My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a car squelching through the mud on the road outside. I heard it stop in front of the house, and doors started opening and closing. I thought about sitting up, and then decided against that idea.
Billy's voice was easily identifiable, but he kept it uncharacteristically low, so that it was only a gravelly grumble.
The door opened, and the light flicked on. I blinked, momentarily blind. Jake startled awake, gasping and jumping to his feet.
"Sorry," Billy grunted. "Did we wake you?"
My eyes slowly focused on his face, and then, as I could read his expression, they filled with tears.
"Oh, no, Billy!" I moaned.
He nodded slowly, his expression hard with grief. Jake hurried to his father and took one of his hands. The pain made his face suddenly childlike–it looked odd on top of the man's body.
Sam was right behind Billy, pushing his chair through the door. His normal composure was absent from his agonized face.
"I'm so sorry," I whispered. Billy nodded. "It's gonna be hard all around." "Where's Charlie?" "Your dad is still at the hospital with Sue. There are a lot of… arrangements to be made." I swallowed hard. "I'd better get back there," Sam mumbled, and he ducked hastily out the door.
Billy pulled his hand away from Jacob, and then he rolled himself through the kitchen toward his room.
Jake stared after him for a minute, then came to sit on the floor beside me again. He put his face in his hands. I rubbed his shoulder, wishing I could think of anything to say. After a long moment, Jacob caught my hand and held it to his face. "How are you feeling? Are you okay? I probably should have taken you to a doctor or something." He sighed.
"Don't worry about me," I croaked.
He twisted his head to look at me. His eyes were rimmed in red. "You don't look so good." "I don't feel so good, either, I guess."
"I'll go get your truck and then take you home–you probably ought to be there when Charlie gets back."
"Right."
I lay listlessly on the sofa while I waited for him. Billy was silent in the other room. I felt like a peeping torn, peering through the cracks at a private sorrow that wasn't mine.
It didn't take Jake long. The roar of my truck's engine broke the silence before I expected it. He helped me up from the couch without speaking, keeping his arm around my shoulder when the cold air outside made me shiver. He took the driver's seat without asking, and then pulled me next to his side to keep his arm tight around me. I leaned my head against his chest.
"How will you get home?" I asked.
"I'm not going home. We still haven't caught the bloodsucker, remember?" My next shudder had nothing to do with cold.
It was a quiet ride after that. The cold air had woken me up. My mind was alert, and it was working very hard and very fast.
What if? What was the right thing to do?
I couldn't imagine my life without Jacob now–I cringed away from the idea of even trying to imagine that. Somehow, he'd become essential to my survival. But to leave things the way they were… was that cruel, as Mike had accused?
I remembered wishing that Jacob were my brother. I realized now that all I really wanted was a claim on him. It didn't feel brotherly when he held me like this. It just felt nice–warm and comforting and familiar. Safe. Jacob was a safe harbor.
I could stake a claim. I had that much within my power.
I'd have to tell him everything, I knew that. It was the only way to be fair. I'd have to explain it right, so that he'd know I wasn't settling, that he was much too good for me. He already knew I was broken, that part wouldn't surprise him, but he'd need to know the extent of it. I'd even have to admit that I was crazy–explain about the voices I heard. He'd need to know everything before he made a decision.
But, even as I recognized that necessity, I knew he would take me in spite of it all. He wouldn't even pause to think it through.
I would have to commit to this–commit as much of me as there was left, every one of the broken pieces. It was the only way to be fair to him. Would I? Could I?
Would it be so wrong to try to make Jacob happy? Even if the love I felt for him was no more than a weak echo of what I was capable of, even if my heart was far away, wandering and grieving after my fickle Romeo, would it be so very wrong?
Jacob stopped the truck in front of my dark house, cutting the engine so it was suddenly silent. Like so many other times, he seemed to be in tune with my thoughts now. He threw his other arm around me, crushing me against his cheat, binding me to him. Again, this felt nice. Almost like being a whole person again.