I was sitting in my truck, behind the wheel. I wasn't sure I should be driving right now. My vision swam and my head felt like it was being squeezed like a vice.
The crisis was supposed to be over now. But for me, it felt like it was just beginning.
Archie was sitting in the passenger's seat beside me. He was quiet as I fought to get a handle on myself.
It had been hours before I was finally allowed in to see for myself that Jules was really still alive. After they had gotten Carine down there, along with Edythe, supposedly back from their pretend hiking trip, Charlie had been at the Black house for hours. And of course, Archie and I were supposed to be down in Olympia, oblivious to the world, munching burgers and seeing a movie.
When Charlie had finally left, Edythe and I had stayed for a while, and I'd been hoping to be there when Jules finally regained consciousness. But then Archie was calling, insisting that we needed to keep up our facade, that I needed to go home so I could assuage my dad's likely growing suspicions...
Much as I had wanted to argue, I knew he was right, and I left, with Edythe promising to call me if Jules woke up while I was away—though the extra morphine Carine had put in her system made that unlikely, at least for a while. Some part of me felt terrible for the role I was putting Edythe in—comforting me, reassuring me over someone she couldn't stand, who she had always known even more than I did was the biggest threat to her happiness. The biggest threat to things ending up how I had professed over and over I wanted them to be.
Unfortunately, I had never been good at lying or hiding how I felt about things, particularly when I was in full-on panic mode. The horror of Jules's injuries, and the whispering doubt she might not make it through, in spite of Carine and Edythe's best efforts, was crippling beyond my control.
I sat in the truck, trying again to force myself to go over the story we had come up with and I had memorized, but as everything that had happened kept going through my head again and again, it kept getting crowded out.
It was Archie who finally broke the silence. "Long day," he commented.
I let out a sigh. "Yeah," I agreed. "Long day."
"Anything you want to talk about?" he asked. "Might clear your head a bit, before you have to talk to Charlie."
I opened my mouth automatically to say no, I was fine—then I sighed deeply, and said instead, "I guess I'll be like that—that kid in the clearing."
Archie glanced at me. He shrugged. "Something like that. We were all a bit wild in the beginning. It passes, though. Just takes a few years. We'll keep you out of trouble, and you know I'll see it if you're about to break the rules." He tapped his temple.
I didn't answer. I knew they would do their best, and I would just have to trust that, but I also knew that one crazy vampire could do a lot of damage in a few years. Still, as worried as that had had me all this time, that wasn't the biggest concern on my mind.
But I didn't know how to say it, or if it was even right to put it into words, so I heard myself saying instead, "It's weird, isn't it? I mean, how...you know...Edythe's power doesn't work on me. Or Jonathan's, or Sulpicia's...but yours does. You can see my future."
Archie gazed out the front windshield, considering. "And Jess's works on you too," he reminded me. "Yeah, I've thought about that. What the difference is. And you know what? I think it's got to do with the physical versus the mental. Jess's power affects the body physically, messes with the hormone levels and stuff to calm you down or get you excited. Me, I just see outcomes of decisions, not the reasons behind them. See? I think that's it. It's your mind that's protected. Jonathan only creates an illusion of pain, he doesn't hurt you physically. Inside your head, you're safe."
I nodded slowly.
Archie's eyes were on me again. "What else?" he asked shrewdly. "What did you really want to ask me?"
I glanced away. "Can't you see it?" I muttered.
He shook his head. "Not until you decide to say it."
I hesitated a moment longer, then sighed once again.
Archie scanned the immediate future, and he understood the question. "Yeah," he said easily. "I do. I still see you becoming one of us. Don't you know that?"
I nodded slowly, letting out a breath. "Just wanted to be sure."
He eyed me. "I'm only as sure as you are. If you changed your mind, the future I saw would change, too. Or in this case...disappear."
We were both quiet for a long moment.
"I don't get how I got in this situation," I said suddenly.
Archie blinked.
"I mean," I continued, voice rising, "I'm such a jerk, I don't even know what they've been fighting over. They could both do so much better."
Archie's eyebrows rose slightly. "Didn't you know?" he said. "The ladies love jerks. Nice guys finish last and all that."
I turned to glare at him ferociously.
"Okay, okay," he relented. "Not funny. Look, I know you feel bad—but you can't exactly help how you feel, and in fairness, I think you have been trying to do the right thing all this time. It's just, you've got two different directions you could go down, and they're both good places to go. But to have one, you have to give up the other one. It's rough. Since I see visions and I always knew Jess was my future, I never had to deal with anything like that. But I get how hard it has to be."
I shook my head, mouth twisting. He was trying to make me feel better, and I wasn't going to let him. I didn't deserve it.
There wasn't a choice to be made, not really. I was going to completely crush someone's heart—but the fact it was so hard, so hard to let go, beyond the pain I would be causing her, I knew I was even now still betraying the person I had chosen. I was a jerk, on both ends.
Without another word, I turned the key in the ignition, and the engine roared to life. Archie, giving me one last concerned look, was gone by the time I took off the emergency break and put my hand on the gearshift.
I took one last, deep breath, and started off.
At home, Charlie was waiting for me—anxious and suspicious, as Archie had warned me he would be.
"How was the trip?" he asked. He was standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as though that's where he'd been all along.
"Okay," I said, without much enthusiasm. "Long. We just got back." I didn't have to fake the dull edge of exhaustion in my voice.
Charlie hesitated. "Did you...hear about Julie?"
I didn't meet his gaze, and I sighed. "Yeah... The rest of the Cullens beat us home and told us what happened, and where Edythe and Carine were. Soon as I make dinner, I'm going to head down there, too."
Charlie nodded, and his eyes followed me as I headed to the fridge and started pulling things out. "I hope this makes you realize just how dangerous those motorcycles are. Right leg and arm both broken—entire right side of her pretty messed up. A lot of people don't walk away from accidents that bad. Luckily Carine said Julie ought to make a full recovery, but she'll probably be on crutches for the next few months. An active girl like her, she'll probably hate that."
I nodded absently as I went over to the cupboards next, pulling out a couple more things and setting them on the counter.
Charlie must have noticed how gloomy I looked, because he said bracingly, "Well, I wouldn't worry about her too much. She seemed in plenty high spirits when I left. I had no idea she had such a foul mouth. Does she talk like that around you?"
My hand froze in the cupboard, and I slowly turned around. "She...was awake when you saw her?"
"Oh yeah," he said. "Wide awake. Joking around, actually."
"Joking?" I said, almost faintly.
Charlie shrugged. "In between the nonstop profanity, she told me, 'Bet you're glad now he chose her after all, she's a better influence.' I've got to hand it to Bonnie, her girl is one of a kind. Nothing gets her down."
I'd turned back to the cupboard so Charlie wouldn't see my expression.
"Course, she does have a point," he mused. "When it comes to safety, Edythe Cullen is a much better influence. She's very mature for her age. The way she was helping Carine...she already knows more about Carine's business than you'd think, and she's meticulous about the details. Maybe she should consider taking after her mother and go into medicine."
I thought of Jules as a giant wolf, not hesitating even for a moment to put herself in danger to save Lee. And I heard myself saying quietly, "Jules can be mature. I'm sure the accident wasn't her fault."
Charlie paused briefly, giving me a slightly odd look. After a moment, his gaze wandered away from me, and he said musingly, "Strange day today. Bonnie was nervous and distracted all morning. Almost like she knew something bad might happen to Julie."
He went on thoughtfully, "And then, remember earlier this year, when we had so much trouble with those giant wolves? Well, we started hearing a bunch of wolf calls in the woods. So many, and some sounded so loud they could have been right there in the village. We were supposed to be watching the pre-game talks, but then as soon as she heard the wolves, Bonnie left and went to spend the rest of the time on the phone, chatting with friends. I think she called Saul, and Elliot, and Quilla, your friend Quil's grandmother. Real casual conversation, it was the strangest thing."
He shook his head in bewilderment at the memory, then continued, "The wolf calls stopped for a while—and then it suddenly started up again, this time sounding like it was just outside the house. Different than a normal howl, the animal sounded like it was in pain. I had to shout to Bonnie to be heard, I asked if she got animals this close to the house all the time, and if she'd set some traps. Then almost as soon as it stopped, they were hauling Julie in, and all that was kind of pushed from my mind. Then they called Carine..."
Charlie paused again. "Well, at least a little good's come from all this. Seems like Bonnie and the others are over their superstitions about the Cullens. Bonnie seemed pretty grateful when Carine showed up. I thought we ought to get Julie over to the hospital, but Bonnie wanted to keep her at home and Carine agreed. Going to be a long stretch of house calls... Nice of her to agree to that."
He looked down, hesitant. "And..." he muttered. At last, he sighed. "Okay, I'll admit it, I was pretty impressed with Edythe, and not just how she was helping Carine. I know she's had some bad blood with Julie the last few months, mainly over you—but she seemed about as anxious for her as you would have been if you'd been there."
He paused again. "Look, Beau, what I'm trying to say is—I know I've been a bit stubborn the last few months where Edythe's concerned, but I'm willing to admit when I've turned out to be wrong. If she's your choice...you've picked a good one."
I nodded slowly, not turning around. "Thanks, Dad," I whispered, but my voice sounded dull, robotic. A few months ago, I would have been happy to hear him say something like this—to hear him finally coming around to the fact Edythe and I were going to be together, to begin to see her beyond the events of last fall, of which he didn't know the full story.
However, I was still distracted. The scene I'd arrived to when Charlie had left kept playing through my mind. Jules, lying in the bed, her russet skin chalky pale and drawn, eyes closed. Looking on the verge of death.
Looking into her unconscious face, remembering everything we'd done together, all the jokes and laughter, and even the tense, hard times, too—it was painful. I knew how I felt about her, even though the feeling was a betrayal of someone else. I couldn't seem to stop it...or the treacherous part of me that, for the first time, felt the sacrifice of giving up being human may be almost too much to bear.
I set Charlie's dinner on the table next to his elbow and immediately headed for the door.
"Don't worry, Beau," Charlie called after me. "Really. She'll be fine."
Maybe that was true, I thought as I headed quickly out the door to my truck. Maybe she would be fine—as far as the broken bones were concerned. But what about the part of her I was about to break? The one part of a wolf that didn't heal so easily.
I climbed into the cab, and inserted the key into the ignition.
I saw the figure sitting in the passenger's seat out of the corner of my eye. Perfectly still.
I didn't flinch at the suddenness—somehow, I wasn't surprised.
Edythe turned to look at me in the red evening light.
"Carine finished treating her, for now," she said softly. "The morphine should have worn off some—I wouldn't be surprised if she's already awake. I...decided to come see how you were."
I didn't reply. I didn't know what to say. I'd been doing everything wrong lately. The panic I felt over what had happened to Jules, the need to see her awake and really okay, was beyond that of concern for a friend, even a best friend. Edythe knew that—and she probably knew that, even now, I could feel my heart trying to pull itself in two.
"Are you going down to La Push?" she asked gently.
I hesitated, remembering how, not so long ago, we had been sitting in my truck like this, and Edythe had stopped me from going to that very place.
"You were right," I said in a low, hollow voice. "I shouldn't have gone back. I should have just...left well enough alone."
Edythe tilted her head slightly, and I knew she knew what I was thinking of. "You think so?" she asked after a moment. "Because I'm not so sure."
I blinked, and I couldn't stop my eyes returning to her face, confused.
"I left you once," she murmured. "It was...is...the greatest regret of my life. In some ways, this was not so different."
I saw the comparison she was drawing, and I quickly shook my head. "It was different. There was nothing holding us back from being together, besides the fact that—that you just convinced yourself you weren't good for me. I'm not ever going to be able to give her anything. If I hadn't just kept going, then—then maybe she would be okay. Maybe she would have moved on by now."
"You were trying to do the right thing by her, as her friend," Edythe murmured. "You can hardly be faulted for that. If you had tried to make the break back then as opposed to now—I think it would have come out a mess no matter what. The notion that a complete rejection, cold and cruel, constitutes a clean break—that is merely a romantic fantasy, as I learned only too clearly. Kindness is cleaner than cruelty, I think—even if it's still a mess. If anyone is to blame for all of this, it's me. I left a painful void in your life, with my misguided attempt to save you from myself. She filled that void."
I shook my head. As always, Edythe tried to take the blame for all my mistakes, my weakness, on herself. Stupid, that's what it was.
And yet, maybe she was right about one thing—even looking back over everything that had happened, I still wasn't entirely sure what the right thing to do would have been. What would have caused Jules, and Edythe too, the least amount of pain. But maybe it was inevitable—maybe I was always going to hurt them both no matter what.
I hesitated, head bowed over the steering wheel. I didn't know what to say, and I heard myself mutter into the silence, "Are you...coming with me?"
Edythe regarded me for a moment. "No," she said finally, voice gentle. "I think you need a chance to speak with her alone."
My eyes didn't move from where they were fixed on the dashboard, without really seeing it. At last, I drew a rattling breath and nodded once. She was right. This was a conversation I had to have with Jules that couldn't be put off.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I'm sorry for everything I've put you through. I'm going to try to...make it right. If I can."
I felt something cool against my wrist, and I turned to see Edythe's hand, touching my skin. She was gazing up into my face, her own beautiful features intense with earnestness.
"Beau," she said softly, "I know just how stubborn you are. But, when you go there, I want you to do something for me."
I reached out a hand automatically to take hers, then hesitated—I still felt guilty even touching her, after betraying her as I had. And—some part of my heart still betraying her, even now.
As I paused in my momentary indecision, Edythe gazed up at me, still touching my wrist.
"When you go to see her, think about it again," she said. "You can still choose her, Beau. You have only just discovered these feelings—you said your feelings for me are stronger, and I believe that, but those feelings have had time to grow. You don't know how strong your feelings for her could become, if only you let them. There is still time to think, consider. She could give you so much that I couldn't."
I gazed back at her a moment longer. And then, I took her hand in mine. "You...really love me," I marveled.
She smiled. "More than you can possibly imagine. I really, truly feel—so long as you are happy, I will be happy, too."
I shook my head. She really did love me. More than I would ever, could ever, deserve.
I held her hand a moment longer—and then I sighed. "I better go before it gets too late."
She nodded. "Of course." She hesitated, then briefly leaned across the seat between us, and I felt her sweet breath against my ear. "Don't be stubborn," she breathed. "Consider, really consider. Find the path with the least regrets, and whatever you decide, I will be satisfied. I love you, Beau."
I blinked, dazed for a moment—but as I opened my mouth to respond, to tell her my choice one more time, she was already gone.
I blinked again, then shook my head. I turned the key, yet even the growling roar of the old engine didn't quite fill the sudden silence.
When I arrived at La Push, of course Carine's black Mercedes was no longer in front of the house. I already knew that—yet somehow I still felt its absence.
I hadn't even completely finished climbing out when I heard a call from within.
"Come in, Beau."
I recognized Bonnie, who of course had probably picked up on the distinctive roar of my truck. I went ahead and let myself in, trying to be quiet in case Jules was still asleep.
"Hey, Bonnie," I said, keeping my voice down. "Is she awake yet?"
"She woke up about an hour ago, just before the doctor left," Bonnie said. "I think she's been waiting for you."
My eyes dropped immediately to the ground. I nodded once, then turned and headed automatically in the direction of her room.
At the door, I hesitated to knock, then instead pushed the door in a few inches to see if she might have gone back to sleep. Some part of me almost hoped that she had—I could use a few more minutes to gather my thoughts. Or a few hours.
However, Jules was, as Bonnie has said, waiting for me. She was sitting partially up, propped against some pillows, her features alert as she watched me silently. The haggard look from earlier was gone, but she wasn't smiling. Her face was blank, her dark eyes holding no emotion.
She knew.
My eyes dropped from hers as I wordlessly slipped inside the room, closing the door behind me. Someone had thrown a quilt over her, for which I was relieved—I didn't want to see just how bad the damage was. Bad enough that almost half her body had been crushed, but when Carine had arrived to treat her, the healing process had already begun, and many of the bones had already set wrong, forcing Carine to re-break many of the fractures. I knew underneath the blankets, Jules was covered with braces.
I stood there by the door for a moment, awkward, until at last I said in a low voice that grated against my throat, "Hey."
Jules didn't answer at first, just carefully studied my face. At last, her face twisted into a bitter, mocking smile.
"Yeah, I sort of figured it might be like that." She sighed. "What a day. I miss the best fight, let Sarah get all the glory, and then Lee's being a moron and I end up being the idiot who has to play the hero and save him. Now this." She waved vaguely in my direction with her good arm. "There's the icing on the cake."
"How...are you doing?" I said quietly. It was a beyond stupid question, but I couldn't think of anything else to say.
"Kind of stoned actually," she said, with a bit of a humorless laugh. "I think the good doctor's been using me as a kind of experiment, so she might have overdone it on the medication."
"It doesn't hurt?" I said slowly, tentatively.
She laughed again, and it sounded hollow. "My injuries don't hurt if that's what you're asking."
My eyes dropped again. I couldn't look at her. I felt like something in my chest was searing me, breaking apart—I wouldn't have expected knowing how I really felt would make it this hard. Edythe's voice in my ear drifted up from the back of my mind. Don't be stubborn.
Edythe couldn't read my mind. So she didn't know what thoughts were going through my head, now that I'd finally found out the truth. She was perceptive enough to see the intense pain—the pain of seeing Jules hurt, and how, in order to do this, I would have to rip out a part of myself. I hated that Edythe had to see that, but maybe it was for the best—it wouldn't have been right to hide any part of myself from her, even the parts that I knew caused her pain, because I didn't want to lie or keep her in the dark.
However, that was where the right interpretation of my thoughts and feelings ended. She could see how much I cared about Jules, loved her even—and she thought that my heart was really, truly divided, that I still needed to consider, to make up my mind. Perhaps she even thought that, deep down, Jules was the one I really loved, and I was only continuing to cling to a fading love for her out of some notion of loyalty or stubborn desire to stick to the path I'd already chosen.
But she was wrong. I still loved Edythe, the same way I had those early days when we had first talked of vampires in Port Angeles, when I had gone with her to the meadow, when she had gone to the Volturi and then flown back with me. Things had been coming between us the last few months, but we had worked through them, and even now as I knew the coming hardships, I was set to endure them. Not for the sake of obligation, but because I simply couldn't be without her.
There were two paths set before me, and no matter which one I chose, there would be pain and regrets left behind. Intense pain and regrets, from me, and the one who stood on the darkened path. After all the pain I had caused, the only thing I could do for both the people I cared about was to be honest with myself. To make the choice with clear eyes, not letting myself get distracted by anything except what I really felt. And deep down, I had always known my choice was already made before I'd even made it.
Jules gazed back into my face, and seemed to read the thoughts behind it. However, the bitter humor seemed to leave her features, and her smile was surprisingly understanding.
"Was she mean to you?" she asked.
I blinked. "What?"
She tried to shrug, but could only move one shoulder. "You know...after I left. She say anything really horrible? I knew she wouldn't really hurt you, but I meant to be there, so she'd have someone besides you to take it out on. I was worried she might not let you come here."
I understood what she meant, and I quickly shook my head. "No, nothing like that. You wouldn't believe it—she wasn't mad at all. Even a little. She was so...unbelievably..." I trailed off, as I remembered everything she had said and done. And I was hit with just how incredible she really was all over again. I finally found my voice enough to say, "Kind. Understanding."
Jules could clearly hear the awe in my tone. Instead of looking relieved, she wrinkled her nose and, if anything, she seemed disappointed. "Figures. She's good, I'll give her that."
I frowned at her uncertainly. "What do you mean?"
She settled back a bit more against the pillows. "Well, I guess it doesn't matter now. It's over anyway. But, I was kind of banking on her reaction. Revealing the monster within, all that. But I guess she was two steps ahead of me again. She's just better at this game than I am."
My mouth pursed slightly. "She's not playing any games, Jules," I said quietly.
Jules snorted. "Sure she is. She's just good enough you can't see it. She's not as perfect as you think she is, Beau—when are you going to realize that?"
I could feel my ears turning red as my irritation rose. "And I guess you were really going to go out and kill yourself if I didn't play your games."
Then I hesitated, eyes dropping to the ground. I was sorry to have played that card—I'd sworn to myself I wasn't going to bring that up.
However, Jules smiled a little, some of her frustration dispelled, and she was unabashed. "Hey, I might have died if I'd gone running into battle feeling all depressed. And it did kind of occur to me that might be the best outcome for you in terms of future peace of mind—but in the longterm, if the alternative was giving you up to a bloodsucker, it seemed better to at least try."
I sighed. "Emotional manipulation?"
She smiled. "Maybe a bit. Hey, if I mean it when I say I'm going to fight, I have to use all the tricks I can, right?"
I looked away again. She acted as though she had given up already—but the way she was talking, it sounded like she wasn't done quite yet. And that was going to make this all the harder.
"Listen, Jules..." I started.
Before I could finish, Jules cut across me, saying, "I won't apologize for what I did, because I'm not sorry. I think I'd do it again if I had the choice. Because it finally made you realize the truth."
I hesitated, then shook my head. "Do you really think that's better?" I said in a low voice.
"Yeah, I do," she answered without hesitation. "I mean, aren't you glad to know how you feel? Even a little? It has to be better to find out now, when you still have a choice, than later, when you're a married vampire."
I shook my head again. She hadn't understood what I meant. "I mean...for you...knowing how I feel when it doesn't make a difference. Isn't it harder? Isn't a disappointed hope worse than no hope at all?"
Jules didn't give me a glib answer. She sat there for a long moment, thinking seriously. At last she said slowly, "No, it's better to know you know the truth. If you'd never known...well, I would have always wondered, wouldn't I? Now I know. I did everything I could."
She drew in a shallow, unsteady breath, then leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
Seeing her lying there, before I knew what I was doing I had crossed the room. Afraid I might jostle the bed if I sat on it, for a minute I just stood there uselessly, staring down at her. I stretched out a hand to touch her good arm, then hesitated. All the ways I might have comforted her before, before I knew—they seemed like they'd only make things worse now.
Jules opened her eyes and forced a smile. "You look like a dork. Come on, just sit down." She patted the empty place on the small bed beside her.
I did. I didn't know what else to do.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, head bowed.
"I always knew it was kind of a long shot," she said with a sigh. "I fought as hard as I could, and I won at least a little. Don't feel bad, it's not your fault."
An odd sound escaped me, half between a laugh and a frustrated grunt of disbelief. "Right," I muttered sarcastically. "Not my fault at all. Whose else would it be?"
She grinned, half rolling her head toward me. "You want me to rake you over the coals instead?"
"Would you?" I said, glancing at her, unable to keep the sudden eagerness from my voice. I swiveled slightly, so I was facing her.
She laughed. "You're such a weird guy sometimes, Beau."
She stared at me, and as she did, she drew in her brows accusingly. "You're a pretty terrible guy, too. If you were any man at all, you should have told me to go die if that's what I wanted. You're killing me, Beau. You keep jerking me around."
She was still half grinning as she spoke, so my throat shouldn't have closed like it did. I felt something burning in my eyes.
"I mean," she continued, "you didn't love me enough to even suggest polygamy."
I couldn't help it and I choked out a laugh, even as I felt an unwanted tear spill from one eye, and slide down my face. I quickly wiped it away, but Jules saw it.
Before I knew what she was doing, she had thrown her good arm around my shoulder, in a strange kind of bro hug. "It's going to be okay, Beau," she said, suddenly serious again.
I shook my head slowly, and my voice was low and hoarse as I answered. "What makes you think that?"
She leaned her head against mine lightly. "I've decided," she said. "I'm going to give in. I'm going to leave you alone and let you make your choice."
I shook my head slightly. "Latest strategy?" I asked in a mutter.
Jules laughed softly. "No. I can't use her techniques anyway. I'm just calling it quits. Throwing in the towel. I'll just be your friend from now on, and that's it—just like I was in the beginning."
I was silent for a long moment. I didn't think that could possibly work, when we both knew how we felt. However, all I said was, "What brought this on?"
Jules smiled slightly, then sighed. "Do you know that story in the Bible?" she asked. "I mean the one about the king and the two women fighting over the baby."
I nodded slowly. "King Solomon."
"Yeah. And he said the solution was to cut the kid in half...but it was really only a test. To see who loved the kid enough to give him up to save him."
Her dark eyes stared straight ahead, at one of her posters of a racing car on the wall, though I doubted really seeing it.
"I'm...tired of hurting you, Beau," she said quietly. "I'm tired of splitting you in half. Maybe if things had gone the other way, she would have really given you up too, who knows—but seeing as how things are, it's going to have to be me. I need to let you be the person you want to be. I can't be a constant source of potential dishonor."
She smiled a little. "You're a lot like Sam, you know. I've been inside her head, so I know how you feel right now, and I don't want you to have to feel like that anymore."
We were quiet for several minutes. Maybe she was waiting for me to say something. Or maybe she was absorbing this last moment, steeling her resolve.
At last she said, "Can I...tell you one more thing? One more truth, never hiding things, before we lock it away and throw away the key." She sighed. "The worst part of all this... Then I promise I'll let it all go. Everything."
I hesitated. "If it will help," I said quietly at last.
"I think the worst part," she said slowly, haltingly, "is knowing what would have been. If things had been different."
She went on, "You know I would have been the natural path your life would have taken. If there were no monsters, no magic...it would have been me."
I could have tried to deny it, but I knew deep down she was right. I could see the potential future almost as clearly as she could. The future of a world without the supernatural—a world where Edythe had died of influenza in 1918 and it was Jules I met first at La Push, that day at the beach. We would have been together, we would have been happy.
Two paths of the future—my choice was going to make one go dark, and I had already made my choice. A choice as inevitable as the rising and falling of the sun. If it was only my own regret I had to live with, I could endure that, but this hurting Jules—it was almost too much to bear.
"You know," she murmured. "Sometimes I've had this thought... It's almost like she's some kind of drug for you. Like you couldn't stay away from her even if someday you wanted to." Her voice held no judgment, only understanding. She sighed. "I think I get that now. But I would have been healthier for you. Not a drug. More like the air, the sun. Like you are for me."
I smiled a little wistfully. "This is going to sound corny, but I used to kind of think of you that way. Kind of like the sun, chasing away the clouds." Then I hesitated, wondering if I really should have said that.
But Jules only smiled a bit. She leaned a little more into my shoulder, and chuckled ruefully. "Too bad I've been eclipsed."
We stayed like that a minute. Quiet, but for the beating of our hearts.
"I know you have to go," she said quietly. "But before you do—tell me the worst part for you."
I shook my head. "I think maybe that wouldn't be a good idea."
"Please," she murmured. "Let's be honest, for this one last hour at least."
I hesitated. "I think it would just make things worse."
Jules smiled a little. "You should know me better than that by now. I'd rather know a hard truth any day than be left wondering, in suspense."
I sighed. After everything I had put her through—I guess it made sense if, if she was asking for honesty, for me to give it to her. "I guess the worst part...it's like there's two people inside me. There's one that knows how things are going to be, which way I've decided. But even so, there's also another one that just keep pulling at me, that wants the future you see—I think maybe as much as you do. And that part of me..." I hesitated.
"That part of you makes you feel like you're betraying us both," Jules concluded—as always, knowing my thoughts almost before I did. "You would cut that part out, if you could."
I couldn't look at her. I didn't know what the right thing to say or do was. I wish I hadn't said anything.
She sighed. "I get it. Like I said, she's a drug for you. I don't think you could ever be without her, even if you tried. There's a half of you that loves me—but you hate that side of yourself, because he makes you feel like you're betraying her. Maybe I already knew—if I made you see the truth, I knew that was how things would turn out."
I felt something inside me twist painfully. "I don't—" I blurted. Then paused, not sure exactly how to put it into words.
She looked at me, giving me her full attention, her expression calm, but bleak, resigned.
I looked down, feeling the familiar red splotches creeping up my neck. "I don't...hate him. I mean, the person I am when I'm with you. Not really. I just hate—feeling like I'm betraying people I care about. You and Edythe both."
We were both silent for a long moment. She was gazing at me with an expression I couldn't seem to interpret. I wondered again if I should have really said that—if it just made things worse, knowing just how divided in half those two people inside me still were even at this moment, when I had already decided.
Edythe's kind voice rose in my thoughts again. Don't be stubborn.
But her words had the opposite effect from what she intended. As I thought of her, sitting across from me in the cab, looking at me with those golden eyes full of gentleness and understanding I didn't deserve, I felt the resolve that was already there strengthen.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly, looking away. "I shouldn't—I shouldn't have said that. I'm just making this harder."
Jules shook her head. "No, I needed to hear that. I knew that already, I just needed to hear it said out loud. Don't worry about sending me the wrong message or something—I get it. I completely get it. I've always gotten it, Beau, even when I've acted like I don't. I knew how things stood between us—I'm glad you care, even if it doesn't change anything."
The room was silent again for a long moment. Jules had closed her eyes, and I saw her draw in a deep breath, and slowly let it out again.
At last, she opened her eyes. "Okay," she said. "Okay. That's all, then. I'm letting go now. It's over."
She had been leaning her head against mine, but now she pulled away. She pulled back the arm that had been around my neck, and let it fall to the bed between us.
I wasn't sure if this was my cue to go. I opened my mouth to ask, but before I could, she suddenly said in a brighter tone, "So. Getting married, huh?"
I blinked at this sudden change of direction. Maybe it would be better to sit and talk a bit more—to end on a lighter note, more like old times, so we could both remember that, rather than the pain of breaking. But this was a topic that didn't seem fair on any level.
"We don't have to talk about that," I said quickly.
Jules grinned. "You know that saying? What is it...'The elephant in the room'? You know that's not me. If there's a big, ugly elephant at the front of the room, I'm going to stare right at it and point and shout, 'There's a friggin' elephant over there!'"
I couldn't help but smile back. Funny how she could make me laugh, even when I had just torn her heart out.
"Yeah," I said, sighing. "I don't know exactly when it's going to be. But soon."
"How do you feel about it?" she asked.
Something about her open, unfettered curiosity made me respond honestly, without hesitation. "I guess I don't mind the idea of being married. Actually, I like it. Being bound once and for all... It's just the wedding itself I'm having trouble getting past."
"Think you'll trip walking down the aisle?" she said, half grinning again.
"That's a given," I answered. "I'll only consider it bad if I take the wedding cake and any of the audience with me."
"So you're going to do a traditional wedding then?" she asked. "Not slipping off to Vegas?"
I paused, then shook my head. "Much as I think that would be easier in the short-term, and Edythe said she was willing to go along with whatever I wanted...I think traditional is the way to go. I wouldn't be much of a man if I let my fiancee give me what I want for her wedding, right? The wedding's the bride's day, you know."
Jules shook her head. "And how many man points are you going to try to take for that bit of wisdom?"
I shrugged. "Whatever you think is fair."
Silence, for a minute. Then Jules whispered, "Before or after?"
Somehow, I knew what she meant. "After," I said quietly.
She nodded, and I could feel the relief as she slumped slightly.
"Scared much?" she asked softly.
I didn't speak, only nodded.
"Of what?"
I shrugged. I tried to keep my voice light, but I didn't hold back. "Lots of things. It's supposed to hurt a lot. Then there's Charlie, and my mom...saying goodbye..."
I hesitated. When I spoke again, my voice was barely above a whisper. "And...I'm afraid of the monster I'll be. I know the others will try to keep me from hurting anyone, but that's the part that scares me the most. That I won't be me—a monster."
We were both silent, and I realized how heavy the atmosphere was. I shook my head and forced a smile. "You know, I might be such a menace the pack will have to take me out."
Jules looked uncharacteristically serious. "I wouldn't let them."
"You would if I was hurting people," I said. "Hurting one of your sisters."
Jules was silent for a moment, then she stifled a groan. "Ugh, this is so freaking hard."
"I know," I said with a sigh. Then I added, "But it's only supposed to last a few years. The wild, crazy side, I mean. If I work hard...if the others help me...I should be a real Cullen then. In control, responsible."
Jules smiled a little. "I guess if there were going to be any responsible bloodsuckers out there, it would be you."
She paused, then her brow furrowed and her mouth turned down again. "But...besides all that...isn't the process itself pretty risky? I mean, in all the stories it seems like even when they're trying to hold back, a lot of the time they lose control...people die..." She shivered.
I shook my head. "No, I'm not afraid of that. Because Edythe is going to be the one to do it, and I trust her. She would never hurt me."
Jules nodded slowly. "She better hopes she doesn't," she muttered darkly. "I'll bet she'd want to die again...and I'd be only too glad to be the one to help her."
Her words sent a chill down my spine, and I looked away. I opened my mouth to make her promise she would do no such thing—but then I closed it again. Edythe wouldn't hurt me, so there was no point discussing it further.
"Well," I said, trying to sound more cheerful than I felt. "You know, eventually another guy's bound to come along. Maybe someone you can talk cars with. I'll probably end up the jealous one, what do you think?"
Jules snorted. "Don't hold your breath."
"What about Lee?" I said. "You have a lot in common."
"You mean we're both losers of really soap-opera-crazy love triangles?" she asked, rolling her eyes.
"Actually, I was thinking more of the wolf thing," I muttered.
Jules snorted again and shook her head. "Thanks, but I think I'd rather take the die-alone-in-a-blaze-of-glory route. I think Lee would, too. And I think you know more about cars than Lee does, which is saying something."
It was quiet again, for a moment. For just a second, things had seemed almost back to normal—the both of us just talking, having fun, saying whatever came into ours heads even if it was a bit reckless, or irresponsible.
And I knew that meant it was time to go. Before that slightly smaller half of myself could try to make me stay, keep on making excuses as though he were the only part of me that existed.
I slowly got up from the bed, hearing it creak as the weight shifted.
Jules watched me. "I'll see you later, then," she said. "Come back and visit. And you can bring your girlfriend next time, so she doesn't think we're getting up to anything too dangerous."
I smiled a bit. "I will." Against my better judgment, I let my eyes fall back on the empty spot I had left on the bed. I felt a burning, searing pain in my chest, an ache. Like there was that part of myself still sitting there, in that same place, which had torn away from the rest, leaving a bleeding hole.
I turned for the door. However, I stopped and turned back a second time. "Make sure you follow all of Carine's instructions. You'll get better faster."
"Sure, sure," she said dismissively, waving a hand.
"And be careful when you're out fighting vampires again. Don't be so heroic. You're not invincible, you know."
Jules snorted. "You're such a worrier. You'd make someone a good mom."
I was to the door now, and I lingered there a moment, looking back at her. I knew what I wanted to say, but I couldn't say it. It wasn't right to say it.
So all I said was, softly, "Take care of yourself, Jules."
And then I slipped through the door, feeling her dark eyes follow me out, with an unfathomable expression in their familiar depths.