Eclipse (20 page)

Jacob interrupted him then, and I could hear the buzz of his voice from the receiver. Whatever he was saying, he was more intense than before. I tried unsuccessfully to make out the words.

"You might be right -," Edward began, but Jacob was arguing again. Neither of them sounded angry, at least.

"That's an interesting suggestion. We're quite willing to renegotiate. If Sam is amenable." Jacob's voice was quieter now. I started chewing on my thumbnail as I tried to read Edward's expression.

"Thank you," Edward replied.

Then Jacob said something that caused a surprised expression to flicker across Edward's face.

"I'd planned to go alone, actually," Edward said, answering the unexpected question. "And leave her with the others."

Jacob's voice rose in pitch, and it sounded to me like he was trying to be persuasive.

"I'll try to consider it objectively," Edward promised. "As objectively as I'm capable of." The pause was shorter this time.

"That's not a half-bad idea. When? . . . No, that's fine. I'd like a chance to follow the trail personally, anyway. Ten minutes . . . Certainly," Edward said. He held the phone out to me.

"Bella?"

I took it slowly, feeling confused.

"What was that all about?" I asked Jacob, my voice peeved. I knew it was juvenile, but I felt excluded.

"A truce, I think. Hey, do me a favor," Jacob suggested. "Try to convince your bloodsucker that the safest place for you to be - especially when he leaves - is on the reservation. We're well able to handle anything."

"Is that what you were trying to sell him?"

"Yes. It makes sense. Charlie's probably better off here, too. As much as possible."

"Get Billy on it," I agreed. I hated that I was putting Charlie within the range of the crosshairs that always seemed to be centered on me. "What else?"

"Just rearranging some boundaries, so we can catch anyone who gets too near Forks. I'm not sure if Sam will go for it, but until he comes around, I'll keep an eye on things."

"What do you mean by 'keep an eye on things'?"

"I mean that if you see a wolf running around your house, don't shoot at it."

"Of course not. You really shouldn't do anything . . . risky, though." He snorted. "Don't be stupid. I can take care of myself."

I sighed.

"I also tried to convince him to let you visit. He's prejudiced, so don't let him give you any crap about safety. He knows as well as I do that you'd be safe here."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"See you in a few," Jacob said.

"You're coming up?"

"Yeah. I'm going to get the scent of your visitor so we can track him if he comes back."

"Jake, I really don't like the idea of you tracking -"

"Oh
please,
Bella," he interrupted. Jacob laughed, and then hung up.
10. SCENT

IT WAS ALL VERY CHILDISH. WHY ON EARTH SHOULDEDward have to leave for

Jacob to come over? Weren't we past this kind of immaturity?

"It's not that I feel any personal antagonism toward him, Bella, it's just easier for both of us," Edward told me at the door. "I won't be far away. You'll be safe."

"I'm not worried about
that
."

He smiled, and then a sly look came into his eye. He pulled me close, burying his face in my hair. I could feel his cool breath saturate the strands as he exhaled; it raised goose bumps on my neck.

"I'll be right back," he said, and then he laughed aloud as if I'd just told a good joke.

"What's so funny?"

But Edward just grinned and loped off toward the trees without answering. Grumbling to myself, I went to clean up the kitchen. Before I even had the sink full of water, the doorbell rang. It was hard to get used to how much faster Jacob was
without
his car. How everyone seemed to be so much faster than me. . . .

"Come in, Jake!" I shouted.

I was concentrating on piling the dishes into the bubbly water, and I'd forgotten that Jacob moved like a ghost these days. So it made me jump when his voice was suddenly there behind me.

"Should you really leave your door unlocked like that? Oh, sorry." I'd slopped myself with the dishwater when he'd startled me.

"I'm not worried about anyone who would be deterred by a locked door," I said while I wiped the front of my shirt with a dishtowel.

"Good point," he agreed.

I turned to look at him, eyeing him critically. "Is it really so impossible to wear clothes, Jacob?" I asked. Once again, Jacob was bare-chested, wearing nothing but a pair of old cut-off jeans. Secretly, I wondered if he was just so proud of his new muscles that he couldn't stand to cover them up. I had to admit, they were impressive - but I'd never thought of him as vain. "I mean, I know you don't get cold anymore, but still." He ran a hand through his wet hair; it was falling in his eyes.

"It's just easier," he explained.

"What's easier?"

He smiled condescendingly. "It's enough of a pain to carry the shorts around with me, let alone a complete outfit. What do I look like, a pack mule?"

I frowned. "What are you talking about, Jacob?"

His expression was superior, like I was missing something obvious. "My clothes don't just pop in and out of existence when I change - I have to carry them with me while I run. Pardon me for keeping my burden light."

I changed color. "I guess I didn't think about that," I muttered. He laughed and pointed to a black leather cord, thin as a strand of yarn, that was wound three times below his left calf like an anklet. I hadn't noticed before that his feet were bare, too. "That's more than just a fashion statement - it sucks to carry jeans in your mouth." I didn't know what to say to that.

He grinned. "Does my being half-naked bother you?"

"No."

Jacob laughed again, and I turned my back on him to focus on the dishes. I hoped he realized my blush was left over from embarrassment at my own stupidity, and had nothing to do with his question.

"Well, I suppose I should get to work." He sighed. "I wouldn't want to give him an excuse to say I'm slacking on my side."

"Jacob, it's not your job -"

He raised a hand to cut me off. "I'm working on a volunteer basis here. Now, where is the intruder's scent the worst?"

"My bedroom, I think."

His eyes narrowed. He didn't like that any more than Edward had.

"I'll just be a minute."

I methodically scrubbed the plate I was holding. The only sound was the brush's plastic bristles scraping round and round on the ceramic. I listened for something from above, a creak of the floorboard, the click of a door. There was nothing. I realized I'd been cleaning the same plate far longer than necessary, and I tried to pay attention to what I was doing.

"Whew!" Jacob said, inches behind me, scaring me again.

"Yeesh, Jake, cut that out!"

"Sorry. Here -" Jacob took the towel and mopped up my new spill. "I'll make it up to you. You wash, I'll rinse and dry."

"Fine." I gave him the plate.

"Well, the scent was easy enough to catch. By the way, your room reeks."

"I'll buy some air freshener."

He laughed.

I washed and he dried in companionable silence for a few minutes.

"Can I ask you something?"

I handed him another plate. "That depends on what you want to know."

"I'm not trying to be a jerk or anything - I'm honestly curious," Jacob assured me.

"Fine. Go ahead."

He paused for half a second. "What's it like - having a vampire for a boyfriend?" I rolled my eyes. "It's the best."

"I'm serious. The idea doesn't bother you - it never creeps you out?"

"Never."

He was silent as he reached for the bowl in my hands. I peeked up at his face - he was frowning, his lower lip jutting out.

"Anything else?" I asked.

He wrinkled his nose again. "Well . . . I was wondering . . . do you . . . y'know,
kiss
him?" I laughed. "Yes."

He shuddered. "Ugh."

"To each her own," I murmured.

"You don't worry about the fangs?"

I smacked his arm, splashing him with dishwater. "Shut up, Jacob! You know he doesn't have fangs!"

"Close enough," he muttered.

I gritted my teeth and scrubbed a boning knife with more force than necessary.

"Can I ask another one?" he asked softly when I passed the knife to him. "Just curious, again."

"Fine," I snapped.

He turned the knife over and over in his hands under the stream of water. When he spoke, it was only a whisper. "You said a few weeks. . . . When, exactly . . . ?" He couldn't finish.

"Graduation," I whispered back, watching his face warily. Would this set him off again?

"So soon," he breathed, his eyes closing. It didn't sound like a question. It sounded like a lament. The muscles in his arms tightened and his shoulders were stiff.

"OW!" he shouted; it had gotten so still in the room that I jumped a foot in the air at his outburst.

His right hand had curled into a tense fist around the blade of the knife - he unclenched his hand and the knife clattered onto the counter. Across his palm was a long, deep gash. The blood streamed down his fingers and dripped on the floor.

"Damn it! Ouch!" he complained.

My head spun and my stomach rolled. I clung to the countertop with one hand, took a deep breath through my mouth, and forced myself to get a grip so that I could take care of him.

"Oh, no, Jacob! Oh, crap! Here, wrap this around it!" I shoved the dish towel at him, reaching for his hand. He shrugged away from me.

"It's nothing, Bella, don't worry about it."

The room started to shimmer a little around the edges.

I took another deep breath. "Don't worry?! You sliced your hand open!" He ignored the dish towel I pushed at him. He put his hand under the faucet and let the water wash over the wound. The water ran red. My head whirled.

"Bella," he said.

I looked away from the wound, up to his face. He was frowning, but his expression was calm.

"What?"

"You look like you're going to pass out, and you're biting your lip off. Stop it. Relax. Breathe. I'm fine."

I inhaled through my mouth and removed my teeth from my lower lip. "Don't be brave." He rolled his eyes.

"Let's go. I'll drive you to the ER." I was pretty sure I would be okay to drive. The walls were holding steady now, at least.

"Not necessary." Jake turned off the water and took the towel from my hand. He twisted it loosely around his palm.

"Wait," I protested. "Let me look at it." I clutched the counter more firmly, to hold myself upright if the wound made me woozy again.

"Do you have a medical degree that you never told me about?"

"Just give me the chance to decide whether or not I'm going to throw a fit over taking you to the hospital."

He made a face of mock horror. "Please, not a fit!"

"If you don't let me see your hand, a fit is guaranteed."

He inhaled deeply, and then let out a gusty sigh. "Fine."

He unwound the towel and, when I reached out to take the cloth, he laid his hand in mine. It took me a few seconds. I even flipped his hand over, though I was sure he'd cut his palm. I turned his hand back up, finally realizing that the angry pink, puckered line was all that was left of his wound.

"But . . . you were bleeding . . . so much."

He pulled his hand back, his eyes steady and somber on mine.

"I heal fast."

"I'll say," I mouthed.

I'd seen the long gash clearly, seen the blood that flowed into the sink. The rust-and-salt smell of it had almost pulled me under. It should have needed stitches. It should have taken days to scab over and then weeks to fade into the shiny pink scar that marked his skin now. He screwed his mouth up into half a smile and thumped his fist once against his chest.

"Werewolf, remember?"

His eyes held mine for an immeasurable moment.

"Right," I finally said.

He laughed at my expression. "I told you this. You saw Paul's scar." I shook my head to clear it. "It's a little different, seeing the action sequence firsthand." I kneeled down and dug the bleach out of the cabinet under the sink. Then I poured some on a dusting rag and started scrubbing the floor. The burning scent of the bleach cleared the last of the dizziness from my head.

"Let me clean up," Jacob said.

"I got this. Throw that towel in the wash, will you?"

When I was sure the floor smelled of nothing but bleach, I got up and rinsed the right side of the sink with bleach, too. Then I went to the laundry closet beside the pantry, and poured a cupful into the washing machine before starting it. Jacob watched me with a disapproving look on his face.

"Do you have obsessive-compulsive disorder?" he asked when I was done. Huh. Maybe. But at least I had a good excuse this time. "We're a bit sensitive to blood around here. I'm sure you can understand that."

"Oh." He wrinkled his nose again.

"Why not make it as easy as possible for him? What he's doing is hard enough."

"Sure, sure. Why not?"

I pulled the plug, and let the dirty water drain from the sink.

"Can I ask you something, Bella?"

I sighed.

"What's it like - having a werewolf for a best friend?"

The question caught me off guard. I laughed out loud.

"Does it creep you out?" he pressed before I could answer.

"No. When the werewolf is being nice," I qualified, "it's the best." He grinned widely, his teeth bright against his russet skin. "Thanks, Bella," he said, and then he grabbed my hand and wrenched me into one of his bone-crushing hugs.

Before I had time to react, he dropped his arms and stepped away.

"Ugh," he said, his nose wrinkling. "Your hair stinks worse than your room."

"Sorry," I muttered. I suddenly understood what Edward had been laughing about earlier, after breathing on me.

"One of the many hazards of socializing with vampires," Jacob said, shrugging. "It makes you smell bad. A minor hazard, comparatively."

I glared at him. "I only smell bad to you, Jake."

He grinned. "See you around, Bells."