Eclipse (Twilight Saga #3)(32)

 

 

"Oh, Jake," I whispered, reaching for his hand.

This was why I was here. This was why I would take whatever reception waited for me when I got back. Because, underneath all the anger and the sarcasm, Jacob was in pain. Right now, it was very clear in his eyes. I didn't know how to help him, but I knew I had to try. It was more than that I owed him. It was because his pain hurt me, too. Jacob had become a part of me, and there was no changing that now.





5. IMPRINT

"ARE YOU OKAY, JAKE? CHARLIE SAID YOU WERE HAVING a hard time . . . Isn't it getting any better?"

His warm hand curled around mine. "'S not so bad," he said, but he wouldn't meet my eyes.

He walked slowly back to the driftwood bench, staring at the rainbow-colored pebbles, and pulling me along at his side. I sat back down on our tree, but he sat on the wet, rocky ground rather than next to me. I wondered if it was so that he could hide his face more easily. He kept my hand.

I started babbling to fill the silence. "It's been so long since I was here. I've probably missed a ton of things. How are Sam and Emily? And Embry? Did Quil-?"

I broke off mid-sentence, remembering that Jacob's friend Quil had been a sensitive subject.

"Ah, Quil," Jacob sighed.

So then it must have happened-Quil must have joined the pack.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled.

To my surprise, Jacob snorted. "Don't say that to him."

"What do you mean?"

"Quil's not looking for pity. Just the opposite-he's jazzed. Totally thrilled."

This made no sense to me. All the other wolves had been so depressed at the idea of their friend sharing their fate. "Huh?"

Jacob tilted his head back to look at me. He smiled and rolled his eyes.

"Quil thinks it's the coolest thing that's ever happened to him. Part of it is finally knowing what's going on. And he's excited to have his friends back-to be part of the 'in crowd.'" Jacob snorted again. "Shouldn't be surprised, I guess. It's so Quil."

"He likes it?"

"Honestly . . . most of them do," Jacob admitted slowly. "There are definitely good sides to this-the speed, the freedom, the strength . . . the sense of-of family . . . Sam and I are the only ones who ever felt really bitter. And Sam got past that a long time ago. So I'm the crybaby now." Jacob laughed at himself.

There were so many things I wanted to know. "Why are you and Sam different? What happened to Sam anyway? What's his problem?" The questions tumbled out without room to answer them, and Jacob laughed again. 

"That's a long story."

"I told you a long story. Besides, I'm not in any hurry to get back," I said, and then I grimaced as I thought of the trouble I would be in.

He looked up at me swiftly, hearing the double edge in my words. "Will he be mad at you?"

"Yes," I admitted. "He really hates it when I do things he considers . . . risky."

"Like hanging out with werewolves."

"Yeah."

Jacob shrugged. "So don't go back. I'll sleep on the couch."

"That's a great idea," I grumbled. "Because then he would come looking for me."

Jacob stiffened, and then smiled bleakly. "Would he?"

"If he was afraid I was hurt or something-probably."

"My idea's sounding better all the time."

"Please, Jake. That really bugs me."

"What does?"

"That you two are so ready to kill each other!" I complained. "It makes me crazy. Why can't you both just be civilized?"

"Is he ready to kill me?" Jacob asked with a grim smile, unconcerned by my anger.

"Not like you seem to be!" I realized I was yelling. "At least he can be a grown-up about this. He knows that hurting you would hurt me-and so he never would. You don't seem to care about that at all!"

"Yeah, right," Jacob muttered. "I'm sure he's quite the pacifist."

"Ugh!" I ripped my hand out of his and shoved his head away. Then I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms tightly around them.

I glared out toward the horizon, fuming.

Jacob was quiet for a few minutes. Finally, he got up off the ground and sat beside me, putting his arm around my shoulders. I shook it off.

"Sorry," he said quietly. "I'll try to behave myself."

I didn't answer.

"Do you still want to hear about Sam?" he offered.

I shrugged.

"Like I said, it's a long story. And very . . . strange. There're so many strange things about this new life. I haven't had time to tell you the half of it. And this thing with Sam-well, I don't know if I'll even be able to explain it right."

His words pricked my curiosity in spite of my irritation.