella offers.

Rosalie looks at her like she’s lost her mind. “And do what with that?”

“Accept that things didn’t go your way. And then try to make the best of it anyway.”

Rosalie chuckles bitterly. “If you knew me at all, you’d know that’s not really my style.”

“Well, I’m trying, okay?” Bella throws her hands up. “You’re not exactly helping,” she mutters.

Rosalie looks genuinely puzzled. “Helping you what?”

“Get to know you! Jesus, has no one ever tried to befriend you before?”

“Is that what this is?”

“Yes.”

Rosalie tilts her head. “You’re trying to be my friend?”

“I already told you I missed you. This shouldn’t be the surprising part.”

Rosalie doesn’t answer. She just… watches her. Quiet, unreadable.

Bella sighs. “Can’t say I wasn’t warned.”

Rosalie narrows her eyes. “Warned by who?”

“Your family. Jacob, too. He gave me a full ‘are you crazy?’ face before I left. Which is rich, considering he was the one with the crazy vampire bedtime story.”

Rosalie bites her lip. Bella tries not to look. She fails.

“Wasn’t he right?” Rosalie asks, voice softer now.

“No.”

Rosalie shakes her head. “I don’t think you should be here.”

“Blondie.” Bella fixes her with a look. “I’m trying to be your friend. Can you please, for the love of God, let me?”

A pause.

“Fine,” Rosalie says. “What do you want to do then, friend?”

Bella blinks. “Honestly? I didn’t plan past this point. I kind of thought you’d throw me out.”

Instead of kicking her out, Rosalie hurls the towel at her face.

“I’m going back to work. You can stay. Or leave. Your choice, like always.” Rosalie nods toward the small sofa in the corner of the garage.

Bella bends down, grabs the towel, and tosses it back toward her. Rosalie snatches it mid-air, barely glancing.

"I'm staying,” she says, pulling out her Kindle from the front pocket of her hoodie. “Don’t worry, I won’t distract you. Something tells me it won't do me any good to disturb you while you work.”

“And people have the audacity to say you're not smart,” Rosalie says over her shoulder, returning to the Jeep.

“What people?” Bella asks, squinting. “Seriously, Rosalie—what people?”

Rosalie doesn’t answer.

“Friends are supposed to share these things, blondie.” Bella calls. “Was it Jacob? Emmett? Edward? Alice?”

.

.

.

Bella doesn’t know how much time has passed—how long she’s been sitting on this garage sofa, half-curled under her hoodie with a Kindle that’s been forgotten for the last three pages.

All she knows is that she’s bored. And unfortunately, that means she’s started watching Rosalie work.

It had been easier when Rosalie was under Emmett’s Jeep—out of sight, out of mind. But now she was crouched beside the passenger seat, sleeves rolled, adjusting something under the dash, and Bella couldn’t stop staring.

“You’re staring,” Rosalie says without turning, her voice dry but amused.

“I’m bored,” Bella admits, trying not to sound like she’s twelve.

“I figured. Been wondering how long you’d last before talking.”

“Hey. I’m not that bad.”

“You’re not. Emmett wouldn’t have lasted fifteen minutes.”

“I know.” Bella grins.

Watching him say anything in the group chat just to start a conversation after thirty minutes of silence had been an experience.

Rosalie finally turns her head, one eyebrow lifting. “You have?”

“He’s been texting me constantly. If I don’t respond fast enough, he sends another. Then another. If I still don’t answer, he just calls me. It’s like a hostage situation, but with memes.”

“Ah.” Rosalie tilts her head. “The infamous group chat.”

“You know about that?”

“If there’s one thing my family has never been accused of,” Rosalie says, straightening up, “It’s subtlety.”

"That's true. Am I the distracting you now?" Bella asks with a smirk.

Rosalie wipes her hands on the red towel again. “No. Am I?”

“Yes. Want to play twenty questions while you...do whatever you’re doing?”

There. A compromise. Rosalie could still work on the Jeep, and Bella could finally stop staring at her like a creep.

Probably. Maybe.

Rosalie gives her a look. “Sure. Lead the way.”

Bella shifts. “What’s your favorite Tom Hanks movie?”

Rosalie stares at her. “I agree to anything and that’s what you go with?”

“Obviously. It’s essential character intel.”

Rosalie sighs like she’s rethinking every decision that led her to this moment. “Cast Away.”

Bella nods, pleased. “Solid. Wilson’s still one of the best supporting actors of all time.”

“Yours?”

“Forrest Gump.”

“Why?”

“My grandmother loved it,” Bella says, her voice softening. “And my mom hated it. So every time we put it on, she’d leave the house. It was one of those things, you know? The kind that sticks with you somehow.”

Rosalie’s expression shifts—gentler, maybe. “What’s your favorite Meryl Streep movie?”

“Didn’t you just ask me something?” Bella raises her eyebrows.

“No.”

“Alright. Devil Wears Prada. But Mamma Mia is right behind. I do love me some ABBA.” Bella’s fingers thoughtfully brush against her chin. "Yours?"

"Sophie’s Choice.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Rosalie narrows her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Bella’s already grinning. “Because it’s ancient. And you’re...old?” She braces herself for what’s to come. “Please don’t throw the towel at me again. I swear I swallowed some oil last time.”

“I’ll let it slide,” Rosalie says, folding the towel with ominous care. “But only once.”

“Noted.” Bella rubs her neck, stalling. A few of the questions she really wanted to ask she…wouldn't. At least not here, where the whole family could hear them. “Okay, what’s your favorite movie of all time?”

Rosalie’s quiet for a beat. “Titanic.”

Bella blinks. “Seriously? You?”

“You’re surprised.” Rosalie notes. 

“I mean...yeah. You just don’t seem like the hopeless romantic disaster-tragedy type.”

“I like ships,” Rosalie says with mock seriousness. “And drama. Leo DiCaprio also helps.”

Bella chuckles. “I watched it once. Was mostly confused by the hype.”

“It’s not for everyone.” Rosalie’s voice is light, but she’s warming to the moment. “It just speaks to who I—”

The garage door slams open like the beginning of a horror movie.

“BELLA,” Jacob yells, breathless, like he’s sprinted through the entire house. “WE HAVE TO GO RIGHT NOW.” He grabs her by the shoulders like he’s staging an emergency rescue.

“What the hell, Jacob!” Bella swats him away. “Could you not do that?”

“Edward asked me out!” he blurts, practically vibrating. “Tomorrow morning. I need to prepare. I have no idea what to wear. You have to help me!”

Bella blinks. “A morning date? Who does that?” She looks at Rosalie for backup.

The blonde throws up her hands like don’t look at me.

“Okay, okay,” Bella says, standing. “We’ll find something. Just breathe. Quietly. Remember where we are.”

Jacob nods furiously, already halfway to the door. “Thanks, Bells. Thanks, Rosalie. I’ll let you say goodbye.”

And then he’s gone again, a blur of frantic joy.

Bella turns back, a little breathless. “So?”

Rosalie rises to her full height, brushing off her hands. She walks over to Bella. “This was...nice,” she says, voice soft.

“It was. See you at school?”

“Yes.”

Bella smiles. “Goodbye, blondie.”

Rosalie eyes her, deadpan. “You should leave before I throw something at your face again.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Bella sees her hand twitch toward the towel pocket and doesn’t wait to test it. She’s already halfway out the door by the time Rosalie’s laughter echoes after her.

It follows Bella all the way to her truck.

And it stays with her the whole ride home.

Chapter Text

It’s early afternoon when Jacob returns.

Bella hears the front door creak open before she sees him—cheeks flushed, hair windblown, wearing a dazed, ridiculous grin. It’s the kind of smile that gives everything she needs to know away.

She's curled sideways on the living room couch, one foot tucked under the other, a blanket bunched beside her and a pile of snacks spread across the coffee table. The TV’s paused, a still frame of the Titanic title screen glowing faintly in the background. A lukewarm mug of coffee rests on the armrest, mostly forgotten.

Jacob doesn’t even see her—too caught up in whatever dreamy post-date fog he’s floating through. He closes the door with all the solemnity of a man who’s just declared eternal love under the rain. Then both of his hands press over his chest like he’s about to swoon.

Bella clears her throat.

Jacob lets out a strangled yelp and stumbles forward, clutching his heart for real now. “Jesus! I didn’t know you were here.”

Bella raises an eyebrow. “Where else would I be?”

“You could’ve gone fishing with Charlie,” he says, still catching his breath.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

He kicks off his sneakers and trudges toward the couch. “I thought maybe you’d finally caved. Succumbed to his pleas.”

“I told him fishing was supposed to be peaceful,” Bella says, adjusting the blanket under her legs. “Me flailing around every time a bug flies near? Not exactly relaxing.”

Jacob plops down beside her with a grunt, knocking into the couch cushions. “What’d he say?”

“That I made a valid point. But I had to promise we’d go with him another time.”

He groans. “Bells. You know I hate fishing. Why would you do that?”

“Because we suffer together,” Bella says matter-of-factly. “Isn’t that the whole foundation of our friendship?”

He nudges her ankle with his socked foot. “You’re evil.”

“I’m honest.” Bella lifts her mug, takes a sip, and winces. Cold. Stale. The emotional equivalent of her day so far. “So… how was your date? Did Pretty Boy kiss you, or the hand-on-your-heart thing was you just auditioning for a stupid, low-budget romantic comedy?”

“They’re not stupid,” he pouts. “Why are you so against them anyway?”

“Because they're horror movies with better lighting. Everyone has to make the dumbest possible choices or the plot falls apart in a second.”

“They’re nothing like horror movies.”

“They’re wildly heterosexual and damaging to women.”

Jacob sighs. “Okay. Maybe you have a point. But they’re also fun and romantic.”

“Jake, Julia Roberts would never, in a million years, walk into a stranger’s home so she could change shirts. If any guy offered her that, Julia would’ve fled as fast as she could’ve. She would’ve called the cops."

Jacob groans. “Do we really need to have this conversation again? Ruining Notting Hill the last time we watched wasn’t enough for you? Do you have to ruin it forever?”

Bella waves her hand in dismissal. “I’m just saying he’s a stalker. That’s all. Dating a stalker isn’t romantic, Jacob. Look…if you think about it, Nothing Hill is just a prequel to a horror movie.”

Jacob narrows his eyes, and for a second, Bella believes he’s about to go for it—but he never does.

“You know what? I’m not doing this with you again.”

“Because you know I’m right," she says.

“Because you’re crazy,”

Bella narrows her eyes. “Crazy right.”

“Crazy crazy,” Jacob says, shaking his head. “So…can we finally talk about my date? Can we do that? Or are you keeping this up?” he gestures to her.

“Talk away, buddy.”

Jacob leans back against the couch cushion, all soft edges and glowing cheeks. “It was great.”

“Wow. Pulitzer-worthy storytelling.”

“Don’t be an asshole.”

“I’ll try.” Bella tips her head. “Did Edward behave? Or do I have to awkwardly threaten your undead boyfriend?”

“He was perfect. Like, actually.” Jacob’s eyes go distant. “He took me to this hidden meadow in the woods. It was beautiful. I’ll have to show you sometime.”

“Please don’t,” Bella raises her right hand in protest. She had zero interest in seeing Jacob and Edward’s make-out spot in person.

The mental image was already enough to give her nightmares.

Jacob ignores her. “We had a picnic. Well—I ate. He sat and watched, which sounds weird but was actually kind of sweet. And we talked. About...everything. I told him about Billy. About what happened. He just listened. He was—he was kind.” His voice falters slightly.

Bella watches him carefully. “I’m glad,” she says softly.

Jacob nods, then deflates a little. ”Do you think it’s weird that he didn’t kiss me?”

Bella tilts her head. “Do you think it’s weird?”

“I don’t know.” He starts drumming one finger against his knee. “He can read my mind. Shouldn’t he know I wanted him to?”

“God, Jake.” Bella grimaces. “That’s way above my emotional pay grade.”

He huffs out a laugh, waiting for her to continue.

“Alright,” she relents. “Look. Relationships need communication, right? Even if one of you cheats by reading minds, you still have to talk. If you want something, say it. Don’t assume he knows just because you thought about it once.”

“Trust me, I thought about it way more than once.”

“Didn’t need that mental image.” Bella pretends to gag. “Look—Edward’s old school. Like, historically old. Maybe he thinks kissing on the first date is too forward.”

“Huh. I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“Maybe he’s nervous. Or unsure. Maybe he just hasn’t done any of this before.”

Jacob frowns. “Neither have I.”

“Exactly. So take your time. Forget whatever the rulebook says. Just do what works for you two.”

Jacob pauses, then grins. “When did you get so wise?”

“I’ve always been this wise. You were just too busy swooning over Edward to notice.”

He hums. “Well, someone else has noticed. If only you noticed that they noticed.”

Bella squints. “That sentence gave me a migraine.”

Jacob laughs. “How you can be so wise one second and so dumb the next is beyond me, Bells.”

“I’m going to ignore the fact you’ve just insulted me.” Bella shakes her head. “But Jake?

“Yeah?”

“If you want a kiss, maybe make the first move.”

Jacob blinks. “Right. Yeah. Okay. I can do that.”

“There’s the spirit.”

He glances at the coffee table full of snacks. “What’s all this? Apocalypse prep?” Then he looks at the TV for the first time. "Titanic? You’re watching it?”

”Yes.”

Jacob recoils like she’s cursed him. “God, why?”

“Research." Bella doesn't offer more than that. "You in?"

“No, thank you. That movie’s a trauma event in my life. Leo dies. The boat sinks. I always end up crying like a baby.”

Bella waves him off. “Sounds like a you problem to me, buddy.”

Jacob pushes to his feet, yawning. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Enjoy your emotional destruction, Bells. I’m going to take a nap.”

He disappears down the hallway. Bella leans into the couch cushions, arms crossed.

She didn’t need tissues. No.

She needed to understand why this was Rosalie’s favorite movie.

.

.

“Promise me you’ll survive. That you won’t give up, no matter what happens. No matter how hopeless.”

Jack says it to Rose, and Bella has the sudden, horrifying realization that maybe Jacob isn't that sensitive after all.

Unfortunately, she’s in no condition to think about it further. Bella’s too busy being a madwoman, throwing popcorn at the TV screen while sobbing uncontrollably on the couch to admit she might’ve been wrong.

By the time the credits start to roll and Celine Dion’s voice swells through the speakers like some cruel joke, Bella is a wreck. An angry, snotty, puffy-eyed wreck.

“Fuck you, Celine Dion. This is your fault,” she says, jabbing a fist at the screen through her tears. “This is a stupid, terrible, manipulative movie.”

It’s not even about the boat. Or the iceberg. Or Jack freezing like an idiot in the water while Rose hogs the entire door.

It’s about the emotional trap no one warns you about.

The one where you sit down to watch a dumb movie because you’ve got too much time and questions about a mysterious, terrifyingly beautiful blonde vampire, only to end up sobbing into your hoodie because someone whispered never let go with too much sincerity.

How was she supposed to function after this? How was anyone? She’d signed up for research. A casual sob, maybe. Not…despair.

Bella wipes her eyes and glares at the screen like it personally betrayed her. Which, to be fair, it kind of did.

God, was this why Rosalie loved this fucking movie so much? Not the fashion. Not the drama. Not the massive, gigantic boat. Not even Leo’s bone structure.

But the love story—the ridiculous, painful sincerity of it. The kind of devotion that makes you stupid. The one that means something, even when it ends.

Then, just as Bella's about to reach a breakthrough in her research, the doorbell rings. She blinks hard, the screen still glowing behind her, and gets up—wrecked, resentful, and completely unprepared to deal with whatever the hell was waiting outside.

.

.

.

“Billy?” Bella’s voice cracks on the name. Of all the people she could’ve imagined showing up today—Billy Black wasn’t even on the list. “What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t flinch at the suspicion in her tone. If anything, he seems to stand a little straighter, like it gives him energy. Like he enjoys being unwelcome.

“I came to talk to you,” he says. “And Jacob, of course.”

He looks older than Bella remembers. Same threadbare black hat. Same cold, unreadable stare. But the charm he used to wear like a second skin is long gone—replaced with something brittle and dark, like a man who’s spent too long chewing on his own bitterness.

“Charlie isn’t here, is he?” he asks, giving her a smile that sends a chill through her ribs. The kind of smile that should’ve stayed in the pages of a bad novel. “Pity. Would’ve been nice to see his treacherous face one last time.”

“No, he isn’t. But I think you already knew that, Mr. Black.”

It all lines up. The timing. The sudden appearance. Charlie’s fishing trip had been on the calendar for weeks.

“Careful, Bella,” Billy says, the edge in his voice sharp enough to cut. “I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“I’m sorry, did I bruise your nonexistent feelings?” Bella says, her tone cutting now, too. “If you came here thinking no one would stop you from seeing Jacob, you were wrong. He doesn’t want to see you. And honestly? I don’t blame him.”

“You’d keep a father from his only son?”

“You stopped being his father the second you threw him out.”

Billy’s eyes twitch, jaw tightening. “If your father had any spine, Bella, he would've done the same thing to you. This is a small town. People talk. I know what you are.”

Bella stiffens, jaw clenched. “And yet you can’t even say it out loud. Go on. Say it. I’m not ashamed.”

He steps closer, his breath stale and close. “Such fire,” he murmurs, like he’s admiring it. “It’d be a shame to watch it burn out slow.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“You should be.” He smiles, and there’s nothing kind in it. “You and Jacob, getting cozy with the Cullens. You think you know what they are? What they’re capable of?”

“I know they’re better people than you.”

That lands. His smile twists. “So, you do know the truth. And does Jacob? Has he finally opened his eyes?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, but you do,” Billy says, taking another step forward. “Don’t lie to me, girl. It doesn’t suit you.”

Bella holds her ground. “You should leave.”

“You think I came all this way to walk away empty-handed?” His voice drops, low and mean. “This is bigger than you think. We all have a role to play, Bella. Even you. You better choose wisely. Or you’ll find yourself on the wrong side of it all.”

Then he grabs her arm. The pain hits first. Then something else. Not just fear—something older. Primal. Like her body recognizes something her brain hasn't caught up to yet.

He leans in close, breath hot against her cheek. “You wouldn’t want to meet your end before your time, would you?”

His fingers dig in, hard. Bella knows it’ll leave a bruise. Knows he’s doing it on purpose.

“You need to leave,” she says, her voice tight.

“I’ll leave when I’ve spoken to my son.”

“No. You’ll leave now.” She yanks her arm back, but he grips tighter.

“Who’s gonna make me?” he sneers. “You?”

“No,” Bella says, pulling her phone from her back pocket. Her fingers shake, but her voice doesn’t. “The cops. I’m pretty sure they won’t love you threatening the chief’s daughter in her own home.”

That does it.

Billy lets go. He steps back like she burned him—but the rage doesn’t leave his eyes.

“This isn’t over,” he says. “Not for you. And definitely not for the Cullens. I’m just getting started.”

And then he turns and walks away.

.

.

.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Charlie asks, pacing the living room in slow, uneven strides. One hand rests on his hip; the other keeps running through his hair like it might produce answers.

Bella and Jacob sit close on the couch, watching him like two kids who just got caught sneaking out past curfew. Only this wasn’t a prank. Not even close.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Jacob’s voice is barely above a whisper.

Bella adjusts the sleeve of her hoodie, tugging it down a little too deliberately. The bruise on her arm is already darkening. It throbs every time her pulse kicks up—but the last thing she wants is to give Charlie a reason to storm off to La Push with a shotgun and bad intentions.

“Look, I didn’t know who it was when I opened the door,” she says, keeping her tone calm, steady. “It all happened fast. He barely gave me time to react, let alone stage a group intervention.”

Charlie slows his pacing just enough to frown at her. “Do you think he knew you’d both be home alone?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. But once he realized I was serious about calling the cops, he backed off.” Bella shrugs like that should be enough, like that part of the story doesn’t still make her stomach twist.

Jacob fidgets, his thumbs twisting together. “Did he say anything else? Other than… you know. Wanting to see me?”

Bella hesitates. Just for a second. Then she says, “He told us to stay away from the Cullens.”

Jacob stiffens beside her. Charlie curses under his breath.

“And he made some crack about the 'rainbow crew' in town. Said if Charlie had any courage, he would've done to me what he did to you.”

Jacob closes his eyes. Takes a breath. When he speaks again, it’s like dragging glass out of his throat. “Do you think he knew I went on a date with Edward?”

“No,” Bella says immediately. “I think it’s like what you told me, remember? How much he hates the Cullens. People talk. He probably just heard we’re all friends now.” She squeezes his hand. It’s warm and a little sweaty, but she doesn’t let go.

“Billy’s stuck in the past, Jake. If something doesn’t look like the version of the world he already decided was right, he can’t handle it. That’s not on you. That’s all him.” Charlie huffs.

Jacob nods slowly. “Yeah. I think he wanted me to be scared. To feel small. Like if I was happy, I was doing something wrong.” His voice is clearer now—less breakable. “But I’m not going to let him win. I love him. I always will. But if he can’t accept who I am... that’s his loss. I’m done letting him make me feel afraid."

Bella looks at him, really looks, and something in her chest hurts. Not in a bad way. Just... achingly proud.

Charlie walks over and puts a hand on Jacob’s shoulder like it belongs there. “You did good, kid. You’re not alone in this. Not ever.”

Jacob nods. “I know.”

Charlie turns to Bella next. “And you—Jesus, Bella. You were alone with him and still stood your ground. That’s not nothing. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Bella says. She tries to smile, but her mind’s still…replaying Billy's words. What did he mean when he'd said Bella would have a part to play in what's to come?

“You alright?” Charlie asks, his voice gentler now.

Bella nods. “Just tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Go rest,” Charlie says. “We’ll be down here if you need us.”

Jacob gives her a small wave, and Bella rises from the couch. Her arm aches, her heart heavier than it should be, and for a moment she stands there—like she might say something else...but doesn’t.

Bella just turns, hoodie sleeves pulled down tight, and heads upstairs.

.

.

.

It’s past midnight. The house is eerie in that heavy, velvety way it only gets when everyone else is truly asleep.

No creaking floorboards. No shifting weight upstairs. Just the low hum of the fridge and Bella’s heartbeat in her throat.

She moves barefoot through the dark, hoodie sleeves tugged over her hands, pausing outside each bedroom door just long enough to listen. Charlie’s soft snore drifts out like clockwork. Jacob’s room is quieter, but there’s no light under the door.

Good.

She steps out onto the porch, phone already pressed to her ear. Her breath fogs in the cold air, and the hoodie isn’t enough, but she doesn’t go back inside for a coat. There isn’t time.

The line clicks.

“Hey,” Bella whispers. “I need to talk to you. Alone.”

“I know,”

“Of course you do.” She exhales, running a hand through her hair. It’s a mess, probably, but not the kind that matters right now. “Do you know where we should meet?”

There’s a pause. Then, warm and amused: “What a silly question.”

Bella rolls her eyes. “Fine. Just pick me up as soon as you can.” She’s about to hang up when something tightens in her chest. “And bring blondie with you, alright?”

“I was already going to.”

“This can get old really fast.”

“Tell me about it. I’ll be there in ten.”

A small silence.

Then: “And Bella?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t worry. Charlie and Jacob won’t wake up.”

Bella’s shoulders sag like someone just took a cinder block off her spine.

“Thanks,” she says. “See you soon. Drive safe.”

She hangs up, tucks the phone in her hoodie pocket, and stares out at the dark yard beyond the porch light.

.

.

.

The diner was empty in the way only a 1AM small-town diner could be.

A hum from the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, and outside, the wind pushed gently against the glass. Forks at this hour felt suspended in amber—no traffic, no people, just the whisper of trees beyond the parking lot.

Bella sat across from Rosalie and Alice, the red vinyl booth cold through her hoodie. The table between them gleamed, scrubbed clean and smelling faintly of coffee.

“Are you sure this is the best place for this conversation?” Bella asks, her voice low.

Alice checks her watch. “It’s the only place in Forks that's open this late,” she says, chipper as ever. “And to anyone watching, we’re just three normal friends hanging out at one in the morning. There's nothing suspicious going on here.”

“Yeah,” Bella mutters. “That’s the problem, Al. Have any of you ever done something like this here? Just… hung out at a dinner?”

“No,” Rosalie answers, dry and direct.

She didn’t look thrilled with the setup either.

Bella guessed their waiter hadn’t helped things either—Vincent had already made three unnecessary trips to their table under the guise of “checking in,” but it was clear what he was checking out.

Bella sees him approaching again and doesn't bother hiding her glare. “What’s his problem?”

“Are you girls sure you don’t want anything else?” Vincent asks as soon as he arrives, his eyes locked on Rosalie. "Coffee? Something to eat?"

“We're fine, thanks.” Bella snapps.

Before she can say anything else to him though, he continues. “My shift’s over in thirty,” he says to Rosalie, not even glancing at Bella or Alice. “Want to go—”

“Leave,” Rosalie’s voice is flat and cold. So fucking cold. But it was't loud, no. It didn’t need to be.

Vincent practically trips over himself backing away.

Bella blinks. “Okay. That was…” She stops herself just in time. Hot. “Impressive.”

Rosalie’s smile is sharp and wicked. Bella suddenly feels too warm in her overized hoodie.

“I saw Titanic earlier today,” Bella blurts out, trying to compose herself. “It was a horrible, horrible movie. I had a traumatic experience watching it, and it's all your fault.”

Rosalie raises an eyebrow. “Did you cry? Is that what this is about?”

“No. Of course not,” Bella says, a little offended, but the blonde doesn't seem to buy her answer. “Maybe. Alright, okay. Fine. I sobbed. Are you happy now? You were right all along, it’s a masterpiece. Are you satisfied?”

Rosalie's golden eyes stare back at her, shining with amusement. “I am.”

“Honestly, I’m pretty convinced it’s all Celine Dion’s fault.” Bella adds, watching the way Rosalie bites her lip to hold back a laugh. "How am I supposed to be okay when that song is playing in the background?"

“Not that I don’t enjoy being invisible,” Alice says, cutting in, “but didn’t you call us here for a reason, B?”

“Right,” Bella says, cheeks coloring. “Yeah. Look, I know you already know most of this, but I need to say it anyway, right? Time travel logic. Paradox avoidance. I saw a documentary once, I know how it works.”

“You can really talk a mile a minute when you want to stall, huh?” Rosalie tilts her head.

“I'm starting to get the feeling Alice should've left you home, Rosalie.”

“You asked for me. I heard you.”

“You know, there’s beauty in not hearing other people’s conversation." Bella smirks. "In not knowing things…in being able to be surprised by them. You guys are constantly ruining that beauty.”

“I usually don’t listen unless I have to.” Rosalie admits. “But it was late. You sounded off...I was worried.”

“Aw, you were worried about me? That’s cute.”

“B,” Alice interrupts them again, shaking her head at the pair. “What happened?”

Bella exhales, the mood in the dinner suddenly shifting. “Do you guys know Billy Black?”

“Jacob’s dad,” Rosalie nods. “And Ephraim’s great-grandson."

“Yeah. I still haven't wrapped my head around that part yet. Vampires? Okay, sure. But giant wolves? That’s like, a step too far,” Bella states, her face pensive. “Isn't it kind of weird that aren’t any of them left? Do you guys know what happened?”

"Yes, it’s weird.” Alice agrees. “But no, we don’t why there aren’t any of them left. It’s not like we can go there and ask them what happened.”

"Fair point." Bella says, pressing her lips. "“Well...let's go back to what I was saying before. Billy came by the house today. When Charlie wasn’t home."

That got their attention.

“Things with him have been complicated for a while now. A few months ago Jacob told him he was gay, and he didn’t take it well. At all. They haven’t spoken since. So I was… surprised, to say the least, when he decided to show his face around.”

“What did he want?” Rosalie asks, already tense.

“He said he wanted to talk. But... I think he just wanted to intimidate us. Intimidate me. To scare us off.” Bella says. "It felt like he knew Charlie would be out fishing. That me and Jacob would be there alone. I don't know...it seemed like he’d timed it."

Rosalie’s hand close slowly around the edge of the table. When she speaks, her voice is even, but there's tension behind it. “What did he say to you?”

Bella meets her eyes. “He wanted to see Jacob…and I didn't let him. He implied I wouldn't be able to really stop him if he tried. I said...I wasn't afraid of him, and then he said I had fire. That it would be a shame for it to burn out slowly.”

Rosalie’s grip tightens. The faint sound of wood creaking cracks the silence.

“He said we all had a part to play on what's to come. That I should be careful, or I might not live long enough to play mine.”

Alice sits up straighter. “Bella.”

“And then,” Bella continues, “he grabbed my arm, and something… shifted. Just for a second. He felt dangerous. Unhinged. Then he said I didn’t know what I was getting into by being your friend. When he realized I kind of did, he made it clear he wasn’t finished with any of us.”

Silence.

“I’m going to kill him,” Rosalie seethes.

“Rose,” Alice warns.

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are.” Alice shakes her head. “That’s the problem.”

Bella sighs. “I didn’t tell Charlie and Jacob everything. They know he was there, yes, but not all that he said to me. I didn’t want Charlie to do something stupid on my behalf.”

“So you came to us.” Alice states.

"Not for retaliation." Bella explains, looking at Rosalie. "But because he threathened you guys too, in a way. It felt...weird. Like he was planning something. I don't know."

Rosalie’s hand finally leave the table, though the slight imprint of her fingers remains, pressed into the fake wood. “You did the right thing,” she says quietly.

“I’ll watch him,” Alice says, reaching across the table to squeeze Bella’s hand. “If he moves, I’ll know.”

"Okay," Bella exhales. "Thank you."

.

.

.

Bella doesn’t head for the door right away. She leans against it instead, feeling the cold wood at her back. The porch light flickers overhead, catching the fine strands of her hair as the wind tugs at them. She doesn’t bother brushing them away.

Rosalie steps closer.

“Al’s staring at us in a weird way,” Bella says, keeping her voice even.

“I know. Please ignore her,” Rosalie murmurs.

“Alright,” Bella says simply, but neither of them move.

Bella knows Rosalie brought her to the door for a reason. Knows there’s something more just behind those sharp, unreadable golden eyes.

“Whatever you want to say to me, you can,” Bella adds. “You do know that, right?”

Rosalie hesitates, and then—“Can you promise me you’ll call next time Billy shows up? I know Alice said she’d watch him, but she’s not infallible.”

The car window rolls down. “Hey!” Alice calls out. “I heard that.”

Neither of them turn.

“I… don’t have your number,” Bella admits, brow furrowing. “I meant to ask someone, but it never felt… right.”

“I can get yours from Alice. I’ll text you, if that’s okay?”

Bella nods. “Sure.”

Rosalie still doesn’t walk away. Her expression shifts, subtle but undeniable. There’s something else, something heavier.

“When Billy grabbed you…” Rosalie’s voice drops, sharp with restraint. “Did he hurt you?”

Bella bites her bottom lip. “I’m not sure I should answer that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want you to commit a homicide tonight,” she says, deadpan.

Rosalie’s eyes darken. “So he did.”

Bella sighs. “You don’t have to worry. I’m sure it’ll fade in no time.”

“Let me see it.”

Bella blinks. “What—here?”

Rosalie doesn’t repeat herself.

Bella hesitates for half a second, then peels off her hoodie, baring the large bruise on her arm. “It looks worse than it is.”

Rosalie reaches for her without hesitation. Her fingers are cool and featherlight as they trace along the darkening skin. “Are you sure I can’t kill him?”

“Tempting,” Bella says. “But no. He’s Jacob’s dad. Also, murder is... wrong? I think?”

Rosalie doesn’t laugh, but something close to it passes over her lips. Still, her hand lingers longer than it should. Her touch careful. Unwilling to leave.

It’s too much. Bella’s heart kicks up like it’s trying to tell her something. She stares at the bruise instead of Rosalie’s face, because if she looks up…well, she doesn’t know what she might do.

“You love to deflect,” Rosalie says quietly. "Don't you?"

Bella snorts. “Love’s a strong word.” She swallows. “I just—happen to prefer sarcasm over emotional honesty.”

Rosalie’s eyes soften. Just a little. The wind catches again, pushing a strand of Bella’s hair across her cheek, and Rosalie’s fingers twitch—like she wants to brush it back but stops herself at the last second.

“You should ice it,” Rosalie says finally, gesturing to the bruise. Her voice is still low. Reluctant.

“I think you already did that, blondie.”

A faint smile passes between them.

“You know, something must be going wrong with me,” Rosalie murmurs, her fingers still gently tracing a pattern on Bella’s arm. “I think I'm starting to grow fond of your nickname.”

“Well,” Bella's throat suddenly feels very dry. “That's sad. If you like it, it would kind of ruin its purpose.”

Rosalie shakes her head before she lets go of Bella’s arm, and the loss is ridiculous in its weight.

“I should go,” the blonde says, almost regretfully. “It’s late. You should sleep.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow at school?”

Rosalie’s eyes flicker—sharp, amused, maybe something else entirely. “See you there, Bella.”

.

.

.

Unknown Number

Hey. It’s Rosalie

hey blondie :)

Rosalie

Now you have my number

all it took was almost dying

figuring out your secret

and having billy black show his face around

Rosalie

Good things come to those who wait?

great things

I’m going to try to sleep

see you tomorrow

Rosalie

See you

:)

Chapter Text

“Mom?” Bella asks, voice tight.

She’s still staring at the name on her screen like it might vanish if she blinks hard enough. The shock had already faded into suspicion, which had quickly dissolved into something worse: concern.

Her mother calling her could only mean one thing—that the woman was dying. Or possibly moving again.

Either way, the end felt near.

“Is everything okay? Are you in the hospital?”

Renée laughs, light, bright and careless. “You’re always so dramatic, Bella. Why wouldn’t things be alright?”

“Because you’re calling me. Something you haven’t done since the day I left Phoenix.”

“I’ve been busy. You know how it is,” Renée says, like they’re old friends catching up over brunch. “It’s healthy for me to have a life outside of you, Isabella. One day, you’ll understand.”

Bella rolls her eyes and turns back toward her desk, dragging her chair closer to the calendar that’s still pinned slightly crooked to the wall.

The corners are curling. The days are smudged. She flips past one empty month after another with the edge of her thumb—October, November, halfway through December now.

Five months gone like smoke. She hadn’t even noticed fall disappear.

“I doubt I will,” she mutters, low.

Kids were never something she would want.

While her grandmother had been a great parent to Bella, the same couldn’t be said when it came to Renée. Marie hadn’t been a good mother to her, and Renée, in turn, had continued the tradition by being an even worse parent to Bella.

And Bella, well, she’d really come to hate this never-ending cycle.

“No words or a comeback?” Renée’s tone lifts into something that might be teasing, if it weren’t so loaded. “My, my. Is Forks already diminishing your spirit? You know, it seems you and I aren’t so different after all. I told you this would happen—that this place would find a way to suck out your soul. Your life. But you didn’t want to hear it. No. Now look at you, Isabella.”

Bella doesn’t answer. She keeps her mouth closed and her shoulders still, because if she opens her mouth now, she’ll bite—and her mother wants that. She always wants that.

Renée calling her Isabella was the warning flare.

Every fight between them started this way. Renée would say something that seemed harmless to anyone listening, but to Bella—whose patience, especially with her, ran paper-thin—that would be the spark that would lit the fire.

“You’re not going to answer me?” Renée presses again.

“Is there a point to this conversation, Mom?” Bella snaps, hating how fast it comes out—too fast, like reflex.

Renée chuckles, clearly delighted. “Why? Are you busy?”

“I’m studying.”

“Tsk, tsk,” she clicks her tongue. “You always did take school too seriously for your own good. You should live a little. You’re not going to be this young forever. You’re missing your window, you know.”

Bella closes her eyes, grip tightening around the plastic water bottle in her hand. “What window?” she asks, even though she already knows she shouldn’t.

“To have fun. To meet someone. Dating was never your forte, I know that, but that doesn’t mean you should just quit trying. I’m sure someone out there will be able to overlook all your flaws eventually.”

Bella’s knuckles go white. Still, she says nothing.

“Anyway,” Renée sighs, suddenly breezy again. “I’m sure you know Christmas is right around the corner.”

Bella blinks. “Sure. I knew that.”

She glances back at the calendar. The red 24 is circled in pen, but faint—like she did it weeks ago and forgot to care. The sight of it makes something shift low in her stomach.

Time really did fly when you didn’t have to live with the devil.

“Then why haven’t you called me?” Renée asks. “How am I supposed to know when to schedule your flight?”

Bella sits up straighter. “Schedule my flight?”

“To Toronto. For Christmas.”

Right. Of course.

“You thought I was coming to Toronto for Christmas?”

“Yes. Aren’t you?” Renée sounds genuinely confused. “Don’t tell me you’re staying in Forks.”

Bella exhales slowly. “I’m staying. I live with Charlie now, and while I’m flattered by the invitation, I’m…not going anywhere. It’s Christmas. I can’t just leave him alone.”

“You can’t leave him alone?” Renée repeats, voice all syrup and venom. “If only he’d thought the same way you did, Bella. Maybe then you wouldn’t have had an absent father for most of your life.”

That hits. Not because it’s wrong—but because Renée knows exactly where to aim.

Bella flashes, without meaning to, to her Christmas spent with Marie—to the smell of garlic bread in the oven, to a Christmas movie half-watched on TV, to Marie’s loud Italian cursing whenever the kitchen drawer jammed for the third time in a row.

Charlie would call, yes. Once. Late at night. Awkward and short.

Bella hadn’t blamed him then. She still didn’t now. After all, Renée hadn’t been there either. No. She’d been out somewhere else with her friends.

“This isn’t just about him,” Bella says, quieter now. “You know one of the reasons I moved here was so that you and Phil could have some space. Didn’t you always say that Christmas would be ten times better if it were more of a romantic holiday than a family one?”

“I did say that, yes,” Renée hums. “I just don’t want you to forget all about me, Bella.”

“I think we both know that would be impossible.”

A dream come true, maybe. But impossible all the same.

“Well, if that’s how you feel. There are still three weeks left, so let me know if you change your mind.”

“I will,” Bella says.

She won’t.

“We’ll talk soon,” Renée says.

Bella knows they won’t do that either.

.

.

.

About thirty minutes after the Renée call, Bella’s phone starts buzzing again on her desk.

She doesn’t look at it right away—just lets it vibrate against the wood while she finishes re-centering the calendar on her wall.

Bella figures it’s her mom with another attempt to reframe a demand as a suggestion.

“Mom, are we really doing this again?” Bella says as she finally picks up, not bothering to check. “Thirty minutes is not enough time for me to have changed my mind.”

“It’s Emmett,” he says, voice strained with relief. “Thank God you picked up. I’ve texted you like a thousand times.”

Bella exhales. “Sorry, buddy. I was studying. What happened?”

“So… brace yourself. I may have done something very life-threatening.”

Bella leans back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. “Please tell me you didn’t kill someone. Actually—no. Just tell me I don’t have to help you cover it up.”

“It’s life-threatening to me,” he clarifies. “So it’s way worse than that.”

“Mm. Let me guess. You crashed Rosalie’s car again?”

“Worse.”

Bella straightens, slightly. “You broke something of hers.”

“Yes. But it’s worse than you think. It wasn’t just something. It was… her books.”

Bella blinks. “How many?”

“Three.”

“…Oh my god.”

“She’s going to kill me, Bella. She is. One of them it’s her favorite. I’m not even supposed to look at it. Breathing near it might’ve been already a crime.”

Bella winces. “Which one?”

Emmett hesitates.

“Emmett.”

“Pride and Prejudice.”

Bella groans, head in hands. “You’re already dead.”

“I know!”

Rosalie had once told Bella—offhand but serious —that her books were one of the only possessions she’d carried with her from her old life. That and a necklace Bella hardly ever saw her without.

They were irreplaceable. Sacred. Don’t-touch-or-I’ll-break-your-fingers sacred.

“How did this even happen?” Bella asks.

“I was reading it while she was out—just a few chapters, I swear—and I had two others resting on my arm. I turned the page, and…” He makes a sound like a dying moose. “Everything slid. Right to the floor. The corner of Pride bent.”

“You’re telling me you stacked two of her books on your arm while reading another?”

“I got comfortable! I was nesting!” Emmett explains. “I was going to read them after. I was doing research.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Bella, focus. I need your help. I need you to be here when I tell her.”

“You think that’ll save you?”

“No. But I think your presence might delay the violence by, like… ten seconds. That’s all I need to escape.”

Bella rubs her eyes. “What exactly do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know. Use your power of persuasion. Distract her. Appeal to her soft spot for you.”

“You’re assuming she has one.”

“She does. It’s very subtle. Microscopic, even. But it’s there. And more importantly, you’re the one who always manages to find it.”

Bella sighs. “What’s in it for me?”

“My eternal gratitude?”

“Unlike you, I won’t live forever, Em. I’m going to need something more concrete.”

“Fine,” he groans. “I’ll punch someone for you. You can have a voucher. Good for one punch, anytime.”

“Is anyone off limits?”

“I mean… me, obviously. And maybe Edward. You’d have to wait for him to do something dumb first. Otherwise Esme might yell at me.”

Bella considers. “Alright. But I also want the right to call in one favor at a later date. No questions asked.”

“A punch and a favor? You drive a hard bargain.”

“I’m learning not to give things away for free.”

Emmett groans louder. “Fine. Just get over here.”

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Make it ten.”

“I’m no use to you if I’m dead, Emmett.”

“That’s what you think. I’m a desperate man, Bella. I’d find a way.”

.

.

.

“I can’t believe you didn’t let me kill him. He ruined my first edition of Pride and Prejudice,” Rosalie growls, lying back on the bed with a dramatic thump.

Outside the window, a quiet drizzle taps against the glass—soft and steady like background noise.

Bella stands there for a moment, letting her eyes move through Rosalie’s space. She’d been here before, sure, but it always made her pause.

Rosalie’s room felt like a page from a magazine—not the sterile kind, no, but the one where every detail whispered taste and something softer underneath.

The walls were a warm beige, and the furniture brought in even more warmth: soft cream throws, low amber lighting, a velvet armchair in deep navy.

Her bed was made with the precision of someone who liked order, yes, but the cashmere blanket at the foot of the bed told another story altogether—one of someone who kept things tidy, sure, but wasn’t afraid to live in.

A copy of Jane Eyre rested on Rosalie’s nightstand—leather-bound, and gold-embossed.

A Burberry trench coat was draped over the back of a sleek reading chair, like it had slipped from Rosalie’s shoulders earlier in the day.

There was a quiet elegance to all of it, but it didn’t feel unwelcoming. No.

It felt… safe, and warm.

Bella decides to stop staring, she crosses the room, lowering herself into the armchair by the window, careful not to disturb the balance of the space.

The bed was Rosalie’s territory, and Bella had no intention of crossing that particular boundary today.

“I mean, who even touches someone else's copy of Austen without permission?” Rosalie mutters darkly.

“Men. That’s who.”

Rosalie just hums, nodding.

“Should I be worried murder seems to be your go-to response lately?” Bella leans back slightly, adjusting in the armchair. It’s far too fancy for its role—sleek and low, and softened by age—but she fits there surprisingly well.

Her legs fold up beneath her, one elbow resting on the arm as she watches Rosalie with half-lidded amusement.

“I’m a vampire. Killing is my nature,”

Bella smirks, unconvinced. “That’s a good excuse, isn’t it? What was the one you used when you were human?”

“Since I didn’t share any of my murder plans with anyone back then, Bella, I didn't need an excuse.”

“See. That’s cunning at its finest. You’re definitely a Slytherin, blondie. There’s no use denying it.”

“Who says I’m denying it?” Rosalie frowns.

“Alice,” Bella says. “She told me that according to you, you belonged in Hufflepuff.”

“I was being sarcastic. Alice was trying to convince everyone she was a Gryffindor again and I wasn't in the mood to deal with that.”

Bella shakes her head, fighting a grin. “We need to do an intervention. This has gone on for far too long. Your sister is starting to become a danger not only to herself but to others. Next thing we know, she’s going to start saying Emmett’s a Ravenclaw, Jasper a Slytherin, and Edward a wizard.”

“Good luck with that. I’ve been trying for years, but Alice always figures them out before I can actually pull them off.”

Bella goes quiet for a moment, her fingers tracing a loose thread on the armrest. “How do you deal with it? Having little to almost no privacy in your life?”

Rosalie looks at her, surprised by the shift. But she doesn’t deflect. “I don’t,” she says simply. “I’d be lying if I said I’ve learned to live with it. Most of my disagreements with Edward are rooted in his ability to read my mind. He thinks that knowing what I’m thinking means he understands me. But it’s never that simple.”

Bella nods. “We’re usually better than our worst thoughts…and far less great than our best ones. It’s not fair to judge anyone based on either.”

Rosalie stares at her, quiet for a beat. “You should tell my brother that,” she says softly.

“I doubt it would make a difference,” Bella shrugs. "He doesn’t strike me as someone who's open to change.”

Bella wondered if that was just an Edward thing or something all vampires carried. Maybe being frozen in time made it harder for them to grow—to become different people than the ones they’d been before everything.

“That’s putting it mildly.” Rosalie studies her, something unreadable passing across her face. Then, she tilts her head: “What about you? Are you capable of change?”

Bella smiles faintly. “I’d like to think I am. After all, I’m here, aren’t I?”

Rosalie shifts on the bed, propping herself up against the headboard. A blue pillow settles under her arm, casually claimed. “You’re telling me befriending a vampire wasn’t in any of your plans for the year?”

“Only if that vampire was you, blondie.”

“That’s a lie and we both know it,” Rosalie says, pressing her lips together. “The only one of us you ever wanted to be friends with was Jasper. And even him, I have my doubts about.”

Bella just watches her. “I’m not lying. That day in the cafeteria, when I saw you guys for the first time…you were the one that stood out to me.”

Rosalie’s eyes narrow slightly, assessing. “You really have a thing for blondes, don’t you?”

Bella raises a brow, playing it cool. “Conceived much? It wasn’t that.”

Rosalie tilts her head, giving her a look that clearly states she hasn’t bought Bella’s answer.

“Okay—it wasn’t only that. I looked at you and felt like…I don’t know. Like I knew you already. Like I had seen you before. It didn’t make sense, and it still doesn’t—but it’s what it felt like. What it feels like. I don’t know. Does this make any sort of sense to you or am I just rambling like crazy?”

Rosalie doesn’t speak right away. No. She just looks at Bella, and then—quietly, carefully—she says: “I think I would’ve remembered if we’d crossed paths.”

Bella smirks, not about to let the opportunity pass her by. “A thing for brunettes, huh?”

Rosalie doesn’t reply. She just grabs the nearest pillow and throws it right at Bella’s head.

It’s a clean shot—not hard, but not gentle either—and it knocks Bella slightly off balance.

“What is with you and throwing things at my face? Isn’t that a bit childish?”

“You’re childish.” Rosalie lifts her chin. “I’m an adult.”

“Rosalie, you’re not an adult. You’re like ancient.”

“Do you want me to throw another pillow at your head?” Rosalie threatens, reaching behind her. "Because I will."

Bella shrugs, placing the first one on her lap. “I mean, they are pretty comfy. Definitely an improvement over the oiled towel you threw at me the other day.”

“Speaking of that day, I still can't believe you—” Rosalie starts, then falters.

Bella fills in the blanks. “Said I missed you? Came here to confront you? Told you I was trying to make you my friend?”

“All of the above. You never struck me as the type of person who would do... any of that.”

“I’m not,” Bella says quietly. “Opening up’s never been one of my strengths.”

Rosalie studies her again, this time for a long time.

“You know way more about me than I know about you, Bella. And I’m the one with the life-threatening secret here.”

Bella doesn’t answer, because what can she say? the blonde is right.

After a beat, Rosalie completes. “It’s okay. If it makes you feel any better… opening up isn’t exactly one of my strengths either.”

“You don’t say.”

There’s a pause. Not awkward, just… open.

Rosalie glances down at her hands, then back at Bella. “What do you think that mean for us, then? For this friendship we’re apparently both a little terrible at?”

Bella sighs, thinking it through. “I don't know. Probably just that in itself…the fact that we’re not very good at it.”

“Hey,” Rosalie objects, mock-wounded. “I think we’ve done… passably well, all things considered.”

Bella lifts a brow. “Didn’t you just say we were terrible at it?”

Rosalie chuckles. “Alright. How about this? We’ve been marginally less terrible than I expected. That should feel like a win, shouldn’t it?”

“You’re handing out participation trophies now, blondie? Less terrible is still terrible.”

“Bella, please try to keep in mind that I don’t exactly go around befriending humans, alright? You’re…an anomaly. A persistent little human.”

Bella smirks. “I always knew I had a special place in your heart, Rosalie. But it is so very nice to hear you say the words.”

“I—you know what, Bella, if that’s what you managed to gather from all I've just said… it’s no wonder we’re not winning at this friendship thing. Honestly.”

Bella grins, but doesn’t answer. She just leans back, feeling the soft hush of the room, the hum of rain on glass, and the steady weight of Rosalie’s gaze.

Bella didn’t want to speak for both of them, of course not, but if it were up to her to make an evaluation?

Well, she would say this felt a lot like winning.

.

.

.

Later in the day, Bella finds herself sitting at the Cullens’ long, dark wooden table.

The afternoon light slips through the tall windows behind them, and Bella’s laughing harder than she had in weeks.

Their initial conversation nonsense had somehow spiraled into a series of increasingly unhinged European vampire travel stories, and now, Jasper was trying his best to defend himself against Emmett’s list of accusations.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t know that Italian woman was flirting with you,” Emmett says, pointing a finger at Jasper. “She pretended to be lost in Florence. Florence, Jasper. She lived there. How could she be lost?”

“Like you’re any better than me, Emmett. You might act as nothing happened in Rome, but I remember just fine.” Jasper points out.

“Let’s not talk about Rome,” Emmett says quickly.

“Oh, no. Let’s,” Rosalie grins, almost showing her teeth—the way a predator does when it’s approaching its prey. “I’ve always wanted to know what happened there. What made you two disappear for two days without a single text or phone call.”

“Don’t tell her anything, Jasper,” Emmett hisses. “We have a deal, remember?”

“Alright,” Jasper acquiesces with a crooked smile. “But next time, Emmett, don’t forget how much dirt I have on you. If I shared even half of it, no one would dare call me clueless—not while you’re in the room.”

Bella chuckles.

“Hey.” Emmett narrows his eyes at her. “You’re one to talk.”

“I’m sorry?” Bella asks, a little outraged. “I always know when a lady is flirting with me, thank you very much.”

“A lot of practice, B?” Alice asks, smirking.

“Enough to know,”

Rosalie’s eyes sharpens. “Is that so?”

“I mean—no. Absolutely not. There are no ladies here for me. Zero. Zilch.” Bella says quickly, reaching for self-preservation like it’s a life raft. “I’m basically a nun.”

“Sure you are,” Alice chuckls, shooting her a look. “I’ll refrain from asking how many women you’ve been a nun with, then.”

“Please do,”

“C’mon, sis, not everyone can be like you.” Emmett comes to her rescue. “It's not like we can see when Mr. Perfect is going to come into our lives, okay? Some of us have to get our hands dirty,” Emmet winks at Bella.

“Didn’t know you were looking for Mr. Perfect, Em,” Rosalie adds, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s very homophobic of you, Rose,” Emmett grins, turning without missing a beat. “What, worried you won’t be the only bisexual vampire in the house anymore?”

Rosalie flips him off while Bella tries not to let that revelation register too visibly on her face.

Great. Now she was never sleeping again. Rosalie wasn’t straight? What the hell?

Sure, the girl joked and made some comments that could feel a little…diversified, yes, but blondie was like the poster child of straightness. Or at least, Bella had imagined that she was.

“I thought she already wasn’t?” she chimes in, trying to save face.

Bella cannot let herself obsess over the fact that Rosalie Hale wasn't straight. No. Because it was one thing to…kind of flirt with the blonde when she was sure that wouldn't amount to anything.

It was another altogether if, well…it could.

Rosalie and Emmett turn to stare at her, and Bella looks at Alice for backup. The girl gives her a small nod.

“Alice had a fling with a woman before Jasper,” Bella offers, casually.

“I did,” Alice confirms, and Jasper just smiles like he’d knew all along.

“You never told me,” Rosalie says, crossing her arms, clearly bothered.

“You never asked, Rose. It’s not like it was a secret.”

“We’ll talk about this later, Alice. You’re not escaping this conversation. I want details. A name. Dates. I want everything,” Rosalie huffs.

“Why?” Alice smirks, eyes gleaming. “Do you need some tips?”

Emmett cackles. Jasper looks quietly delighted at this turn of events, and Bella...well, she just bites the inside of her cheek trying not to laugh.

Before Rosalie can offer a response, though, a new presence enters the room in the blink of an eye—Edward.

“You all seem happy,” he says, looking around the table. “What are you talking about?”

“Rome,” Rosalie says.

“Alice hooking up with a woman,” Emmett adds cheerfully.

“The fact that Rosalie might need some help if she ever wants to do the same,” Jasper finishes, smirking.

Rosalie crosses her arms. “I’ll have you know I have done the same, Jasper.”

He raises an eyebrow. “If it was with Kate, it doesn’t count.”

“Why not? Of course it counts.” Rosalie protests.

“You guys hook up like every fifty years. That's hardly something.”

“I’m not even going to answer you. I’ll let you know—“

“Sit down, Ed. This one’s gonna take a while.” Emmett shakes his head at the pair on his left.

Edward hesitates, glancing at Bella.

“It’s your house,” she says with a shrug. “Feel free to join, pretty boy,”

He offeres her a small smile before sitting besides Alice.

“Are you two done?” Alice asks, cutting off Rosalie and Jasper mid-bicker. “Because I, for one, want to know how Edward’s second date with Jacob went.”

Bella groans. “Just…keep it PG-13, okay? Jacob’s basically my brother. I don’t need the mental image.”

“Edward's always PG-13, B,” Emmett says, wiggling his brows.

Edward ignores him. “It was…it was nice, I think.”

“You think?” Jasper asks, frowning.

"I thought everything was going great. But at the end, Jacob was barely looking at me. When I dropped him off, I said I wanted to do this again but he just… closed the door in my face.”

“Well,” Rosalie says, “something clearly happened.”

“Yeah, I just don't know what. Things seemed fine, and then…they weren't.” Edward admits.

“How can you not know what went wrong when you can read his mind?” Emmett asks, confused.

Edward sighs. “His thoughts were a mess, Em. The only thing I got was that something Bella said had stuck with him. The rest was just noise.”

Bella winces as all eyes turn to her.

She's suddenly very aware of what Edward had done wrong. Or better yet, what he hadn't done at all.

“I can’t believe I’m about to have this conversation with you of all people,” she mutters. “Jacob will owe me for life. For life.”

Edward blinks, waiting.

Bella powers through. “Have you kissed him yet?”

“What?” Edward’s voice comes out strained.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

Edward shifts in his chair. “I was waiting for the perfect moment.”

“Edward,” Bella says flatly. “It’s the twenty-first century. If you haven’t kissed him yet, he’s probably wondering what’s wrong with him.”

“He is?”

“I would,” Rosalie adds.

“Yeah, I don’t think you would have that problem, Rosalie. More like the opposite of it, if anything,” Bella shakes her head. “Anyway. Edward…Jacob can't read your mind. He doesn't know you're waiting for the perfect moment. All he knows is that the guy that he likes isn't making a goddam move.”

Edward hums. “What do you think I should do?”

Bella asks the universe for some patience. This right here was one of the reasons she was gay. Men could be so clueless sometimes.

“What do you mean what should you do? You should kiss him, for God's sake,” she says.

Emmett snickers, but before he can say anything, Alice punches him on the shoulder. “Leave him be, Emmett,” she tells him.

“It's not that simple, Bella.” Edward ignores his family. “I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment…and now Jacob's pissed. I don't think he’ll give me another chance to make it right.”

“Edward,” Bella takes a deep breath. “There isn't a perfect moment, okay? If you're with someone who wants you as much as you want them, any moment is a perfect moment. You know I’m not your biggest fan, but Jacob’s happy when he's with you. He’ll come around if you make a move. If you act. You don't need words, or apologies…nothing. Just a kiss. That's all it will take. Trust me.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple, Bella,” Edward says, not putting enough faith in her plan. “Jacob doesn't want to see me. He didn’t even respond to my texts.”

“He's just hurt. Give him a few hours, maybe a day." Bella tells him. "And then, as soon as you see him…just go for it, man.”

“What if I don't want our first kiss to happen like that?” Edward ponders. “What if I want…magic? Sparks? What if I want fireworks, Bella? Jacob deserves that after everything, doesn’t he?”

If Edward only talked about how much he liked Jacob, Bella would find him thirty percent more tolerable.

Okay, maybe that was a stretch.

Twenty-percent.

"He deserves to know that you want him as much as he wants you.” Bella points out. “Look, if I managed to prove to you that any moment can have its fair share of magic and sparks, would you act?” 

Jacob wouldn't survive another week of this—and neither would Bella. Nor would Charlie.

“Maybe,” Edward presses his lips together.

Bella exhales. Fine. If perfect hair needed fireworks, she’d show him a couple of sparks. Let the games begin.

“Okay,” she turns to the table, eyeing her options. If she wanted magic, there was only two candidates here.

Well...more like one, to be fair. Rosalie was Rosalie—and she wasn't straight, and she'd hooked up with women before—Kate, to be precise, and Bella wasn't about to go there.

She wasn’t about to cross that line. Not now, not ever.

So she looks at Alice. The girl is already smiling, her chair turning slightly toward Bella. As if she already knew. Already seen.

Bella stands, she walks over, and when she reaches Alice, she offers her a hand.

Alice takes it—not gently, not delicately, but like a stage partner ready to leap to the stage.

She moves too fast, and if that's deliberate or not, Bella can’t tell. All she knows is that the movement makes Alice crash lightly into Bella’s chest.

Bella laughs under her breath before steadying her. She tucks a strand of Alice’s hair behind her ear, softly.

Alice’s eyes sparkle. They flicker, just for a second, past Bella’s face—and right into Rosalie's.

Bella doesn't stop to figure out why, no. She has a show to continue.

So Bella leans in, getting close enough that their foreheads brush.

Alice decides this is the perfect moment to up her performance, moving her hand to Bella’s hip, and Bella uses the moment to inch forward—only stopping when their lips are about to meet.

Before that can happen, she pulls back. Alice beams while Bella turns to their audience.

Jasper is giving her an enthusiastic thumbs-up. Emmett’s clapping like an lovable idiot. Edward, on the other hand, looks... thoughtful. Pensive.

Rosalie, though, she isn’t smiling. No. Her expression is quiet, unreadable—with something flickering behind her eyes, something that is gone too quickly before Bella can catch it.

“If I’d kissed Alice,” Bella says, clearing her throat, “do you doubt there would’ve been fireworks, Edward?”

“No,” Alice says first, cutting him off before he can answer. She turns to Rosalie, her voice dipped in sweetness. “Right, Rose?”

The blonde doesn't answer, she just narrow her eyes at her sister.

“Jasper,” Emmett adds dramatically, “I think you just lost your wife.”

“If only I could blame her for it, Em,” He shakes his head, winking Bella's way, and being a good sport about it.

Rosalie thins her lips. “Now that’s out of the way, can we change the subject? If I have to keep talking about Edward's love life for another minute I’m going to need a drink.”

“But you don't drink.” Emmett points out.

“Exactly.”

“We could play a game,” Jasper suggests. “I’m sure Esme and Carlisle would love to join us too, if we asked.”

“Monopoly!” Alice shouts, jumping up and down.

“Oh, Monopoly it is,” Rosalie says darkly. “I’m going to drive you to bankruptcy faster than you can predict, Alice. You just wait.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Alice replies, completely unbothered.

“I won't be the only one trying, sis. We're all coming for you.” Rosalie warns, and Emmett and Jasper nod alongside her.

“Not everyone,” Alice says, smirking. “Bella won't. In fact, with the past and the future as a guide, Rosalie, I know that she will help me.”

“No, she won’t,” Rosalie counters immediately, jaw tight. “She’ll help me.”

“Isn’t Monopoly a free-for-all kind of game?“ Bella questions, alarmed.

“Not here it isn’t,” Rosalie says. “Not with people who can read minds and see the future. Here, it’s everyone against them.”

“Bella will help me,” Alice says again, turning to her with big, hopeful eyes.

“Nope. Bella will help herself,” she says. “Bella will actually go to the kitchen right now, because she’s suddenly very thirsty.”

“Coward,” Emmett calls.

“No. Intelligent.” Bella says before she makes her escape—but not without catching the way Rosalie’s eyes follow her all the way through.

.

.

.

Bella’s busy drinking her water and admiring the view from the Cullens’ kitchen window to notice she isn’t alone anymore.

So when Rosalie’s voice breaks through the quiet, Bella nearly jumps out of her skin. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Rosalie doesn’t apologize. No. “Everyone’s in the living room already. We’re only waiting for you.”

Bella sighs, pressing the bottle to her forehead like it might calm her nerves. “Is there any way I can escape what’s coming?”

“Probably not.”

“I suck at this game, Rosalie. Luck always seems to evade me whenever I play.”

Rosalie’s voice is light, but her gaze lingers. “I’m starting to get the feeling luck seems to evade you a lot.”

“Ah, ain’t that the truth.”

A pause.

“You know,” Rosalie says, quieter this time, “for a while there, I really thought you were going to kiss my sister.”

Bella glances at her. She wonders if that’s why Rosalie came here—not to fetch her, but to ask this.

“That was the plan. I needed Edward to be holding his breath. For him to be on the edge of his seat. He wanted magic, sparks. Fireworks. If he knew it wasn't going to happen... he wouldn't have believed it.”

Rosalie tilts her head. “Okay, but maybe you could’ve warned me.”

“Like you did about the fact you weren’t straight?” Bella replies, half a beat too fast.

Rosalie blinks. “I—”

“It’s okay, blondie,” Bella says, lifting the bottle as one lifts a white flag. “Unlike you, I’m not a homophobe.”

“Hey. I’m not a—” Rosalie stops herself when Bella snorts. “You're joking.”

“Yes.”

Rosalie exhales, almost smiling. Then, quietly, she asks: “Did you ever think of using me in your little performance? Or was Alice always your first pick?”

Bella hesitates. Her grip tightens slightly around the water bottle. Should she tell the truth here?

“I never thought about using you.”

Here went nothing.

“Why not?

It was a simple question in theory, but Bella hated how much it wasn't really simple at all.

“I thought Alice would’ve seen it coming. That she’d be prepared. That with her, I wouldn’t be crossing a line.”

Rosalie takes a step closer. Not much. Just enough to shift the air between them. “And with me…you would've been?”

“Maybe.”

Definitely.

“You wouldn’t,” Rosalie says, her voice lower now. “We’re friends, right? The lines aren’t the same anymore, Bella. You don’t have to keep me at arm’s length. Not unless you want to.”

Bella swallows, straightening her spine. “Well. Consent’s important.”

“It is,” Rosalie agrees, nodding. “That’s why I’m giving it to you. Next time you want to put on a little show for my family… I’m here.”

Bella breathes out a small laugh, dry and deflecting. “Careful now. Anyone else in my position would start to think you were jealous, Rosalie.”

“Anyone else but not you, huh?” Rosalie murmurs, her tone unreadable.

“Not me. What can I say? My grandmother taught me never to assume.”

”Your grandmother? Not your mother?”

“Oh. No.” Bella shakes her head immediately. “If Renée had been the one to raise me… well. Let’s not even go there.” She grimaces, then gives Rosalie a crooked smile. “But I’ll tell you what. Next time I’m in the mood for a show, I’ll choose you, alright? Satisfied?”

Rosalie’s smile sharpens. “Yes.”

There’s a beat. A flicker of something unspoken between them.

Then Rosalie turns toward the doorway. “Now let’s go. If we stay here any longer, Alice will start intimidating my supposed allies—and nobody wants that. Not even you.”

“Why not?”

“Because if she manages to succeed, we’re not playing Monopoly the way you’re expecting us to. No. We’re playing it like it’s war,” Rosalie explains. "And you’ll be standing right in the middle of it.”

Bella groans. “Yeah, I’m really not a fan of that scenario. Let’s go.”

“Good choice.”

Chapter Text

“Late night?” Charlie asks, his mustache twitching with amusement as he glances at a very tired Bella.

She was slumped at the kitchen table, hugging her coffee like it held all the answers she might ever need in her life.

After leaving the Cullens’ just before three a.m., her exhaustion wasn’t surprising. No. The scenes that had unfolded in front of her eyes, however, had been.

Bella was pretty sure she’d never look at a Monopoly board the same way again. Honestly, just thinking about it now was somewhat triggering.

“Remind me never to play board games with the Cullens again,” she says, shivering.

“That bad?”

“Bad?” Bella scoffs. “That’s putting it mildly. It was a bloodbath. I already hated the game, sure—but now I feel like a war veteran just thinking about it.”

Charlie raises a brow. “Aren’t you being a little dramatic? It’s only Monopoly. How bad could it really have been?”

She gives him a look. “Rosalie and Alice are competitive.”

“Okay…”

“There were threats. There were almost tears,” Bella continues. She winces, remembering Emmett’s face after landing on the exact spot Rosalie had just put a new hotel in. “At one point, I was pretty sure Alice was going to break up with Jasper over a utilities trade.”

Charlie laughs. “And how’d you do?”

“Survived almost ‘til the end, unfortunately. Tried to make some shady deals to escape once I realized what I’d walked into, but they saw right through me." Bella takes another sip of her coffee. “Poor Esme was the first to declare bankruptcy. She’s just too nice—and they took advantage of it. Like sharks when there’s blood in the water.”

Competitive people she could handle. Sure. But competitive vampires?

There had been a moment—one Bella would never forget—when Rosalie and Alice had simultaneously pointed across the table and shouted “You’re lying” at each other like rival CEOs in a hostile takeover.

Carlisle, at this point, had already been nursing a headache.

Emmett? He’d been too busy mumbling, “I just bought that railroad,” like a crazy person to notice anything else going on besides his own downfall .

“It was an eye-opening experience, trust me. By the end of it, even Carlisle was exasperated by it.” Bella had never seen the doctor like that, but well, Bella rarely saw the doctor, so what did she know?

Charlie chuckles. “So... you all had fun?”

“As much fun as an animal has while being hunted.”

He hums, ignoring her flair for the dramatic. “Is there a reason Jacob stayed here brooding instead of going with you?”

“Yes.”

Charlie raises an eyebrow. “Is it the sort of reason I want to know?”

“No. But I’m going to tell you anyway.”

If Bella had to deal with a lovelorn Jacob, so did Charlie.

”Alright.” Charlie shakes his head, not knowing what’s waiting for him.

“Teenage drama. I think Jacob wants Edward to move a little faster with their relationship, and Edward’s too old-fashioned to do it.”

Though now, Bella thought, maybe that was about to change after her little display yesterday.

Charlie grimaces. “Slow is good, Bells. Maybe you should tell him that.”

“You should tell him that. I’m not having this conversation with him again."

Not only that—she’d already spoken to Edward—and if that wasn't a testament to how much she liked Jacob, nothing else would ever be.

“I’m not sure he’d listen to me,” Charlie says, sighing.

“Why not? Out of anyone here, you’ve got the most experience.”

“I know, but Jacob can be stubborn. Last week I tried warning him about feeling too much too fast, and it didn’t go well. He said—and I quote—‘Edward isn’t Renée.’"

“Well… he’s not wrong. But he’s not right either. The point still stands.”

Charlie rubs his jaw. “I know Edward’s not your mother, Bella. But moving fast hardly ever works. When you’re in love, you just want to be with that person, sure. But love alone doesn’t make a relationship. Work does. Time. Commitment.”

“Ah, the three things Mom’s allergic to: time, work, and commitment.” Bella nods. “I get what you're saying. God knows I do. Renée’s relationships always left a very large path of destruction behind. Yours included, I’d say.”

“I don’t want you to think it was all on her when it came to us, kiddo,” Charlie says, his voice quieter now. “That wouldn’t be fair. I saw the signs, you know? I saw she wasn’t happy here. That she felt caged—by me, by this town, by the future we were supposed to have. I thought that... if I just tried harder, if I gave her space, maybe that would change. Maybe she’d feel different.”

“But she never did.”

“No. I was young and naive.”

“And brave,” Bella says, surprising them both. “While I’ll never agree with your taste, at least you had the guts to try. You put yourself out there, even knowing heartbreak was inevitable.”

Charlie raises his brows, clearly startled by her giving him credit. They didn’t usually talk about Renée. At least not like this.

“Sure, maybe I was brave. Maybe I was just… very, very stupid.” He says.

“Prabably. But they’re the same, aren’t they? Stupidity and bravery? It only depends on the outcome. If it works, you’re brave. If it doesn’t, you’re stupid.”

“Nicely said.”

“I do have my moments.” Bella hesitates,“Look, it’s just—you give people a lot of credit. More than they deserve. Sometimes that bites you in the ass in the end.”

“I know. But what’s the alternative? Not believing in anyone or anything at all? That’s not good either. I’ll always take the fall, Bells, if the other option is not even jumping.”

Bella feels a little called out—even though she knows his words weren't aimed for her. It was just hard not to take them that way when they fit so perfectly with who she was.

If living and dying by Renée’s whims hadn’t made Charlie’s faith in people evaporate… well, that made him a better person than Bella ever would be.

Naive at times? Sure. But a better person, nonetheless.

Maybe that's why his faith in people bothered her the way that it did. Because Bella could see herself in him. Because she could see how they both had been irreparably damaged by Renée.

Only, Charlie had risen above it, and Bella hadn't. Instead of having faith, of being an optimistic in the face of adversity, Bella had… she had become a realist. A skeptic.

“I always thought you were too naive, Dad. That you were fine pretending things were okay even when they weren’t. But it wasn’t that, was it?” Bella asks softly. “You didn’t pretend. You truly believed they would be okay. It wasn’t naivety... or complacency. It was just stupid, blind faith.”

And wasn't that something to behold.

Charlie tilts his head. “Yes,” he says simply.

“I can’t say I agree. Or that I’d ever be able to do the same. But I respect it. It takes a lot of courage.”

“Thank you.” He gives her a small smile. “But don’t give me too much credit, kiddo. Sure, I put myself out there for your mother, but I haven’t exactly tried to do that again, have I?”

“So maybe you're not that naive, huh?”

“Not that brave, actually.”

“Well. You’re not the only one who’s not putting themselves out there, so I can’t exactly judge you for it.”

Charlie gives her a knowing look. “Seems your mom managed to traumatize us both in that regard,”

"Sure." Bella deflects. If that was the only way Reneé had managed to traumatize her, Bella would've been fine. “Speaking of Renée—she called me yesterday.”

"To?"

“Be her insufferable self? To...hold on to some barely passable illusion that I would spend the holidays with her and Phil in Toronto? Who knows.”

His face falls. “Is that... something that you want? To spend the holidays with her?"

“Dear God, no,” Bella vehemently shakes her head. “Once you're out, you're out, right? There's no point going back.”

“This is your mother, Bells, not the mafia.”

“Sure. Whatever you say... Besides, I know for a fact she doesn’t want me there, okay? Not really. Renée just doesn't want me to spend it with you.”

“What?”

“It’s never about me. It’s only ever about her. She doesn't want me there, yeah, but the alternative is me being here, and that's worse.”

"What do you mean, that's worse?" Charlie seems... surprised.

"Remember the last time I came here, ten years ago?”

“Yes,”

“I loved it. I told her that... if it were up to me, I’d spend all my summers with you. She didn’t like that. Hated, actually. Kind of forbade me from coming here again after that.”

“Are you being serious?” Charlie voice is low, his anger barely contained.

“Yes. First place was already taken by her mother, Dad. She wasn’t about to let you have second.”

Bella doesn't explain that Renée had never wanted first place, in the first place. No. The responsibility of raising her had never been something her mother had wanted any part of it at any point in time.

“So you’re telling me that all those times I called, all the excuses she gave me… none of them were true?”

Bella bites her lip. “Honestly? Some maybe were. But all of them? It's highly unlikely. I was never that busy.”

“I can't believe this,” Charlie says, shaking his head. “I can't believe she would do that to me. To us."

“After everything she’s done, this is the part you still can’t believe?”

Maybe being a skeptic wasn’t so bad—not when the alternative was having stupid blind faith in Renée.

“I—” Charlie starts, but his mind is clearly racing. “I thought you were better off. That you didn’t want to see me. That you had better things to do. So I just…I just stopped reaching out. But it was never that, was it?”

“No. It was never that.”

“She played me. She played us. And I fell for it. I did exactly what she expected me to do. I gave up.”

“Yes. And God knows how that made her feel validated. The better parent."

“I’m so sorry, Bells,” Charlie says, his voice thick. “I should’ve tried harder. I should’ve seen it. I know this isn’t enough—I know there’s no excuse. But I’m sorry. I haven’t been the father you deserve. And your mother… well, it’s clear now she isn’t—”

“Dad.” Bella cuts him off gently. “It’s okay. I had Marie, and she was everything. Let’s not dwell on the past, alright? Things are different now."

“Yes. Yes, they are. I’m not going anywhere this time. I’ll be here. I promise.”

“I know. You’ve been great lately.” Bella smiles at him, soft and real. “Now, onto better subjects—what are our plans?”

“For Christmas? Whatever you want, Bells. Whatever you and Jacob want is fine by me.”

“Do you think it’ll be alright for him? First Christmas without Billy.”

“We’ll make it alright. He’ll be fine.” Charlie says, placing his hand over hers. “Now, Bella… about Billy. I know you haven’t told me everything that happened that day.”

She tries not to show how him how startled she is. “What do you mean?”

“C’mon, kiddo. I’m the chief of police. I knew something was off the moment you told me.”

“So why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because it was clear you didn’t want to talk about it. I tried to trust your judgment. Figured you had your reasons.”

“Thanks. That means a lot.”

“Still, after he came here, I paid him a visit. Told him to stay away for good, if he knew what was best for him.”

“I’m sure he loved that.”

“Yeah, can't say that he did. Just promise you’ll call me if he shows up again. He’s not in his right mind. Please be careful.”

“I will.” Bella couldn’t exactly tell him she already had a vampire family on standby.

“Okay.” Charlie exhales. “Don’t know if I’ve told you how happy I am that you’re here.”

“Not with words.”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Bella's taken aback by how true it sounds. “I am too.”

.

.

.

“So, you're going to the Cullens’?” Bella asks from the couch, lifting her head just enough to meet Jacob’s eyes.

He’s standing by the door like he’s about to storm a castle, but his stance doesn't match the mission. There’s hesitation there—doubt trying hard to dress up as resolve.

“Yes,” he says. Voice solid. Chin up.

Bella sets her book facedown on the arm of the couch. She can't say she wasn't…expecting this. Jacob wasn’t the type to let something go just because it got messy. Especially not if he thought someone else had dropped the ball.

And sure, Bella still thought he was giving way too much credit to a situation that had been deeply overblown—but she couldn’t exactly fault him for stepping up when Edward had stepped back. Perfect hair couldn’t be trusted to make a move, that much was crystal clear by now.

“Can I borrow Carol?” he asks, biting his lip as his eyes flick to the front door—where her keys hang on the hook like a dare.

Bella eyes him.

Jacob's hair falls perfectly around his shoulders, like he just rolled out of bed and still looked better than 90% of the population. If Bella dared to skip brushing hers like he always did for even one morning, she’d be mistaken for a woodland creature—not someone on a shampoo ad.

“If you’re going to resolve this unneeded drama, sure. If you’re going to create more drama, then no,” she says.

“It’s not unneeded.” He scoffs.

“Well… let’s agree to disagree, buddy.”

“Easy for you to say. If it were the other way around—if Rosalie was the one doing this to you…”

Bella shifts, crossing her arms. “I don’t know why you’re bringing her into this.”

“You see everything, don't you? Except the stuff that actually matters. Especially when it’s... personal.”

Bella doesn’t flinch. But there’s a pause. The kind where you pretend to be annoyed, because anything else might be too serious.

She scoffs, steady. “There’s nothing to see.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

“Weren’t you leaving?” Bella flicks her hand toward the door, voice flat. “The door’s that way. You should go before I change my mind about lending you Carol.”

Jacob doesn’t move.

“You know, you're awfully defensive about her,” he says, stepping closer. “Not just when I mention the two of you in the same sentence—but also when anyone says something about her that you don’t like.”

Bella narrows her eyes, slow and sharp. “Were you about to try?”

That makes him actually take a step back. “No. Was just trying to... prove a point.”

Bella leans back against the cushion. “You know,” she says, dry, “most of the time, you and Edward couldn’t be more different. Then you say stuff like this—and I...I see the resemblance.”

.

.

.

Bella sees the caller ID flash across her phone screen, trying—and—failing not to smile at the name that appears.

She wasn’t really in the mood for most people today—but the blonde didn’t count.

“Hey,” Bella answers, voice softer now. “What’s up?” She mutes the TV with her free hand.

After Jacob had blown through like a drama hurricane, she’d needed something stupid and loud to fill the quiet. Now, two hours later, Bella was half-buried in a blanket, still riding out the emotional wave he'd left behind.

“I need your advice,” Rosalie says, voice melodic, but clipped.

Bella grins. “I’m great at that.”

“I’ll reserve my judgment until I see it with my own eyes.”

“Of course you will. So… what’s so urgent you couldn’t text? Speaking of which, you do know that’s what people do now, right? Nobody calls anyone anymore. Just grandmas and debt collectors.”

“I’m calling you because the situation demands it.”

“Or maybe you just wanted to hear my lovely voice.”

Rosalie ignores her. “I need you to talk me out of committing a murder. Maybe three. The right number of bodies is still up in the air.”

“Hm. And what if I don't have a good reason this time?”

“Then I’m really in trouble here. You're usually the one reigning in my murderous impulses.”

“Maybe what you need from me today is an alibi, not a way out.”

“Bella.” Rosalie uses that tone—and Bella feels that thing she always does when Rosalie says her name like that. “If I were going to kill someone, I wouldn’t need an alibi. Nor would I need anything else.”

“Whatever you say, Dracula. I know you’re going for threatening, but you’re mostly giving off ‘conceited psychopath’ vibes.”

“Dracula?” Rosalie sounds offended. “Couldn’t you come up with something less cliché?”

“I can always call you princess if you prefer.”

“No. We’ve discussed this. Blondie it is.”

“But it's no fun now that you like it. How about… Aphrodite?”

Rosalie pauses. “That’s… better. But still a no.”

“Medusa’s got a nice ring to it."

“Excuse me?” Rosalie says, offended in a way that sounds almost delighted.

“I’ll think of something else. You’ll see.” 

“I’m sure you will.” Rosalie hums, noncommittal. “You had the right idea staying home today,” she says, and Bella can hear the tiredness in her voice now.

“I always have the right ideas.”

“Sure.”

“I do.”

“Sure. Edward’s being more of a dick than normal.”

“Didn’t know that was possible. What’s his problem?”

“Hell if I know. One would think that after patching things up with your friend, he’d be less insufferable—but no. And Alice isn’t helping either. She’s still bitter I managed to win yesterday.”

“I bet she is,” Bella says, wincing. Alice had lobbed plenty of threats her way before she left the Cullens’ house.

“Don’t think she’s not saving some of that for you,” Rosalie adds. “She’s been loudly announcing that I only won because you helped me in the end.”

Bella shakes her head. “I helped myself. God knows I wanted that game to end.”

“You could’ve helped her. If I recall, she even told us you would.”

“I’m allowed to change my mind, aren't I? Besides, between an enraged Alice and an enraged you? I’ll always pick her.”

“Smart. That’s why we’re friends.”

“More like loyal, but I’ll take the compliment.”

Rosalie chuckles, low. “So, what are you doing?”

“Being lazy. Watching my favorite reality TV show curled up in a blanket.”

“Please tell me it’s not The Bachelor. Alice made me sit through a season once, and I still haven’t recovered.”

“No, thank you. That show’s too heterosexual for my taste. If there was a Bachelorette where a horde of women competed for a rose from another woman, then I’d be invested.”

Bella can practically hear Rosalie’s eye-roll.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Because I’m a feminist,” Bella says, smirking. “It’s called Survivor, by the way. Ever seen it?”

“No. What’s it about?”

“Can’t really explain it. You just have to watch to understand. Lots of backstabbing and hidden alliances. Very Slytherin. You would love it, I'm sure.”

“I don’t know if I have the ability to love anything right now.”

“Fair point. I know what it’s like when someone’s getting on your nerves.”

“And what do you do when that happens?”

“I send them to your house,” Bella says, grinning when Rosalie laughs on the other end. “Wanna come over? We could watch the show together. You’d be free of everyone. At least for a while.”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

Bella tries, and fails, not to overthink this. “Do I seem like the kind of person who would offer to do something that would bother me in the end?”

“Yes,”

“Okay, that’s… fair. The offer still stands, though. It’d be more fun with you here.”

“I’ll be there soon,” Rosalie says, voice lightening.

Chapter Text

Charlie's living room is quiet, lit by the midday sun streaming through the windows.

It’s just past noon, maybe closer to one. Bella’s curled up in the corner of the couch, barefoot and half-wrapped in the throw blanket she keeps there. Rosalie sits at the opposite end, her socked feet tucked neatly beneath her, a picture of ease that’s somehow still sharp.

Bella hadn’t forgotten how good Rosalie looked in plain clothes. She hadn’t. But today—well, the jeans and the white T-shirt were the combination of a… dream. Or a nightmare.

It all depended on your outlook on life.

“Are you afraid of me?” Rosalie asks out of nowhere.

Bella frowns. “What?”

Rosalie tilts her head slightly, calm, almost amused, then gestures to the wide space between them on the couch.

Ah.

This again.

It wasn’t the first time Rosalie had implied something like this. Whenever Bella had edged away from her—consciously or not—the girl had responded with a look.

A pause. A kind of quiet assessment that made it hard to pretend it wasn’t happening, yes. But this was the first time Rosalie had actually said the words aloud.

And in a sense, Bella got it. She really did.

But a big part of her wanted to argue that it wasn't like they were on two different sides of the room right now. And maybe, just maybe, Bella wanted to be able to say that choosing to uphold some imaginary boundary that she'd put up in the first place didn't have to mean anything other than her being... respectful.

But unlike what Jacob had claimed that day in the car eons ago, Bella knew she wasn’t as good at lying to herself as she pretended to be.

Because yeah, she was afraid.

Afraid of how fast things were shifting between them. Afraid of how right it always felt.

Afraid of what would happen if she said it out loud. If she thought about it for too long.

Because the truth was that once that had a shape, once it became something spoken, then it could become something... real.

So Bella did the best that she could to avoid. To deflect. To lie—to herself—and to others, just to keep some sort of distance.

Even if said distance was flimsy, pointless and two feet wide.

”Are you afraid of me?” Rosalie asks again.

“You know, you’re the first of your family to ask me this. Why’s that?” Bella says, doing her best to sound casual.

Rosalie shrugs, cool and composed.  “Ironically, I think they’re afraid of your answer.”

“And you’re… not?” Bella doesn’t buy this act for even a second.

“I’m a big girl. I can handle rejection.”

Bella raises an eyebrow. “Rosalie, I’m not sure you’ve ever been rejected in your life. It’s okay to admit you wouldn’t handle it well. No shame in your lack of practice.”

“I can be good at something without having to practice.”

“Sure,” Bella says, rolling her eyes. “But at this, particularly? I don’t think so. Humility doesn’t suit you, and being a vampire definitely hasn’t helped. Although I do get the feeling that human-you wasn’t that different.”

Rosalie turns to face her more fully now, graceful and deliberate. “At being modest or at being beautiful?”

Bella meets her gaze and doesn’t look away. “At being both.”

“You didn’t need to find a fancy way to tell me I’m hot. The plain and direct one would’ve sufficed, Bella,” Rosalie says with a smug grin.

See? This is why some boundaries were needed. Flirting with Rosalie was way too easy—way too comfortable.

“I’m not responding to that. You’re obviously fishing, and I’m not biting. I’m smarter than your average human, you know. That won’t work on me, Hale.”

“Hale?” Rosalie lifts a brow. “Honestly, if I knew telling you that blondie was growing on me would relaunch your nickname campaign, I wouldn’t have said anything.”

“Well. Hindsight is 20/20.”

Rosalie gives her a look. “Are you going to answer my question or are you going to keep deflecting?”

“Deflecting? Me? With my reflexes?” Bella says deadpan.

Rosalie just stares.

“Fine. Okay. Yes. I’m a little afraid of you.” Bella’s voice drops slightly, more serious now. “Not because you're a vampire. But just because you're... you.”

Rosalie smiles. Not smug or sarcastic this time—just real. Warm.

Bella isn’t sure she heard it the way she meant it, though. Rosalie probably thought she was saying she was intimidating.

Not that Bella was scared because she was maybe, possibly… developing a major crush on her.

“I can live with that. What about the rest of my family?” Rosalie asks.

Bella sits up straighter. “I’ve seen Jasper with paint in his hair. Emmett crying because he landed at your hotel at Park Place. Alice trying to convince me she’s a Gryffindor with the most Ravenclaw logic ever. Esme watching cat videos on Youtube for hours. You guys are vampires, yes, but I’ve seen the… weird, human stuff. That part’s a lot harder to be afraid of.”

“Don’t tell Edward that,” Rosalie mutters. But something in her posture softens. “He’s convinced we're monsters. That we don’t have any humanity left... just the faint memory of what it meant to be human.”

“To a zebra, a lion is a monster,” Bella replies. “For someone who claims to be anything but human, Edward’s views are very much just that, aren’t they? He’s judging something that needs to kill to be alive, and he’s still viewing that through a moral lens.”

Rosalie nods slowly. “That’s the thing, though. I don’t think Edward truly believes we’re alive, Bella.”

“Because your hearts aren’t beating?” Bella shakes her head. “That’s a load of crap. You’re here, blondie. You feel things. You remember. You care. If that’s not life, I don’t know what is. Dead is dead. Gone. Dead is not being here.”

“He’s more... religious,” Rosalie says after a pause. “Less science, more soul. In his mind, we’re damned."

“Hell is here. Didn't anyone ever tell perfect hair that? Either way, I don't believe in any of that, Rosalie. Not in souls, or a God, or at any end that isn’t an end. When you die, in my mind, that's it. Game over. And if it isn’t over, well, then you’re—”

“Not dead?” Rosalie finishes for her, a faint smile playing at her lips. “You know, I’d pay good money to watch you tell my brother that.”

Bella wasn’t rich—far from that—but she wasn’t crazy. “Ah, I’m afraid not even all the money in the world could convince me to do that.”

“That's fair. Edward’s an acquired taste.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever manage to acquire it then,” Bella says. And for once, it's out loud. “I just can’t get over the things he did.”

Rosalie’s voice stays steady. “That’s fair. His behavior towards you has been abysmal.”

“I wasn’t talking about me. I was talking about you,” Bella says, turning to face her. Her voice is lower now, more honest. “I can't get over the things he did to you. The things he continues to do, every single day. In truth, unless Edward manages to change his behavior, I don't see us ever being able to move past our reluctant acquaintances stage."

There’s a beat of silence.

Then Rosalie tilts her head, expression unreadable. “I don’t think Edward’s changed once in the hundred years I’ve known him.”

“So I shouldn’t hold my breath?”

“Probably not. But let’s not talk about my brother anymore, Bella. I came here to escape him, after all.”

“Ouch.” Bella places a hand over her heart, mock wounded. “There goes my dream of thinking you were here because of me.”

Rosalie gives her a look. “I did tell you being delusional suited you.”

“I think I remember that conversation a little bit differently.”

“You would.”

“More confrontational.”

“What can I say?” Rosalie shrugs. “Being ignored doesn’t suit me.”

That was putting it mildly.

“Ignored? I wasn’t ignoring you.” Bella huffs.

Rosalie raises her brows. “You weren’t ignoring me before, and you’re not keeping your distance from me now. Is that it? I thought we had moved past your constant need to lie, Bella.”

“I’m not lying—not exactly.”

“What do you want me to call it then?”

“An embellishment of the truth?”

“Okay. Embellish this.” Rosalie gestures to the couch again. “If you're not keeping your distance, what are you doing?”

“I’m being respectful of your personal space.”

There. That was perfect.

Rosalie gives her a flat look. “You practically slept in my bed the other day, and I wasn’t even there. How’s that for respecting my personal space?”

“No. No, I didn’t.” Bella says, hyperventilating at the notion of sleeping in Rosalie's bed. That was… a dangerous avenue of thought to pursue. “I laid down. I had a concussion. That’s it. I definitely didn't sleep in the bed that you… also sleep in.”

Rosalie is visibly amused. “Okay. I just don’t get what the big deal is. I already told you things are different now.”

Bella groans. “Fine. Okay. All right.” She throws up her hands and scoots closer, closing the space between them. “Is this better? Are you happy?”

“Yes,” Rosalie says, with a smile that can only be described as predatory.

Bella gulps. This was a very bad idea. Bella needed boundaries. She needed them. Urgently.

“Can we watch the show?” she says, pointing to the remote in Rosalie’s hand.

"Yes. I don’t know why you haven’t let me start it yet, to be honest.” 

“You... you don’t know?” Bella says with a little more enthusiasm than necessary. “You were the one who didn’t press the button, woman.”

“Are you always this dramatic?”

“You know what, blondie? You’re lucky you’re hot. I’ve kicked pretty girls out of my house for less, I’ll have you know.”

Rosalie's so taken aback by her words that she fumbles with the remote, letting it fall to the ground. “I’m sorry, can you say that again? Did I hallucinate for a second, or did you just call me hot and pretty?”

“What, like this information is news to you? Let me remind you that I’m super, super gay, and you're… well, you,” Bella admits, before adding, “Also, can vampires hallucinate?”

“I don’t know, but I don't particularly care right now. I’m still stuck on the hot part.”

“Not the pretty? Interesting. Try not to let it get to your head, okay? God knows you're already insufferable enough as it is,” Bella says before reaching for the remote. It seemed Rosalie was too busy being smug to press play on it. “C’mon, let’s just watch this thing already.”

.

.

. 

“My lifelong dream is to be on this show, I swear,” Bella says, eyes fixed on the screen in front of her.

“You like the wild?” Rosalie asks, clearly dubious. “Mosquitos, rain, no food? Physical activity? Watching it is one thing, Bella. Doing it is something else entirely.”

“I hate the wild,” Bella admits, tightening the blanket around her legs. “But I’d suffer through it if Jeff Probst asked me to. What about you? Are you a fan of nature?”

“Not when I was human. But after... this, it comes with the territory. We go camping five times a year, minimum. Carlisle calls it ‘family bonding.’ Which is ironic, considering he misses most of them for work, but—” Rosalie cuts herself off, mouth tightening mid-sentence.

Bella waits for her to finish it, but she never does. “We’re in my house, blondie. You can finish that thought if you want to.”

Rosalie’s voice drops a little. “Some things are better left unsaid. Not because of you, Bella. Just... if I say it, then I’ll think about it. And then it's a whole thing. The best way to keep something private in my family is to pretend it doesn’t exist.”

Bella nods. She understands it. Not all of it, maybe, but enough.

Bella remembers what it was like living with Renée—how honesty only ever made her a target.

“I get it. It's okay. You don't have to say anything else.”

Rosalie glances over, something in her face softening. “Thank you.” Then, with a small smile: “You know, our next camping trip is the first week of January. You should come.”

Bella turns to her with an eyebrow raised. “Really? Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose of it being a family trip?”

“Edward invited Jacob today.” Rosalie shrugs, a little too sharply to be casual.

Bella registers it instantly. So that was part of the reason why she was here. “…So two wrongs make a right?”

“Exactly. No offense to Jacob, but at least you’ve made friends with the rest of the family. He just hangs around my brother. If Edward gets to invite someone, so do I.”

Bella blinks at her. The implication is clear—and a little surprising.

“Your brother’s become Jacob’s whole world. And that... that’s not healthy,” she says gently, not wanting to speak too harshly about her friend.

Rosalie sighs. “You can say that again. But let’s not talk about them. Let’s talk about the camping trip. Are you in?”

Bella snorts. “Me. Camping. Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Honestly? Probably not. But wouldn’t that be half the fun?”

“For you, blondie, sure. Not for me.”

“You’ve got time to think about it. There's no pressure. You know I won’t force you to go if you don't want to, right? That's kind of the point of inviting someone. They can always say... no.”

“I know,” Bella says. “It's just, somehow, I’m finding myself not totally opposed to this crazy idea.”

“Oh?” Rosalie's eyebrows raise. “If that's the case, you should prepare yourself. Emmett and Alice will find a way to sway you with their insistence, trust me.”

“Oh,” Bella repeats Rosalie's previous intonation. “I do. I’ve seen it first hand just how insistent they both can be when they want to.”

“Bella,” Rosalie’s tone is a mix of warning and incredulity. “With you, they’ve been operating on a thirty percent base. Prepare yourself for at least seventy when the camping trip is involved.”

“Seriously?”

That was a disturbing knowledge.

“Yes.” Rosalie nods, serious.

“Okay. Now I’m a little bit scared.”

.

.

.

Bella doesn’t know what episode they’re on, how many they’ve watched, or how long it’s been since Rosalie showed up in her house.

All she knows is that watching Rosalie is way more fun than watching the show. And that isn’t ideal—for anyone involved.

“I don’t know if I could sleep in those conditions,” Rosalie says, nodding at the screen.

“Huh?” Bella startles, doing her best to pretend she hadn’t been staring at Rosalie instead of the bug-infested shelter on TV.

“Look at this,” Rosalie says, incredulous, gesturing at the screen. “That shelter is a disgrace. How they’re managing to get any kind of sleep is beyond me.”

“Isn’t that a little rich coming from someone who sleeps in a coffin?”

“We don’t sleep in coffins and you know that,” Rosalie says, deadpan.

“Do I?” Bella arches a brow. “I don’t remember that day. Or the argument that broke out over who could go the longest without sleeping before they’d snap.”

From what she’d gathered, the one who could go longer without it had been Jasper, followed closely by Esme. Emmett, on the other hand, couldn’t last three days without losing it.

“I thought you were too busy reading your Kindle to pay attention.”

“What can I say? I’m a multitasker.”

Rosalie narrows her eyes. “If you were listening, what’s my limit?”

Bella leans in just slightly. “Five days, but that’s pushing it. To be safe, four.”

Rosalie huffs. But Bella catches the flicker of satisfaction in her eyes, like she’s secretly pleased to be noticed.

“Blondie,” Bella starts, knowing fully well she's about to step over one of the many boundaries she'd created between them. “Let me tell you a little secret. When it comes to you, I’m always paying attention.”

Rosalie’s eyes darken—not in warning, but something quieter. Heavier. “Liar.”

“I’m not lying this time,” Bella says. “And I’m not embellishing the truth either. Is my duty as your friend to... pay attention, isn’t it?”

Now, well, now she was lying.

Rosalie tilts her head. “As a friend, maybe. As a good friend? Certainly.”

“You know me, blondie. I’m always striving to be good.”

Rosalie doesn’t say anything else—no. She just turns to the TV. Bella tries to do the same—to actually focus this time, to watch the show.

But her heart’s not in it anymore, and Rosalie’s still right... there.

.

.

.

It was late now. The TV’s glow blinks through the dark as Bella shifts under the blanket.

Rosalie hasn't moved in a while—just stayed right where she was, socked feet on the floor, posture easy, one arm draped across the back of the couch.

Episode four had just ended, but before episode five could start, Rosalie had reached for the remote, pressing pause.

“Do you remember what you told me the other day?” Rosalie asks. “When you said you weren’t so good at opening up to people?”

Bella blinks, adjusting her posture as she sits up straighter.

“Vaguely,” she says, trying to play it light. But she could already tell from Rosalie’s tone—and the way she was fidgeting with her necklace—that this wasn’t a casual question.

“You said it’s not something you’re used to. Opening up,” Rosalie repeats.

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me why?” Her voice stays soft. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

Bella glances down, thumb brushing the edge of the blanket. “I guess we’re not watching the show anymore, huh?”

Rosalie gives her a small smile. “It’s late. I should be heading home. I just…” She looks over, holding Bella’s gaze. “I didn’t want to waste the chance to ask you when it’s just us. I know it’s different with my whole family around. This felt… easier.”

Bella nods, quietly grateful for how carefully Rosalie is asking.

“Okay,” she says after a pause. “It’s just—some habits are hard to break. With my mom, opening up was never safe. It was just something that gave her ammunition she could use against me later. It wasn’t something that brought us closer or made her understand me better. It just led to regret. And that made me... very wary of making myself vulnerable to anyone else.”

Rosalie’s expression shifts—no pity, just calm understanding. “I’m sorry, Bella. Was it always like that between you two?”

“No. Things just got worse after my grandmother passed away. No one to stand in the middle, I guess. That didn't help with everything else either. I lost the only person I had, the only certainty in my life. And at that point I knew that something had just... died inside me, you know?”

Rosalie doesn't rush to fill the silence. She just nods once, gently.

“It’s been hard rising above all of that,” Bella continues, voice low. “I’ve done what I could, but... yeah.”

Rosalie’s hand is still near her necklace, but now she isn't fidgeting—just holding it. “When did she pass away?”

“Almost four years ago.”

“That’s not so long.”

Bella shakes her head. “No. But I think I’ll always feel like it was yesterday. And... I’ll always feel like it’s been forever.”

Time could be funny like that, Bella had learned.

“You told me she raised you,” Rosalie says, gently trying to follow Bella’s past.

“Yes. My mom ran off from Forks when I was a baby. But she didn’t have anywhere to go besides my grandmother, who was living in Boston back then. It's where we stayed until she passed away. After that, Renée decided we needed a change of scenery, so we moved to Phoenix.”

“You didn’t want to go?”

“I didn’t care by then. Boston didn’t feel like home anymore, so I... I didn't fight it. But even if I had wanted to, it wouldn’t have mattered. When Renée makes up her mind, that’s it, blondie. There’s no room to argue. To question. You just have to… go with it.”

Rosalie’s eyes dim slightly. “I understand that,” she says. “When I was human, things weren’t like they are today, Bella. Women didn’t have a voice or a choice. It was always about marriage and children. And I... I wanted those things.”

“I probably would’ve been the same way if I’d lived back then,” Bella quietly agrees.

“You? No.” Rosalie scoffs. “You would have rebelled against it, Bella. You would have found a way to... escape it. I was too naive. Too pretty. Men wanted me, they desired me, and I welcomed it.”

“Why do I get the feeling this story doesn’t have a happy ending?”

“Because if it did,” Rosalie says, her voice unusually flat, “I wouldn’t be here.”

Bella doesn't answer right away. No. She reaches over instead, brushing her fingers lightly over Rosalie’s hand. 

“You don’t have to tell me about your past. Not if you don’t want to. Just because I offered you a glimpse into mine doesn’t mean you owe me anything, okay?”

“I do want to tell you." Rosalie sighs. "Just not... today. I’m sorry, Bella.”

“Hey,” Bella gives her hand a quick squeeze. “We have all the time in the world. There's no need to rush it.”

Rosalie glances over, smug grin in place now. “I have all the time in the world. You, on the other hand…”

“I’m going to ignore your jab at my mortality for the sake of our friendship,” Bella replies dryly.

Rosalie smirks.

Bella leans back into the couch with a sigh. “Next time you need space from your brother, Rosalie, I won't offer my services again.”

“You wouldn't dare.”

“Oh, I would. No Survivor marathon for you next time, no. You’ll have to suffer.”

Rosalie gives her a knowing look. “Keep telling yourself that, Bella. But I know the truth. You want me here.”

Bella shakes her head. “Last time I checked, blondie, it took two to tango. If I want you here, you want to be here."

“I know. I never said that I didn't,"

She hadn’t. That was true. Also… kind of the problem.

Chapter Text

There were too many colors. Too many reds, too many blues, and at least five different Santas with unsettling grins.

It looked less like a Christmas tree and more like The Grinch had given decorating another shot—only he’d been drunk and blindfolded.

Bella nudged a crooked Santa to the left. It bobbed back into place like she hadn’t moved him at all.

Charlie called this tradition. Bella called it a crime against symmetry. One of them was wrong, and it wasn’t her.

The cinnamon-scented candle he insisted on lighting every year had already started to melt, pooling near a stack of old coasters that hadn’t seen a drink since the early 2000s.

Jacob was humming from the couch—off-key and too loudly—to Mariah Carey’s All I Want for Christmas Is You.

It was different than what she was used to. Messier than Christmases with Marie had been. Louder. But it was warm, just the same.

“C’mon, Bells, why the long face?” Charlie asks, leaning forward to hang another glittering snowflake from a branch that was already sagging. “This is supposed to be the happiest time of the year.”

“I thought that was when basketball season started,” Bella says, one brow arched. “This tree is giving my OCD a heart attack.”

“It looks pretty,” Jacob says from the couch, shrugging.

“Sure. Pretty bad,” Bella mutters. There were clashing patterns and no discernible color scheme—just a chaotic pile of ornaments Charlie had collected over the years, probably on clearance from a dozen different Walmart sales.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have put that many things on the right side of it, Jake,” Charlie admits, tilting his head. “I think it’s getting kind of crooked. Should we take some of it out?”

Bella rolls her eyes, but her mouth twitches. “Any answer here besides yes is definitely wrong. But lucky for you both, I’m leaving that task in your capable hands.” She grabs a dishtowel from the back of the sofa, slinging it over her shoulder. “I’ll be in the kitchen. I’m not risking another Thanksgiving fiasco, no sir. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“That wasn’t our fault,” Jacob says, instantly defensive. “We followed the recipe. How could we predict that most of the food would turn out to be inedible?”

Bella raises a brow. “Okay. Whose fault it was then, the universe’s? The kitchen’s?”

“Yes.”

“Which one?”

He tries not to laugh. “Both.”

“Well, I’m not in the mood to have pizza for Christmas, so…” Bella trails off, waving a hand towards the tree. “Let me know when it’s safe to place my gifts under it without risking structural collapse.”

“I’m still impressed you had them two weeks in advance,” Charlie says, stepping back to squint at the tree in front of him.

“I always try to. I hate last-minute shopping. Especially at Christmas.”

Jacob narrows his eyes. “I'm still feeling very betrayed by that, you know. Why didn’t you invite me to go to Seattle with you?”

“Because I didn’t go to Seattle alone.” Bella explains for the hundredth time. “I went with Emmett and Jasper. They invited me. I couldn’t exactly add guests to the roster.”

A trip to Seattle wasn’t a party. Bella couldn’t just invite someone along for the ride.

“Yes, you could,” Jacob argues. “You could’ve said, ‘Hey guys, I’m inviting my dear friend Jacob to this trip. You know, the guy you’ve all conveniently forgotten.’”

“Jacob, come on. If you’d made even the tiniest bit of effort with Edward’s siblings, they would’ve asked you to come. But you don’t. All you do when you’re there is hang out with Edward. You can’t blame them—or me—for the consequences of that.”

Charlie nods, chewing thoughtfully on a candy cane. “Bella’s got a point, kiddo.”

“It’s not my fault they don’t like me,” Jacob mumbles, his arms crossed.

“It’s definitely your fault.” Bella doesn't try to sugarcoat it. “I’ve told you a million times that you should try to get to know them. If not for yourself, then at least for Edward’s sake. They’re his family, Jake—and you’re his boyfriend now—that comes with, I don't know... a bare minimum clause of effort. Maybe you guys won’t click, sure, but you can’t just sit in the corner like you’re doing them a favor just by being there. You have to try.”

“Dating someone is hard.” Jacob whines before sighing dramatically. “I should’ve listened when Taylor Swift said that.”

Bella didn’t think the singer had ever said those exact words, but she wasn’t about to argue with a fan.

“That’s why we don’t do it. Right, Bells?” Charlie holds his hand up, waiting for Bella to give him a high five.

She slaps his palm without hesitation. “Exactly.”

Jacob makes a face. “Yeah, that’s not as amusing as you guys think it is. It’s just sad.”

Bella flips him off before disappearing into the kitchen, the smell of cinnamon following her like a blanket.

.

.

.

Jacob lets out a frustrated sound, knife tapping uselessly against the cutting board.

Bella isn’t sure if he’s annoyed by her or the potatoes he’s failing to dice properly. Possibly both.

“Jake, you haven’t even tried,” Bella tells him again, her voice low. “That’s the thing—you haven’t.”

She knows he probably won’t listen. He never really had, not when it came to this. But Bella still has to try—still has to give this one more go before she washes her hands clean of the situation altogether.

“I’m not you, though,” Jacob says, not daring to look at her. “I don’t fit in when I’m with them. You do. I know that no matter how hard I try, things won't ever be like that for me.”

“So you just won’t try at all?” Bella asks, chopping tomatoes into little cubes with quiet precision. “God, Jake. I’m not saying you have to braid hair with Alice and start a podcast with Emmett. Just try to get to know them. To have conversation that isn’t about Edward, or Edward-related. It won’t be that hard, trust me. They’re nice. Funny. Smart.”

Jacob snorts. “Don’t you think it’s ironic we’re here now? That you're the one trying to make me interact with them? Can you even remember a time you wanted nothing to do with the Cullens?”

“Yes,” Bella says flatly. She could remember just fine, thank you very much.

“It doesn’t seem like you do.” He grins.

“It’s called personal growth, Jacob. You should try it sometime,” Bella says. “Unlike what you’re suggesting, though, mine didn’t exactly happen out of nowhere. It took time. Work. And—”

“Fate intervening?” he finishes for her, smirking.

“I don’t believe in fate.”

“Maybe you should.”

Bella sighs. “Why? If you can give me a good enough reason, I’ll consider it.”

“A good enough reason for you?” Jacob shoots her a look. “That’s impossible.”

“You’re impossible,” she says, flicking a piece of tomato at him. "Stop changing the subject."

He catches it. Pops it in his mouth. “I'm not.”

“You absolutely are.” Bella points her knife at him before realizing it, then sets it back down with a muttered, “Don’t make me stab you.”

“Okay, fine.”

“Look.” Bella sighs. Why was this so hard for him to understand? “It’s your choice. You can try to do things differently. Or you can keep doing what you’re doing. It's your choice, like always. But... whatever you decide, Jake, you'll have to live with the consequences. You can’t get pissed every time they ask me to come over and not you. That’s not fair—to them, or to me.”

Bella doesn’t say how immature this all is—how he's being. How he's acting. No.

She doesn’t even point out that it’s exhausting for everyone who’s involved.

“Fine. I’ll try.” Jacob finally says. “Do you have any tips?”

Bella pauses. If this had come from him weeks ago, she might’ve thrown a parade. Now? She has to fight against the urge to be harsh.

“You’re spending New Year’s at their house. You’re going on the January camping trip. If you can’t figure out that those are perfect opportunities to try something different, then I’m washing my hands clean of this. You’re clearly a lost cause already.”

“Do you think it’ll work? I’ve been feeling some…hostile energy from the lately.”

Bella shrugs. “I don’t know, Jake. But if you’re serious—really serious—I’ll help."

Jacob looks surprised. “You would do that?”

“Yes.”

After all, she’d done worse for less.

Bella hadn’t forgotten her conversation with Edward. How she’d pushed him to try harder with Jacob. How, despite agreeing to it, Edward hadn’t done a single damn thing. Pretty boy wasn't someone whose words you could count on—that was for sure.

“Thank you.”

She waves him off. “That’s what family’s for, right?”

Jacob smiles, pleased. “So…what about you? Are you going on the camping trip, or bailing on us?”

Ah. The million-dollar question.

“I don’t know. Probably not. Camping’s not really my thing.”

And after everything, Bella didn’t know if spending a few days next to Rosalie was a good idea. Not when she was unfortunately catching feelings.

Maybe what she needed instead was to quarantine. Was to let all of them go without her, was to spend those days alone—away from the blonde.

Jacob doesn’t buy it. “Yeah, right.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He raises an eyebrow. “C’mon, Bells. It’s Rosalie. It’s spending time with Rosalie. You’re going, and we both know that.”

Bella groans. “This again?”

He sets down his knife and leans against the counter.

“Hey. I know I haven’t been a good friend to you when it comes to this. I’ve been kind of terrible, actually. Instead of helping, I’ve found a way to make a stupid comment or remark about it, every time I could. It’s just…I’m not blind, Bells. And I’ve seen firsthand just how happy you are every time you two are together. Rosalie’s different too, when you're around. She’s always laughing." Jacob pauses. “So now I’m gonna say what you’ve said to me a thousand times already—what’s the worst that could happen if you tried?”

Bella drags a hand through her hair.

“Death? Heartbreak? Death again? There’s a very long list, Jake.” She lowers her voice. “And that’s not even getting into the long-term stuff. What kind of future could we possibly have? She’s a vampire and I’m... human. I don't want to be a vampire, and I don't want to die. Aren't those two, like, our only options if the worst happens?"

Jacob stares at her. “Wait. You don’t want to be a vampire?”

Bella shakes her head. Of course, this was the thing he would focus on after the whole speech she just gave him. “Jacob, why in hell would I want that?”

He looks stunned. “Because you’d be immortal? Strong? A freaking force of nature?”

“I don’t want any of that. Living forever? I’ve been living for the past seventeen years and let me tell you something, Jacob, I’m already tired. Power, strength? How about the hunger? You’re only focusing on the good and you’re not even thinking about the bad.”

And wasn’t that Jacob in a nutshell.

“It’s not my fault I’m optimistic.”

“You’re not being optimistic, Jacob. You’re only being naive.”

“I think you’re getting away from the point, Bells.”

“The point?” Bella’s starting to lose her patience here. “The point is that even if I wanted to start something, and I don't by the way, this is just... conjecture, Jacob. There's no future in it,” she says, tired. “You may love this two different worlds lovers vibe, but me? I just look at it and I start to feel sick to my stomach because I know it can’t end well.”

“The future? The end? Bells, I’m not saying you should marry the girl. I’m just talking about hooking up, making out. Having fun, you know?”

“God. Could you be more any more dense? It’s no wonder women keep flocking towards our side of the force these days. Men are just clueless.”

“I’m gay,” Jacob says, frowning. “I don't think this applies to me. Besides, It's not my fault I didn't know it was like... serious. You haven’t said a word about your feelings to me, but I should've guessed.” He looks down, shaking his head and muttering what sounds like ‘lesbians’ under his breath.

“It's not serious. There's nothing to be... serious about.” Bella's eyes twitch. “Do you know what conjecture means?”

“Do you know what ‘liar, liar, pants on fire’ means?”

Bella narrows her eyes. “You do know it’s kind of thirty percent your fault we’re in this situation, right? If you had some god damn sense you would’ve never figured out the Cullens were vampires and we wouldn’t be here. Always looking over our shoulders in fear."

“I’m not constantly looking over my shoulder.” Jacob says.

“Well maybe you should, Jake. This isn’t a game.” Bella leans forward now, worried. “You’re the one dating Edward. And I do love that you’re happy. I do. But some part of you needs to think ahead. Aren't you worried?”

“I am now,” he mutters. “I was just trying to live in the moment.”

“I know. I get it. It’s just…I worry, Jake. About you, about all of us. About what will happen. I don’t want you to have blind faith, okay? This isn’t something that’ll work itself out.”

“I know. I get what you're saying.”

They fall into silence. Outside, the wind rattles against the window above the sink.

“Let’s change the subject,” Bella says, shaking her head. “Charlie could walk in, and if there’s one thing we don’t want—”

“—It’s him knowing the truth,” Jacob finishes. “Ignorance really is bliss, huh?”

“In this case?” Bella says, softly. “A hundred percent.”

.

.

.

“This looks delicious, Bella,” Charlie says, smiling as he settles into his seat. “I don’t even know what I’m going to eat first.”

“The turkey?” Jacob suggests with a grin. “Always a classic. Very traditional.”

“You can pick whatever you want, Dad,” Bella says, already reaching for the mashed potatoes. “Tradition’s just what we decide to make with each other. Not the other way around.”

“My my. You’re quite the poet, aren't you?” Jacob asks, arching a brow.

"Yes, if you must know,” Bella sighs dramatically. "I was trying to keep it under wraps, but unfortunately, you dragged my gift into the limelight. I just didn’t want to make you feel like the underachiever of the family, Jake. At least not on Christmas eve.” 

“It’s kind of nice to be, though, isn't it?” Jacob says, grabbing a big piece of turkey. “Nowhere to go but up.”

“Can we eat?” Charlie asks, amused.

“By all means,” Bella nods. “And hey, the decorations actually look half-decent. Good job, Dad.”

“Didn’t know you had it in you, Charlie,” Jacob adds, mouth already half-full.

“Neither did I,” Charlie admits, helping himself to more stuffing. “Guess I’ve still got a few tricks left.”

“Now if only you could figure out how Instagram works,” Jacob says, dodging a half-hearted swat from Charlie.

Bella looks over. “Was he always like this, or did living with us made it worse?”

“I think it’s your fault, kiddo,” Charlie says. “Before you moved in, he seemed pretty normal.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“Hey,” Jacob protests. “I’m still in the room.”

Charlie frowns. “Did you hear something, Bells?”

“No. Just this weird noise.”

It’s Jacob’s turn to flip her off.

.

.

.

“Are you guys ready to go to the Cullens?” Charlie asks as soon as Bella and Jacob come down the stairs. He’s planted on the couch in his faded Christmas sweater, remote in hand, flipping through channels like it’s a serious task. “Want a ride?”

Bella waves him off. “We’re taking Carol.”

Charlie nods, still clicking the remote. “Drive safe. No speeding.”

“C’mon, it’s me,” Bella says. “I never speed.” She gives him a look—amused, knowing. “Also, this routine? Not fooling anyone. You’re not looking for something to watch—you’re just waiting for us to leave so you can put on Home Alone.”

Charlie glances up, eyes wide. “How’d you know that?”

“I’m the daughter of the chief of police. Give me some credit.”

“Yes, Charlie. Give her some credit,” Jacob adds, mock-serious.

“We’ll be back before midnight,” Bella says, pulling on her coat.

“Have fun,” Charlie tells them.

Jacob waves from the door. “Try not to cry at the end.”

Charlie stares, scandalized. “How’d you know that?”

They don’t answer—just close the door behind them, already laughing like lunatics.

.

.

. 

Alice hugged her like it’d been years, not three days since they had last seen each other.

“I’m so glad you’re here.”

The Cullens were waiting behind Alice, soft waves of cheer and overdressing. Lights wrapped the banister like ivy and there was an actual, real, pine tree in the middle of the living room.

Because of course there was.

Bella barely had any time to look at anything else before Jacob almost ran off towards Edward, already pretending to be too cool to greet anyone else.

“B, you know you didn’t need to get me anything.” Alice’s eyes light up as soon as she spots the bag of gifts in Bella’s hand.

“And yet you’re very thrilled that I did,” Bella says, setting the bag on the polished floor with a grin. “Aren’t you?”

Alice gasps. “Am I that predictable?”

If there was one thing her friend loved, that thing was receiving gifts.

“Yes,” Emmett answered immediately. “Now, do you think it would be possible for you to stop monopolizing our guest? I want to say hi.”

“You're just jealous that B likes me more than she likes you, Em,” Alice huffs. “It's not my fault I’m more adorable than you are,"

“Lie,” Emmett says, wounded. “Mom, settle this, please—who’s more adorable? Me or Al?”

Esme, smiling indulgently as she crosses the room, says, “All my children are equally adorable. Now can we please let Bella say hi to the rest of the family?”

“Not a real answer,” Emmett mumbles, but he moves aside so that Jasper can swoop in.

“Hey, Bella.” His hug is brief but soft all the same. "Don't mind them. They’ve already had way more wine than they should’ve,” he murmurs.

“It’s Christmas eve,” Bella shrugs, not bothered by their antics. “They should have fun.”

“Someone understands,” Emmett beams.

“Someone won’t have to deal with both of you later,” Jasper counters.

“I’ll take Emmett,” Esme offered, kissing Bella’s cheek. "How's that?"

“Worse for you, Ms. C,” Bella says, smiling.

Esme answers with one of her own. “We’re so glad you’re here.”

“Thanks for having us,” she glances around. “Right, Jacob?” she urges him on, but her friend is nowhere to be seen.

Before Bella can ask them if they know where he is, Rosalie steps out of the kitchen and into the living room like a mirage.

Then, all Bella can focus on is the red sweater. The white skirt. The bare legs.

“Jacob’s with Edward,” Rosalie says when she reaches Bella, her voice as calm and lethal as usual. “Upstairs.”

Bella can't help but... stare at her. “Blondie.”

Rosalie arches a brow. “Bella.”

"Blondie?” someone whispers behind them.

Bella doesn't even turn to see who. "Fancy seeing you here," she grins.

“Is it?" Rosalie doesn't look impressed. "I was starting to think you were going to be a no-show today,”

“Is that your fancy way of saying you were missing me?” Bella asks, soft and amused.

“She was watching the door every three minutes,” Emmett adds from behind Rosalie, clearly thrilled to be stirring the pot.

Rosalie narrows her eyes like the action is enough to incinerate him. “Excuse me? I was not.”

“Tsk tsk,” Bella says, shaking her head. “There’s no need to lie, Rosalie.”

The blonde chuckles.

“You’re in a good mood today.”

“I am.”

It was almost Christmas. And for the first time in four years, Bella was getting to spend the day nowhere near Renée.

If that wasn't enough cause for a celebration, nothing would ever be.

”Who’s gonna tell Edward and Jacob they should be here with us?” Emmett shakes his head. “Because I’m not doing it.”

Bella sees how everyone's nodding. Even Carlisle looks mildly bothered, which is saying a lot since the Doc always looks… normal. 

“I’ll go in a minute,” Esme says, always the peacemaker. “Don't worry.”

Next to her, Alice is too busy digging through Bella's bag like a raccoon to voice her opinion on the matter.

“What are you doing?” Bella asks. “You're not supposed to break the midnight rule, Al!”

Alice looks up, utterly unrepentant. “I thought you were kidding when you said that, B.”

“Can't you see the future?”

“So?”

Bella throws her hands up in the air. “You already know what’s in there!”

“Knowing isn’t the same as having.”

“I don't care. You're not supposed to break the rule. None of you are.” Bella says, pointing around the room in mock warning. “I’m going to put my gifts under the tree before anyone else can get the same brilliant idea Al just did.”

“You might need some help,” Carlisle says, already stepping forward. “Someone got a little carried away this year, and there’s hardly room left under the tree.”

Alice batts her eyelashes. “What can I say? I’m a good sister. A good friend. A perfect daughter.”

“Or a shopaholic,” Jasper adds dryly.

“Lead the way, Doc,” Bella says to Carlisle, grabbing her bag. “Let’s go before this turns into an argument.”

.

.

. 

Rosalie was acting weird.

Not the usual kind of weird, either. This one was… different.

It was quiet and knotted, like something pulling tight under the surface.

While everyone—yes, even Edward and Jacob—floated between conversation and chaos in the living room, Rosalie stood off to the side.

Both of her hands were busy fidgeting with the delicate gold chain at her throat, while her gaze focused past the windows. Past the forest. Miles and miles away.

Bella didn’t approach her. No. At least, not at first.

She knew that kind of distance. Knew how loud the world could get when you were trying to hold yourself together.

So Bella just watched.

And when Rosalie used the world’s most off-key rendition of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas—courtesy of Emmett and, presumably, more wine—as a cover to slip out unnoticed, Bella quietly followed her out back.

.

.

.

Outside, the grass was a little wet with dew and the sky was unusually bright, the first few stars of the night flickering through.

Rosalie sat with her knees bent and her arms wrapped around them, her hair tumbling over one shoulder, her skin pale in the moonlight.

Bella walked towards her quietly, and when she settled besides the blonde, she was careful not to touch her.

She was close, yes, but not enough to count as anything more than a presence. Anything more than a comforting... body.

"Hey," Rosalie greets her, but doesn't turn.

“You alright?" Bella’s voice is soft, like a breath against the cold.

“I just needed some fresh air.” Rosalie answers and Bella doesn't press her for more.

No.

Bella tilted her head back, following Rosalie’s gaze toward the sky, even if she wasn’t really quite seeing what the blonde was.

Instead, Bella was sneaking glances at the girl—at the curve of Rosalie’s wrist, the faint clench in her jaw, the way her necklace chain trembled between her fingers.

At the sight of said necklace, Bella's fingers involuntarily go searching for her jacket pocket. There she feels the familiar shape of Rosalie's present. Still there. Still hers to give.

Bella doesn't know if this is the right time to do this, or if this is the right place, but... it feels like it is, so she pulls the box free, placing it gently on top of Rosalie's skirt.

“I got this for you,” Bella says, her voice rasp and low.

Rosalie finally turns, staring at Bella with a newfound intensity.

"I know it’s not midnight yet. And that I should've put your present with the others under the tree, but I..." Bella trails off, trying hard not to sound like her heart was hammering against her chest. “I guess I wanted to give it to you in person.”

Rosalie looks down at the box, then up at Bella. Her face is unreadable. “You got me something for Christmas?”

“Should I pretend I don’t know you also got me a present?” Bella asks, lifting a brow. “Alice’s been vibrating with the need to spill what it is all week long.”

Rosalie’s mouth quirks up. “Alice should mind her own gifts.”

“If she did, she wouldn’t be Alice.”

Rosalie doesn't argue with that statement. She also doesn't open the box.

“You can unwrap it,” Bella says, trying not to sound nervous. “Just… don’t tell Alice I made this exception for you. She’ll start a riot.”

“She probably already has.”

"Maybe not." Bella tilts her head. "After all, she did help me… choose."

"What do you mean?"

"I texted her a photo before I bought it. Didn’t want the risk of getting it wrong."

“That’s… considerate.”

”You know me. Considerate is my middle name.”

Right next to liar liar, and before ‘nursing a major crush on you’.

Rosalie doesn’t say anything this time. No—she just opens the box, and when she does, her breath hitches.

The blonde touches the necklace with a gentleness Bella hadn’t been expecting.

The chain was short, gold, almost weightless—dotted with tiny, glinting beads that caught the light like sparks. It was simple. Barely there. But it shimmered, subtly, like something alive.

“Bella,” Rosalie says—just her name, soft and startled, like a question and a prayer all at once.

“I remember how you told me that the one you always wear means something to you. That it’s one of the only things you still have from your human life." Bella explains, a little more sure now. "And I thought, maybe, that this one would go perfect with it. Not as a way to replace it, I’d never do that—but just…as a way to complement it." Her voice falters.

Rosalie’s doesn't. “I love it,” she says, steady now. Warm. Fierce. “It’s... beautiful.”

“Only fitting,” Bella says without thinking.

Rosalie stares. Soft. Unguarded. Then she holds out the new necklace for Bella to take it.

She does.

“Would you put it on me?” Rosalie asks, but doesn't wait for Bella to answer her.

No.

Rosalie turns, brushing her hair aside, revealing the curve of her neck and the original necklace already resting there—a fine gold chain, longer, with a small round pendant pressed flat to her skin.

Bella had never noticed the details in the pendant before, but now she could see the faint shape of a rose on it, etched delicately into the gold like a memory.

Bella's fingers weren’t steady, yet they brushed softly against the blonde’s skin. Once, then twice. Rosalie exhaled hard, before letting out a little breathless sigh.

“Sorry,” Bella whispers, but she’s too close, and Rosalie shivers as a result of it.

"It's alright," 

Bella tries to concentrate, tries not to breathe, tries not to... there. The clasp clicks into place.

Rosalie turns around.

“I know this probably isn’t the right moment, Bella. But there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you. About me. About my past.”

Bella’s heart tighten. “Okay.”

“I never told you my story. And I think… I’d like to.”

“Are you sure?”

“No. But if I wait until I’m sure, I never will.”

Bella nods. “Alright. But, Rosalie, whatever you tell me? It won’t change how I feel about you. About us. Our friendship,"

“That means more than I can say.”

Rosalie takes a breath.

“When I was human, things were different than they are now, Bella. Back then, there were rules. Expectations. Things a woman should want. And I... did want them. I wanted... that perfect life. Marriage, kids, a future. That was the dream—my dream. I never once questioned it…I never once saw anything else besides that for me."

Bella stays still. She doesn't interrupt. In all honesty, she barely even breathes.

"There was a man. Royce King. He was handsome. Powerful. Everyone in town wanted him... but he wanted me. Soon, we were engaged. I thought I was in love." Rosalie shrugs, but it's soft. Timid. Unsure. "Now I know I was only in love with the idea of love. With the safety of knowing I was one step closer to my dreams. To the perfect picture I had painted in my mind. And Royce... well, he was Royce."

Her eyes close for a second, and Bella’s heart squeezes in her chest.

"He loved to parade me around town, Bella. To let everyone see and know that I was soon about to be his. They all thought we were the perfect match—the perfect couple—including me. But that was far from the truth. Royce... he was cold sometimes. Angry. Especially if he had some drink in his hands."

Bella’s stomach clenches.

“The day before our wedding, I went to see my friend, Vera. We talked for so long that I just... I lost track of time. When I left her home to walk to mine, It was already dark out. I didn't think there would be a problem... we lived so close to one another, Bella, and I—just… couldn't predict or envision what would be waiting for me in the corner of the street where I lived."

Rosalie pauses. She takes a second. She blinks. Bella, sensing her hesitation, puts one of her hands on top of her trembling ones.

“Royce was there. Drinking with his friends, and they were... wasted." Her voice is low. Sharp and hard. "He saw me, and he called me over. I was apprehensive, but I joined him. I joined them. Remember how I said Royce liked to parade me around town?”

Bella doesn't want to nod, but she does.

“That night, well... he was determined to show his friends just how beautiful I really was.” Rosalie chuckles, but it's bitter. “I couldn't understand what was happening, not until it was too late. Not before he attacked me. Not before he managed to take my clothes off.”

Bella’s throat tightens. Her hands grip Rosalie’s harder now.

“His friends, at first, only laughed. Then... they joined him.” Rosalie doesn't blink. "After they were done with me, they just left me there. Half dead and laying in a pool of my own blood."

Bella felt sick. She felt rage. She felt... lost.

"Carlisle found me. He and Edward. They tried to help me, but it was already too late. I wasn’t dead, but I was about to be.”

“He transformed you." Bella manages to say, somehow. Her voice is raw, hoarse, but it’s still there. "Carlisle.”

“Yes. He wanted me to have a chance to live again.” Rosalie shakes her head. “The funny thing is, Bella... he never asked me if I wanted that."

“You didn’t want this life.”

"No. I never chose it. I resented it, for a long time. I still do, sometimes.” Rosalie admits. “I know it’s been a hundred years, give or take, but like you said the other day, well. It’s been hard rising above.”

Bella presses her lips. “Time's not absolute. It’s relative,” she doesn’t mean to keep talking, but the words come out anyway. "It moves differently depending on how fast you’re going, or how close you are to something massive. It stretches. Lingers. Slows down, and speeds up. I think it’s the same with grief. With regret. With trauma. You could live a hundred years and still be stuck in the same second. In the same moment."

Rosalie stares at her, surprised. “You’re really quoting Einstein to me right now?”

“Better than quoting Newton, am I right?” Bella offers her a quiet smile.

Rosalie answers with one of her own.

“Sure.”

“Hey, blondie,” Bella’s voice is serious now. “I am... sorry. About what happened to you. About the fact you didn't have a choice in any of this. I'm sorry about Einstein, and Newton. About Royce King, and all of his fucking friends. If any of them were still alive, I would kill them. Gladly. Slowly. Happily. One by one.”

“I’m afraid you’re a bit too late, Bella." Rosalie sighs, tilting her head. "I already took care of that. It was actually the first thing I did after I was turned. I put on my wedding dress, and I got my revenge.”

“Good.”

“Not bad?”

“No. Not bad. Good. Right. Fair, if that even exists in this scenario,” Bella tells her. "I do have to say, though, the dress? That was a nice touch. Very you."

Rosalie chuckles, then she leans, slowly, until her head is resting on Bella’s shoulder. Their hands stay laced between them, resting in the grass.

“Would you mind if we stayed here for a little while?”

Bella exhales. Slow and soft.

“We can stay for as long as you want, blondie.”

.

.

.

In retrospect, going back inside probably hadn’t been one of Bella and Rosalie’s brightest ideas.

Sure, they’d only been gone twenty minutes—but apparently, that was plenty of time for Emmett to scheme with another Cullen behind their backs.

It shouldn't have taken Bella by surprise. Yet, it did.

She’d been too busy checking the time on her phone—counting how many minutes were left before she and Jacob had to leave—to realize Rosalie had stopped just inside the doorway.

Not frozen. Not hesitant. Just still.

It was the stillness that tipped her off. Rosalie was never still unless she meant it. And after today, Bella knew what it could symbolize when she did.

Wanting to understand her reaction, Bella followed Rosalie's gaze up.

Then she closed her eyes.

Perched directly above their heads, there was a stupid little plant. Mistletoe, to be more precise.

What the fucking fuck.

“Oh, how unlucky,” Emmett calls, sounding far too delighted to be convincing.

And now, the rest of the family plus Jacob were looking at them. Carlisle’s amusement was subtle. Alice’s grin was anything but.

Esme appeared to be apologetic, and Jasper had at least the decency to look mildly ashamed.

Rosalie didn’t say anything—didn’t move, didn’t blink—but Bella could practically feel the rage radiating off her.

And Emmett, of course, was grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

“Seems you’ve been chosen,” he says, gesturing dramatically upward.

Bella glances at Rosalie, then at Emmett, then back at the blonde. Something in Bella's chest twists.

After everything Rosalie had just shared—all that history, all that hurt—this wasn’t funny. This wasn’t harmless.

This was just somebody else making another choice for her.

Bella steps forward slightly. She could feel Jacob’s eyes from near the door, wide and pleading— do something—he mutters. And she wanted to. But what exactly?

Emmett was still laughing. “C'mon, guys. Midnight’s fast approaching. Bella’s gotta get home, right?”

“Emmett,” Rosalie says lowly. “I hope you’re enjoying this. Because I am seconds away from killing you,” she scans the room. “Who helped him?”

No one spoke.

Jasper shrugged and turned to face the fireplace. Alice busied herself with an ornament. Esme took a sudden interest in the lights.

Edward just stood there, like he wasn't even in the room. Jacob, though, had shakes his head quickly, trying to let Rosalie know he’s was not to blame.

Bella let out a slow breath. God, what a mess. She reaches over, nudging Rosalie’s arm gently, just enough to get her to look at her.

“Hey.”

Rosalie’s eyes flicked to hers. “Hi.”

It was strange, how everything else faded when that happened. How the air shifted again, like it had when they’d been outside.

How clearly Bella could feel Rosalie’s presence right next to her—the quiet way her eyes softened, like she was only half-present in the room until Bella had spoken moments ago.

“It’s okay,” Bella murmurs.

“We both know it isn’t.”

“I mean, yeah. I do hate this stupid plant.”

Rosalie raises a single brow. “And I loathe it.”

Bella smiles. “But I don’t hate you.”

The silence lingers.

“Actually,” Bella says, “I think you’re quite alright.”

Rosalie huffs. “Only alright?”

“Okay, I’m feeling generous. I’ll give you ‘charming.’ How’s that?”

“Merely acceptable.”

Bella rolls her eyes. Then she takes another step closer to the blonde. “Come here.”

Rosalie had said Bella could use her the next time she wanted to give her family a show, right? Though, Bella suspected, this hasn’t exactly been on her mind when she had said those words.

Either way, it was too late to back track it now. Too late to prolong the inevitable, especially when Bella desperately needed to go home.

She wasn’t about to let Charlie spend the first minutes of Christmas alone. So, Bella reached up carefully, brushing her fingers softly against Rosalie’s jaw.

The blonde stills, yes. But she doesn't move away.

Bella rises just slightly— just enough so she can stop millimeters away from Rosalie’s lips. Then, at the last second, she shifts to the right, pressing a soft, lingering kiss on Rosalie's cheek.

The blonde doesn't react, and Bella moves a little bit closer to her ear.

“Merry Christmas, Rose,” she whispers. Low and intimate.

Then she turns and walks away, leaving Rosalie standing there, utterly still, beneath a strip of green and red.

Chapter Text

"Are you really wearing a leather jacket when we're at home?" Jacob asks, face scrunching in confusion when Bella steps into the living room.

She’s standing just beside the couch, hands tucked into the sleeves of Rosalie’s present like she’s not entirely ready to take it off. After a whole morning spent organizing her room and pretending to be busy, she’d decided to come down so they could watch something together. Preferably not a romantic comedy or a horror movie—but maybe that was asking too much of Jacob.

"It's called having a sense of style, buddy. You should try it sometime," Bella says as she finally sinks beside him. The sigh slips out before she can stop it, like she’s been holding her breath all morning. "Also, I’m not wearing my jacket inside. I’m not crazy. I was just trying it out—seeing how well it fit."

"Sure. Am I supposed to pretend you didn't do that like, yesterday?” Jacob asks, shaking his head. “You know, I didn’t think Blondie would've been able to get you something so right on the money like this. Kudos to her.”

Bella winces. It felt so wrong coming from someone else. “You should never call her that. Especially not to her face. Well—not if you want to live."

Jacob stares at her, unfazed. "I've seen you do it countless times."

“It’s different with me. I’m—"

“Addicted to testing how far Rosalie’s going to let you push her limits?" Jacob finishes for her. It’s not what Bella was going to say, but she doesn’t correct him. “I haven’t forgotten the mistletoe stunt from two days ago—and I’m pretty sure she hasn’t either.”

"It wasn't a stunt,” Bella says quickly. “We were put in a tight spot, and I got us out. Rosalie told me once she wouldn’t exactly be uncomfortable if I got close like that, so… I don’t think I was pushing her limits that much.”

“What? When did she say that to you?” Jacob’s voice jumps an octave. “You do know that's like, an invitation for you to kiss her, right?”

Bella leans back against the cushions, jaw tight. “It’s not that simple. There was a situation, some dare your boyfriend made and—look, you weren’t there. You don't know the context. You were too busy brooding in your room because Edward wasn’t making a move on you.”

“Don’t try to change the subject,” Jacob says. “We’re talking about the mistletoe. I really thought for a second there you were going to kiss her. And let me tell you something—I wasn’t the only one.”

Well. That part, Bella had known. After all, everyone from how to get away with murder had shared Jacob’s opinion. Like Emmett had so eloquently put it: “Dude, I think you’ve broken my sister.”

But it wasn’t like any of that mattered. What mattered was how Rosalie had interpreted things. And if her messages were anything to go by, everything was fine between them. Great, even. Opening up—first Bella, then Rosalie—had changed something. Had made their friendship solidified. Had made them trust each other.

“Look,” Jacob says, shifting to face her more directly, “I know I’m not exactly qualified to say this, but aren’t you stretching the lines a little thin with her? You keep telling me you won’t go down that road, that it’s just conjecture, but then you do something like that. If I’m confused by your change of pace, can you imagine how Rosalie must be feeling?”

“Jacob,” Bella mutters. She presses her lips. “I haven’t talked to her about any of this. So how could she know? Or be confused?”

“Because you’re hot one minute and cold the next?”

“I’m always hot, thank you very much.”

“C’mon, Bells.” Jacob sighs. “I’m being serious. Trying to be a good friend, here.”

Bella closes her eyes. Then curses under her breath. “Okay. Fine. I know. I’m a mess.” Her voice wobbles. “But has it ever crossed your mind that I don’t want to be like this?” Her hands slide down the sleeves, tugging hard at the edges. Her knee bounces once. “Everything would be great if I could just build these boundaries—and actually keep them up, buddy.”

Bella had tried. She had. But just because the rational part of her brain had decided on something didn’t mean the rest of her could follow suit. Most of the time, before Bella even knew what she was doing, she was already there. Already reaching. Already breaking a thousand rules.

"Alright,"

“I know this’ll sound weird, given everything, but I’m fucking trying, okay? It’s not like Rosalie’s making it easy. Or any of you, for that matter. What Emmett did? Sure, it was a prank—but also a shove. I’m not stupid, Jake. I’m not blind. I’m not even in denial. But none of you seem to get that this isn’t helping.”

Jacob nods slowly. “It’s making it worse?” he asks.

“Exactly.” Bella’s voice drops. “Because a push isn’t what I need.”

What she needed was a different life, in a different time—one where she was a different Bella.

“Maybe it’s what Rosalie needs,” Jacob says quietly. “Has she ever said anything to you?”

“No. I mean—I don’t know,” Bella says weakly. “We’re friends. Good friends. Is she insanely gorgeous? Yes. Is she great at being my friend? A hundred percent. Is she making things a million times harder for me? For sure. That doesn’t mean she’s interested in me in any other way,”

““Really, Bella? You’re telling me that if you asked her out right now, she’d say no? To you?”

“Probably.”

“You cannot be this stupid. Was this what I was like when I was infatuated with Edward?”

“Infatuated? My, my. Someone’s using big words today.”

Jacob ignores her. “Bella. There’s something more between you two. There always has been. The animosity in the beginning? Sexual tension.”

“Or just animosity,” Bella tries, but her voice is weak. Even she can’t sell that anymore. Not really.

“Yeah, right. And the constant back-and-forth flirting? That’s what? Playful banter?”

“Yes. Like you and me. Friends do that.”

“That’s just gross. And nothing like what we do. Look—every time you’ve tried to put some distance between you and Rosalie, she finds a way to break it. And so do you when it's the other way around. It’s frustrating for everyone to watch, honestly. I know you both must have your reasons, and I won’t push anymore. But can I ask you something?”

“Something else, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“Go ahead,” Bella mutters, already bracing for impact.

“Promise you’ll answer it. That you won't avoid. Or deflect.”

“I’ll do my best to try.”

Jacob looks at her. His voice drops. “Do you like her? Blondie?”

“Please don’t call her that.”

“Bella.”

“Argh. Fine” Bella squeezes her eyes shut. She hadn’t expected this now. Not here. Not while wearing this jacket like it was a life vest after Jacob had shoved her into the ocean. She hadn’t wanted to say it out loud. Not to anyone. Not even to herself. But now—Bella's too close to the truth to lie.

"So?"

“Yes, Jake” she breathes. “I like her.”

Because how could she not? Between all the banter, the laughter, the glances, the late-night confessions… one thing had always stood out. How right it all felt.

Jacob smiles, soft and knowing. “So what the hell are you waiting for?”

“For it to pass, Jacob. What else?” Bella says, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Even if she were human, even if nothing supernatural existed, I wouldn’t be jumping on this train either. There’s too much holding me back.”

“Like?”

“Like the fact that this isn’t some small thing, okay? I could really fall for this girl. Like—for real, man. And then what?”

“Isn’t that the whole point? Falling in love?”

“No,” Bella says flatly. “Because what if it doesn’t work? What if I’m left heartbroken? What if she leaves? What if I die? What if—”

“You have serious commitment issues.”

“Is that news?” Bella snaps, sharper than she means to. “I’m well aware of my shortcomings. I’m not my mother.”

Jacob freezes. It lands deeper than she meant.

“Okay,” he says carefully. “A lot to unpack there, but I’m going to ignore it—for now. What if it doesn’t pass, Bella? What if it only gets worse?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe you should figure that out. Preferably before you do something stupid.”

“Like you did with Edward?”

“Exactly. We only have room for one screw-up in this house. I already took the mantle. You’ve gotta find something else.” He nudges her lightly. Then his voice softens. “If you ever need to talk—I’m here, okay? I know things are complicated, but you deserve to be happy. You deserve to put yourself out there and for things to go right. Don’t forget that, Bella. I know you’re not your mom, but it feels like you don’t know that. Things won’t crash and burn every time.”

Bella looks over, finally meeting his eyes. “Thank you, Jake.” She nudges his shoulder, soft, with a half-smile ghosting her face before fading just as quickly.

He nods.

For someone who seemed unaware most of the time, Jacob sure knew more than he let on.

.

.

.

“Take your feet off the coffee table, will you? We’re not animals.” Bella lobs a single piece of popcorn at Jacob’s face from the other end of the couch. They’re deep into a Stranger Things rewatch—a rare peace treaty between Jacob’s love of horror and Bella’s refusal to sit through something that didn’t suck.

“Weren’t you doing the same thing like two seconds ago?” Jacob mutters, reaching for the popcorn bucket in her lap.

“No. You're hallucinating.” Bella shifts the bowl just out of his reach.

“Next time, try aiming for my mouth, at least. There’s no need to waste good food.” He makes another grab for the bucket.

Bella pulls it away again. “Maybe we should start eating better. The amount of junk food I’ve inhaled since moving in with you people is appalling.”

“I mean, we could always try exercising,” Jacob suggests, finally wresting the bucket from her hands. “Might balance it out, right?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever exercised in my life.” Bella leans back into the couch. “Unless having sex counts.”

Jacob chokes so hard on his popcorn he has to grab a napkin and mop up the mess he makes on his shirt. “Jesus. Warn a guy next time, will ya?”

Bella scrunches her nose. “Your shirt looks gross.”

“You're gross.” He grumbles, wiping his mouth. “Still, we should do it. For our health.”

“Sex? Go ahead. I’m sure your boyfriend will appreciate your new outlook on life.”

“Exercise,” Jacob snaps, but his ears are turning red. “Also... Edward’s kind of old-fashioned.”

“I’ll respect his Victorian sensibilities then,” Bella deadpans. “So not sex. Making love. Is that family-friendly enough for you guys?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Jacob mutters. “I just meant... he’s like me. Waiting.”

Bella raises an eyebrown. “Well, that explains so much.”

Jacob ignores her. “He thinks people should be in a committed relationship for a while before anything happens.”

“Define ‘a while.’”

“I dunno. Twenty months?”

Bella stares at him. “That’s not ‘a while.’ That’s a year and a half. That’s...”

“I think it’s sweet,” Jacob insists.

“You say that now. Let’s revisit this conversation in a few months.”

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. We should still exercise.”

“Okay. Maybe I’ll convince Jasper to take me on one of his morning runs.”

Jacob snorts so hard he nearly spills the popcorn again. “You? Running? In the morning?”

Bella narrows her eyes. “You’re supposed to support me, not laugh in my face.”

“I didn’t realize our friendship was built on lies.”

“Youre such a —” Bella says, but before she can finish, her phone buzzes on the coffee table, lighting up with Jasper’s name.

“It’s Jasper?” Jacob asks, nudging her. “It’s him?” he nudges her again.

“For fucks sake, Jacob. Yes, it’s him.” Bella mutters, shoving him away. "Hey, Jazz,"

“Hey, Bella,” Jasper says. “Bad time?”

“Well, I was about to murder Jacob —“

“Hey!” Jacob protests.

“But I guess Charlie would be sad if that happened, so, I’m postponing it for the time being.”

“That’s… nice? Is that what I’m supposed to say here?”

“No. But good try. So, what’s up?”

“So, uh—remember how the camping trip was supposed to be in January? Plans have changed. Alice had a vision of perfect weather this weekend, so we’re moving it up. We leave tomorrow morning and we'll be there till the first. Are you guys coming?”

Bella squints. “Shouldn’t you already know if we are? Didn't Alice see us in her vision?"

“I don’t know,” Jasper says, clearly confused. “I think she saw you—but I wasn’t exactly taking notes.”

“Hold on.” Bella mutes him and turns to Jacob. “Trip’s tomorrow. We’d be there through New Year’s. Are you in or out?”

“In. I mean, assuming Charlie’s still cool with it.”

“He already said yes, remember?”

Jacob shrugs, conceding. “Then yeah. I’m in.”

Bella un-mutes the call. “Jacob’s in, Jazz.”

“And you?”

“I’ll stay home. I appreciate the invite, but I can’t just leave Charlie alone for the holiday.”

Maybe this was the universe’s way of telling Bella she should stay home, that maybe some space from Rosalie was the best thing right now.

There’s a quiet shuffle on the line, and then a new voice comes on.

“B,” Alice says.

“Al,”

Whatever the universe had wanted, it seemed he was about to face Alice. Unmovable object, meet unstoppable force.

“Jasper’s not explaining it right,” Alice says, and Bella hears his voice in the background protesting. “What? You aren’t. Anyway, we’re staying there for New Year’s, but you aren’t.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Someone will drive you back before the thirty-one. The place we’re staying is only a few hours from here.”

“I don’t want to give anyone trouble.”

Alice doesn’t buy her excuse. “You don’t want to give us trouble or you don’t want to go? Because those are two very different things.”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“I do. But do you?”

“No. That’s why I’m asking.”

Alice sighs. “You don’t make anything easy, do you, B?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Start packing. Jacob’s going to procrastinate like hell and then need your help. See you tomorrow.”

Click.

“Well, guess we’re going,” Bella mutters.

Jacob grins. “You caved.”

“I was ambushed. There’s a difference.” She holds her hand out. “Come on. We have less than twenty-four hours to pack.”

“Should we start now?”

“Yes. God knows how long you’re going to take.”

“Hey—I’m not that bad.”

“Yes. Yes, you are.”

.

.

.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Bella asks, lingering in the doorway to Charlie’s room. Her arms are crossed, shoulders tight, like she doesn’t quite trust the first answer he gave. “Can you survive three whole days alone?”

“You forget I used to spend most of my days alone, kiddo.” Charlie’s voice is dry but amused as he shrugs off his chief of police jacket. Underneath, he’s in a plain white T-shirt, looking more like someone’s tired dad than Forks' top authority figure.

“That’s not a yes.” Bella frowns. “And that was your reality before. You’re not alone anymore. So I’ll ask again—honest answer this time, please—are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“Yes,” he says again, nodding as he sits on the edge of his bed and starts untying his boots. “I’ll survive. I’m working straight through the thirty-first, Bells. I’ll barely be here. Now it’s my time to ask you again, are you sure you don’t want to stay there with them and celebrate the new year?”

“Yes,” Bella says firmly. “I’m not bailing on our Lord of the Rings marathon. Unless—” She squints at him suspiciously. “Wait. Is this some twisted scheme to get me out of the house so you can call someone over? Because if so, please just tell me now. I’ve already reached my lifetime trauma quota thanks to Mom.”

Unfortunately, walking in on Renée hooking up with strangers on the couch had been a repeat offense.

Charlie raises his hands like she’s accusing him of a crime. “You don’t need to worry about that with me. Will someone drive you back home or do you want me to go get you?”

“Don’t worry. Someone will. But thank you for offering.”

Just then, a loud thud echoes from the hallway—followed by what sounds suspiciously like Jacob swearing.

Bella tilts her head. “I should probably go help him.”

“I’ll help too,” Charlie says, standing with a wince. “Just gonna take a quick shower first.”

“Don’t forget to eat something,” Bella calls as he heads toward the bathroom. “We made healthy burgers earlier.”

Charlie pauses mid-step, glancing back at her like she’s just suggested he do a fellony. “How healthy are we talking?”

“Your three worst nightmares,” Bella says sweetly. “Vegetarian, vegan, and gluten-free.”

Charlie visibly shudders. “Edible?”

“Barely. But still miles ahead of your burnt enchiladas, so let’s call it an improvement.”

Charlie lets out a grunt that might be a laugh. “Okay. Fair enough.”

.

.

.

“Remind me why I’m doing this again?” Bella asks Jasper, luggage in hand at the edge of the Cullens’ driveway. The air still holds that cold, damp edge of night, but the sky is starting to pale—just enough to outline the treetops. Bella's running on two cups of coffee, which hadn’t been nearly enough. A third was already calling her name.

Especially when the Cullens were busy running around in what can only be described as vampire-chaos.

“Because Rosalie asked you,” Jasper says, easy as anything.

Bella’s eyes flick over to the blonde before she can help herself—sure enough, Rosalie is by the front door, her hair catching what little light there is, deep in an animated, low-voiced argument with Alice.

“And Alice gently coerced you into it,” Jasper adds.

“Huh, that’s what we’re calling it these days? Gently coercing?”

“You have a better name for it?”

“Yes,” Bella says without missing a beat. “Giving me spoilers about my own future.”

Jasper grins. “That works too.”

Bella nods toward the sisters, who are still leaning in toward each other like rival attorneys negotiating a deal. “Any clue what they’re arguing about?”

“Emmett told Rosalie before you got here that Alice helped him with the mistletoe stunt,” Jasper says, shaking his head. “No idea why he thought that was a good move.”

Bella’s gaze snaps toward Emmett, loitering by a dark green Jeep and killing time on his phone, completely oblivious to the death glare she’s aiming his way. She files it under reasons to let Rosalie commit light homicide later.

“I don’t think he thought it was a good idea,” she says. “I think he just didn’t care.”

“Well, get ready. We’re about to spend four hours in an enclosed space with people who might actually strangle each other.”

“And here I thought the fun would only start later.”

“With us? You never know” Jasper quirks an eyebrow. “Regretting this yet?”

“Since the moment I left my bed, actually.”

Before Jasper can answer, Carlisle and Esme step into the drive like they’ve materialized from the mist.

“Kids,” Esme calls, raising a hand. Everyone stops—or at least slows down—to gather near her.

“So, how are we doing this?” Emmett asks, glancing between the three cars parked at neat angles.

Bella doesn’t miss the twin daggers Rosalie and Alice shoot Emmett’s way.

“I think we should split up,” Carlisle says, wise man that he is.

Bella raises her voice before fate can intervene. “You driving any of these, Al?”

“Yes,” Alice says brightly. “The Volvo right next to you, actually.” She points with her head to it, and Bella quickly moves away from it, trying to let her stance speak for itself. “Are you coming with me?”

Bella takes an instinctive step away. “Don’t take this personally, Al, but since I’m not... immortal—no.”

“I’m an excellent driver,” Alice huffs, but her eyes are full of mirth.

“Yeah," Bella shakes her head. "And Jacob’s an excellent singer.”

“Hey!” Jacob protests. “I’m not that bad.”

“Let’s agree to disagree,”

“You’re forgetting I can see the future, B. If anything were t happen, I’d be the one best equiped to save you.”

“Saving me from yourself doesn’t count.”

Carlisle cuts in, diplomatic as ever. “Jasper, Edward, Jacob—you’re with Alice. Rosalie, you’re with Esme and me.”

Rosalie’s lips press together in quiet displeasure, but she nods.

“I guess that leaves me and you, huh?” Emmett says, hefting her luggage like it weighs nothing.

Bella turns, trying to find Rosalie, but the blonde's already watching her. Bella lets the corner of her mouth curl—soft, private—and Rosalie’s answering smile is quick but unmistakable.

“C’mon, Bella,” Emmett says, forcing her to move. 

“Blondie,” Bella calls, still smiling her way. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Emmett,” Rosalie warns, voice edged. “If you —”

“Relax, Rose” he says, rolling his eyes. “Bella's in good hands.”

.

.

.

“Persona non grata with your family, huh?” Bella asks, leaning her head against the cold glass of the passenger-side window. Twenty minutes into the drive and the foggy morning is finally breaking, pale light filtering through the trees.

Emmett doesn’t even look over, just shrugs. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“You don’t say.”

“Sometimes my family takes things too seriously,” he says, hands loose on the steering wheel. “It’s my job as the family prankster—”

“As the family jester, you mean.”

“Exactly. My job is to keep things moving. To make stuff happen. To stir the pot.”

“Em, I get it,” Bella says, watching the trees blur past. While most people in this situation would only view Emmett as immature, and childish, she knew better than to do the same. If Esme was the heart of the family, something she undoubtedly was, Emmett was the soul. Without him, there was no sun, so to speak. “I do. But this time? It was a low move.”

“I know.” His tone softens. “Rosalie’s still mad.”

Bella turns toward him, serious now. “Do you know what she was doing before you decided to play the worst matchmaker alive?”

“I’m an excellent matchmaker.”

“Rosalie was telling me about her past,” Bella cuts in, not letting him derail. “What happened to her.”

Emmett’s grip tightens on the wheel.

“Ten minutes later, you’re putting her in the spotlight. Doing what everyone else has done her whole life. Look, Em, if Rosalie wants us to be more than friends, that should be her choice. Not yours. Or Alice’s. Or Jacob’s. I know you think you’re helping, but you aren’t. You’re just putting her in a position she hates.”

“Shit,” he mutters. “I didn’t know. I swear, I never would’ve—”

“I know. She probably knows that too. But she’s still mad. And she has every right to be.”

He blows out a slow breath. “Yeah. I’ve just been telling her she should be thanking me instead of threatening to kill me.”

Bella presses her lips, letting out a little sigh in frustration. “Just leave your sister alone, okay? And leave me out of it too. Pass the memo to the rest of your family, please. Jacob’s already been warned.”

His brows lift at that. “Okay.”

“And Emmett?” Bella’s voice is calm, but the warning is there. “If you ever pull something like that again, Rosalie's going to be the least of your problems. Respect her boundaries.”

He nods, genuine. “I won’t. And I won’t get in the way anymore—no one will. I’ll make sure of it.” He gives her a sidelong grin. “You’re kinda scary when you’re defending her.”

“She doesn’t need defending.”

“See? And you say I’m a bad matchmaker. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted for Rosalie, Bella.”

“And she’ll always have me, Em. But as a friend.”

“Because you don’t want more, or because you don’t think she does?”

“Because it’s none of your business. That's why.”

Emmett chuckles. “Fine. But if you ever want some tips on seducing a woman—”

“I"ll ask Jasper.”

“You'll aks me.”

“Not happening.”

“Time will prove to you that I’m a hit with the ladies.”

“Let me guess—the problem’s not you, it’s Forks.”

Emmett nods. “More like Forks’ lack of vampire population.”

“I’d call that a good thing.”

“Speaking of good things,” he says, shifting the subject, “how do I make my sister forgive me?”

“Apologize.”

“I did. Didn’t work.”

“Because you didn’t mean it. Now you will.”

“That’s true. What would I do without you?”

“Drive four hours alone, probably” Bella says dryly. “And apologize to Alice too, okay? Snitching on her was a shitty move.”

“Desperate times, desperate measures.”

Bella shakes her head. “More like stupid plan, bad result.”

Emmett laughs. “I guess that's more fitting.”

Chapter Text

It’s close to eight o’clock in the morning – already three hours on the road when Bella finds herself deeply regretting her non-existent choice of going to bed late last night. If even the Cullens, who had super speed and could go a few days without sleeping had struggled with the timetable of moving the trip up (vampire chaos was proof of that), Bella had no hope of escaping unscathed. Even with Charlie helping, things hadn’t gone that smoothly.

Also, Bella’s decision of keeping several unpacked boxes full of stuff from Phoenix had finally managed to come back to bite her in the ass. It was one thing to search for something in your closet, and another altogether to search for something you had no idea where it was. But, well, keeping her things unpacked hadn’t exactly been what you could call a decision. Not really. It’d been more like something that seemed simple but wasn’t. The truth was that ever since coming here, getting into contact with anything that reminded her of her previous life gave Bella a strange fight-or-flight response.

“Bella?” Emmett says, his gaze lingering on her face. “Did you hear what I just said?”

“No.” she stifles a yawn. There’s no use pretending she’d been listening to anything besides her inner thoughts.

“I said that you could sleep if you wanted to, that I wouldn’t mind,” Emmett assures her, giving Bella a knowing look – the kind that tells her he’s been well aware of the fact she’d been fighting to keep her eyes open for these past few minutes. “You’re basically asleep already.”

“No, no,” Bella says, sitting straighter in her seat, blinking hard. “I’m awake.”

“Late night?”

“You could say that. Would you mind turning the music up?”

“You think it’ll help?”

Bella shrugs. “It won’t make it any worse, that’s for sure.”

He nods, doing what she’d just asked. When the next song starts, the familiar melody makes Bella hum along to it.

“I love this song,”

“Guess you and Eddy finally found some common ground after all, huh? It’s his playlist we’ve been listening to nonstop.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“No. Why would I be joking?” he asks, not getting the point.

“I know most of these songs, Emmett. This can’t be Edward’s playlist.”

“It is.”

Bella’s eyes twitch. “Some of these tunes define who I am, Emmett. Who I am.”

“So?”

“So he can’t possibly feel the same. If he does, well, that means —“

“That you guys aren’t so different after all.” Emmett proclaims again, very proud of himself.

Bella huffs, annoyed at the prospect. “Yeah, no thank you. Pretty boy and I are two universes away from having something in common.”

“That’s not true. You both love Jacob.”

“He loves Jacob? I seriously doubt that. They’ve been dating for what? A month?”

“Are you always this skeptical when it comes to relationships?”

“As a matter of fact, yes I am,” Bella admits, not the slightest bit ashamed of it.

“Why?” Emmett asks, and Bella realizes this was the first time anyone had asked her that particular question. Most of the time they just assumed she was heartless, or a skeptical - but they never asked her why.

“Love is —“ Bella trails off, trying to put it into words. “Is selfless. It’s true. Is not just about attraction, or infatuation. Love is knowing all the parts of someone and still loving them. It’s about friendship, companionship, shared goals, and life ambitions. Edward might think he loves Jacob, but it’s not true. He doesn’t even know him, Emmett, and how can you love someone you don’t know?”

“Wow,” He says, very impressed. “Turns out you’re not a skeptic, are you, B? No. You’re quite the romantic instead.”

Bella narrows her eyes at him. “Don’t even start.”

“Okay.” He shakes his head, but there’s a fondness to the act. “I’ll pretend to be fooled by your heartless persona even though I know better now.”

Bella decides to ignore him. Emmett was like Jacob – and that meant that the more Bella engaged in this particular subject, the worse it would be for her in the end - the best way to get them to let something go was to keep quiet.

“Most people do mistake a lot of things for love,” Emmett says, and Bella’s a little surprised he’s following up on that and not on the fact she has a heart, but she’s not about to question it.

“They do.”

“I did that, you know? Right after I turned. Thought I was in love, but… I wasn’t.” Emmett says it like a secret, like Bella doesn’t know what he’s talking about – but that’s not exactly the case.

“Rosalie?” she offers, tilting her head.

He looks surprised. “How did you know?”

“I took an educated guess.”

Emmett doesn’t seem swayed by her answer.  “Alice told you, didn’t she?”

“She alluded to that, yes. But not with details, so if you want, I’m all ears.”

“Yeah?” He seems unsure.

Whatever reason (Bella knew very well what was the reason) Emmett thought he had for not sharing this with her was probably an unnecessary one, so she presses on.

“Of course. What happened?”

Emmett raises his eyebrows, giving her a funny look.  “You’re asking me that? Isn’t it like obvious to you?”

“Don’t be a jerk, Emmett.”

“Rosalie saved my life,” Emmett says like that’s enough reason, and, well, could Bella really claim it wasn’t? Probably not. “I was dying, and there she was in all her glory. Rosalie’s Rosalie, you know? It’s kind of hard not to be enchanted by her. Not everyone can be like you, Bella.”

“Like me?”

“Unaffected.”

“Trust me, Em. I’m definitely not unaffected.”

Sure, Bella tried her best to be that most of the time, but she always – without fault – failed. Quite spectacularly, she might add.

“You’re very suave. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you…not be that way with her. You’re the only one who doesn’t need to take a second, the only one who isn’t left speechless by her beauty.”

That wasn’t exactly the truth. Bella was constantly left speechless by Rosalie. She was. A lot. But not by her beauty – okay, sometimes by her beauty – but mainly, just by who she was. If Rosalie’s only quality was being beautiful, it would’ve been (and it would be) oh so very easy to dismiss her. To ignore her. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case – and now, well, now Bella was here.

Pretty much fucked.

“There’s so much more to your sister than her beauty, Em. Beauty is just beauty, it’s easy to… brush it off.”

“Maybe for you it is. Most of us aren’t you, though.”

“Fine,” Bella acquiesces, not wanting to discuss this particular subject any longer. “Would you mind if I asked you why nothing happened between you two?”

Emmett was fun. Carefree. A good friend. He would never leave someone he loved hanging, and his sunny disposition made it very hard to remain gloomy at his side.

He and Rosalie…they would’ve worked, Bella knows that. Maybe not at everything, and not all of the time, but who ever did?

“Rosalie was never too sold on the idea of us together. And once I settled into the family, what I felt for her shifted pretty easily. I guess part of her knew that would always happen, that my infatuation, my feelings, they weren’t going to last.”

“I think it could've worked. You two would’ve been good for each other.”

“It did work, Bella. We are good for each other. Rosalie’s my best friend. My sister. My family.”

“Yeah, okay. That’s true.”

“Things worked out just the way they were supposed to,” Emmett says, his voice suddenly serious. “Do you know how I know that?”

“No.”

“Because you’re here.”

Bella refrains from saying anything else after that.

.

.

.

“This is where we’re staying?” Bella asks as soon as they arrive. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Emmett doesn’t seem to understand her shock.

“I thought we would be staying somewhere small, Em. A cabin in the woods type of thing. That we would be sleeping in tents, sharing a bathroom —“

Emmett raises his hand to stop her mid-rant. “You know both of my sisters, B. Do you think they would love this as much as they do if we all slept in tents? If they had to share a bathroom with everyone?”

“No. Still,” Bella points to the two-story wooden house that’s full of large windows. “Can you blame me for not expecting a mansion by the lake?”

“Yes. You’ve seen our house. You’ve seen our cars. You should know that’s how we roll by now.”

“This house is at least three times bigger than the one in Forks.” Bella says, refraining from commenting on Emmett’s ‘this is how we roll’ phrase. “And that’s not even counting the lake and everything else.”

“We don’t own the lake. That’s just silly.”

“Rich people are crazy, who knows what you guys own? A town? An island? Forks? Wait, do you guys own Forks?”

Emmett ignores her. “C’mon, let’s go. If you want to spiral let’s do that inside the house, please.” He opens the door, getting out of the car.

“Camping trip, my ass. This is everything but that.” Bella mumbles before following his lead.

.

.

. 

“You lied to me,” Bella says as soon as she spots Rosalie in the kitchen.

The blonde has her back turned to Bella, but as soon as she hears her voice, she turns. Rosalie doesn’t say anything at first, no, she remains quiet, but there’s a small smile trying to break out from her stoic façade.

Bella takes a few steps forward, only stopping when she’s very close to the girl – and that’s when Rosalie decides to speak.

“That’s a little rich coming from someone who’s incapable of telling the truth, isn’t it?”

If Bella was anyone else on the planet, she would take Rosalie’s words at face value – as a dig on her - but Bella knew better by now.

“You sure you want to talk about being rich?”

“Probably not.” Rosalie can’t hold off her smile anymore, and Bella has to fight against the urge to stand a bit taller now that she has managed to lighten up the other girl.

“So?” Bella’s not about to let the subject drop. “Did you have fun letting me spiral thinking that we would be going full nature on this trip?”

Every time Bella had expressed her concerns about the trip, Rosalie had laughed – had even teased her about her inability to coexist with nature (or anything nature related).

“Yes.” Rosalie grins before tilting her head, her features softening. “What about you? Did you have fun on your way here? Did Emmett behave?”

It’s Bella’s turn to smile. It seemed Rosalie had been worrying over her. That knowledge, on top of everything else that Bella was feeling, wasn’t a good combination, no.

It made her reckless.

“It’s kind of hard having fun when you’re not around, blondie.”

Rosalie blinks, taken aback. “I’m sorry?”

“I forgive you,” Bella says even though she knows that’s not what Rosalie had meant by her words.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Do I?” Bella fights against the urge to take another step forward, the urge to invade even more of Rosalie’s personal space like she did at Christmas. “You’re a hard woman to figure out, Rosalie. You can’t blame me for getting something wrong every now and then.”

“But that’s the thing, isn’t it?” Rosalie’s tone is a bit more serious now, a little more honest. “You hardly seem to get anything wrong when it comes to me, Bella, even when I’m trying my best to make it difficult for you. So tell me, why’s that?”

“How hard have you been trying to make it difficult for me, blondie?”

“An answer for an answer,” Rosalie says, her eyes focusing on Bella’s with a newfound intensity. “That’s fair, right? If you tell me how you’ve always seem to figure me out, I’ll tell you how hard I’ve been trying to –” she stops.

“Trying to?”

Bella sees the way Rosalie’s about to take a step forward – how she’s about to be the one to invade Bella’s personal space this time  - but before that can happen, in a whoosh of wind, in a split of a second, Emmett’s right next to them on the kitchen.

“Hey, B,” Emmett says, unaware of what he’s interrupting, and Bella starts to deeply regret not letting Rosalie murder him at Christmas. “Mom wants to take you on a tour of the house before everyone arrives.” He looks at them both, only realizing the charged atmosphere far too late for anyone to be able to salvage it. “I’m –” He starts.

“Sorry?” Rosalie says, tone cutting. “It’s hard to give your words any value when you repeat them over and over again, Emmett.”

“Well,” Emmett starts, and Bella already knows he’s about to say something he shouldn’t. “If you took them the first time I gave them to you, I wouldn’t have to repeat them over and over again, would I?”

“If you actually meant them any of the times you gave them to me, I would’ve.”

“How could I not have meant them?” Emmett’s face turns serious. “Do you think I like seeing you hurt? Do you think I like being the one to hurt you?”

If a moment ago Bella felt like Emmett was the one who didn’t belong in the little bubble she and Rosalie had created, now, well, now the tables had turned.

Now, she was the one feeling incredibly out of place in this massive kitchen.

“Sometimes, Emmett, I really don’t know what to think.”

He flinches like he has been slapped. “Is that so?”

“Guys,” Bella cuts in softly. She knows it’s not her place, or her right to interrupt them, but the way things are going, Bella knows nothing good will come out of it. “Let’s not make something bad even worse.” She knew whatever anyone said next, they were going to regret it later. “Maybe confrontational isn’t the way to go with this conversation?” Bella tries, though part of her is already regretting having said anything at all. “I know it’s not my place, like well, literally – I shouldn’t even be here for this, but… you both love each other, and you’re both hurt, so instead of coming at one other with cutting words and accusations, maybe you could just say what you’re feeling without wanting to see who’s the one who’s going to fold first?”

The thing Bella had realized about Emmett and Rosalie was this – sometimes, they would just push and push until one of them relented – until one of them was too hurt to keep going.

“Someday, Bella, someday you’re going to answer my question,” Rosalie says, sighing.

“What question?” Emmett raises his eyebrows, unable to keep his curiosity in check.

Bella ignores him, giving Rosalie a small smile. “Someday, yeah. But not today, blondie.”

“I can live with that,” Rosalie says.

“I can’t,” Emmett says. “Like literally can’t. I’m a cat, B. Curiosity will definitely kill me.”

“Well. Better curiosity than your sister, yeah?”

“Okay, that’s fair.” Emmett chuckles and Rosalie rolls her eyes – the way she always does when they’re being stupid together (which, to be fair, is most of the time, really).

“C’mon,” Rosalie shakes her head. “Let’s talk outside.” She starts walking away. “I’ll see you soon.” She tells Bella.

“How far outside?” Emmett asks while following.

“Enough that we’ll get some privacy,” Rosalie explains.

“Or far away that no one will ever find my body.”

“You want to do this or not, Emmett?”

“I want to do it.”

“Then stop complaining, for god’s sake.”

That’s the last thing Bella hears before they both walk away from the kitchen.

.

.

.

“Esme, your house is so beautiful,” Bella says, still in awe of the place.

They’re standing on the second floor, on the balcony, staring at the view.  

“Thank you, dear. This house is incredibly special. I’m happy that this time you and Jacob are going to be here to enjoy it with us.”

“We’re happy too.” Bella states, deciding to speak for the both of them – Jacob was a sweetheart, he was, but being raised by Billy hadn’t done him any favors. Bella doubted that when he arrived he would let Esme know just how happy he was to be here.

“I’m glad you said yes, Bella. It wouldn’t have been the same without you.” Esme says.

“No one to run interference on Rosalie and Emmett, huh?” Bella jokes.

Esme smiles. “I wouldn’t say no one, dear. We all could try, sure, but I doubt we would get the same result you did in only a couple of seconds.”

“Well,” Bella chuckles. “I’m excellent at conflict resolution.”

“I bet you are.” Esme’s tone goes even softer, and Bella tries not to be affected by the gentle way the woman is letting her know that she knows what Bella’s talking about. “I learned how to be great at that too, when I was human. My ex-husband wasn’t the most patient man.”

Bella tilts her head. “I’m sorry.”

Esme had a way of downplaying things when she was the one being affected by them – so Bella knew that her saying her ex wasn’t the most patient man could only mean one thing – that the guy’s fuse had been very, very short.

“You have a way of knowing precisely what people are saying when they’re barely saying anything at all, dear.”

“I’m very good at deflecting,” Bella admits. “So…it’s easy to see when someone else’s deflecting too.”

“We’re all a product of our environment, aren’t we?” Esme asks, shaking her head.

“Undoubtedly, yes. But we are capable of change. Well, at least some of us are. That matters too, I would say.”

“That’s true.” Esme nods. “Take us right now, for example. I would’ve never imagined having guests staying here, Bella.” She confides.

“Human guests, or any guests?”

“Any guests. Though, to be fair, being human does rank way higher on the list of improbability.”

“Your cousins from Alaska never came here?” Bella knew the Cullens well enough now to know socializing wasn’t something they did a lot – but rarely? That was a surprise.

“No. This was always our own hidden spot.”

“I guess Jacob and I are ruining that now, huh?”

“On the contrary, Bella.” Esme takes her right hand on her own. “You're just showing us that we should’ve done this so much sooner. Before you and Jacob came into our lives, I had forgotten just how easy it was to isolate ourselves.”

“I get that.” Bella nods, thinking about herself. How many times had she chosen to go down that road instead of making a connection with someone? Too many to count.

“I know you do.” Esme smiles fondly at her. “That’s why this feels so right.”

.

.

.

Bella didn’t think that the fact the Cullens never planned on having anyone over would, somehow, backfire on her.

But here she was - simply a bystander while her friends tried to figure out which Cullen she was going to room with. In truth, Bella wouldn’t have minded staying in the living room. Honestly, she wouldn’t have minded staying anywhere – well, anywhere except in Edward’s room or outside – but she doubted any of those were some of her choices.

“I don’t know why we’re even discussing this. Bella will stay with me, of course.” Emmett says, shaking his head.

“Why with you?” Alice asks. “Why, instead of that, don’t you stay with Edward, and Bella and Jacob can have a room to themselves?”

“Because I’m not passing the opportunity to have a sleepover with my friend. Stop trying to ruin it, Al. It’s unbecoming of you to be jealous.”

Bella turns to look at the blonde next to her. “I don’t know if I should be scared or flattered.”

“Definitely scared.” Rosalie grins.

“You did warn me,” Bella says.

“Yes, I did.”

“Why would I be jealous of you? Bella can also stay with me, Emmett. I’m a choice.”

He snorts. “What about Jasper?”

“He’ll stay with you,” Alice says, narrowing her eyes.

“We can all stay together. How about that?” Emmett offers and Alice tilts her head, seemingly considering Emmett’s proposal.

“Who’s all?” Bella asks Rosalie, trying to figure out how that would even happen.

“What about Jacob? Would he stay with us too?” Alice says.

“Yeah. I mean, we could all have a sleepover. We could build a fort right here in the living room.”

“A fort?” Alice’s eyes start to gleam.

“Why is it okay for everyone to sleep in the living room, but it’s not okay for me to sleep alone?” Bella asks the important question.

“Because you’re not sleeping alone, B. That would be rude.” Emmett answers, before promptly ignoring her again. “ Al, what do you think about us doing a movie marathon –”

“Please, save me,” Bella says to Rosalie, her voice pleading. “I’ll owe you one, blondie. Like, honestly, anything you want.”

Rosalie's grin turns feral. “Anything I want? Nothing’s off the table?”

“Ok, so it’s settled, we’ll all sleep here –” Alice says and Bella quickly makes her choice.

However Rosalie chooses to collect Bella’s favor, it couldn’t be worse than this.

“Yes. Nothing’s off the table. Just do it now, otherwise –” she doesn’t even get to finish, as soon as the words are out of her mouth, Rosalie’s already speaking.

“No one’s sleeping in the living room.” Rosalie starts, and Alice and Emmett stop talking. “No one’s building a fort. We’re not ten. Bella isn’t rooming with you Emmett, or you Alice, because she’s rooming with me.” She finishes, her face daring anyone to argue with her on that.

No one does.

“And Jacob?” Emmett asks.

“He can stay with you, or with Edward. It’s his choice.” Rosalie says, and Bella hears the implied ‘I don’t care’ even though the blonde hasn’t said it.

Rosalie only tolerated Jacob, and Bella couldn’t really fault her for that.

“C’mon,“ The blonde turns to Bella. “let’s get your things into my room before we are forced to listen to another twenty-minute discussion of where someone’s going to sleep tonight.”

.

.

.

There was no reason to panic. None whatsoever.

Bella could definitely survive sharing a room for a few days with Rosalie. She could definitely sleep three nights in the same bed as the blonde – could have her be the last thing she saw before closing her eyes, and the first thing she saw when she woke up in the morning.

Of course she could.

Now, could Bella do that without doing something stupid in return? That was the million-dollar question.

.

.

. 

Not even two hours had gone by when Bella comes to the realization that, yes, she was probably going to do something stupid, and yes, there would be no escape from it.

Because what else could happen, if not that, when Rosalie was determined to be, well, Rosalie.

Right now, the blonde was busy laughing with Jasper, not that far away from where Bella was standing. But in truth, Rosalie wasn’t laughing.

No. She was instead making Bella feel unable to move, to tear her eyes away from her. To do anything other than question the universe how someone like her could exist in the first place.

How someone could manage to be so soft, so adorable, while simultaneously being so insanely hot.

Bella had doomed herself the moment she’d say yes to this trip. She was sure of it now. She hadn't even gone to bed with Rosalie yet – wait that sounded…not how she wanted it to sound.

She hadn't even gone to sleep next to Rosalie yet, and here she was. Already doubting she could survive the experience.

Especially if the girl decided to wear to bed something as revealing as the black high-waisted bikini she was wearing right now. She’d looked – Bella couldn’t even find the words to describe it.

And truly, in all honesty, how was she supposed to get over her like this?

“You're drooling,” Alice says, and Bella almost jumps at the sound of her voice.

“I’m not drooling.” She lies, putting one hand next to her mouth just in case. “I’m just…I don’t think I’ve ever seen them like this, so carefree.” She points with her head to her friends.

Alice just stares at her with knowing eyes. “They’ve been happier lately. We all have been.”

Bella just nods, tearing her eyes from the pair so she can talk to Alice without making a fool of herself. When she does, the first thing she notices is what the girl in front of her is wearing.

“Are you sure this is like, appropriate attire?” She asks, raising an eyebrow.

“What?” Alice shrugs. “Is what everyone's wearing these days.”

“Ok, I’m going to try and pretend you're not standing almost half-naked in front of me then,” Bella says, looking at Alice's face instead of anywhere else.

“I’ve been walking around like this for the past twenty minutes, B. Funny how you’ve only seemed to realize that now.”

“Jasper’s my friend. Is not polite to stare at his woman.”

“But his sister’s fair game, right?” Alice grins.

Bella's about to say something smart when Edward joins in.

“Hey,” He gives Alice a little nudge. “You guys jumping into the lake?” He asks, pointing forward with his head.

“Yes. We’re just waiting for everyone.” Alice answers him. “Well, I was. Bella, on the other hand, was busy trying to tell me I’m wearing something too revealing for her tastes.”

Bella quickly raises one hand in protest. “I didn't say that.”

Edward chuckles. “You should be glad she's wearing something.”

“Something?” Bella says. “Do you usually wear nothing?”

“I’m a free spirit,” Alice argues.

“What are you nerds going on about?” Emmett asks, joining the conversation.

“Bella was telling Alice –” Edward starts, but before he can finish, Bella interrupts.

“— Nothing. I was telling nothing to no one.” She says, trying to escape this conversation. “Where's Jacob?”

“He’s helping Esme bring some stuff over,” Emmett answers.

“And you’re not helping…because?” Bella grins his way.

“Because I’m trying to let Jacob feel included.”

Bella rolls her eyes while Alice snorts.

“We could wait for him at the end of the deck,” Edward says, pointing to where Rosalie and Jasper are standing.

There’s something different in his voice, something suspicious.

So Bella stares at him, noticing how he starts adverting his eyes from her. “If you’re thinking about throwing me in the lake, pretty boy, you’re going to regret it.”

Oh, how we would. Bella still had a punch to collect from Emmett, and Edward was number one on her list of possible targets.  

“What?” Edward scoffs. “I’m not thinking about anything.”

“As usual.” Emmett jokes, but Bella can see he’s not just joking, no. He’s deflecting.

Alice just shakes her head. “Let’s go.” She starts to walk, and the boys follow her.

Bella narrows her eyes before doing the same. Once they reach their destination, Bella finds a way to stand behind Rosalie, positioning her back to the lake in a strategic move. If any of them wanted to get through to her, they would have to get past the blonde first.

“Hey, you,” Rosalie turns as soon as Bella stops behind her. “Is everything alright?” She asks, taking notice of Bella's movements, and how she's trying to have her as a shield against everyone else.

“Your siblings are conspiring to throw me in the lake against my will.”

Edward was a bad liar. Emmett didn’t know how to deflect nearly as well as he thought he did, and Alice…well, Alice hasn’t done herself any favors by being the one to lead them all here in the end.

“Are they now?” Rosalie has one eyebrow raised, amusement dripping from her voice. “And what gave you that impression?”

There's a fondness in her eyes, but there's something else there too. Something like mischief.

And Bella suddenly realizes how naive she’d been when she’d decided to implicitly trust Rosalie to have her back. Unfortunately, it's a little too late for her now. Everyone else is already watching the two of them with matching grins on their faces, and it's clear that this has been a setup from the start.

When Bella had willingly walked here she’d been walking straight into the lion's den without any backup whatsoever – and now, Jacob not being here had made all the sense in the world.

Bella doubted her friend had been helping Esme. No. He’d been kept back by something just so he couldn’t be here.

Part of Bella wants to run, wants to try and escape what’s coming, but she knows it's already too late for that.

So when Rosalie's cold hands grab her shoulder, Bella doesn’t react, she just lets herself be pushed. One simple touch is all it takes for her to fall backward, her body crashing into the water.

When she resurfaces, everyone's already inside the lake making a ruckus. Bella smiles, not that bothered by what had just happened. Her eyes quickly search for Rosalie, and she sees the girl approaching her quietly.

This time, with no one to interrupt or stand between them, Rosalie does what she’d tried to do in the kitchen earlier – she invades Bella’s personal space until they’re face to face.

This close, Bella can see the little drops of water running down the blonde’s face. She can see how Rosalie's golden eyes seem to shine a softer shade of yellow when the light of the sun hits them just the right way.

Rosalie smirks at her. “Nice dive?” The blonde dares to ask.

Bella narrows her eyes, trying not to let their proximity faze her. “I think you're forgetting the fact we're sleeping in the same room later tonight, Rose.” The new nickname flows easily out of her lips. “You should prepare yourself because tomorrow morning you’re waking up with a mustache on your face.”

Rosalie licks her lip while watching her, and Bella can't help but follow the movement. “You wouldn't dare.”

“Oh, I would.”

“You should try to remember you’re only sleeping with me because I, being the good person I am, saved you.”

Bella raises her eyebrows. “Sleeping with you?”

Rosalie’s eyes sparkle dangerously, and Bella feels butterflies in her stomach. “Sleeping next to me. Better?”

Bella bites her lips. “You tell me. Is it?”

Bella knows she’s crossing a thousand lines right now, but she can’t find it in herself to care.

Rosalie’s here, so close, and she’s Rosalie, and Bella, well, Bella’s gone. Is hard to even comprehend that she wishes for her crush to pass, because all she wants to do is to dive in. To jump and see where it could lead her.

“I don’t know.” Rosalie’s answer is honest, unguarded, and Bella – who was considering jumping off the cliff – retreats.

“Was it always going to be you?” Bella changes the subject.

“To push you into the lake?” Rosalie asks and she nods. “Yes. I wanted to be the one to have that honor.”

“You know, while you do manage to rock a lot of looks, blondie, betrayal isn’t one of them.” Bella jokes.

“Oh, Bella,” Rosalie gets closer. “Everything’s a good look on me.” She whispers next to Bella’s ear.

Bella blinks, undeniably fazed. She fights the urge to shiver before taking a very deep breath. Instead of saying what she wants, or doing something stupid, Bella chooses not to answer.

She chooses to turn her head and watch while Emmett tries to dunk Edward underwater. Bella sees from the corner of her eyes Rosalie put a little space between them.

The blonde presses her lips. “You can rock a lot of looks, Bella, but indifference isn’t one of them.”

Bella adverts her eyes to the blonde. “You sure about that?”

“Very.”

“Ever considered that maybe the problem isn’t me being indifferent, but you being unable to cope with it?” Bella raises her eyebrows.

“No.”

Bella rolls her eyes. “Of course, you haven’t.”

“I’m used to being the one who ignores, not the other way around.”

“We’re all capable of growth, are we not?” Bella teases the girl. “Time to learn how the other side feels, Rosalie.”

“You don’t like making this easy, do you?”

“Now where’s the fun in that?”

Rosalie shakes her head. “Want to see us do the same thing we did to you to Jacob?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

“Yes,” Rosalie says.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, Bella. Maybe because patience is a virtue.”

“One I don’t have.” Bella starts. “Now, is anyone throwing Jacob into the lake or will I have to do it myself?” she raises her voice, trying to gain everyone’s attention.

“Let's go get him,” Edward says, his tone letting everyone know he’s the one who’s going to do it.

“Just lead the way, perfect hair,”

.

.

. 

“Are you okay, Bella?” Carlisle asks her from the shore as soon as she gets out of the lake.

She doesn't answer him right away though, choosing instead to grab one towel from the small table on her right first.

Bella tries to dry herself as best as she can before sitting down next to him, on the edge of another black lounge chair. “Yeah, I’m just cold.”

A gust of wind decides to hit them as soon as the words leave her mouth, and Bella can’t help but shiver, tightening her grip on the towel that’s wrapped on top of her shoulders.

“Good book?” Bella points with her head to the one Carlisle’s holding in his hands.

“No.” He chuckles. “It’s enjoyable enough to pass the time.” He closes it, giving Bella his full attention. “I borrowed it from Jasper, but it's more his taste than my own.”

“Not a big fan of history, huh?” Bella says knowingly.

There were only two types of genres Jasper liked – history or political thrillers.

“Not as much as my son, that’s for sure.”

"I doubt anyone is." Bella looks at the lake, watching how it’s starting to grow darker by the minute. “How are they not cold?”

Besides her, Carlisle is the only one outside – everyone else is still inside the water.

“We don’t feel the cold – nor the heat.” He explains.

“Ok. How’s Jacob not cold?” She rephrases while flattening the sand with her feet. “He’s not normal, I swear. The other day he was walking around shirtless at home, and I was wearing at least three layers of clothes.”

“He has lived his whole life in Forks, Bella. He’s way more used to the weather than you are.”

“That’s true.” She agrees. “It’s not just the cold that’s keeping me away from the lake, you know? Even if it was warmer, I still wouldn't be swimming around either. Do you see how dark the water’s getting? You can't see anything, Doc. Who knows what might be lurking out there.”

Carlisle laughs. “Nothing that can pose a threat to us, rest assured.” He says, trying to offer her some support, but Bella feels none.

Just because nothing could be a threat to the Cullens that didn’t mean they wouldn't be a threat to her or Jacob.

“I was never one to enjoy being in the water when I was human.” He tells her. “That has seemed to accompany me in this life too.”

Bella nods, trying to pretend she has some interest in his story.

Carlisle was nice, he was, but Bella would be lying if she said she liked him. Maybe she was biased, or maybe she couldn’t find a way to like someone who gave Edward as much leeway as he did.

Maybe she couldn’t forgive him for making a choice that wasn’t his to make when he had saved Rosalie’s life. Maybe, just maybe, Bella saw something in him that reminded her too much of Renée’s selfish tendencies to ignore.

“Is it okay if I go take a shower?” Bella asks, feeling weird being here alone with him.

“Of course. Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold.” He smiles.

“Now that would be a bi—” Bella stops herself in time. “A really bad thing.”

He shakes his head in amusement. “That it would, Bella. That it would.”

Chapter Text

“How can you possibly eat another burger?” Bella asks Jacob, her tone incredulous. While she was trying very hard to finish her second one, Jacob was having no trouble whatsoever eating his fourth. “Are you pregnant?” she asks him.

“I’m a growing man.” He says, not the tiniest bit bothered by her comment.

They're all outside the house, doing their best to recreate what could be considered a campfire experience, but is actually just Carlisle managing the grill and everyone sitting on fancy chairs in a circle.

“Boy,” Bella corrects him. “You’re a growing boy.”

Emmett snickers, putting his chest out. “Yes, Jacob, I’m a growing man.”

“More like a man-child,” Rosalie replies with an eye-roll.

“You know, we used to do this a lot back at the Rez,” Jacob says, ignoring their comments. “We would light up a bonfire at the beach and everyone would bring something to eat. Then, when it was getting dark, we would tell each other scary stories.”

“Like the one about us?” Jasper asks, interested.

Jacob shakes his head. “Not really, no. That one was more of a laughing stock most of the time. My father was so obsessed with it that most people just thought that he was crazy. That he was a lunatic spluttering nonsense all the time.”

“But he wasn't,” Esme says, her voice kind.

“No, he wasn’t.” Jacob nods.

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Bella mutters, and Alice, who’s sitting on Jasper’s lap only a few feet away from her, softly shakes her head in agreement. While Billy hadn’t done anything else after threatening her (and the Cullens), Bella couldn’t help but still be very weary of him.

“Is this something that’s considered an essential part of being human these days? Being with friends near a fire and telling scary stories?” Edward asks, going back to the subject.

“Yes,” Jacob says.

“No,” Bella replies at the same time. “Maybe in the 90’ it was. Now, what’s considered an essential part of being human is getting drunk with your friends and doing something stupid – like skinny dipping in the ocean while it’s freezing cold.”

“Have you ever done that?” Emmett asks her, curious.

Because it’s him asking, Bella decides to tell the truth. “Yes.”

“Seriously?” Jacob asks, not buying it. “I find it hard to believe you could’ve ever been someone who liked that sort of thing.”

Bella hadn’t, and that, more than anything, had been the point. “You don’t have to like something to do it.”

“Most times you have,” Jacob says back.

“Most being the imperative word, Jake,” Bella says.

Emmett cuts their bickering short. “What do you guys think of making this more like the bonfires Jacob used to go to? I have some pretty great scary stories.”

“Please don’t,” Bella says, shaking her head. “This is exactly how every stupid horror movie starts. Next thing we know there'll be a psychopath with a mask following us.”

They were in the perfect place for it, after all.

“Are you scared?” Rosalie asks, smirking. Next to the blonde, Emmett smirks too.

After talking for almost an hour in the woods earlier, they both had come back as if nothing had ever happened between them, and for that, Bella had been very grateful. She’d missed them as them – as a unity, as best friends, as partners in crime.

“Yes, B,” Emmett says. “Are you?”

“I’m terrified,” Bella says, her tone sarcastic.

“You guys could tell us more about the Volturi,” Jacob suggests, and everyone seems surprised at his suggestion.

Bella more than anyone. It looked like he had taken her advice at Christmas to heart and was finally ready to acknowledge the Volturi as the valid threat that they were.

“That's not a bad idea, Jacob.” Esme agrees. “It would do you two well to know more about them, I’m sure. Right, darling?” She turns to her husband.

Carlisle nods. “I suppose it would,”

“Know thy enemy?” Bella comments.

“Something like that,” Carlisle admits. “Where should I start?”

“Aro,” Rosalie says, thinning her lips. “You should start with Aro.” Her voice gets dangerously slow.

“Aro is their leader, isn't he?” Jacob asks, shifting to sit more at the edge of his chair.

“Yes Jacob, he is. But there's more to him than that.” Carlisle explains. “Aro’s probably the oldest vampire alive today. He claims he was turned by the first-ever vampire to exist.”

“Is that true?” Bella asks, narrowing her eyes. That sounded like something the vampire could’ve easily made up.

“No one knows,” Carlisle answers her. “But there are stories that suggest that the Volturi are older than we think, older than we can imagine. That they were the first, the ones who started all of this. And somewhere along history the mantle of leader passed to Aro, so yes, Bella, his claims likely have some truth to them."

"How did a human even become a vampire in the first place?" Bella says, curious.

"No one knows it either," Edward tells her. “And if they do, it’s not like they go around telling us.”

“Well, is it possible that the information is out there, and you guys don’t know because you’re not that high up in the hierarchy?” Bella continues.

“Maybe,” Jasper responds. “But there’s no hierarchy, Bella. There’s only one power.”

“You’re saying that if someone knows, it’s the Volturi.” Bella starts to get an idea of how things work. “And they won’t tell anyone who isn’t a part of their coven.”

“Exactly. One could say that they are, if nothing else, a very centralized government.” Jasper explains it further. “They don’t share power, nor information.”

Bella tilts her head. “They control all of you, in one way or another.”

“Yes,” Carlisle says. “Not only in the political sense, but by their sheer strength. Aro has surrounded himself with very gifted vampires on his court.”

“And that’s not all.” Esme joins in. “There’s a rumor he has an army of them at his disposal.”

“But, why?” Jacob says. “If he already has a court full of gifted vampires, why does he need an army?”

“Because he’s driven by power, Jacob,” Rosalie says. “He’s obsessed with it. He doesn’t want any coven or any group to be able to contest his claim to the throne. I’ve never believed he’s a descendant from the first-ever vampire, as he claims, but having an army? That I do.”

“Is that why he's so firm in his reign?” Jacob says, and Bella sees that just like her, he’s finally getting a sense of how things work in their world.

“Yes, Jacob. Aro’s paranoid.” Carlisle says. “The main reason he has for making sure that our secret isn't exposed to humans it's because he fears them – their weapons and their numbers. On the other hand, he makes sure that we don’t grow exponentially.”

“So he fears us because we're at a greater advantage, but at the same time he actively chooses to control just how much of you exist?” Bella asks, thinking about it further.

“Yes,” Emmett says. “It might seem like an unwise move for you, B, but it works well for him. It's easier to keep us in check if there are only a few of us. Easier to make sure that our secret stays safe, and that the ones who do want to challenge him are never able to succeed.”

“So there aren't that many vampires after all?” Jacob asks.

“No,” Carlisle says. “Not as much as it used to be when I first turned, at least. I don't know if it's because of Aro’s philosophy or if it's something else entirely. We do try to stay away from the more political side of it.”

“Why?” Bella can't help but ask. “I get the being away from it now, with all of us breaking the secrecy rule, but not before.”

Alice sighs. “Because of me. Because of Edward.” She says, and Bella realizes this is the first time since this subject has started that Alice’s saying something. “For someone who believes power’s everything, our gifts are…a dream.”

Bella suddenly understands everything. Why the Cullens isolated themselves. Why they didn’t want anything to do with the political side of their world. Why they always had such a flight response to everything.

Aro wanted Alice and Edward to join his court, and Bella had a feeling that whatever the power-hungry vampire wanted, he usually got.

“He tried recruiting you both?” Bella says.

“Yes,” Alice responds, and Jasper holds her closer. “We said no.”

“I bet he wasn’t happy about that.” Bella can’t help but say.

“He wasn’t, Bella,” Carlisle admits. “But he wasn’t mad either. He understood we wanted to live a different life, one as a family. One away from all of that.”

“That’s why we try to live as we do, inconspicuously as possible,” Rosalie explains. “We don’t want to give him any reason to rethink his position on the matter.”

“Like the one you’re giving him now,” Bella says, her tone serious. The Cullens had tried to live their lives quietly, not causing trouble or putting any sort of attention on them, mainly because they didn’t want to give Aro any reason to get what he wanted. But now, well, the Cullens had painted a very large target on their backs if the vampire ever got word on it.

“Yes.” Rosalie’s the one to tell Bella the truth after a few seconds of silence, the rest of the family not manifesting themselves.

“So what will happen to us if he finds out?” Bella presses on. Now that she understood better the kind of danger they were in, she wanted to know the risks – really know them.

Rosalie, once again, is the one to respond. “Nothing good. He might try to use the fact we’ve broken the most important rule as a bargaining chip. He could forgive us for it if Alice and Edward joined him. Or, if he’s feeling generous, he’ll just kill us all.”

“How would that be feeling generous?” Jacob asks, eyes widening in surprise.

“Death is preferable to what he would have in store for them.” Rosalie points with her head to Alice and Edward. “Once he got them, he would never let them go. And being in Aro’s court means being Aro’s. They would be puppets doing his bidding.”

Edward sighs at his sister's words. “There’s another scenario Rosalie’s leaving out. Aro might offer both of you the chance to become one of us. But that’s only if he takes his friendship with Carlisle into account.”

“This option is not so bad, is it?” Jacob says, a little relieved, and Bella can't help but disagree. It’s definitely not the worse, far from it. But it's also not one she would choose. None of them were.

“Maybe not for you, but for Bella? That would be the worst of all.” Rosalie points out, a little hostile. “Can you imagine what Aro would do the moment he realized Edward’s and Jasper's power don't work on her? What he would do if she was immune to his power, or anyone else’s? What he would do if she turned and that was amplified?”

“He would want me to join him,” Bella whispers, finally understanding the extent of Rosalie's fears for her. It wasn't just that she might become a vampire, something she didn't want to be, in the first place. It was that if she did, she might be thrust into a reality far worse than she could’ve imagined it.

“Want is a kind word,” Rosalie says, face worried. “Bella, reading minds and seeing the future would be a dream for him, sure, but you? He would make you his soldier, his shield. He wouldn’t pass up the opportunity, not for some shred of consideration he has for Carlisle, and not for anything.”

“It's not all bad, kids.” Carlisle tries to comfort everyone. “If anything like that was to happen, Alice would see it first. And we’re not as defenseless as we may seem.” He says, giving Bella a little smile. “Aro has a lot on his plate, all of the time. It's been a while since he has shown any interest in what we're doing. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. It's good that we all understand the risks and the situation we're in, but let's not focus only on the bad side of things. Let's try to enjoy the good too.” He puts an end to the conversation.

Emmett, as always, tries to be the one to cheer them all up after that. He immediately launches at the chance to tell them a crazy story that’d happened to him while he was human – something about spending a weekend at a house he was sure was haunted by the spirit of an old woman. Although Bella can't help but laugh alongside everyone, she also can't help but think back at everything she'd heard tonight, and about what it all meant for all of them in the future.

.

.

.

“So how are we doing this exactly?” Bella asks Rosalie, standing in front of the bed. She's trying hard to pretend that the thought of joining the girl isn't as terrifying as it looks. “I can sleep on the floor,” she suggests.

Bella prays to a God she doesn't believe in that Rosalie will say yes.

“Don't be ridiculous, Bella,” Rosalie replies with an eye-roll. “There's plenty of room for both of us here.” She pats the empty space next to her as an invitation, and Bella gulps, unsure of how to approach the situation. “Would sharing a bed make you uncomfortable?”

“No, no. It's just –” Bella stalls. “I like to sleep on the right side.”

Rosalie just stares at her. “Don't you have a single bed in your room?” She asks and Bella doesn't respond. “You know what? Fine.” Rosalie shifts to the left side, exposing Bella to the sight of her in nothing but a plain white t-shirt and minuscule black shorts. “Happy now? Can we sleep?”

“Sure,” Bella answers quickly, averting her eyes from the girl and getting into the bed. When she lies down, Bella realizes just how little room is there between them, and how intimate it feels to be here, side by side.

“You okay?” Rosalie asks in the barely lit room, and Bella turns so she can face the blonde.

“Here with you, or in general?” Bella says, her voice quiet. She knows – like she always does – that it won’t prevent any Cullen from listening in if they want to, but Bella hopes that if she’s quiet that will at least give them a warning she wants this to be private.

“Both,” Rosalie says, her tone matching Bella’s.

“I’m…worried.” There. Bella had said it. Had spoken the truth when she could’ve easily lied, when she could’ve easily deflected.

“About?” Rosalie presses, but her voice’s gentle.

 “A lot of things.” Bella was worried about the Volturi, about Jacob diving headfirst into a relationship that had a one percent chance of working out, about the Cullens, and the trouble they were in now that Bella and Jacob knew their secret. She was worried about her and what it would mean if Aro ever found out she knew vampires existed, about what he would do to her - but most of all, well, Bella was worried about her heart. She was worried her feeling for Rosalie weren’t going to fade, that instead, they would grow even stronger – that she would do what she’d chastised Jacob for doing, that she would try and make something that might never work into something that could.

That she would go all in when doing that would mean jumping off a cliff with no parachute on.

“I think I would be more worried if you weren’t,” Rosalie says.

“You would be more worried if I didn’t worry?” Bella asks.

“Yes.” Rosalie nods. “If you’re feeling this way, it means you’re thinking things through, Bella, that you’re worried about the consequences of the situation we’re all in. It means you’re taking this the way you should be. That the gravity of what might happen isn’t lost on you.”

“I appreciated the things you said tonight,” Bella says, wanting to express her gratitude that Rosalie had been the one to tell her the reality of things to come. “How you spoke the truth about what Aro would do to me if he found out I knew.”

“Sometimes, we think that by not saying something, that means it won’t happen, that it isn’t real, but most of the time we’re just lying to ourselves,” Rosalie says.

“Yeah.” Bella knew that more than anyone right now. “And sometimes, it only means we’re lying to everyone else too.”

“People should be allowed to make their own choices, and the only way for that to happen for real, is if they know what they’re choosing,” Rosalie explains. “That’s why I don’t agree with what Jacob and Edward are doing. Jacob isn’t worried like you are, Bella. He isn’t thinking things through, he isn’t stopping to think about what he’s choosing, and the consequences of said choice. He’s just --”

“Living like there’s no tomorrow?” Bella completes it for her. “I know. I’ve tried talking with him, but it’s not going how I wish it was. He’s less nonchalant about it all, he is, tonight is proof of that, but that’s still far off from the mindset I wish he was in.”

Rosalie nods, but she doesn’t say anything else, and now Bella has nothing to focus on, no conversation to stop herself from staring at the girl in front of her in wonder. Rosalie looks so soft – so unguarded – so open, that is hard for Bella to ignore it, is hard for her to pretend this isn’t a sight she could grow accustomed to.

“We should sleep,” Rosalie says, shaking Bella out of whatever dangerous road she was delving in. “We have an early morning tomorrow.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Bella concedes. It was best to call it a night before she did something stupid. “Good night, Rose”

“Night, Bella,” Rosalie says, her voice soft. The blonde turns off the lights in the room by clapping once before rolling over to the other side.

.

.

.

“You all hate me. There’s no other explanation as to why you’re making me do this.” Bella says, trying to take a breath. She has one hand firmly stuck to a tree, trying to keep herself upright.

Someone - Bella suspect Rosalie, because the blonde has been giving her a lot of amused glances every time she’d tripped over something, or had to take a quick pause because she’d been dying – had thought that a morning hike would be the perfect activity to kickstart their first full day at the lake house.

Bella couldn’t help but firmly disagree now that she was here. A perfect way to kickstart their day would’ve been, well, anything else, really.

“You know, Bella, I don't think it's a good sign you're this tired already,” Jasper says, worried. While Rosalie had been having fun at Bella’s expense, Jasper had been growing more and more worried about her lack of shape. “Maybe you should join me on my morning runs.”

“I know you're trying to be a good friend right now, buddy.” Bella acknowledges, breathing hard. “But I don't even want to think about running. Ask me to join you later.” If he did, Bella would say yes. This right here was enough proof, she needed to start exercising.

Jasper laughs, shaking his head at her antics. Edward, though, looks a little bothered by her slowness.

“If you keep stopping every time, we're going to take the whole day,” Edward says, his voice sharp

Bella thins her lips, seriously wondering if this would be a good time to collect Emmett’s favor.

“Who's stopping you, perfect hair?” Bella points to the path straight ahead. “Go on.”

He seems like he's going to say something else, but he stops when he sees the matching threatening looks coming from everyone else besides Jacob.

“You heard her,” Rosalie says, voice hard. “Move along, Edward.”

“We’ll stay with Bella,” Emmett says, and Rosalie nods. “You guys can go.”

Alice looks like she's about to protest at this turn of events, but Jasper, feeling nothing good will come out of having a discussion in the middle of the woods, strings her along. Jacob mouths an ‘I’m sorry’ to Bella before following them with Edward by his side.

When they’re far enough away, Bella smiles gratefully at her friends. “Thank you, guys."

"My brother's a dick.” Emmett shakes his head. “I always knew that, sure, but you’ve seemed to unlock a new level for him, B.”

Bella snorts.

“I was this close to doing something.” Rosalie thin her lips, displeased.

“I do appreciate the support guys, but he’s not worth it,” Bella says.

Rosalie rolls her eyes. “When you’re the one on the receiving end he’s not worth it, is that it?”

“Yes,” Bella says, pressing her lips. “Now, if he was being an ass to you, Rose, well, let’s just say he wouldn’t expect what my answer to that would be.”

Ah, how it would’ve been nice to collect her favor on something like this – to see Emmett punching Edward with feeling behind it.

“Don’t worry, B,” Emmett says, seemingly reading her mind. “I know you’re going to have a lot of opportunities in the future to collect your favor.”

“What favor?” Rosalie asks, raising her eyebrows.

Bella waves her hand in dismissal. “Nothing you should worry about or concern yourself with it, blondie. I’m sure you’re going to enjoy it when it finally happens.”

“When it comes to the two of you together, I’ll wait to judge,” Rosalie says, shaking her head. “C’mon, let’s go. I can help you out, Bella.” Rosalie offers Bella her hand and she takes it.

“Thanks, Rose. Knew I could count on you.”

.

.

.

“Jacob had the right idea when he decided to take a nap. I’ll tell you something, blondie, I’m beaten.” Bella sighs, closing her eyes and getting more comfortable on the big fluffy chair in the living room.

“I can see that,” Rosalie smirks, putting another cushion on her back and adjusting herself on the couch right in front of Bella. “I thought you were going to pass out at one point.”

“I was this close,” Bella gestures with her fingers. “I still can't believe you guys thought that taking me on a hike would be a good idea.” She narrows her eyes, wondering if the blonde would come clean. Bella was sure, oh she was, that it’d all been Rosalie’s idea.

“We didn't. That was half the fun.”

“You can say I, blondie. I know it was you.” Bella tells her. “Something this diabolical could’ve only been plotted by you.”

Rosalie chuckles. “You loved the view at the end, didn’t you? So maybe not that diabolical.”

“That’s fair.” Bella’s too tired to argue – or to pretend to argue. “How long does it usually takes for you guys to hunt?”

Carlisle, Esme, Emmett, Jasper, and Alice had all gone hunting ten minutes ago while Edward and Jacob had decided to take a nap. Now, Bella was wondering how long it would take for everyone to be back. Being alone with Rosalie was…great. But it was also dangerous.

“If we’re going out there with only that purpose in mind, I would say two hours at most,”

“What other purpose could you guys have?” Bella asks, confused.

Rosalie grins. “The ability to have sex without the whole family listening in”

“Well, I don’t think I’ve ever regretted asking a question this much.”  

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Rosalie says. “You don’t exactly strike me as a prude, Bella.”

“Wow,” Bella dramatically puts one hand on her heart. “Did you just call me forward?”

“No,” Rosalie replies, but there’s a glint of amusement in her eyes. “To be perfectly honest, I don’t think I’ve had anyone in the past fifty years treat me with as much respect as you have.”

“First you call me forward, now you’re calling me slow?” Bella decides not to mention just how profoundly sad that statement was. “Make up your mind, woman.” She does a tsk tsk sound.

Rosalie rolls her eyes, but there’s so much fondness to the act that Bella fights hard not to say something stupid. “I was giving you a compliment.”

“Last time you gave me a compliment, blondie, you called me delusional. Now, you’re calling me slow.” Bella frowns. “Are you sure you know what a compliment is?”

“And here I thought I was the one who fished for compliments in this relationship.”

Bella tries to pretend that hearing that word has no effect whatsoever on her. “What can I say? Your enormous ego is starting to rub off on me.”

Rosalie chuckles. “There’s no way I have a bigger ego than Emmett. Or Edward, or, better yet, Alice.”

“That’s true.” Bella nods. “Speaking of Emmett, can I ask you a question?”

“Always.”

Bella blinks, surprised that’s the answer Rosalie has given her. “He told me something when we were driving here.” she starts. “Emmett.”

“Oh, God. What?” Rosalie asks, biting her lips and seemingly preparing herself mentally.

Bella can’t blame her for it. It was Emmett – there was no way to know what he’d said. “He told me he had a huge crush on you right after he turned,” Bella reveals.

Rosalie sighs. “He told you I wasn’t too sold on the idea?”

“Yes. Although he couldn’t tell me why.”

“Of course he couldn’t.” Rosalie rolls her eyes. “Say what you will, but most men are clueless.”

“Won’t argue with you on that,” Bella says. “Feminist, remember?”

“How could I forget?” Rosalie smiles, before getting right back to Bella’s question. “About Emmett, before I can answer you, there’s something you need to understand. As soon as we turn, that first year, our emotions are all over the place. It doesn’t help that being a vampire enhances all your senses too, so you’re constantly being bombarded with everything around you.”

“It must be overwhelming.”

“Yes,” Rosalie says. “The first few years, Bella, we don't get mad, we get enraged. We don't feel happy, we feel elated. It takes a while to understand what we’re feeling, to get a rein on things, to figure out how to deal with it.” She thins her lips. “Emmett didn't fall in love at first sight, Bella, he fell in lust. I knew that whatever he was feeling, if I gave him time, it would fade.”

“But if you didn't, gave him time that is, do you think it would’ve passed?” Bella asks.

“I don't know,” Rosalie answers, her voice honest. “I don’t think it would’ve mattered anyway. If it passed or if it didn’t. The truth behind it would always remain the same – Emmett first liked what he saw, not who I was.” She shakes her head. “After everything, I promised myself I would do it right the next time – if I ever found myself wanting to try again, I would do it with someone who saw who I was first, someone who would fall for all that I am, not just this.” She points to herself.

“As you should,” Bella says, only managing to get those words out, her mind still too focused on everything Rosalie had said.

“You don’t think that's too much to ask?” Rosalie enquires softly.

“No,” Bella says without missing a beat. “For you? I would say that’s the bare minimum.”

“Yeah?” Rosalie asks, a little unsure.

“Yes,” Bella says more fiercely, feeling something important clicking inside her.

Chapter Text

It’s late. Bella knows that. Can feel it in the way the house is quiet, in the way the wind dances outside Rosalie’s bedroom window.

She has been tossing and turning in bed for a while now. Unable to keep still, unable to quiet her mind and her thoughts for long enough so she could go to sleep.

In a few hours, the birds will start to chirp, the sun will rise, and Bella will inevitably regret all of her decisions – sure, but it isn’t morning yet - so Bella gets up from the bed, making as little noise as possible so as not to wake the blonde sleeping next to her.

.

.

.

The wind sweeps through her hair without mercy, and Bella finds herself clutching her legs tighter on the deck, trying to fight off the cold that starts to permeate her whole body. She should’ve brought a coat. Or a blanket. Or anything that could provide her some warmth, but Bella had been so lost in her need to escape – in her need to flee Rosalie’s room, and Rosalie’s bed, and Rosalie herself, that she hadn’t stopped to think what she would need out here.

All Bella had known was that she needed some air and some space to think. All she had known was that she needed to figure out what she wanted – before she did something she couldn’t take back. And now, for the first time since that day in the cafeteria, Bella had allowed herself to really think things through. Not to brush it away, or keep it in a box, or to deny and pretend it wasn’t there. For the first time, she was letting herself ask the important questions.

How much would she risk if she told Rosalie how she felt? How much would the blonde risk in return, if she felt the same? Did she even feel the same? And if she did, was it even fair of Bella to put her in that position? Was it even fair to ask her to do it? To throw caution into the wind and go on this adventure with Bella, even though the consequences of it could be deadly?

Bella didn't know the answer to any of those, and that, more than anything, had been the reason why she’d tossed and turned in bed all night, unable to get some rest. The reason why she couldn’t fit inside herself anymore, the reason she was going out of her mind. All Bella had was questions, the unknown. And the more she thought about them, instead of finding answers, she could only find even more questions.

What if Rosalie didn’t feel the same way? What if she told Bella that she’d taken things a step too far, that she'd imagined it all? What then?

There’d been a lot of things holding this fragile stability between them – this push and pull, avoid and reach out – this hot and cold dynamic they had going on - but the number one thing had been Bella’s inability to come to terms with the truth. Her ability to deflect her feelings. And now, Bella was contemplating breaking the very same thing that kept her and Rosalie’s friendship alive. And she was doing that, considering it, because she knew, as she had always known but never said it, that this had never been a friendship to begin with.

No.

This had been something else entirely, right from the beginning.

.

.

.

Looking at the sky, Bella can’t help but wish her grandmother was here. Marie would know just what to say. What to do. Bella can already hear the words she would say if she’d been here – the way she would grin, the way she would look at her.

“Isabella, you have Italian blood in your veins. Don’t be a coward, sí?”

Marie had been fearless – a force of nature, and Bella, just by being close to her, had been a little bit of that too. But without her here, the thought of being brave was daunting. Bella knew she couldn’t break, that she couldn’t put herself in a position that could break her, that could shatter her, because there would be nobody to pick her up if it did. There would be nobody for her to draw strength from. To lean on. Before Bella can start panicking – before her thoughts can get darker – she closes her eyes. She counts to ten, very slowly, breathing in and out.

When she finishes, Bella feels someone sit right next to her, and for a microsecond, she entertains the thought of that someone being Marie. But she knows that’s just wishful thinking, she knows there’s only one person who she’s going to see when she opens her eyes. The same person who has been plaguing her thoughts tonight.

“I thought you were a ghost,” she tells the blonde, giving her a tiny smile.

“The good or bad kind?” Rosalie asks.

“It depends.”

“On?”

“Your definition of good and bad.” Bella starts but doesn’t continue, choosing instead to look at the dark sky straight ahead. How could she explain to Rosalie that the ghosts who haunted her were the good ones? The ones filled with longing and new memories that would never come to exist – the things that would never be lived or said.

“Are you okay?” Rosalie says, turning her head to stare at Bella, beckoning her to do the same.

She does. “It depends.”

“Let me guess,” Rosalie starts, giving Bella a knowing look. “On the definition of what okay is?”

“Yes. I’m feeling very philosophical tonight.”

“Are you willing to explain to me why?” Rosalie asks, her tone soft. “Or are we about to deflect the hell out of this thing?” she raises one of her eyebrows.

Bella chuckles, shaking her head. “I know this might come as a surprise to you, blondie, but I’m not exactly in the mood to deflect.”

Rosalie blinks, clearly surprised. “Okay. Are you in the mood to talk?”

“Maybe,” Bella sighs. “I just… I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Any place’s a good start, as long as you’re willing.” Rosalie tries, and Bella feels an immense wave of gratitude toward her.

Here she was, trying to understand why Bella was out here alone in the middle of the night, doing her best to give Bella a way to express her emotions when Bella herself had no idea how to even start.

“Tell me what you were thinking before I got here,” Rosalie says.

“I was thinking about Marie.”

“Oh,”

“Yeah,” Bella says, tilting her head. “Not exactly a conversation starter, is it?” No one liked talking about death, suffering, or things they had lost – and Bella was no exception. Even when people had tried, even when they had made an effort, Bella had skived, had found a way to escape the conversation, a way to tread calmer waters – the type that wouldn’t drown her if she wasn’t careful.

“It can be if you want.” Rosalie, ever so patient, says. “What I’ve learned, though, is that you hardly seem to want that, Bella. Every time the subject comes up, you find a way to change it.”

“I want to be more than the sum of the things that I’ve lost, blondie. That’s very hard to be when the subject in hand makes an appearance.”

“Don’t we all wish to be more than just that?”

“I don’t know. Do you?” Bella gives her a knowing look.

Rosalie sighs. “Most of the time.” She acquiesces, though Bella can see that it pains her to do it. “But not all of it. I can admit I…I struggle to, often. That I do want to be that, but sometimes I’m only the version of me that’s everything I’ve lost.”

“That must be hard.”

“It’s hell. But it’s a hell I know. One of my own making.”

“I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” Bella says, disagreeing with the blonde’s assessment.

“How would you put it?” Rosalie asks, her voice soft.

“A hell that’s been imposed on you. Not one of your own making. Your choices haven’t led you here, blondie, and just because you can’t escape it as much as you would like to, it doesn’t make it your fault.”

“Maybe,” Rosalie says. “It does make it my failure, though.”

“We’re human. Failure is our nature.”

“I’m not human.”

Bella shakes her head. “You are in all the ways that matter.”

Rosalie gives her a small smile. “I thought we were talking about you.”

“Well,” Bella shrugs. “The night is young. We can talk about you too. I’m not selfish, you know? I’m okay with sharing the spotlight.”

“For that, I’m afraid we would need way more than one night.”

“Like two nights?”

Rosalie grins. “Maybe two decades.”

“At least I would be old and wiser by the time it ended.”

“Old, wiser, and a master at deflection,” Rosalie says. “C’mon, I thought you weren’t in the mood to do that tonight. Let’s get back to what you were saying, huh?”

Bella takes a deep breath. “I was saying that I want to be more than the things I’ve lost. That I don’t want anyone’s pity, and I don’t want them thinking they know who I am just because, suddenly, they know the worst thing that has happened in my life.”

And wasn’t that kind of ironic? Bella didn’t want people to think they knew her, but here she’d been only a few minutes ago, wishing there was still someone in the world who did.

“Did you feel that way when I told you what happened to me?” Rosalie says, and Bella’s surprised she’s going there. After Christmas, they hadn’t broached that subject again - not that Bella had wanted to or could blame Rosalie for not saying anything else about it either.

“No,” Bella answers.

“I was afraid you would,” Rosalie confesses. “I was afraid you wouldn’t look at me the same way, that you would act differently around me,”

Bella knows what Rosalie means. She knows – and that’s why she won’t deflect, deny, or make some stupid joke that will only manage to fall flat in the middle of an honest conversation. “C’mon, blondie. I would never do that to you.”

“I know,” Rosalie nods. “I mean, I knew it then and I still know it now, but I was scared. I was worried. When it’s about opening up, when it’s about lowering walls, I’m not exactly the most logical person in the world, Bella. Quite the contrary, actually. I didn’t want things to change. I didn’t want you to let that define who I was, who I am, and in turn, who we are.”

“You’re so much more than what happened to you, Rose,” Bella says, but when she sees that Rosalie doesn’t seem that swayed by her answer, she presses on. “Do you want to know what’s the first thing that pops into my mind when I think about you?”

“Maybe.” The blonde presses her lips.

“That you’re incredibly egocentric.” Bella starts, deciding it’s high time she told Rosalie something real. “That you’re very diabolical in your plans to see me suffering. That you’re beautiful, hot, and smart. That you’re funny, kind, and cute, though most people wouldn’t ever dare to call you that to your face. You’re a great friend, blondie, and a great sister. A great daughter. You’re the reason the world doesn’t seem so bad anymore, because how can it be, with you in it?” Bella takes a second to breathe before getting even more real. “And I know I’m going on a tangent here, and that you’re banned from ever thinking I don’t know how to compliment you anymore, but I’m also just telling you the truth, Rosalie, because I feel is high time someone did. That it’s high time you knew – because when you told me that in the past fifty years, I’d been the person who had treated you with the most respect, all I felt was this sadness, this despair. You deserve better. And I know you like to pretend you know that, but we both know you don’t, so maybe if I’m the one saying it to you, it will finally stick in this stubborn head of yours.”

Rosalie blinks. Then she blinks again. Then she just stares at Bella like she’s seeing her for the first time. “I’m going to need a minute to process all that,” Rosalie says, her tone the softer Bella has ever heard. “When you told me you were feeling philosophical, and that you were in no mood to deflect, I wasn’t exactly expecting this, Bella.”

“What were you expecting?” Bella raises her eyebrows.

“You not to lie.”

“Ah,” Bella understands. “You weren’t expecting me to tell you the truth.”

“I wasn’t expecting you, period,”

“What does that mean?” Bella asks, but Rosalie sighs, and Bella realizes that just because she’s willing to bare herself open tonight, that doesn’t mean Rosalie’s going to do the same. That just because Bella’s been obsessing over the blonde’s words earlier, that just because she’d realized that amidst her wishes for the girl to find someone who saw all that she was, someone who wanted all of her and not only what was on the surface, the thing that had stood out the most had been Bella’s wish for that someone to be her – that didn’t mean Rosalie was on the same wavelength here. “It’s alright. You don’t have to answer my question.” she says, giving Rosalie an out.

“I don’t?”

“Not tonight,” Bella hopes Rosalie has managed to catch the implied ‘but someday, yes’, because well, truth be told, Bella wanted to know. She wanted answers, not more questions. She wanted something, anything, that could give her a little glimpse into Rosalie’s feelings – that could give her some hope she wasn’t alone in this.

“Okay,” Rosalie says, her eyes searching for something in Bella’s gaze. “Will you finally tell me what’s going on? Why you’re here?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“I kind of got that,” Rosalie says, and Bella’s expecting her to grin, smirk, or roll her eyes, but she doesn’t do any of that, she just keeps a serious expression. “I was asking why.”

“Well,” Bella sighs, shifting a little in her spot. “The problem with this question, blondie, is that if I could answer it, I probably wouldn’t be here.”

Ok, maybe that wasn’t exactly the truth. It wasn’t a question of whether Bella could answer it – but if she would answer it. Would Bella give them a chance? Would she stop fighting what she was feeling and give in? Would she finally admit that there hadn’t been and there wouldn’t be enough lies she could tell, or excuses she could make, or avoiding she could do to escape this - that no matter what, Bella would always and irrevocably find herself right here - falling for everything that Rosalie was, without fault.

“I don’t get it.” Rosalie frowns.

“I need to make a decision. That’s the thing that’s keeping me awake.” Bella explains, feeling lighter the more she lets her feelings out. “But telling you what decision that is, is a decision in itself.”

Rosalie tilts her head. “Because I’m the problem?”

“No. Not the problem.” Bella is quick to respond. “The solution.” As soon as she says it, her heart starts beating faster, because this right here was a very dangerous hill to be on.

“If there’s anything I can do to help you, Bella, I will,” Rosalie says, and Bella hears the truth in her words.

“It’s not a question of helping me, Rose.” Bella tries again, shaking her head. God, why was this so fucking difficult?

“So, what is it a question of, Bella?” Rosalie starts to get frustrated, and Bella can’t blame her for it - not when she was the one who wasn’t making any of this easy.

“I can’t tell you.”

Rosalie raises her eyebrow. “You can’t or you won’t? Because those are two very different things.”

“More like I don’t know if I should.”

Because that was the thing, wasn’t it? Bella kept thinking it was a matter of courage, of leaping into the unknown, but maybe it wasn’t that. Not exactly. Maybe, Bella already knew what she wanted. Maybe, she already knew it was only a matter of time before she told Rosalie how she felt. Maybe, the only thing holding her back from saying it right now was the fact she didn’t know if she should. After chastising Jacob for months for risking everything to be with Edward, how could Bella do the same with a clear conscience?

“Just say what you want to say, Bella,” Rosalie tells her.

“Consequences be damned?” Bella arches her eyebrows.

“Yes.” Rosalie nods. “Remember when I saved you from having to sleep on a blanket fort with Emmett and Alice?”

“How could I forget.”

Considering everything, Bella couldn’t help but think that maybe she would’ve been better off in this unrealized scenario – but honestly, who was she kidding? She would’ve always ended up here tonight.

“You owe me one, so I’m collecting it now. Say whatever you want to say, Bella, and I won’t judge, or freak out. I know most of the time you don’t really say what you’re thinking, so, I’m giving you free rein to do that now.”

“You sure?” Bella swallows. There would be no turning back from this. Didn’t Rosalie realize that?

“Yes.” Rosalie nods. “Are you?”

No. But Bella doubted she ever would be ready for it. So here went nothing.

“I have feelings for you.”

Rosalie's eyes widen, and she looks dumbstruck – like she wasn't expecting Bella to actually answer her, or if she did, she wasn't expecting this to be what she’d said. And if moments ago, Rosalie had been pressing Bella for answers, urging her forward, now she’s just frozen in place and time.

“God knows how hard I’ve tried running from it.” Bella continues, because now that she has said it, it’s like a dam has opened. “How hard I’ve tried to convince myself is something fleeting. But I can’t outrun it, blondie, and it’s not going away, it’s only getting stronger.”

Rosalie looks shaken - like she’s seen a ghost, like this is a dream (or a nightmare, Bella doesn’t know) they’re both stuck in it. A second passes. A moment. A minute.

A lifetime.

“Do you wish for it to go away?” Rosalie finally says, her voice barely a whisper.

“It isn’t, so does it really matter what I’m wishing for?”

In the past few years, it hadn’t. Whatever Bella had wanted had been unimportant and inconsequential. And by now, Bella was used to it.

“It matters to me,” Rosalie answers, her golden eyes shining in the night.

“Okay,” Bella nods, understanding where she’s coming from. After all, when it came to Rosalie, everything was about choice. “No, I don’t want it to pass. I’m not…” Bella struggles to explain. “This isn’t something that happens to me, okay? I don’t usually feel like this. Actually, I never have. And I know it’s crazy, and scary, because what are the odds of you feeling the same, or of this ever working, but no. I don’t want it to pass.”

Rosalie doesn’t say anything, she just continues to stare, and Bella knows this is not a good sign, but she’s not stopping now. Not when she had fought like hell to be here. To get here.

Bella was going to say what she needed to say, and then, and only then, she would leave. “I know I’m breaking some unspoken law here, Rosalie.” she sighs. “That I’m doing the very same thing Jacob and Edward have done. That I’m putting our friendship at risk, and our lives too. I know that. So, I’m not going to lie to you and say I didn’t wish things were different, because I do. Every day. But I’ve never wished I didn’t feel this way.”

Bella had wished she was different, yes. Someone with less emotional baggage and traumas – that she was someone easier to get to know. She’d wished they had met sooner, or a few years from now. She’d wished Marie was still here, that the world they lived in was different – the way it’d been before Bella knew vampires existed. She’d wished for many things. But she’d never wished Rosalie hadn’t come into her life - she’d never wished she didn’t feel what she was feeling – only that feeling it didn’t mean that they were pretty much fucked.

“I —“ Rosalie starts but stops herself.

Bella can clearly see that she's struggling with something. What to say, what to do. So she sighs, slowly getting up from the wooden planks. When she's fully up she waits - waits for Rosalie to do something, or say something, but the blonde never does.

She only speaks when Bella turns to leave.

“Wait,”

Bella turns again, watching while the blonde hurries to stand up.

“You’re leaving?” Rosalie’s voice is unsure, guarded. Scared .

And there’s nothing Bella wants more than to stay here until Rosalie figures this out. Nothing she wants more than an answer. But Bella knows this isn’t as simple as that. She knows what an answer entails, and what it means. Knows just how long she’d needed to take before making up her mind. If Rosalie had been the one to tell her the same thing a few days ago, could Bella claim, with any type of certainty, that she wouldn’t be acting the same way the blonde was?

“I made my choice, blondie.” Bella smiles, feeling free. “Giving you an answer is an answer in itself, remember? I’m all in. Now it’s time for you to figure out where you stand. Do you already know where that is?” she asks.

Rosalie shakes her head. “No,” she says, her voice hoarse.

“Let me know when you do.”

Bella turns and leaves, this time for good.

Chapter Text

“Long night?” Esme asks, adjusting herself on the chair.

Bella just grunts, trying to disappear into her coffee cup. When she’d come down, Bella hadn’t expected anyone to be up – actually, she hadn’t even expected herself to be up – but when she opened the large kitchen doors, there Esme had been – with her warm smile, kind heart, and a delicious cup of coffee in her hand.

“Are you trying to be polite, or are you unaware?” Bella asks.

“I slept last night,” Esme says, her tone knowing. “Unlike you, by the looks of it.”

Bella takes another sip of her coffee to stall, wondering how she’s going to respond. In the end, she decides to be honest. “Rosalie and I had a talk.”

Bella hadn’t expected the blonde to have an answer already, of course she hadn’t – but Bella hadn’t expected to sleep alone, or for Rosalie to vanish into the night. But maybe, well, maybe she should have.

Esme hums. “It must’ve been a difficult one if she’s pulling a Rosalie on you.”

Bella can’t help but chuckle. “Not difficult, exactly. Unexpected, I would say. At least for her.” Bella doubted Rosalie had been aware of what was going to happen when she’d joined her on the deck last night.

“But not for you?”

Bella tilts her head. “No.”

It’d been a long-time coming. Bella was great at lying to herself, sure, but the moment she’d admitted what she was feeling, part of her knew it wouldn’t take her long to say it out loud. Did she imagine she was going to do it last night? No, but Bella had no regrets.

Esme raises her eyebrows. “Good.”

Bella frowns. “Good?”

“Yes.” Esme nods. “One of you should know what they’re doing. Where you want to go. If both of you lack conviction, things will be harder, Bella.”

How Esme managed to get all that from the few words Bella had spoken, she didn’t know. But that was Esme for you.

“I guess that’s already a lost battle then, Ms. C, if you’re counting on me to be the one who knows what she’s doing.”

“You’re the one who’s here,” Esme tells her, and Bella can’t help but think she has a point. “While my daughter is busy doing who knows what on the other side of the property.”

“At least she’s here, isn’t she? That’s progress.”

“Yes.” Esme smiles, delighted. “Way more than you can imagine.”

Bella grins, making a motion to take another sip of her coffee but realizing it is empty.

“You want me to make you another one?” Esme points with her head to Bella’s hand. “Something tells me you’re going to need it today.”

“No, no. It’s okay. I won’t make any difference, not in the state I’m in.”

“You need to sleep,” Esme says, worried. “Why don’t you go back upstairs? I can tell everyone you’re not feeling too well today.”

Bella waves her hand in dismissal. She wasn’t going to hide. She had known what staying up late would mean, just like she’d known what saying what she said would too. Now, it was time to face the music. “That’s kind of you, Esme, but it’s okay. I don’t want to spend my last day here sleeping. I just need to do something to focus.”

Something to get her mind off things, to make Bella stop hyper-analyzing every single thing Rosalie had done last night.

“How about we play some chess?” Esme asks. “That’ll make you focus on something else for the time being.”

“I do need some help at it if I’m ever going to manage to beat Jasper.” They had played at least twenty times, and Bella had lost every single one of them. “You don’t mind playing with someone who’s horrible at it?”

“No.” Esme grins. “I’ll enjoy playing a clean game for once. One without someone cheating.”

“Don't let Alice hear you say that,” Bella tells her. “Last time I accused her of cheating she spent two hours telling me I was offending her moral code.”

“She needs to have one first, dear, before she can be offended by your way of saying she’s breaking it.” Esme chuckles.

“That’s exactly what I told her,” Bella says, before smiling sheepishly. “Well, maybe not exactly.”

“And how did that work out for you?” Esme asks, her voice amused.

Bella puts her hand on her chin.  “Not good at all,” she admits.

Esme just laughs away, delighted at her misfortune.

.

.

.

“You know, Mrs. C. I’m really starting to think I suck at this game,” Bella states, looking at the chessboard in front of her before staring at the woman again. “I mean, I stuck at this game?”

“You can say suck, Bella, it won’t offend me.”

Bella nods, pretending she will do things differently the next time, but knowing she won’t. This was Esme, after all. “How can you be better than Jasper at it?” she mumbles, shaking her head.

“Who do you think taught him how to play, dear?” Esme states, moving one of her knights and leaving Bella in a bad situation, game-wise.

“Maybe you should have led with that when you told me you would be playing with me.” Bella should know by now that when it came to the Cullens, playing fair wasn’t in their nature or vocabulary.

“I could, but that would’ve taken half of the fun out of it, wouldn’t it?” Esme says, grinning.

“You know,” Bella says, giving her a look. “I think you're spending too much time with your daughter. Maybe you should start trying to be a bad mom instead.”

When she's about to make a move on the board that could either save her or end this game entirely (it would probably be the latter), the front door opens, and a ruffled Rosalie walks in. And Bella knows she has never seen the blonde like this, ever. Rosalie had always been a perfect picture of composure, but today, well, she looked like she’d just barely survived a zombie apocalypse. There’re twigs in her hair, her jeans are ripped, and the right side of her body is covered in something that looks a lot like moss.

“Hi, dear. Glad you could join us,” Esme says affectionately. “Is everything alright?”

Rosalie grimaces. “I’m fine. I just fell.”

“Into a tornado?” Bella says, not making it easy for the other girl.

Rosalie narrows her eyes at her, daring her to continue, daring her to say anything else when this was clearly her fault. “I’m just… I’m going to head up. Take a shower, maybe a nap. I’ll see you guys later, okay?”

Rosalie doesn’t wait for any type of answer before she becomes a blur. Bella stares at Esme, thinking how much she could say now that Rosalie was inside the house – now that she could hear Bella’s words.

“Let’s for a moment pretend that you’re the one who can see the future, Esme. How long do you think that will last?” Bella points with her head to the stairs. Rosalie had run. Now, from the looks of it, she would hide. The only thing missing? The ignoring Bella part of the trifecta.

“A few days. A week. Maybe two. It depends on how much you’ve disrupted things.”

Bella snorts. “So a month then, huh?”

Esme eyebrow’s raise in surprise. “You don’t do things halfway, do you, Bella?”

“Italian blood, Ms. C,” Bella says. “Go big or go home.”

.

.

.

Rosalie ignores Bella the whole day.

So much so that by the time nighttime descends, everyone knows something has happened between them. They don’t pry though, and Bella’s grateful for that.

She’s not so grateful when she realizes that for the second night in a row, she’s going to be sleeping alone in Rosalie’s bed, but she knows it could be worse.

At least tomorrow, Bella’s leaving. Then, she can spiral at home.

.

.

.

Bella stands in the living room, her backpack on her shoulders, and her luggage on her feet. It’s early morning, and the house is quiet. Yesterday, before going to bed, she had said goodbye to everyone – everyone but Rosalie.

Today, standing here, Bella knows she’s not going to have that opportunity either. It rings a bell in her head, an alarm, because while that didn’t mean everything was lost, it also didn’t mean anything good either.

“Are you ready to go?” Carlisle asks her one more time.

“You know what?” Bella says, adjusting her grip on her backpack. “Yes, yes I am.”

If avoiding her and needing space was what Rosalie wanted, Bella could give it to her. She could. She wouldn’t like giving it to her, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that if Rosalie wanted space, Bella would give her the biggest space she'd ever seen.

She was nothing if not an overachiever after all.

.

.

.

“Carlisle?” Bella asks, her tone a little wary. The doctor is the Cullen she has the least intimacy with – and that’s saying something because there’s always Edward to consider – but Bella’s a little desperate here, so he’ll have to do.

“Yes?” He answers her, but his eyes are focused on the road.

“If someone hypothetically asked you to give them space, do you think texting that person would be violating that?” Bella wanted to say something, anything, to open up a line of communication with Rosalie, just so she could feel like she wasn’t slowly losing her mind.

“Did that person specify what kind of space they wanted, or did they just tell you to give that to them?” He goes along, his voice calm.

It makes Bella feels better and more comfortable.

“Hm,” she bites her lip. “More like they didn't say they wanted space. You suggested they needed it, but they didn't say anything. After that, they started avoiding you, ignoring you, so you decided to give them that anyway.” Bella takes a deep breath before continuing. “So, should you even give them space? Is texting breaking the space boundary? Is space even necessary in this instance?”

Carlisle just looks confused. “I’m sorry Bella, I don't think I understood half of that. There was a lot of space in there.”

Bella doesn't say that’s exactly the problem.“It's okay, Dr. C. I didn't either. Just forget I said anything.”

“If that's what you want.”

Bella gives him a look that tells him that, yes, that’s what she wants. “Carlisle?” She wants to move on from the space conversation, yes, but Bella also wants to ask the doctor a question. One that she’ll only do it because it’s him - anyone else would interpret differently, would give her a knowing look, or read too much into things - but he wuldn't. “Alice said something to me the other day.” she starts. “About how relationships between vampires are a little different.”

Bella hadn’t followed up – mostly because she felt that was what Alice wanted in the first place – but the subject had stayed in her mind.

“It is.” He says. “It’s always more intense when it’s between us. And that’s amplified tenfold when we’re mates.”

“Mates?”

“Yes.” Carlisle nods. “When we are with the one who’s meant for us.”

“Mates like soulmates?”

“Yes, if you believe in that,” Carlisle tells her. “But it can also be in the way that some animals do.”

“Like penguins?”

“More like beavers and wolves.” 

“Ok.” Bella still doesn’t get it. “But how does it work? What does it mean?”

“It’s complicated. Complex.” Carlisle says. “And at the same time very, very simple.”

That didn’t answer anything, so Bella decides to be more direct. “How do you know someone’s your mate? Is it something you build, or something you just know?”

“You know as soon as you see them.”

Bella’s eyes widen. She definitely wasn’t expecting that to be his answer. As a skeptic, Bella does what she does best. She doubts. “Really?”

Carlisle chuckles. “Yes. As soon as you both look at each other, you can feel it. You understand. Suddenly, there’s a string connecting your existence to someone else’s.”

“And that happens to every vampire?”

“To the lucky ones, yes,” Carlisle says, his voice soft. “But not everyone’s that lucky, Bella. Sometimes…it takes a while, and sometimes it ends in tragedy.”

“In tragedy?”

“If you find your mate and you lose them, it’s not something you can get past it.”

That part wasn’t specific to vampires. Maybe Carlisle didn’t remember how it felt to be human, but Bella knew very well that losing someone you loved wasn’t something you ever got past it. You learned to live with it, sure, but get past it? No.

“Vampires only mate with vampires, right?” Bella moves the subject along, wanting answers. This one, though, she only wants confirmation. If Carlisle had used animals as an example, it was pretty clear what the right answer here was. Now all Bella was left wondering was if Jacob knew that – if she’d been the only one unaware of just how incompatible humans and vampires were.

“In theory, yes,” Carlisle admits, but there’s some uncertainty in his tone. “But theory isn’t always right in the end. You’re a clear example of that, Bella.”

Bella frowns, not getting it. “Why?”

“Because you’re different. Unexpected. In theory, you shouldn’t be able to do the things you do. You shouldn’t be immune to Edward’s and Jasper’s gifts, and your blood shouldn’t feel different to us, yet it does.” Carlisle tells her. “I’ve studied vampires for more than a hundred years, yes. That doesn’t mean I know everything, Bella. It only means I know what I know, and even what I know can be put to test, in the right circumstance.”

“That’s…true.” Bella couldn’t argue with him on that. “ So I should take all of your answers with a grain of salt, huh?”

“With an open mind, if I may be so bold,” Carlisle gives her a soft smile. “Do you have any more questions?”

“Yes, a thousand of them, to be honest.”

“You have a few hours.” Carlisle points out. “Do your best.”

“You won’t mind?”

“Not in the slightest.”

Bella gives him a smile. A real one. The first one she’s ever given him. “What happens if you decide not to be with your mate? Is that even something that you can choose?”

“Like with everything else in life, Bella, there’s always a choice you can make,” Carlisle says. “It’s just one I can’t see anyone doing it. Why would you reject the one you’re supposed to be with?”

“What if they’re a jerk? What if you’re a vampire woman who likes women and your mate’s a dude? What if it’s the other way around? What if you mate with someone who already has a mate?”

“I –” Carlisle seems a little lost for words. “I don’t think that can happen. Your mate is your other half, Bella, so they should cater to what you like.”

“But who determines that? The universe?” Bella had no faith whatsoever in the universe.

“Nature. Destiny.” Carlisle says, face pensive. “I don’t know. Something does, though, and it works.”

“I didn’t peg you as a man of faith, doc.”

“Maybe I wasn’t when I was human, Bella, but you live long enough and your perspective of things tend to change.”

.

.

.

It's New Year’s Eve.

Bella should be watching Frodo and Sam be gay and argue about how to raise a child in the mountains, but she's busy looking at her phone instead. Staring nonstop at Rosalie’s contact picture - staring at the last thing the girl had texted her before the trip.  Oh, how things had been simpler then. Now here she was. Acting like a lovesick character in one of Jacob’s beloved romantic comedies. Wondering how two days of absolute radio silence could manage to drive her absolutely crazy – wondering if she should revoke her space decision – if she should call, text, or send a fucking pigeon carrying a letter just so she could wish Rosalie a happy new year.

“Kiddo,” Charlie calls her, pausing the movie that's playing in front of them and shaking Bella out of her reverie. “Is everything okay?”

Why had the universe reduced her to this? Hadn't he punished her enough by making her watch Jacob be this pathetic before? Now she had to watch herself doing it?

“Look, Dad,” Bella starts, sighing. “Let's say someone hypothetically asked you to give them space –"

“Was that person your mother? Because she told me that several times when we were together.”

Bella fakes a gag. “Dear God, no.”

“Ok, just checking.” Charlie hums, amused at her reaction. “Continue.”

This hypothetical thing wasn't getting Bella anywhere. She needed to tell someone the truth, the whole truth, with complete words and no super-hearing vampires around.

“Remember Rosalie?” Bella asks, and Charlie nods.

“Tall, blonde, Dr. Cullen's daughter.” He gives her a knowing look. “Your crush.”

Bella rolls her eyes at him. She wants to deny his claim, but honestly, what’s the point in doing that now? “I told her I had feelings for her two days ago,”

“Really proud of you for finally admitting that to her,” Charlie looks impressed. “Thought you would drag this for way longer. Way to go, kid.” He puts his hand up so she can give him a high five. Bella doesn't.

“Yeah, hold on to the confetti, Dad. She hasn't said anything since then, so maybe I’ve screwed things over by being honest.”

Charlie winces. “You told her you liked her, and she didn't say anything?”

“I mean, I didn't say the words ‘I like you’ – but she definitely understood what I meant.”

He tilts his head. “If you didn't tell her, Bella, how could she know?”

“Because I said I had feelings for her, and that’s deeper than a simple ‘I like you’.”

“That’s true. Though, you could’ve just said you were falling in love with her.” Charlie points out.

Bella starts to hyperventilate just by hearing the word. “No. No, I couldn’t.”

“Because it isn’t true?” Charlie frowns, not getting it.

“Because I might be brave, but I’m not that brave,” Bella admits, pressing her lips. “And let’s be real, if Rosalie’s avoiding me for saying I have feelings for her, can you imagine what she would do if I said that?”

“You make a good point.”

“Yeah.” Bella sighs. “When I told her, I saw it came as a shock. I don't think she was expecting any of that. That’s not a good sign, is it?”

“Maybe she just needs time.”

“And space?” Bella chuckles.

“I get it, you know? How you’re feeling. It’s scary putting yourself out there. It’s even scarier doing that and not having an answer come your way. It’s the right choice, though, kiddo. Trust me. You don't want to pressure her into anything. That never works out.”

“I know, and that’s not what I want. I would never do that to her. It’s just… I… I miss her. How pathetic is that?”

Charlie gives her a soft smile. “Pretty pathetic.” He jokes. “But nice too. Kind of adorable.”

Bella huffs. “No, it isn't. It's character assassination - that's what it is.”

“Bella,” Charlie says, his tone supportive. “I’m sure things will work out if you give her time. Rosalie would be pretty stupid if she didn't give you guys a chance, and she doesn’t strike me as someone who’s stupid. I think she’ll come to you when she's ready, you just have to find a way to survive that long.”

“And if she doesn't?”

“Then you step up. You do the hard part. You go to her, and you tell her the truth.” Charlie advises. “The whole truth, Bella. Not the truth you think it’s going to be easier for her to hear, but the one in your heart. If Rosalie says she still needs time, all you can do is wait. If she says she’s not interested, that this is not how she feels, that she doesn’t want to try, then you got to let her go, kid.”

Bella nods, appreciating his advice – even if the last part hasn’t exactly been easy to hear. “You're right. I’ll give her more time. Then, if it doesn’t work, I’ll talk to her. Tell her I’m serious about this, say the words this time.”

“That's my daughter,” Charlie says. “Now, can I unpause this masterpiece? Are you going to watch it this time?” He asks, giving her a knowing look.

“Yeah.” She tells him, grabbing her phone, turning it off, and putting it on the coffee table in front of them. “Thank you, Dad. Really.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” Charlie says, smiling.

Chapter Text

“Can you drive any slower?” Jacob asks her, his face a mask of annoyance. “It’s like we’re going to be hanged, I swear.” He shakes his head in exasperation.

Bella isn't driving as slow as he’s implying - but she's not making any effort to get where they’re going faster either. “Yeah, well, that happens when you don’t want to go somewhere,” she says, gripping the steering wheel with more force than necessary. “You could’ve gone on your own to their house.”

“I could’ve, but I’m tired of seeing you go back to your old ways of avoiding the Cullens, Bells,” Jacob says, his voice sincere. “I thought we were way past that.”

“We are,” Bella admits. “It’s not that.”

“So, what is it?” Jacob asks. “Did you and Rosalie fight? Is that what this is all about?”

Bella shakes her head. “We didn't fight.” They hadn't talked or seen each other in days, but they weren’t fighting – they were just working through something. Well, more like Rosalie was working through something and Bella was trying very hard to give her space.

“Because if you guys did, that would explain a lot. You're both acting so weird lately.”

“It’s something else,” Bella tells him, knowing it will only make things worse if she keeps being too vague. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” Jacob nods. “If you had told me that Rosalie was the reason you didn’t want to go, I wouldn’t have blackmailed you into doing it.”

“I know,” Bella sighs. “I just…I didn’t want to say anything. I know everybody’s wondering what happened between us, but it’s complicated.”

“You don’t have to tell me that, Bells. When it’s about you and Rosalie things are always complicated.” Jacob shakes his head, and Bella can’t really argue with that. “Esme was so happy when I said you were coming to cook with us that I didn’t stop to think you probably had a very good reason for staying away.”

“I know, it’s okay.” Bella nods, focusing on the path in front of her and trying to ignore the nagging feeling that was telling her to turn around and go home.

“Hey,” Jacob says, seeing her so apprehensive. “Everything’s going to be fine. You guys will figure it out, whatever it is.”

She’d truly hoped, for her sake, that Jacob was right.

.

.

.

As soon as they get close enough to the house, Bella spots an unfamiliar figure waiting for them on the driveway. She’s expecting pretty boy to be his usual desperate self, but today, standing in his place is the one person Bella’s dying and dreading to see.

“Did you tell her we were coming?” Bella asks, too shaken to realize this is a very stupid question to be asking Jacob.

“Don't stop driving, jeez,” Jacob says, worried Bella’s going to stop doing that any second now. “Of course I didn't tell her, we're not exactly friends.”

“This is giving me major déjà vu vibes, and I’m not liking it.”

The last time something like this happened, Bella’s whole world had turned upside down. She could only hope that this time, the same thing wasn’t about to happen again.

“Bells, stop being such a pessimist. Please, just keep going.”

“Alright.”

“As soon as we stop, I’ll leave you two alone, okay? I’ll just head straight to the house.”

“No.” Bella shakes her head. “You should stay next to me, Jake.”

“And face an enraged Rosalie?” Jacob snorts. “I think I’ll pass.”

“Fine,” Bella huffs. “Be like that.”

“Oh, I will.”

.

.

.

Bella’s still inside her truck, glaring at Jacob’s back while he sprints towards the Cullen’s residence when Rosalie starts to slowly come her way. So, Bella tries to shake herself out of whatever funky feeling she’s in, opening her door and getting out of the car.

“Hey,” Rosalie greets her as soon as she reaches her.

She’s different. Awkward. Not at all like her usual self.

Bella raises her eyebrows. “Hey yourself.”

“How are you?”

Bella frowns. “C’mon, blondie. Are we really about to go with the small talk routine here?”

“If you want.”

Bella sighs. God, this was hard. It was one thing to barely manage to give the blonde space when she’d been away, another altogether to do it when she was here. “I think we both know what I want,” she says, her tone soft but sure. “What about you?”

“Me?” Rosalie presses her lips.

Bella tries not to stare at it. “Yes. What do you want?”

“To talk.” Rosalie goes straight to the point.

Bella’s eyebrows raise. “Here?”

While there was nothing Bella wanted more than to talk, there was nothing Bella wanted less than to talk here. Where everyone could hear them. This…thing they had going on wasn’t private, Bella knew that, but it was still theirs.

“I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you,” Rosalie tells Bella, her tone apologetic. “I needed some time to think. A little distance too.”

“I get it.” Bella hadn’t enjoyed it, sure, but she got it. She understood.

“I know you do.” Rosalie nods. “It’s what makes everything so hard.”

“I don’t want to sound redundant here, blondie, but yeah, I know.”

It was what made everything harder for Bella too – the way they always got each other – the way they always knew.

“You asked me a question the last time we talked,” Rosalie says.

“I did.” Bella tries hard to keep her emotions in check.

“I have an answer,” Rosalie says, almost whispering.

Bella swallows. “Yeah?”

Rosalie nods. “But I don’t think I should tell you here. Do you?”

“No.”

If it wasn’t what Bella hoped, she didn’t want to be here. And if it was what Bella wanted then, well, she sure as hell didn’t want to be here either. She wanted to be somewhere she could do something about it.

“So later?” Rosalie offers, giving her a knowing look.

“You’re not going to pull a Rosalie on me?”

The blonde tilts her head. “A Rosalie?”

“You know,” Bella says, raising her eyebrows. “Running, disappearing, ignoring.”

“I won’t.”

“Okay. I’ll hold you to that.”

Rosalie smiles before offering her hand to Bella. “The whole family’s already in the kitchen, want to join them?”

“Sure,” Bella says, accepting her offer. “Lead the way.”

The sooner they were done here, the better.

.

.

.

“Okay, so what exactly am I supposed to be doing again?” Jacob asks, knife in hand.

He’s the type of person who uses his hands to talk, so that means that when he’s cooking and talking, Bella usually finds herself on the end of a pointed knife.

“First, stop threatening me with the sharp object in your hand. Second, wasn't this your recipe?” Bella asks.

“More like a Pinterest recipe, for the looks of it,” Rosalie says, pressing her lips. She’s at the kitchen table, sitting next to Alice, and examining the recipe closely.

“Maybe you're not the best one to be assigning roles and giving out opinions here,” Jacob says, raising his eyebrows.

It’s clear he doesn’t like being told what to do by Rosalie, and the blonde seems equal parts frustrated by being the one giving him pointers too.

“When that's coming from someone who hasn't been able to do a single thing I told him right, I’m not taking it into consideration,” Rosalie answers him.

Bella tries not to chuckle. It wouldn’t do her any good if they both thought she was picking sides here.

“I haven't been able to do it right because of you.” Jacob bites back. “Maybe we should have a human calling the shots here. Someone who knows what eating means.” He gives Bella a pleading look.

After abandoning her in the driveway earlier, Bella’s in no mood to comply with his request.

“Don’t look at me,” Bella says, shaking her head. “I think blondie’s doing a pretty good job.” She was. Bella wasn’t being impartial here.

“Blondie isn’t doing—” Jacob starts.

Rosalie growls, her sharp teeth showing. “Come again?”

Jacob gulps.

“I told you not to call her that.” Bella narrows her eyes.

Jacob seems ready to defy Bella again, but Esme stops him just at the right time.

“Children behave,” Esme says, her voice amused. “I would like my kitchen to remain in one piece.”

Jasper snickers. “You shouldn't have let Emmett help us then,” he nudges his brother who's currently trying and failing to fillet a fish.

“Emmett, you're supposed to do this gently. The fish’s already dead, there's no need for you to kill it again.” Bella says and Emmett nods, a look of concentration entering his face, so she decides to give him a smile of encouragement.

While that happens, Rosalie and Alice laugh at him from a distance.

“Girls, at least your brother is trying.” Esme intervenes, raising her eyebrow at them and the laughter stops.

Emmett smiles gratefully at her. “Thanks, Mom.”

“C’mon, let's focus here,” Jacob says, still pointing a knife at everyone. “Can I chop these vegetables or not?”

“Sure,” Alice answers him. “Just make sure they're not too big.” She says, eyes focusing on the iPad in front of her. “They should look like this.” She shows him the image and he nods.

“Okay. That I can do.”

Bella decides not to voice her opinion on the matter. When it came to chopping, saying Jacob was awful at it was a compliment.

“Isn't one person looking at the recipe enough?” Edward asks, deciding to cause chaos. He looks at Rosalie and Alice and he smirks. “Shouldn't Rosalie be helping us, Mom?”

Esme doesn’t bite the bait. “Only if she wants to.” She diplomatically answers.

Rosalie is staring at him with a victorious smile, but Bella can see Edward's not about to let this go.

“Rose, maybe you could help me here?” She asks, trying to prevent things between them from escalating. Esme, who's standing not too far away from her shoots Bella a grateful look.

“Fine,” Rosalie says, sounding not too happy at this turn of events. She starts walking towards Bella, stopping on her left side, their shoulders softly touching. “What am I supposed to do?” She asks, biting her lips.

Bella gives her a little smile.  “It's quite simple.” She starts. “See the tortilla’s dough?”

“I don't think this is going to go as well as you're hoping it will,” Rosalie whispers, not letting her finish. Jacob, who's close enough to hear them, chuckles.

“Problem?” Rosalie says to him, and Bella has a nagging feeling that being in the middle of them isn't going to end up well for her.

Bella gives Jacob a warning look, daring him to answer it. He doesn't.

“As long as we don't destroy the kitchen, I think we're good.” Bella softly tells Rosalie. “I’m going to cut them up in little pieces and you're going to use this to flatten them out.”

“Ok, this seems simple enough.”

“It is. I have the utmost faith in you.”

Bella turns, standing with her back to the counter now. She’s about to ask Alice what she should be doing next when she realizes that the girl’s busy being frozen in place, like a statue. Her eyes are open and wide, but she's not looking at anyone or anything. Bella doesn’t even have the time to do anything about it, because a second later she hears Jacob swearing out of the blue.

“Fuck,” Jacob exclaims, stopping what he's doing and holding his hand up quickly.

Bella only has enough time to see something red dripping from it before Jasper lounges at them from the other side of the counter. Bella knows he's going to crash at them before she's able to even move a muscle – but seemingly out of nowhere, Edward meets him up in the air and both of them fall into the counter with a roaring thud. Jacob screams at the scene and Bella takes a step back from it, blinking. Another second passes and Emmett's on the counter too, trying to contain a trashing Jasper from escaping Edward’s hold on him.

Things start to fall on the floor with great speed while three vampires fight in front of her, but Bella is still frozen in place, her eyes wide while broken glass and pieces of food start to fall into her feet and on the floor. Jasper finally manages to escape Edward and Emmett’s grip for a moment, and that's enough for him to be able to stand in front of Bella in a murder frenzy. And while part of her had known what being a vampire meant, this right here was showing Bella just how unprepared for it she truly had been.

Jasper’s about to get through her so he can reach Jacob, when Rosalie appears in front of them, one of her hands pushing Bella away while the other contains Jasper. Bella feels Rosalie's push like a soft punch, but she still falls on the floor hard and quickly, her right arm impaling itself on a large piece of broken glass. Blood quickly starts to pour from it with alarming speed, and Bella’s left dazed, holding her wound with her left hand, trying and failing to stop the blood from falling into the ground.

.

.

.

Carlisle stops the car in front of Charlie’s home, his usual calm demeanor nowhere to be found. The doctor looks like he’s aged ten years in the span of two hours and Jacob, well, Jacob just looks like he’s given up on life. He'd been quiet and withdrawn ever since the whole ordeal had happened, and Bella had a nagging feeling it was because he was blaming himself for it. Which, truth be told, had been no one’s fault in Bella’s opinion.

Just life being life, showing everyone she would always call the shots when they got too comfortable living. Still, if she was to compare both of them with her, Bella would irrevocably win – she’s way paler than normal, her shirt’s bloodied mess - her right forearm bandaged up to her elbow.

“Bella,” Carlisle says as soon as he shifts the keys, turning off the car. “I think it's only right of me to come with both of you and explain what happened to Charlie. I know if the roles were reversed, I would…appreciate the gesture.”

“I appreciate the offer, Doc, I do,” Bella tells him. “But they need you more at home, don’t they?”

It was nice of him to offer that to Bella, but it was also a misguided attempt to fix something it wasn’t his to fix. Bella had made her choice, and now, she knew, it was up to her to handle the fallout.

“Are you sure?” Carlisle asks, ignoring the part where Bella had said he was needed more somewhere else.

“Jasper’s missing. Alice is probably still blaming herself for not seeing what would happen in time for her to stop it. Rosalie and Edward are, most likely, one step closer to killing each other.” Bella says, not missing a beat. “So yeah, I’m sure. I can handle Charlie.”

Maybe Bella was taking out her frustration with the situation on the doctor, but it wasn’t unfounded. If he was the leader of the coven, wasn’t he supposed to take the lead when something like this happened? Wasn’t his responsibility to be there for his family?

“Thank you, Carlisle,” Jacob says, his voice timid but sure. “If Charlie feels inclined to hear from you, we’ll tell him to call you, okay?”

He tightens his lips. “Alright.”

“Let's go, buddy,” Bella tells Jacob, urging him to follow her lead.

It wouldn’t do anyone any good to remain here, sitting in somber silence while waiting for the other shoe to drop. After all, she still had an unsuspected Charlie to deceive.

.

.

.

“Can you just repeat everything once more, for my peace of mind?” Charlie asks her, face worried.

“Again?” Bella’s tired. She’s also a little pissed off. Okay, maybe a lot pissed off. She could be levelheaded and admit something like this was bound to happen at some point, sure, but why did it have to happen today, when Rosalie had been ready to give her an answer?

“I’m sorry kiddo, I’m sure that what you need right now is to rest, not me going full interrogation on you.” Charlie apologizes, taking notice of the exhaustion on her face.

“It’s okay. It’s…it’s just been a very long afternoon.” Bella shakes her head “It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Accidents happen, unfortunately.”

“And if your name’s Isabella Swan they tend to happen more than usual?” Charlie offers.

“Isabella Marie Swan.” Bella says, tone playful.

Charlie raises his eyebrows. “Fair enough. So can Isabella Marie Swan explain to me why Jacob is so — “

Bella doesn’t let him finish; glad she had told Jacob to go upstairs the moment Charlie had started to freak out over her condition. “He thinks it’s his fault everything happened.”

“Ah,”

“And he’s not the only one. You should see how the Cullens are taking everything.”

Charlie nods, but he still doesn’t let her go. “Everyone’s feeling sorry, I got this part. What I don’t get it’s you. You’re not sorry, you’re upset.”

Bella sighs, cursing her dad for seeing right through her. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Rosalie wanted to talk today. Said she had an answer for me, but everything happened before she could say what it was, and… here I am.”

“Hurt, tired, angry, and frustrated?” Charlie offers.

“Just marveling at my luck.”

He gives her a sad smile. “You should rest. If you need anything you’ll ask, right?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t dream of doing anything else.”

He hugs her gently, making sure not to touch her injured arm. “Good girl.”

.

.

.

“Bella?” A small voice asks her as soon as she gets out of the bathroom. She’s busy trying to dry off her hair using only one hand and an already wet towel with no success.

“Hey, buddy,” Bella says, taking notice of the way Jacob's standing – his hands holding his arms like he’s almost folding into himself. “Are you okay?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Jacob raises one eyebrow.

“No,” Bella tells him. “Believe it or not, Jake, this isn’t the first time something like this has happened to me.”

“I feel like this is all my fault,” Jacob says, biting his lip. “If I hadn’t messed up, nothing would’ve happened – you would be okay and so would everyone.”

“C’mon, buddy, this isn’t your fault.” Bella puts her hand on his shoulder. “We can’t help if we have blood pumping in our veins as much as they can’t control their need to drink it. You know this.”

“There was a river of your blood on the ground, Bella, and that didn’t make anyone attack you.”

“And thank God it didn’t. I’m pretty sure we would both be dead by now if that wasn’t the case.”

Jacob nods, grimacing. That was no denying that fact.

“This will heal.” Bella shows him her arm. “And the Cullens will sort themselves out too, eventually.”

Jacob tilts his head. “I’m not sure about that, Bells.”

“Why?”

“I think… I think there’s something wrong. While you were busy getting stitched up by Carlisle upstairs, Edward and Rosalie were looking at me and at each other in a weird way.”

“Weird how?”

“I don’t know,” Jacob sighs. “All I know is that while everything happened and after, Edward didn’t say a word to me. Did Rosalie say something to you?”

Bella thinks about it. “Besides how much she was sorry? No. But when I got back, she was busy trying to chew Edward’s head off, so…”

“I can’t stop thinking that if I hadn’t blackmailed you into going none of this would’ve happened.”

“Jake, no,” Bella says, shaking her head. “This isn’t your fault, okay? Go to bed, try and get some sleep. Tomorrow it’s another day, and we’ll see what happens. Look at the bright side, at least no one died.”

Jacob narrows his eyes at her. “You have a weird way of finding a silver lining in things.”

“But I still manage to find them, don’t I? Isn’t that the whole point?”

He gives her a little smile. “Whatever you say, Bella. You should rest too; you need that more than anyone.”

“I will.”

“Goodnight.” He says before turning back and going to his room.

“Good dreams,” Bella whispers back, knowing fully well it won’t do him any good. She doubted anyone would have good dreams tonight.

Chapter Text

“Maybe what she wanted to say was that she didn’t feel the same.”

After another few days of radio silence from Rosalie after the kitchen accident, Bella was very close to reaching her limit. It was one thing for the girl to do that before when she hadn’t told Bella she had an answer, another altogether to do it now. Especially after saying she wasn’t going to pull a Rosalie on her again.

“Maybe,” Charlie agrees from the other end of the phone, his voice soft.

“Yeah,” Bella sighs, putting one of her hands on her cheek. “I just hate this…this uncertainty. I didn’t expect everything to go perfect when I told Rosalie how I felt, but this…is a bit too much.”

If there was one thing Bella hated with a passion, that thing was being in a limbo. She understood Rosalie’s reasons for taking her time, she did, but why still do that after the girl already knew what she wanted to say? Unless…unless everything that happened had made her rethink things. Unless Jacob's prediction that something was off was right on the money. Bella didn’t know, and to be fair, no one was telling her anything either. It wasn’t just Rosalie who had gone radio silence, but all of the Cullens. Well, sans Carlisle. The doctor had been calling Bella every day to know how she was doing.

“Rosalie hasn’t called you at all?” Charlie asks, trying to understand.

“No,”

“She hasn’t texted you either?”

“Nope,” Bella says, shaking her head even though she knows her father can’t see. “No one besides Carlisle has. I…I think they feel responsible for what happened to me.”

“Look, kiddo,” Charlie says, and Bella hears another voice in the background, probably one of his deputies. “That’s usually what happens when there’s an accident. People feel guilty about not seeing it coming, or doing something that could’ve stopped it from happening. Trust me, this is common behavior. I’ve seen enough times to know. They’re not being good friends right now, I know, but maybe they just need some time.”

“Yeah,” Bella nods, agreeing with him. “It’s just…this whole situation sucks. Avoiding something is never the answer. I should know. I’m a master of avoidance,” She takes a deep breath. “Do you think it’s a bad idea if I go there? If I try and talk with Rosalie?”

“I don’t know. I wish I could tell you what to do here, Bells, but I don’t know.” Charlie says. “What does your gut tell you?”

“It tells me there’s something wrong,” Bella admits out loud. She’s been trying to keep a positive attitude towards things, mostly because Jacob has already been brooding enough for the two of them, but she can’t help but feel something’s off too. “And I rather know what that is, even if I get the worst possible answer out of it, because I’m tired of being in the dark.”

“It seems to me you’ve made up your mind.”

“I have.”

“Good luck, Bells,” Charlie says. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Even if it’s just to cry because I’ve been rejected?” Bella asks, kidding. But also not kidding.

“Especially if that’s the case,” Charlie tells her softly.

“Alright. I love you.” Bella tells him. Out of everything that had changed in her life this past year, the best thing by far had been him.

“Love you too, kid,” Chalie says to her, before hanging up.

Bella closes her eyes, putting the tip of her phone on her forehead, trying to psych herself up for what she’s about to do. When she’s about to get up from the couch and grab Carol’s keys, Bella hears the doorbell ringing.

“Fuck,” Bella swears. Whoever had chosen to come here now couldn’t have found a worse time to do so. Bella quickly walks to the front door, twisting the knob and praying to the universe that the person standing on the other side isn’t Billy Black. If it was, well, Bella wouldn't be responsible for her actions today. Not when she knew he would gloat about her injured arm.

But standing on the other side is the last person Bella expected to be here today.

“Rosalie?”

“Hey, sorry to come by without warning.” Rosalie seems more nervous than apologetic about it. “I’ve tried calling you, but it went straight to voicemail.”

“I was on the phone with Chalie,” Bella explains, her voice managing to sound calm even though that couldn’t be farther from the truth. “To be honest, I was about to go see you.” She points to the car keys she’s holding in her hand.

“You were?” Rosalie sounds surprised by Bella’s words.

“I was,” Bella nods. “You want to come inside?” she asks while still holding the front door open.

“Would you mind if I didn’t?” Rosalie bites her lip. “I need to talk with you, and I would prefer if we did this somewhere else.”

“Okay.” Bella closes the door. “Where do you want to go?” Now she’s right in front of Rosalie, and Bella can’t help but think there’s only a very small chance this is going to end well for her. “There’s this new place that opened up next to Malini’s –”

“I’m leaving,”

Bella feels like a bullet has just pierced her heart in a swift motion, leaving her too shocked to do anything but stand still. Because although there were a thousand things Rosalie could've said to her right now, she’d never imagined in a million years that this would be it. Though, if she was a little less blindsided by it, maybe she should’ve.

“We’re all leaving.” Rosalie tries to explain, but Bella's ears are ringing, her mind too focused on everything that had happened to lead them here. “Actually, more like most of us already left. I just didn’t want to do it without saying goodbye to you first.”

Bella sees the way Rosalie’s lips are quivering, the way she’s trying to present herself like this isn’t bothering her but failing miserably because her body isn’t reacting the way it should. Bella knows, she knows, that the only thing keeping Rosalie from breaking down right now is the fact that she’s a vampire.

“Wait,” Bella says, trying to shake herself out of it. “What do you mean you’re leaving? What do you mean most of us have already left?” She asks, voice incredulous.

“I’m so sorry,” Rosalie says, her voice barely a whisper. “I…this wasn’t supposed to happen. None of this was.”

“When you say this, do you mean what happened in your house or this as in us?”

Rosalie tilts her head, giving Bella half of a shrug. “You know better than anyone that I’ve always thought it would be wiser for us to leave town.” She continues, not giving Bella any kind of answer. “We were and are sitting ducks, Bella. Just waiting around for something even worse to happen. This time, it wasn’t so bad, but what about the next one? What if we don’t stop Jasper in time? What if the next time someone tries to protect you, it isn’t just your arm that gets injured? What if next time it isn’t even us, but Aro? I…I can’t keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to ruin all of our lives, and I cannot do this anymore.”

“And that's different from before how?” Bella can’t help but raise her voice a little, her frustration getting the best of her. “This isn’t news for any of us, Rosalie. Don’t you think I know that? I spend every single moment with this nagging little voice in my head telling me this isn’t going to end well.”

“You know why it's different,” The blonde says.

Bella frowns. “Because I told you how I feel?”

“Because the longer we stay, the longer we keep doing this, the harder it will be to leave in the end. Don’t you see?” Rosalie pleads. “Jasper almost killed Jacob, and I almost killed you.” Her voice increases in volume, any semblance of a stoic vampire gone.

“If it weren’t for you, there would already be no me, Rosalie.” Bella puts her face in her hands, trying to gain some control. “I can’t believe you’re doing this…I mean,” she chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. “Actually, being super honest? I kind of can.”

“Can we not argue about this when all I’m trying to do is say goodbye?” Rosalie says, her voice tired. “I’m just protecting my family. I’m just protecting you.”

“There were nicer ways for you to tell me you weren't interested,” Bella says, shaking her head. “You know what the funny thing is? If you had done this the right way, if you had any shred of consideration for me, Rosalie, and my feelings, then I would’ve been okay with your decision. All you had to tell me was no. All you had to say was that when things got hard, you would bail on me, that your family would come first, and I –"

“You know that's not –” Rosalie takes a step closer to her, but Bella takes one back, her body hitting the door behind her. “I…If things hadn't happened the way they did, I would've…” The blonde reaches for her with her hands before stopping herself. “I guess that doesn't matter now, does it? What I would’ve said before. The what ifs. Not when we're here right now.”

“Actions will always speak louder than words,” Bella tells her. “You can say whatever you want to say, but this?” she gestures with her hands to both of them. “This is my answer.”

“Bella –”

“You said most of the family has already left.” Bella interrupts, not wanting to hear any more excuses. “Does this mean this is the only goodbye I’m getting?”

“Leaving wasn't a unanimous decision. We’re kind of in the middle of a disagreement in the family right now, and someone suggested it might be wiser to do things this way.”

“Say someone as many times as you want – I know there's no way this wasn't Edward’s idea,” Bella says, her tone cold. “This has his fingerprints all over it.”

Rosalie doesn't answer her, and for the first time, Bella realizes it's because they're on the same page now. Edward and Rosalie. United in their quest to make stupid decisions together.

“Is he still here?” Bella asks, suddenly aware of what it might mean. If Rosalie was here saying goodbye, had Edward done the same thing with Jacob hours ago when they were supposed to meet? “Or has he already left?”

“I’m the only one that’s still here,” Rosalie says, confused by her question. “Why?”

“Fuck,” Bella swears, reaching for her phone and trying to find Jacob's last known location.

“What?” Rosalie asks, noticing her demeanor.  

Bella just looks at her, wondering if she has any idea of what she's doing – of what she’s done. “This has been nice and all,” she tells her, not even trying to keep the bite out of her voice. “But there’s somewhere I have to be.” Bella finishes, walking away from the girl and going in the direction of her truck. She had a missing and probably heartbroken Jacob to find. Bella didn't have any more time to waste here.

“Goodbye, blondie. Have a great life.”

Chapter Text

“What’s he doing?” Charlie asks, his face scrunching up in confusion when Jacob’s depressing music increases in volume. Before, they had only been able to hear the melody, now though, they could hear the whole thing like it was playing here in the kitchen.

Bella presses her lips. “Ruining Taylor Swift's album about Karlie Kloss for the rest of us?” She answers him, tapping her fingers on the table and ignoring her need to high-five herself after an amazing comeback.

Charlie just stares at her, even more confused now. “I didn’t understand a single word you just said.”

“That’s probably a good thing.” Bella reluctantly admits.

“So?” Charlie presses, trying to make sense.

“I don’t know. I think this is how Jacob processes grief. He took Edward leaving pretty hard.”

“It’s been a week,” Charlie argues, his tone worried. “Shouldn’t he be talking to us about it?”

“Did you?” Bella can’t help but ask. “When Mom left you, did you talk to someone about it?”

“No. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have.” Charlie gives her a knowing look. “You haven’t said anything either, kiddo. Well, nothing besides threatening to murder Edward twice a day, that is.”

“What’s left for me to say?” Bella had told Rosalie how she felt, she had opened up her heart to the blonde, had opened herself to her family, had trusted them, and had been left in the dust. “They left. It happens. It’s actually how the world works. Grandma left me, I left Mom, and she left you. Life still found a way to carry on the way it always does.”

“There’s a lot to unpack in everything you’ve just said.” Charlie points out.

“Sure. It still doesn’t make any of it less true.”

“C’mon, Bells,” Charlie says. “Jacob isn’t the only one with a broken heart in this house. He might be too busy suffering to realize he’s not alone, but I’m not.”

“Then that makes us what? Three for three. We should throw a party. Wear matching hats or something.”

“We already have the depressing music,” Charlie gives her a little smile. “Might as well make some good use of it.”

“I used to like this album, you know.” Bella twirls her finger in the air. “Now? I think I might die if I have to listen to it again.”

“You could try talking to him,” Charlie suggests.

“I don’t think I can be a positive reinforcement right now,” Bella says with conviction. “Renée used to do this every time she broke up with one of her boyfriends. I can’t stand the sight of it. The drama, the melancholy. The self-doubting.”

“Is that why you’re doing everything but that?”

“Rosalie and I weren’t together,” Bella says, the words leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. “It’s different.”

“Is it?” Charlie presses.

Bella sighs. “I think I already gave her all I had to give. She doesn’t deserve my grief or my sadness. None of them do.”

They sure as hell didn’t deserve her love either.

“Maybe that’s what Jacob needs to hear.”

Bella raises her eyebrows. “If it’s a wake-up call you’re after, then I’m always game.”

Charlie hums. “I’ve been trying to be supportive for a week now, and nothing has changed.”

“Well, school starts up again tomorrow, so I’m afraid we don’t have any more time to waste.”

“Yeah, he really needs to get out of bed and take a shower.” Charlie agrees, worried. “This is still support, Bells, but sometimes, support means not letting someone drown inside themselves.”

“Alright.” Bella nods. “Just remember I’m doing this with your seal of approval.” She says, getting up from her chair.

Charlie chuckles. “I’ll remember.”

Bella leaves, resolute in her quest. She was sick and tired of seeing her friend weep for someone who didn’t seem to care about him at all. And Bella knew, she knew, they both deserved something way better than the Cullens.

.

.

.

Bella doesn’t even announce her presence in his bedroom before walking to his bed. Jacob's laying down with his eyes closed, feet on the pillow where his head should’ve been, horribly singing a depressing duet with Taylor Swift. Bella doesn't even think twice before grabbing the pillow that’s on the floor and hitting him hard with it.

Jacob's eyes widen, and he starts shouting before getting himself into a sitting position. “Ow! Ow! What the hell, Bella?” He exclaims.

“I’m done watching you whale in self-pity,” Bella says and he just stares at her, still shocked by her abrupt action. “Get up and take a shower, for God’s sake. Please change the fucking music.” She tells him, waving her hand. “I cannot take another day listening to this.” Bella points to his JBL boombox.

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Jacob, I love you. I do. Really.” Bella tells him. “But I can’t keep watching you do this to yourself. Especially not for a guy that did what Edward did to you,” she says, and Jacob grimaces, like just hearing pretty boy’s name is enough of a trigger. “I get that you’re sad, and I know that this won’t change in a week. I’m not expecting it to, but you got to keep living your life, man. You gotta do something.”

Jacob looks desolate. “I know. But I’m not like you, Bella. I just can’t shake off the fact that he left me.”

Bella decides against saying something here. What good would it do to tell him she hadn’t exactly shaken the whole thing off? None whatsoever.

“You can.” Bella tries to be supportive. “You have a family who loves you, you have your whole life ahead of you, and I won’t let you waste it away suffering over someone who doesn’t deserve you. None of them do, Jake. They left.”

“I know.”

Bella sits on the bed next to him, putting her hand on his shoulder. “Someday, you’re going to find a great guy. Someone who will love you, respect you, and treat you right. Someone who will stay. And when that happens, you’re going to look back at all of this, and you're going to think that Edward was an asshole and that you’re doing so much better without him.”

“Can that day be today?” Jacob pleads. “I just don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

“I know. You know that I know.” Bella tells him, and this is the closest she’s been to admitting to Jacob just how much of an effect Rosalie’s choices have had on her. “It will take some time for you to heal, buddy. It will. I just don't want you to ever doubt that it’ll happen. And when it finally does, you’re going to realize how much stronger you are in the end.”

“Yeah?” Jacob asks, unsure.

“Yeah,” Bella says, voice soft. “You survived losing your mom, Jake. You survived your dad. Edward isn’t the one who’s going to break you, trust me. You’re going to be alright.”

They both were, Bella knew. After all, she was going to make sure of it.

.

.

.

It doesn't take long for Bella and Jacob to find a way to make up a new routine without the Cullens in their lives. Friday night's movie marathons are slowly replaced by board game Friday, courtesy of a just as competitive Charlie. There's no more carpooling with them either, and Bella starts to enjoy the simple pleasure that is driving Carol almost every day. She even starts to let Jacob choose the music most times, to his eternal glee. Unfortunately, after recent events, Taylor Swift is blacklisted along with Lady Gaga. And though Jacob still has some sad and melancholy days, they aren't a fixed fixture in his life anymore, at least not like it was on that first week.

Life finds a way to go on, just like Bella thought it would.

“I’m still having some trouble getting used to this new age look you're both spotting,” Charlie says, his mustache twitching up while he stares at the new short-haired (and improved, in her opinion) version of Bella and Jacob. “Please tell me you guys are not about to start smoking in the back of some church. Next thing I know you’ll both join a motorcycle gang or something.”

“Bella, I don't think you're a good influence on the man. Before you, he was never this dramatic.” Jacob jokes, shaking his head, and Bella snickers. She couldn't blame Charlie for not being used to it. Not really. Not when Bella was still finding it weird every time she saw Jacob without his long hair flowing effortlessly, or when she still did a double-take every time she looked at herself in the mirror.

“New year, new us?” Bella offers, shrugging. Last week, after a particularly melancholy day, she and Jacob decided they needed a change. Something to lift their spirits. So after Bella had confided in Jacob that cutting her hair at the base of her shoulders had been a lifelong dream of hers, he’d been nothing but supportive – had even gone along with her so she could do it. After seeing just how much of a ‘new’ Bella she'd transformed into, Jacob had decided to do the same without looking back.

“I think it fits. You both look older somehow.” Charlie states, smiling softly at the pair. “Hey Susan,” He greets their waitress when she approaches their table.

“Hey Swans,” Susan says, clutching three menus on her right arm. “The Saturday special for you guys, right?” She asks, already knowing what they're going to ask for.

“You, like always, have read our minds,” Bella tells her, and Susan nods before leaving.

“So, dear daughter,” Charlie speaks up again. “What are we going to do for your birthday next week?”

“Please don’t remind me that this unfortunate day is coming,” Bella sighs, shaking her head. “Nothing out of the ordinary, please. We can order a pizza and watch a movie. Let’s not make a big deal out of it.”

“But it's your birthday,” Jacob points out. “We should do something special.”

“I hate my birthday,” Bella tells them, begrudgingly.

“Why? Because you're getting old?” Jacob enquires with one eyebrow raised.

“No, of course not.” Bella rolls her eyes. “Because I think it's a dumb tradition. Yay, let's celebrate the fact that we're alive.” She says in a fake enthusiastic voice. “Every year, on a specific date.” Bella complements.  “It's stupid.”

“Didn't know you were the Grinch of birthdays,” Charlie says, amused. “But sure, we’ll do whatever you want, kiddo.” He promises, staring at Jacob and giving him a look that implies he better respect her wishes.

Jacob raises his hand in defeat. “Don’t look at me. I’ll do whatever she wants.”

Charlie smiles, pleased. “Now, how’s school going?” He asks and they both groan. “Any new friends?”

Jacob scoffs. “I’m done with new friends, trust me.”

Charlie looks at her, and Bella can see it on his face that he's hoping she's going to give him a different answer than the one Jacob just did.

“I don't like people, so.” Bella shrugs. “No new friends for me either.”

“Kids, having friends it's a healthy thing. It’s also an important part of life.” Charlie says, going full parent mode on them.

“Yes, because our house is always so full of the ones you have. Don’t be a hypocrite.” Bella points out, not letting him off the hook.

“I’m not an example of what you guys should do, quite the contrary, actually,” Charlie says, tilting his head.

“But we like you,” Jacob says back and Bella nods, agreeing with him.

“Yeah Dad, you're the best. The chief of police – the king of board games.” Bella completes. “The fisherman of fish.” She says, not even knowing if that’s a thing that exists.

“How can I be the king of board games when I haven't even managed to win one yet?” Charlie asks, confused.

“Is the thought that counts?” Bella grins.

“It’s hard for old people to defeat a new generation, Charlie. There's no need to feel ashamed.” Jacob grins too. “It happens to everyone.”

“The only thing that's happening at our house is a coup. You're both clearly working together to bring me down.” Charlie gives them a knowing look, and they both start laughing.

“Being a sore loser isn’t a good look on you,” Bella tells him, not mentioning the fact that he is, indeed, correct in his assumptions. “If you want some tips, all you have to do is ask.”

“Yeah, we’ll gladly pass on to you our superior knowledge,” Jacob says, playing along.

Charlie just narrows his eyes, clearly telling them he knows exactly what they're doing. “I think I’ll do fine on my own, thank you. I won’t give up and join the opposition.”

“The opposition,” Jacob repeats. “Is that what we are?”

Bella snickers. “Dad, this isn't Game of Thrones, and you're not Cersei Lannister.”

“If anything, you kind of give me a Ned Stark vibe,” Jacob says, putting one of his hands on his chin.

“Oh my god, you're so right.” Bella nudges him excitedly.

“Yeah, yeah.” Charlie shakes his head. “At least the man had some honor.”

“He also died, like, in the first season. So –” Bella can’t help but point out.

“I’ll let you both know that dying with honor it’s better than staying alive without it,” Charlie decides to be philosophical, before getting serious when he spots Susan coming their way with a tray full of food. “Food’s coming.” He tells them.

“Yay, thank God. I’m starving.” Jacob says, putting his hands in a silent prayer.

“What else is new.” Bella scoffs, fighting the urge to roll her eyes at him. “Please try to keep your paws out of my plate this time.” She warns him.

“I didn't –”

“Yes, you did –"

“Hey Susan,” Charlie says loudly, making them both stop. “Thank you, it looks delicious.” He gives her a grateful smile.

“If you guys need anything else all you need to do is call,”

“We will. Thank you,” Bella says and Jacob, who's already stuffing his face with food, just nods.

“Try not to eat too fast, buddy,” Bella warns him. “It's not good for you,” Jacob responds by rolling his eyes at her. “Ok, when you're busy being one with the toilet don't say I didn't warn you.”

Jacob swallows. “That won't happen.” He states, puffing his chest.

Bella hopes, for both of their sake, that he's right.

.

.

.

Bella can’t help but grimace when she hears Jacob throwing up again. It’s a good thing that she can't see it happening from where she's standing, her back on the threshold of the door. Otherwise, Bella would probably feel the need to do the same.

“Is this the part where you say I told you so?” Jacob asks, voice hoarse.

“If I didn't say it on Saturday, you can rest assured I won't say it now, Jake.”

“I don't feel so good,” He tells her, his hand trying to find the strength to get up from the floor but being unable to do so. Bella quickly comes to his rescue.

“I can see that.” She says softly, supporting most of his weight on the left side of her body, hoping she won't find a way to re-injure her almost healed-up arm again.

Bella manages, with some difficulty, to half carry him to his room. She slowly helps him lay down on his bed, sitting in a small space next to him.

“Do you think it was the Saturday special?” Jacob asks her, eyes tired.

“I don't think so, buddy. Otherwise, you would've been okay by now. Dad thinks you’ve probably gotten some bug that's been going around town lately.” Bella grabs a water bottle from the bedside table, urging him to drink it.

“Lucky me,” He jokes, before taking a sip.

At least he hadn't lost his sense of humor through this whole ordeal.

“Lucky you indeed. But don’t worry, okay? We’re going to take care of you.” Bella tells him, resolute. “Is there anything else you need or want from the pharmacy besides the medicine you’re already taking?”

Jacob coughs, shaking a little. “No, no. What Charlie’s doctor friend prescribed is good enough.” He coughs again and Bella looks at him with worry. “Is it weird to miss Carlisle at this moment? I know he never really had an opportunity to take care of me like this before, but still, he seemed to do an incredible job when it came to you.”

“Please don’t remind me.” Bella jokes. Almost dying two times in the space of a few months wasn't one of her proudest moments. “Is this your way of saying I suck at taking care of you?” She enquires, eyebrows raised.

“You know it’s not,” Jacob says, voice sincere. “We don't need Carlisle. We're doing just fine on our own, aren’t we?”

“Well, maybe not at this exact moment we’re not, but generally? Hell yeah, we are.” Bella tries to be uplifting.

“You did say we would,” He mumbles softly, before slowly closing his eyes. “I guess you were right.”

“I’m always right,” Bella whispers back before reaching down and giving him a soft kiss on his forehead. She waits a couple of minutes, only getting up from the bed when she's sure he’s asleep, trying her best to make as little noise as possible when she leaves. Still, Bella can't help but take a final look at her sick friend before walking towards the stairs.

“How's he doing?” Is the first thing a worried Charlie says as soon as he spots her. His voice is loud and she raises her finger, making a shushing noise.

“He’s asleep,” Bella explains and he nods. “Worse,” she answers him, biting her lip. “It's been three days of this and he's still getting worse.”

“If by tomorrow morning he’s still like this we’re taking him to the hospital. I know Frederic has been by to check on him but…It’s not the same.” Chalie finishes, serious. “Are you sure you don't want me to go to the store?” He gently offers, seeing how tired she looks.

“Yes,” Bella states, sighing. “I hate to say it, but if he needs help getting to the bathroom and back again, you're the better person for the job. I swear I almost pulled a muscle this time.”

“Why didn't you call me?” Charlie asks. “Your arm is still healing, Bells. I wouldn't have minded, you know that.”

“I’m fine.” Bella dismisses him. “This is the first time today that you’ve taken a break. I wasn't going to ruin it if I could help. Try to eat something if you can, okay? One sick person is already more than enough, we don’t need another one.” She finishes before giving him a soft appreciative hug. “If you feel like it, you should take a quick nap too – we both know it’s going to be a long night.”

“Okay. Don't take too long though, you need some rest too.” Charlie points to the dark circles below her eyes, a clear sign she hasn’t been sleeping.

Bella scoffs. “Sleep? Who needs sleep?” She jokes.

“Every human being.”

“Then why did we, as a race, invent coffee?” Bella asks while walking towards the front door.

Charlie chuckles. “Drive safe.” He says, voice amused.

.

.

.

Bella’s exiting the store, pharmacy bag in hand, and walking towards Carol when she’s suddenly hit with a weird feeling. One that seems to tell her she’s being watched. She looks around the street but there's not a single soul roaming around. Just like always. It's not the first time Bella finds herself noticing just how different Forks was from Phoenix in that aspect. Deciding to ignore whatever that feeling was, Bella hops on her truck. Before starting it though, she closes her eyes, finally letting her thoughts wander.

Jacob had been right on the money when he had wished for Carlisle today. What Bella wouldn't give to have him tell her that everything would be alright. For any of them, really. Even Edward.

At the end of the day, Bella thinks, that was what sucked the most about everything that had happened. In a swift motion, in a sharp turn of tides, she had lost all of her friends.

.

.

.

Bella’s driving through Milling Avenue, just about to turn right on Waldridge Road, when out of nowhere a dark figure appears in the middle of the street.

Bella hits the brakes hard as soon as she sees it, trying to stop the unstoppable. It’s not enough. So at the last second, Bella turns the steering wheel to the left as much as she can, running out of the road and hitting an unsuspecting and innocent tree with all of her force. Bella feels the impact, and then there's just darkness engulfing her in its clutches.

.

.

.

The first thing Bella does when she opens her eyes, is realize that she's not inside her truck anymore. She's also, well, not dead, so that’s something. The second thing she notices is that there's a bleeding cut on her forehead, dripping down her face and making it tickle. The third thing she notices is that she's bound. Bound to what looks like an old chair in the middle of a place she doesn't recognize. Of course, the fact that it's pitch dark isn't helping her figure it out either.

Bella does the only logical thing she can do in this instance. She tries – and she fails – to break free.

“You can struggle as much as you want, dear Isabella. You still won’t be able to escape.”

“Who’s there?” Bella demands, narrowing her eyes and trying to see through the darkness.

“You should close your eyes, darling, otherwise it will hurt like hell when I turn on the lights.” The voice speaks again, and Bella realizes that her captor is a woman.

“I will do no such thing,” Bella states. She has no desire to play whatever sick game this stranger has in mind. “And how do you know my name?”

“Suit yourself,”

Suddenly there’s a bright light everywhere and Bella can't help but close her eyes in pain, chastising herself for not listening. She forces her eyes to open again but has to immediately close them afterward.

“I did tell you it would hurt.” The stranger dares to say. “Try opening them slowly.”

“Excuse me if I’m not jumping at the chance to take any sort of advice from the person who has just kidnapped me,” Bella says, but well, she kind of does exactly that.

“This is not a kidnapping.” The stranger says, and Bella, who's finally able to see who's talking to her finds herself wholly unprepared for the sight. Apparently, Gamora from Guardians of the Galaxy was standing a few meters in front of her, her back resting on a disgusting wall Bella wouldn’t dare to touch.

“Please tell me your name's not Zoe.” Bella pleads. Her life was already a clusterfuck without Hollywood getting involved in it.

“It's Chloe, actually.”

“Of course it is.” Bella presses her lips. The universe had a twisted sense of humor, there was no doubt about it. “So Chloe, if this is not a kidnapping, then why are these ropes holding me in place?” She asks, raising one eyebrow and pointing with her head to it.

“I needed insurance you would hear me out until the end,” Chloe says nonchalantly, like kidnapping someone and bounding them to a chair in an old, abandoned house in the middle of nowhere was an everyday occurrence for her.

Bella didn’t know if they were even in Forks anymore. “Where are we?”

Chloe stares at her like she’s not right in the head. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking questions here?”

“If this is not a kidnapping, no. We're just two old friends talking instead, aren't we?” Bella says, tone sarcastic. “So, old friend, where are we?”

Chloe raises her eyebrows. “We're still in Forks. Don't worry. It's not like your old truck could’ve taken us anywhere else.” She says. “If I knew this was your ride, I would've stolen another one, trust me.”

“Thank God Carol's okay.” Bella breathes a sigh of relief.

“After you drove her into a tree, you mean?”

“There was something, someone in the middle of the road, okay? I was saving a life.” Bella says, exasperated, but the woman just smirks. “Wait a second, that was you!” She struggles, trying to get out of her strains again.

“Nice to see you're not as clueless as you look, Isabella. This will make my job a lot easier.”

“Your job?”

“More like a promise. What I came here to do.” Chloe explains. “You see, Isabella –”

“Bella,”

Marie was the only one who had called her that her whole life - and Renée, when she wanted to piss her off. Bella had no plans, whatsoever, to change that now.

“You see, Bella, a long…long time ago I met this woman. This incredible, strong, powerful, and fierce woman.” Chloe starts.

Bella raises her eyebrows, intrigued. “Is this a love story?”

“What?” Chloe asks, clearly taken aback. “No.”

“Okay,” Bella says, not swayed by the woman’s answer.

“That woman saved my life, Bella.” Chloe continues. “She gave me a purpose. She taught me things that until then, I didn't even know existed in the first place. She showed me the truth of the world we live in. It seems, in that regard, you have done better than I did.”

“What?”

“Don't play coy with me, darling,” Chloe says, her voice smooth. “This is a small town, and it’s full of gossipers. I know all about the Cullens – and the fact that you were close with them.”

Bella blinks, trying to keep her composure. Was this woman with the Volturi? Did she work for them? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do,” Chloe says. “But let’s not waste time here. The Cullens don’t matter, no. The only thing that does is the fact that you know what they are.”

“I don't know anything.” Bella tries again. “The only reason I know the Cullens is because we went to school together, but that’s it. We weren’t close.”

“Vampires going to school.” Chloe shakes her head. “You know, just when you think you’ve seen everything, Bella, life finds a way to show you just how wrong you are.”

Bella keeps quiet, not sure she should be saying anything here.

“You don't need to fear me, darling,” Chloe says, voice soft. “You know that woman I was telling you about? The one who saved my life?”

Bella nods, but she still doesn’t say anything.

“Her name was Marie. Marie Higginbotham."

Bella’s eyes widen in surprise. “What?”

“Your grandmother was the one who opened my eyes to the world, Bella. She was the one who showed me what I was.”

“A lunatic?” Bella says, the words flowing out of her mouth before she can’t stop them.

Chloe chuckles before walking straight to where Bella is. The woman crunches down on the floor, her hands supporting herself on Bella’s chair. “No, darling. I’m not a lunatic. I’m a witch.” She says, her black eyes staring back at Bella’s brown ones. “Your grandmother was one too. And I promised her, before she passed away, I promised her that when the time came, I would do for you what she'd done for me.”

Chloe smiles wickedly, and Bella feels a sense of dread in the pit of her stomach.

“If what you’re trying to do here is explain to me that I don’t live in the world I think I do, you’re a year too late.” Bella says.

“Oh, darling. That’s not why I’m here.” Chloe shakes her head, amused. “I’m here because you, my dear, you’re one of us too.”

Chapter Text

“No.” Bella shakes her head vehemently. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You haven't come into your powers yet, but that doesn't mean you’re not one of us.”

“My grandmother wasn’t a witch, I’m definitely not one, and as for you, I’m going to go with my first impression – a lunatic,” Bella says.

“Vampires and giant wolves you’re okay with, but as soon as I mention witches you’re suddenly a skeptic? Is this honestly where you draw the line, darling?”

Bella huffs. “I’ll have you know that being a skeptic is my default mood, okay? Witches isn’t where I draw the line.”

Chloe raises her eyebrows, not believing her. “Okay.”

“By the way, I’m still not okay with vampires. And last I checked there weren’t any giant wolves running around town either, at least not anymore.”

Chloe just stares at her. “You should check again, then, darling. Because there’s already a few of them on the other side of the town. La Push, isn’t it?”

“You can’t be serious.” Bella starts to sweat, imagining the situation.

Chloe gives her a look. “You’ve got to keep up with these things. I’ve been here less than a week and I already know more about this town than you do. That’s not good.”

Bella blinks, trying to take a deep breath before she has a mental breakdown. “You’ve been here a week?”

“Yes, I wasn’t going to run into you before I took a long look at things. It’s not as safe as you might think for us out there.”

“Too many townsfolk trying to burn you at the stake?” Bella jokes, but Chloe doesn’t seem to think it’s funny.

“First, let’s get one thing clear. You’re one of us. Don’t try to deny it, you know that what I’m telling you is true.” Chloe argues before standing up. She grabs another chair, puts it in front of Bella, and sits on it. “You’re telling me that, through your whole life, Marie never did anything that made you question her age, or how well she was holding up?”

“No,” Bella lies, biting her lip. “Ok, yes.” She admits when Chloe gives her a disbelieving stare. “But that’s genetics.” She says with a weak voice, remembering all the times she had thought the same thing.

How many times she’d seen her grandmother do something weird and had asked her about it, only to have her change the subject? Too many to count.

“You’ve never questioned why she traveled so much? Why you never knew her friends? Why she seemed older and wiser than your average person?” Chloe continues, but Bella isn’t about to be swayed – at least not yet.

“I thought she was a loner, that she didn’t have many friends,” Bella explains, trying to justify. “She traveled a lot because of her job, and of course, I didn’t question her wisdom, I was a kid.”

Chloe rolls her eyes. “Her job being a witch.”