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He rolled his eyes。
“Let’s go。 I’ll drive you to the ER。” I was pretty sure I would be okay to drive。 The walls were holding
steady now； at least。
“Not necessary。” Jake turned off the water and took the towel from my hand。 He twisted it loosely around
his palm。
“Wait；” I protested。 “Let me look at it。” I clutched the counter more firmly； to hold myself upright if the
wound made me woozy again。
“Do you have a medical degree that you never told me about？”
“Just give me the chance to decide whether or not I’m going to throw a fit over taking you to the hospital。”
He made a face of mock horror。 “Please； not a fit！”
“If you don’t let me see your hand； a fit is guaranteed。”
He inhaled deeply； and then let out a gusty sigh。 “Fine。”
He unwound the towel and； when I reached out to take the cloth； he laid his hand in mine。
It took me a few seconds。 I even flipped his hand over； though I was sure he’d cut his palm。 I turned his
hand back up； finally realizing that the angry pink； puckered line was all that was left of his wound。
“But 。 。 。 you were bleeding 。 。 。 so much。”
He pulled his hand back； his eyes steady and somber on mine。
“I heal fast。”
“I’ll say；” I mouthed。
I’d seen the long gash clearly； seen the blood that flowed into the sink。 The rust…and…salt smell of it had
almost pulled me under。 It should have needed stitches。 It should have taken days to scab over and then
weeks to fade into the shiny pink scar that marked his skin now。
He screwed his mouth up into half a smile and thumped his fist once against his chest。 “Werewolf；
remember？”
His eyes held mine for an immeasurable moment。
“Right；” I finally said。
He laughed at my expression。 “I told you this。 You saw Paul’s scar。”
I shook my head to clear it。 “It’s a little different； seeing the action sequence firsthand。”
I kneeled down and dug the bleach out of the cabinet under the sink。 Then I poured some on a dusting rag
and started scrubbing the floor。 The burning scent of the bleach cleared the last of the dizziness from my head。
“Let me clean up；” Jacob said。
“I got this。 Throw that towel in the wash； will you？”
When I was sure the floor smelled of nothing but bleach； I got up and rinsed the right side of the sink with
bleach； too。 Then I went to the laundry closet beside the pantry； and poured a cupful into the washing machine
before starting it。 Jacob watched me with a disapproving look on his face。
“Do you have obsessive…compulsive disorder？” he asked when I was done。
Huh。 Maybe。 But at least I had a good excuse this time。 “We’re a bit sensitive to blood around here。 I’m
sure you can understand that。”
“Oh。” He wrinkled his nose again。
“Why not make it as easy as possible for him？ What he’s doing is hard enough。”
“Sure； sure。 Why not？”
I pulled the plug； and let the dirty water drain from the sink。
“Can I ask you something； Bella？”
I sighed。
“What’s it like — having a werewolf for a best friend？”
The question caught me off guard。 I laughed out loud。
“Does it creep you out？” he pressed before I could answer。
“No。 When the werewolf is being nice；” I qualified； “it’s the best。”
He grinned widely； his teeth bright against his russet skin。 “Thanks； Bella；” he said； and then he grabbed
my hand and wrenched me into one of his bone…crushing hugs。
Before I had time to react； he dropped his arms and stepped away。
“Ugh；” he said； his nose wrinkling。 “Your hair stinks worse than your room。”
“Sorry；” I muttered。 I suddenly understood what Edward had been laughing about earlier； after breathing
on me。
“One of the many hazards of socializing with vampires；” Jacob said； shrugging。 “It makes you smell bad。 A
minor hazard； comparatively。”
I glared at him。 “I only smell bad to you； Jake。”
He grinned。 “See you around； Bells。”
“Are you leaving？”
“He’s waiting for me to go。 I can hear him outside。”
“Oh。”
“I’ll go out the back；” he said； and then he paused。 “Hold up a sec — hey； do you think you can come to
La Push tonight？ We’re having a bonfire party。 Emily will be there； and you could meet Kim 。 。 。 And I know
Quil wants to see you； too。 He’s pretty peeved that you found out before he did。”
I grinned at that。 I could just imagine how that would have irked Quil — Jacob’s little human gal pal down
with the werewolves while he was still clueless。 And then I sighed。 “Yeah； Jake； I don’t know about that。 See；
it’s a little tense right now。 。 。 。”
“C’mon； you think somebody’s going to get past all — all six of us？”
There was a strange pause as he stuttered over the end of his question。 I wondered if he had trouble
saying the word werewolf aloud； the way I often had difficulty with vampire。
His big dark eyes were full of unashamed pleading。
“I’ll ask；” I said doubtfully。
He made a noise in the back of his throat。 “Is he your warden； now； too？ You know； I saw this story on
the news last week about controlling； abusive teenage relationships and —”
“Okay！” I cut him off； and then shoved his arm。 “Time for the werewolf to get out！”
He grinned。 “Bye； Bells。 Be sure you ask permission。”
He ducked out the back door before I could find something to throw at him。 I growled incoherently at the
empty room。
Seconds after he was gone； Edward walked slowly into the kitchen； raindrops glistening like diamonds set
into the bronze of his hair。 His eyes were wary。
“Did you two get into a fight？” he asked。
“Edward！” I sang； throwing myself at him。
“Hi； there。” He laughed and wrapped his arms around me。 “Are you trying to distract me？ It’s working。”
“No； I didn’t fight with Jacob。 Much。 Why？”
“I was just wondering why you stabbed him。 Not that I object。” With his chin； he gestured to the knife on
the counter。
“Dang！ I thought I got everything。”
I pulled away from him and ran to put the knife in the sink before I doused it with bleach。
“I didn’t stab him；” I explained as I worked。 “He forgot he had a knife in his hand。”
Edward chuckled。 “That’s not nearly as fun as the way I imagined it。”
“Be nice。”
He took a big envelope from his jacket pocket and tossed it on the counter。 “I got your mail。”
“Anything good？”
“I think so。”
My eyes narrowed suspiciously at his tone。 I went to investigate。
He’d folded the legal…sized envelope in half。 I smoothed it open； surprised at the weight of the expensive
paper； and read the return address。
“Dartmouth？ Is this a joke？”
“I’m sure it’s an acceptance。 It looks exactly like mine。”
“Good grief； Edward — what did you do？”
“I sent in your application； that’s all。”
“I may not be Dartmouth material； but I’m not stupid enough to believe t