The Twilight Saga Collection part 1(241)

And then she asked “You guys hungry?” in a melodic voice, and she turned to face us full on, a smile on half of her face.

The right side of her face was scarred from hairline to chin by three thick, red lines, livid in color though they were long healed. One line pulled down the corner of her dark, almond-shaped right eye, another twisted the right side of her mouth into a permanent grimace.

Thankful for Embry’s warning, I quickly turned my eyes to the muffins in her hands. They smelled wonderful—like fresh blueberries.

“Oh,” Emily said, surprised. “Who’s this?”

I looked up, trying to focus on the left half of her face.

“Bella Swan,” Jared told her, shrugging. Apparently, I’d been a topic of conversation before. “Who else?”

“Leave it to Jacob to find a way around,” Emily murmured. She stared at me, and neither half of her once-beautiful face was friendly. “So, you’re the vampire girl.”

I stiffened. “Yes. Are you the wolf girl?”

She laughed, as did Embry and Jared. The left half of her face warmed. “I guess I am.” She turned to Jared. “Where’s Sam?”

“Bella, er, surprised Paul this morning.”

Emily rolled her good eye. “Ah, Paul,” she sighed. “Do you think they’ll be long? I was just about to start the eggs.”

“Don’t worry,” Embry told her. “If they’re late, we won’t let anything go to waste.”

Emily chuckled, and then opened the refrigerator. “No doubt,” she agreed. “Bella, are you hungry? Go ahead and help yourself to a muffin.”

“Thanks.” I took one from the plate and started nibbling around the edges. It was delicious, and it felt good in my tender stomach. Embry picked up his third and shoved it into his mouth whole.

“Save some for your brothers,” Emily chastised him, hitting him on the head with a wooden spoon. The word surprised me, but the others thought nothing of it.

“Pig,” Jared commented.

I leaned against the counter and watched the three of them banter like a family. Emily’s kitchen was a friendly place, bright with white cupboards and pale wooden floorboards. On the little round table, a cracked blue-and-white china pitcher was overflowing with wildflowers. Embry and Jared seemed entirely at ease here.

Emily was mixing a humongous batch of eggs, several dozen, in a big yellow bowl. She had the sleeves of her lavender shirt pushed up, and I could see that the scars extended all the way down her arm to the back of her right hand. Hanging out with werewolves truly did have its risks, just as Embry had said.

The front door opened, and Sam stepped through.

“Emily,” he said, and so much love saturated his voice that I felt embarrassed, intrusive, as I watched him cross the room in one stride and take her face in his wide hands. He leaned down and kissed the dark scars on her right cheek before he kissed her lips.

“Hey, none of that,” Jared complained. “I’m eating.”

“Then shut up and eat,” Sam suggested, kissing Emily’s ruined mouth again.

“Ugh,” Embry groaned.

This was worse than any romantic movie; this was so real that it sang out loud with joy and life and true love. I put my muffin down and folded my arms across my empty chest. I stared at the flowers, trying to ignore the utter peace of their moment, and the wretched throbbing of my wounds.

I was grateful for the distraction when Jacob and Paul came through the door, and then shocked when I saw that they were laughing. While I watched, Paul punched Jacob on the shoulder and Jacob went for a kidney jab in return. They laughed again. They both appeared to be in one piece.

Jacob scanned the room, his eyes stopping when he found me leaning, awkward and out of place, against the counter in the far corner of the kitchen.

“Hey, Bells,” he greeted me cheerfully. He grabbed two muffins as he passed the table and came to stand beside me. “Sorry about before,” he muttered under his breath. “How are you holding up?”

“Don’t worry, I’m okay. Good muffins.” I picked mine back up and started nibbling again. My chest felt better as soon as Jacob was beside me.

“Oh, man!” Jared wailed, interrupting us.

I looked up, and he and Embry were examining a fading pink line on Paul’s forearm. Embry was grinning, exultant.

“Fifteen dollars,” he crowed.

“Did you do that?” I whispered to Jacob, remembering the bet.

“I barely touched him. He’ll be perfect by sundown.”

“By sundown?” I looked at the line on Paul’s arm. Odd, but it looked weeks old.

“Wolf thing,” Jacob whispered.