He took a deep breath. When he spoke, he was calmer. "Why not?"
"Because I didn't come here to blame you for anything."
"It's true, though," he said evenly. "I did do that."
"I don't care, Jake. I'm not mad."
He smiled. "I don't care, either. I knew you'd forgive me, and I'm glad I did it. I'd do it again. At least I have that much. At least I made you see that you do love me. That's worth something."
"Is it? Is it really better than if I was still in the dark?"
"Don't you think you ought to know how you feel-just so that it doesn't take you by surprise someday when it's too late and you're a married vampire?"
I shook my head. "No-I didn't mean better for me. I meant better for you. Does it make things better or worse for you, having me know that I'm in love with you? When it doesn't make a difference either way. Would it have been better, easier for you, if I never clued in?"
He took my question as seriously as I'd meant it, thinking carefully before he answered. "Yes, it's better to have you know," he finally decided. "If you hadn't figured it out . . . I'd have always wondered if your decision would have been different if you had. Now I know. I did everything I could." He dragged in an unsteady breath, and closed his eyes.
This time I did not-could not-resist the urge to comfort him. I crossed the small room and kneeled by his head, afraid to sit on the bed in case I jostled it and hurt him, and leaned in to touch my forehead to his cheek.
Jacob sighed, and put his hand on my hair, holding me there.
"I'm so sorry, Jake."
"I always knew this was a long shot. It's not your fault, Bella."
"Not you, too," I moaned. "Please."
He pulled away to look at me. "What?"
"It is my fault. And I'm so sick of being told it's not."
He grinned. It didn't touch his eyes. "You want me to haul you over the coals?"
"Actually . . . I think I do."
He pursed his lips as he measured how much I meant it. A smile flashed across his face briefly, and then he twisted his expression into a fierce scowl.
"Kissing me back like that was inexcusable." He spit the words at me. "If you knew you were just going to take it back, maybe you shouldn't have been quite so convincing about it."
I winced and nodded. "I'm so sorry."
"Sorry doesn't make anything better, Bella. What were you thinking?"
"I wasn't," I whispered.
"You should have told me to go die. That's what you want."
"No, Jacob," I whimpered, fighting against the budding tears. "No! Never."
"You're not crying?" he demanded, his voice suddenly back to its normal tone. He twitched impatiently on the bed.
"Yeah," I muttered, laughing weakly at myself through the tears that were suddenly sobs.
He shifted his weight, throwing his good leg off the bed as if he were going to try to stand.
"What are you doing?" I demanded through the tears. "Lie down, you idiot, you'll hurt yourself!" I jumped to my feet and pushed his good shoulder down with two hands.
He surrendered, leaning back with a gasp of pain, but he grabbed me around my waist and pulled me down on the bed, against his good side. I curled up there, trying to stifle the silly sobs against his hot skin.
"I can't believe you're crying," he mumbled. "You know I just said those things because you wanted me to. I didn't mean them." His hand rubbed against my shoulders.
"I know." I took a deep, ragged breath, trying to control myself. How did I end up being the one crying while he did the comforting? "It's all still true, though. Thanks for saying it out loud."
"Do I get points for making you cry?"
"Sure, Jake." I tried to smile. "As many as you want."
"Don't worry, Bella, honey. It's all going to work out."
"I don't see how," I muttered.
He patted the top of my head. "I'm going to give in and be good."
"More games?" I wondered, tilting my chin so that I could see his face.
"Maybe." He laughed with a bit of effort, and then winced. "But I'm going to try."
I frowned.
"Don't be so pessimistic," he complained. "Give me a little credit."
"What do you mean by 'be good'?"
"I'll be your friend, Bella," he said quietly. "I won't ask for more than that."
"I think it's too late for that, Jake. How can we be friends, when we love each other like this?"
He looked at the ceiling, his stare intent, as if he were reading something that was written there. "Maybe . . . it will have to be a long-distance friendship."