Jacob stared at the sharp, broken point with shock that quickly turned to horror. "I have to get back." He whirled and stalked away so swiftly that I had to jog to keep up. "Back to Sam!"
"That's one way of looking at it," it sounded like he said. He was mumbling and facing away. I chased him back to the truck. "Wait!" I called as he turned toward the house. He spun around to face me, and I saw that his hands were shaking again. "Go home, Bella. I can't hang out with you anymore."
The silly, inconsequential hurt was incredibly potent. The tears welled up again. "Are you… breaking up with me?" The words were all wrong, but they were the best way I could think to phrase what I was asking. After all, what Jake and I had was more than any schoolyard romance. Stronger.
He barked out a bitter laugh. "Hardly. If that were the case, I'd say 'Let's stay friends.' I can't even say that."
"Jacob… why? Sam won't let you have other friends? Please, Jake. You promised. I need you!" The blank emptiness of my life before–before Jacob brought some semblance of reason back into it–reared up and confronted me. Loneliness choked in my throat.
"I'm sorry, Bella," Jacob said each word distinctly in a cold voice that didn't seem to belong to him.
I didn't believe that this was really what Jacob wanted to say. It seemed like there was something else trying to be said through his angry eyes, but I couldn't understand the message.
Maybe this wasn't about Sam at all. Maybe this had nothing to do with the Cullens. Maybe he was just trying to pull himself out of a hopeless situation. Maybe I should let him do that, if that's what was best for him. I should do that. It would be right.
But I heard my voice escaping in a whisper.
"I'm sorry that I couldn't… before… I wish I could change how I feel about you, Jacob." I was desperate, reaching, stretching the truth so far that it curved nearly into the shape of a lie. "Maybe… maybe I would change," I whispered. "Maybe, if you gave me some time… just don't quit on me now, Jake. I can't take it."
His face went from anger to agony in a second. One shaking hand reached out toward me. "No. Don't think like that, Bella, please. Don't blame yourself, don't think this is your fault. This one is all me. I swear, it's not about you."
"It's not you, it's me," I whispered. "There's a new one."
"I mean it, Bella. I'm not…" he struggled, his voice going even huskier as he fought to control his emotion. His eyes were tortured. "I'm not good enough to be your friend anymore, or anything else. I'm not what I was before. I'm not good."
"What?" I stared at him, confused and appalled. "What are you saying? You're much better than I am, Jake. You are good! Who told you that you aren't? Sam? It's a vicious lie, Jacob!
Don't let him tell you that!" I was suddenly yelling again. Jacob's face went hard and flat. "No one had to tell me anything. I know what I am." "You're my friend, that's what you are! Jake–don't!" He was backing away from me.
"I'm sorry, Bella," he said again; this time it was a broken mumble. He turned and almost ran into the house.
I was unable to move from where I stood. I stared at the little house; it looked too small to hold four large boys and two larger men. There was no reaction inside. No flutter at the edge of the curtain, no sound of voices or movement. It faced me vacantly.
The rain started to drizzle, stinging here and there against my skin. I couldn't take my eyes off the house. Jacob would come back. He had to.
The rain picked up, and so did the wind. The drops were no longer falling from above; they slanted at an angle from the west. I could smell the brine from the ocean. My hair whipped in my face, sticking to the wet places and tangling in my lashes. I waited.
Finally the door opened, and I took a step forward in relief.
Billy rolled his chair into the door frame. I could see no one behind him.
"Charlie just called, Bella. I told him you were on your way home." His eyes were full of pity.
The pity made it final somehow. I didn't comment. I just turned robotically and climbed in my truck. I'd left the windows open and the seats were slick and wet. It didn't matter. I was already soaked.
Not as bad! Not as bad ! my mind tried to comfort me. It was true. This wasn't as bad. This wasn't the end of the world, not again. This was just the end of what little peace there was left behind. That was all.
Not as bad, I agreed, then added, but bad enough.