I Never Meant to Start a War

When the wolves in La Push were brought up for the first time since last night, I expected nothing less of the explosion that followed.

Bella had been the one to mention it, saying that the wolves had officially agreed to join the newborn battle that was up and coming much too soon. The mention of the La Push wolf pack sent a rush of negativity through the Cullen household, even though about half of them attempted to be less judgmental when it came to them. Rosalie even went as far as to literally turn her nose up as Jasper scowled and Edward kept his face into a perfect poker face. I wondered fleetingly if Jasper felt the underlying tension between me and his mind-reading brother.

So far, Edward and I tried our best not to acknowledge everything that had accidently spilled out last night. I, personally, didn’t find it necessary to bring it up.

He knew everything that ran through my mind. He had to understand the position I was in—even if I didn’t quite understand it myself.

Carlisle nodded and smiled. “Express to them our thanks,” he said to Bella, glancing around at his adopted children, scolding their silent contempt with his eyes. “They are sacrificing a great deal for this, you realize. I am grateful that they are even willing to comply with us at all.”

Edward made a face, but let nothing more show.

I glanced over at Jasper, who was stationed next to me as usual. He was sitting up straight as his eyes evaluated the situation meticulously, his hand holding onto mine, his eyes scanning every expression. He paused on Edward’s as I watched, a slight frown tipping onto his lips.

I wished I knew what he felt.

Into the silence, I said, “I was planning on stopping over to visit Kim and Jared today; I could relay that to them if you wish.”

Was it only Edward and I that felt the flash of indignant hatred through the air? Or was it just my imagination?

Everyone’s eyes turned to me, especially Jasper’s. His were the most surprised by my words, second only to Edward. I think the latter was only surprised because I was blatantly expressing that I had a connection to the pack in front of the entire Cullen family without any shame. I didn’t blame him for it; I was already getting much too good at this deceit.

Jasper’s eyes cut to Edward’s for a moment, and I felt the exact question he was asking: Did he imprint on her?

A flash of some emotion I couldn’t make sense of crossed Edward’s face, and he held his brother’s eyes as he shook his head defiantly. Because he knew he couldn’t lie—Jared had imprinted on Kim, and he read that in my mind and on my face. But if I had let one word of Paul slip, he wouldn’t have hesitated. And I didn’t blame him at all. If it were me, I wouldn’t have been able to lie. Not that time.

And yet, here I sat, doing just that: lying.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Jasper growled, his hand tightening somewhat. His eyes flashed. He was still uncomfortable with my friendliness with the wolf pack, something I was well aware of. Since last night’s mishap, I was surprised that he was even considering it at all. I would have thought that he would deem it too dangerous.

Bella’s words about a visit to La Push from what seemed like long ago echoed in my head: He would probably let you if you asked. The thing is, you never ask for anything.

I now found myself abusing that privilege.

Jasper sighed as I nodded to answer his question, leaning over and kissing the top of my head. The chill of his skin was greater than that of the breeze outside.

One hour later, I drove for miles and miles.

~*~

Paul had once given me his address, just out of passing—“It’s the only hideous blue house on Alder Street.”—and I had never thought that there would come a time where I found myself hesitating nervously in front of it, considering my options. He was right in one aspect, and that was that his house was the only blue house to be seen. The blue-gray house was a small two-story house that looked perfect for such a teeny-tiny town. Two cars were parked out front, a black Honda and a beat up Toyota.

My ancient Ford Focus was parked precariously at the curb.

The house was innocent enough. But was I too naïve not to doubt the person that was more than likely housed inside?

I bit my lip, raised my hand, and rapped out several knocks.

I waited, my heart pounding nervously in my chest.

After it was too late, I realized I had no plan as to what to say if he wasn’t the one to answer.

Ten long seconds later, a woman’s voice chimed out something that sounded like a command from close by, and my heart convulsed a little. I took a deep breath, staying calm. That voice was met with a wordless grunt that I had a feeling belonged to a voice I knew all too well. And yet, I still had to keep my heart steady.

I heard soft footsteps outside of the door before it was being tugged out of the way, and a shirtless Paul, in sweatpants, was standing in front of me, his eyes slightly clouded from the sleep he had most likely just been riled from. He stared at me incredulously as I smiled at him; he certainly looked like he didn’t expect me, but he pulled me into a tight hug and held me close nonetheless, and I definitely felt him smile against my hair.

“I didn’t expect you to come here,” he told me, pulling back only to kiss me on the forehead, which was when I let out a grimace. He pretended not to notice. Instead, he ran his hands over where he must have seen where Jacob grabbed me, and his expression turned stormy. “I almost ripped his throat out.”

“Violence is not the answer,” I teased, and he scoffed.

The same female voice from before called out: “Paul? Who is it?”

That was when the same suave werewolf that did nothing but try to steal my heart started to squirm. “A friend,” he called back, shooting me a quick look as if to check to see if I was okay with the label. I was turning red only because I wasn’t stupid.

That was his mother.

“I don’t know,” she said mischievously, and by the sudden change in pitch, I knew she was sneaking closer. “If it was just a friend, you two would be eating everything in the kitchen.”

And then she popped out from behind a wall up the hall, and appeared next to Paul with a sly grin.

But when she saw me, and the way Paul was still holding onto my wrist like he wanted nothing more than to take my hand, she gasped animatedly and looked to her son, eyes wide. I took that moment to look at her.

Paul had her eyes.

She was young, I suppose, for a mother of an eighteen year old, or so I thought. I saw a lot of young parents, my own included, and she seemed like them—still lively, still smiling, and still looking beautiful.

Young parents, despite popular belief, seemed to me like some of the best parents.

“Oh my gosh,” she managed, looking up at her son before looking back to me. A wide grin spread over her face and she squealed. “Yes?”

“Yeah,” Paul said uneasily, grimacing. His mother exploded into squeals.

“Oh my!” Paul’s mother squealed. “I’m Carrie, you must be Marie! I’ve heard so much about you! It’s so great to meet you!”

I started to laugh a little nervously because it seemed like the only thing I could do. “It’s nice to meet you.”

She seemed giddy off of just the simple fact that her son was set to love a taken girl for the rest of his life—or maybe she didn’t know? I wasn’t sure, but she certainly didn’t hold back in her hyper personality.

“Oh, sweetheart, come in!” she—Carrie—coaxed, tugging me out of Paul’s grip to lead me deeper into the house. Pictures lined the hallway but I didn’t get a good look at them. “Paul should go put on something presentable.” She sent him a pointed look over her back as she pulled me along, and I sent him a small smile. He rolled his eyes before running upstairs, no doubt wanting to get out of here before his charismatic mother pulled out the baby pictures. We passed through a living room, where a girl of about ten was reading a thin novel.

I was shocked. I didn’t know that Paul had a sister.

“So, Marie,” Carrie said as she pulled me into the kitchen, the nearest closed off room. She grinned. “Oh my gosh, I don’t know what to say. Paul’s told me everything there is about you.”

I smiled tiredly. “Boy, I hope not.”

She rolled her eyes. “I know what an imprint is, Marie, and I know you do too. And I know you’re dating that boy from Forks.” She looked me in the eye. “I know I’m supposed to be pro-Paul on this one, but I’m going to tell you one thing—my son will do anything for you. Anything. But he’s still a boy in love.”

That was when I realized that Carrie might have been a slightly-ditzy person, but she certainly wasn’t stupid.

I knew every word that she was saying to me was true. The problem was that it wasn’t nearly as simple as framing the words is.

“I know,” I told her, and I felt a hundred years old.

Paul managed to time his entrance perfectly, slipping into the room, eyes scanning for the baby pictures as he moved toward me like a magnetic pull was taking him there. He gave his mother a look and grabbed my hand. “We’re leaving,” he blatantly told her before softly nudging me to follow him, sending an eye-roll over his shoulder as we went.

She sent us a goodbye before the door was closing behind us, and Paul was shaking his head. I think he was blushing.

“She gets kind of crazy,” he told me, looking embarrassed. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” I said, laughing. “Parents love me, after all.”

“I’m sure they do.”

Silence overtook us, and his leading pull on my arm disappeared. He laced his fingers with mine and shifted toward me just as he had done the last time we had been here together, and a ghost of a smile haunted his lips. I pretended as though I wasn’t looking, sweeping my gaze around at the scenery when I really wanted to focus my gaze on him, even though I knew I shouldn’t. Confusion ran through my body constantly when I was with him.

I welcomed the emotion just for its familiarity.

It was at the time that we reached a small, vacant children’s park that the thoughts that plagued my mind could no longer be held back. I stopped walking. “Wait.”

He turned to look at me immediately, as if he had been waiting for an excuse to look at me the entire time. I sat down at the curb, which meant that he immediately followed me, sitting uncomfortably because he didn’t want his legs to get run over but he wasn’t entirely happy with his knees in his face. After a couple of seconds of deliberation, he figured that not being able to walk would be a good trade off for being comfortable. He smiled at me slightly, as if encouraging me to say something.

But I didn’t know what to say, not really. I knew what had to be said, but my mind couldn’t process the words that would need to be spoken.

Eventually, I heard myself whisper, “Edward knows.”

Paul hardly reacted—I think all he did was blink.

I became anxious: “It’ll only be a matter of time before the rest of the family is informed. This can’t be kept from Jasper forever.”

The impending horror that had haunted my conscious mind for just under twenty-four hours hardly seemed to touch him in the way I intended—as a warning. He actually started to smile, to grin.

“Good,” he said. “I want the leech to find out. I don’t want to feel like I’m sneaking around with you anymore, Marie.”

“Paul, I don’t know what he will do! He might want to kill you, I don’t know!”

“Then let him come.”

“NO!”

I know he was just speaking his thoughts, because that was the way I assumed he thought, but he didn’t seem to realize how his thoughts would hit me. I certainly know that he didn’t expect me to start to cry, to be looking at me and see my cheeks flushed with anger one moment and then spot the tears that drenched my face like falling raindrops. His eyes went wide as he realized his mistake.

And then I was being pulled into his arms and held close to his chest as he apologized for yelling at me, cursing and panicking as he uncertainly did everything that he thought he should. He brushed the hair out of my face and shushed me softly and told me over and over that he was sorry, that he didn’t mean to yell at me, that he had that stupid anger problem and God, was he sorry.

I eventually began to wonder why I was crying.

I knew that most people didn’t cry because they are sad, but rather because they are frustrated. And I knew that I held my fair share of frustration.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured into my hair as he pressed a kiss there, holding me tight when all else failed. I glanced up at him to see him looking down at me, grimacing with an apologetic expression. I bit my cheek, hoping that would stop me from crying. All I was doing was making him feel bad for something he didn’t do.

“I can’t believe I’m crying right now,” I sputtered, slipping out of his arms and violently shoving the tears off of my cheeks. I took a deep breath in an attempt to control myself and raked my hands through my hair, tilting my head back and looking up at the thunder clouds. As I looked, they proved me wrong as rain drops began to mingle with the tears on my cheeks.

Paul reached up and brushed them away as well, his heated fingers trailing across my skin. I tried to breathe as I felt his gaze weighing down on me, and when I opened my eyes I caught the look in his eyes.

I had seen that wicked sparkle once before—that time, in golden eyes.

Slowly, carefully, Paul pressed his lips to mine.