Eclipse (Twilight Saga #3)(20)

"And all this isn't enough to get you to move back in with your silly mom?"

I wiped my hand dramatically across my forehead, and then pretended to wring my hair out.

"You get used to the humidity," she promised.

"You can get used to rain, too," I countered.

She elbowed me playfully and then took my hand as we walked back to her car.

Other than her worries about me, she seemed happy enough. Content. She still looked at Phil with goo-goo eyes, and that was comforting. Surely her life was full and satisfying. Surely she didn't miss me that much, even now . . .

Edward's icy fingers brushed my cheek. I looked up, blinking, coming back to the present. He leaned down and kissed my forehead.

"We're home, Sleeping Beauty. Time to awake."

We were stopped in front of Charlie's house. The porch light was on and the cruiser was parked in the driveway. As I examined the house, I saw the curtain twitch in the living room window, flashing a line of yellow light across the dark lawn.

I sighed. Of course Charlie was waiting to pounce.

Edward must have been thinking the same thing, because his expression was stiff and his eyes remote as he came to get my door for me.

"How bad?" I asked.

"Charlie's not going to be difficult," Edward promised, his voice level with no hint of humor. "He missed you."

My eyes narrowed in doubt. If that was the case, then why was Edward tensed as if for a battle?

My bag was small, but he insisted on carrying it into the house. Charlie held the door open for us.

"Welcome home, kid!" Charlie shouted like he really meant it. "How was Jacksonville?"

"Moist. And buggy."

"So Renée didn't sell you on the University of Florida?"

"She tried. But I'd rather drink water than inhale it."

Charlie's eyes flickered unwillingly to Edward. "Did you have a nice time?"

"Yes," Edward answered in a serene voice. "Renée was very hospitable."

"That's . . . um, good. Glad you had fun." Charlie turned away from Edward and pulled me in for an unexpected hug.

"Impressive," I whispered in his ear.

He rumbled a laugh. "I really missed you, Bells. The food around here sucks when you're gone."

"I'll get on it," I said as he let me go.

"Would you call Jacob first? He's been bugging me every five minutes since six o'clock this morning. I promised I'd have you call him before you even unpacked."

I didn't have to look at Edward to feel that he was too still, too cold beside me. So this was the cause of his tension.

"Jacob wants to talk to me?"

"Pretty bad, I'd say. He wouldn't tell me what it was about-just said it was important."

The phone rang then, shrill and demanding.

"That's him again, I'd bet my next paycheck," Charlie muttered.

"I got it." I hurried to the kitchen.

Edward followed after me while Charlie disappeared into the living room.

I grabbed the phone mid-ring, and twisted around so that I was facing the wall. "Hello?"




 

 

"You're back," Jacob said.

His familiar husky voice sent a wave of wistfulness through me. A thousand memories spun in my head, tangling together-a rocky beach strewn with driftwood trees, a garage made of plastic sheds, warm sodas in a paper bag, a tiny room with one too-small shabby loveseat. The laughter in his deep-set black eyes, the feverish heat of his big hand around mine, the flash of his white teeth against his dark skin, his face stretching into the wide smile that had always been like a key to a secret door where only kindred spirits could enter.

It felt sort of like homesickness, this longing for the place and person who had sheltered me through my darkest night.

I cleared the lump from my throat. "Yes," I answered.

"Why didn't you call me?" Jacob demanded.

His angry tone instantly got my back up. "Because I've been in the house for exactly four seconds and your call interrupted Charlie telling me that you'd called."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Sure. Now, why are you harassing Charlie?"

"I need to talk to you."

"Yeah, I figured out that part all by myself. Go ahead."

There was a short pause.

"You going to school tomorrow?"

I frowned to myself, unable to make sense of this question. "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I?"

"I dunno. Just curious."

Another pause.

"So what did you want to talk about, Jake?"

He hesitated. "Nothing really, I guess. I . . . wanted to hear your voice."

"Yeah, I know. I'm so glad you called me, Jake. I . . ." But I didn't know what more to say. I wanted to tell him I was on my way to La Push right now. And I couldn't tell him that.