The Twilight Saga Collection part 2(60)

“Take it back to the store, Jake. I’ve got to do something. . . .”

He stepped into my line of sight, demanding my attention.

“I can’t take it back. I didn’t get it from the store — I made it myself. Took a really long time, too.”

I leaned around him again, but I couldn’t see any of the Cullens. Where had they gone? My eyes scanned the darkened room.

“Oh, c’mon, Bell. Don’t pretend like I’m not here!”

“I’m not.” I couldn’t see them anywhere. “Look, Jake, I’ve got a lot on my mind right now.”

He put his hand under my chin and pulled my face up. “Could I please have just a few seconds of your undivided attention, Miss Swan?”

I jerked away from his touch. “Keep your hands to yourself, Jacob,” I hissed.

“Sorry!” he said at once, holding his hands up in surrender. “I really am sorry. About the other day, I mean, too. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. It was wrong. I guess . . . well, I guess I deluded myself into thinking you wanted me to.”

“Deluded — what a perfect description!”

“Be nice. You could accept my apology, you know.”

“Fine. Apology accepted. Now, if you’ll just excuse me for a moment . . .”

“Okay,” he mumbled, and his voice was so different from before that I stoppd searching for Alice and scrutinized his face. He was staring at the floor, hiding his eyes. His lower lip jutted out just a little bit.

“I guess you’d rather be with your real friends,” he said in the same defeated tone. “I get it.”

I groaned. “Aw, Jake, you know that’s not fair.”

“Do I?”

“You should.” I leaned forward, peering up, trying to look into his eyes. He looked up then, over my head, avoiding my gaze.

“Jake?”

He refused to look at me.

“Hey, you said you made me something, right?” I asked. “Was that just talk? Where’s my present?” My attempt to fake enthusiasm was pretty sad, but it worked. He rolled his eyes and then grimaced at me.

I kept up the lame pretense, holding my hand open in front of me. “I’m waiting.”

“Right,” he grumbled sarcastically. But he also reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small bag of a loose-woven, multi-colored fabric. It was tied shut with leather drawstrings. He set it on my palm.

“Hey, that’s pretty, Jake. Thanks!”

He sighed. “The present is inside, Bella.”

“Oh.”

I had some trouble with the strings. He sighed again and took it from me, sliding the ties open with one easy tug of the right cord. I held my hand out for it, but he turned the bag upside down and shook something silver into my hand. Metal links clinked quietly against each other.

“I didn’t make the bracelet,” he admitted. “Just the charm.”

Fastened to one of the links of the silver bracelet was a tiny wooden carving. I held it between my fingers to look at it closer. It was amazing the amount of detail involved in the little figurine — the miniature wolf was utterly realistic. It was even carved out of some red-brown wood that matched the color of his skin.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered. “You made this? How?”

He shrugged. “It’s something Billy taught me. He’s better at it than I am.”

“That’s hard to believe,” I murmured, turning the tiny wolf around and around in my fingers.

“Do you really like it?”

“Yes! It’s unbelievable, Jake.”

He smiled, happily at first, but then the expression soured. “Well, I figured that maybe it would make you remember me once in a while. You know how it is, out of sight, out of mind.”

I ignored the attitude. “Here, help me put it on.”

I held out my left wrist, since the right was stuck in the brace. He fastened the catch easily, though it looked too delicate for his big fingers to manage.

“You’ll wear it?” he asked.

“Of course I will.”

He grinned at me — it was the happy smile that I loved to see him wear.

I returned it for a moment, but then my eyes shot reflexively around the room again, anxiously scanning the crowd for some sign of Edward or Alice.

“Why’re you so distracted?” Jacob wondered.

“It’s nothing,” I lied, trying to concentrate. “Thanks for the present, really. I love it.”

“Bella?” His brows pulled together, throwing his eyes deep into their shadow. “Something’s going on, isn’t it?”

“Jake, I . . . no, there’s nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me, you suck at lying. You should tell me what’s going on. We want to know these things,” he said, slipping into the plural at the end.