chapter twelve, everything, anything

You fell back into the same rhythm with Jacob-slow, familiar, easy. Days blurred into each other, a string of late breakfasts, errand runs, lazy beach afternoons, and movie marathons curled under blankets. But now, something was different. Tangibly different. All the affection that used to simmer beneath the surface had finally found permission to rise, and Jacob didn't hold back.

His hand was always in yours when you were out whether you were at Thriftway picking up groceries or just wandering around town. He wanted to make sure the entire population of Forks (who already assumed you were together anyway) had zero doubts. His fingers would thread through yours, warm and steady, thumb brushing circles into your skin like muscle memory.

At home, it was worse (or better, depending on how you looked at it). His arms would wind around your waist and tug you in against him the second you sat on the couch, like you might slip away without him noticing. During movie marathons, he'd mumble some excuse-You're too far or M'cold as if he was ever cold-as he practically folded you into his chest.

Sleepovers, once innocent and a little awkward, turned into tangled limbs under quilts and whispered conversations at midnight. Your mom didn't care, but your dad? While he still loved Jacob, he now watched him with the deeply suspicious eyes of a man with a teenage daughter and an attractive and built teenage boy sleeping under his roof.

But your favorite part?

His kisses.

God, his kisses. Always unhurried. Always like he had nowhere else to be. He kissed you like he was trying to make up for lost time, which he probably was.

You used to think he was already kind of touchy, kind of needy. Turns out, that was nothing compared to now. Now that you were officially something-his, and he was yours-it all doubled. Tripled. His hands found you constantly. His voice was thick with pet names that made you groan and swat at him, but you never really minded.

"Babe," he'd murmur into your hair, or "sweetheart" in that rough voice when you'd just woken up and he was looking at you like you'd hung the damn moon.

"Don't call me that," you'd mutter, cheeks warming, shoving him half-heartedly.

He'd just grin, wide and wolfish. "You love it."

You did. More than you could admit.

Still, no matter how wrapped up in each other you were, both of you could feel the clock ticking. Each long day spent side by side only made it clearer-summer was slipping through your fingers like sand, and your return to school, to life away from Forks, was waiting on the other side.

Jacob felt it too. You could see it in the way he held you a little tighter, kissed you a little longer. He kept saying he was making up for the first two months of summer you'd spent dancing around each other. But even when he smiled, the shadow of your departure hovered behind his eyes.

And today?

He was tense. Quiet. His fingers played with the hem of your sleeve as he drove, his jaw set, eyes flicking to you and then back to the road.

"Let's go to Emily's," he said-almost a demand, voice low, like he couldn't decide whether he wanted to be around people or just needed to get out of his own head.

You glanced at him, brow furrowed. His hands were on the wheel, grip a little tighter than usual. His gaze was fixed forward, jaw set.

"You okay?" you asked gently.

He didn't look at you. Just gave a quick nod and said, "Yeah."

But it didn't sound like yeah. Not really.

Still, he reached for your hand without looking, threading his fingers through yours. His thumb brushed lightly across your skin, and the tightness in his shoulders eased just a little.

You didn't press. Whatever it was, he'd say it when he was ready.

So you just squeezed his hand back and said, "Yeah, let's go. I haven't seen everyone since... you know."

His mouth twitched, half-smiling now. "Since we got our act together."

You nudged his knee with yours. "Took you long enough."

"Worth the wait," he said simply, and reached across the console to lace his fingers with yours.

You didn't say anything, just squeezed his hand because no matter how much time you had left, you were holding onto every second.

-

The second Jacob's truck rumbles into Emily's driveway, you feel it-that unmistakable pressure of multiple eyes watching from behind the front windows like a hoard of nosy sitcom neighbors.

You glance at Jacob.

"Are they seriously just waiting in the window?"

He doesn't even look up. "Yup."

You peer closer. Sure enough-there's Quil, face squished dramatically against the glass like a cartoon character, and next to him, Jared's doing some sort of exaggerated pointing gesture like you're celebrities pulling up on the red carpet.

"I could still throw it in reverse," Jacob mutters, hand ghosting toward the gearshift.

"Too late," you say, grabbing his arm. "You're committed now. No coward exits."

He casts you a sideways look, but there's a flicker of something else beneath the faux-annoyance. "I'm only walking in because you're coming with me."

You laugh, unbuckling your seatbelt. "Smooth."

"Mm. I thought so."

You're still teasing each other as you step out, but the second your feet hit the gravel, the front door bursts open like someone kicked it. Quil emerges in all his dramatic glory, arms spread like he's greeting long-lost relatives.

"Well, well, well," he booms, voice carrying over the crash of the nearby surf. "Look who finally grew a pair."

Jacob doesn't even miss a beat. Middle finger up, pace steady, expression unfazed. His grip on your hand tightens just slightly, not enough for anyone else to notice-but you do. You give his hand a small squeeze in return, biting your lip to keep from laughing.

Embry materializes out of nowhere, slinging a familiar arm over your shoulder like he's done it a thousand times. "So," he starts, his voice dangerously casual, "now that you're officially dating our boy here, you should probably know-"

Jacob yanks him off so hard Embry stumbles, catching himself on the edge of the porch railing.

"Don't," Jacob warns, though he's fighting a smile.

Everyone else explodes.

Paul whistles loud and obnoxious. Jared makes exaggerated kissy noises while Leah tosses a paper plate in his direction. Even Sam, who usually stays above the chaos, hides a smirk behind his water bottle.

"They've been like this all day apparently," Jacob mutters as he guides you up the steps. "Ever since I told them."

You lean into him just enough that only he can hear you. "I think they like me."

Jacob huffs a laugh. "They liked you before. This just gives them a new reason to be annoying about it."

Inside, Emily greets you both with a warm smile and a hug that smells like brown sugar and rosemary. The kitchen is filled with the familiar clatter of plates and the rich scent of something roasting in the oven. Someone's already sliced a pie. Leah's at the stove helping Emily stir a sauce. Seth is in the corner sneaking bites off a cutting board and pretending like no one sees him.

Dinner is loud and cozy-a whirlwind of laughter, teasing, and passing plates too heavy with food. You find yourself sandwiched between Jacob and Embry, who tries to steal a bite off your plate until Jacob stabs his fork down with just enough menace to make a point. At some point, Paul tries to ask who kissed who first, and Jacob gives him a look so dark it shuts down the conversation instantly.

But it's good. Familiar. The kind of evening that makes you forget time is passing. That makes you forget the ache in your chest every time you think about the clock running down on summer.

By the time everyone's had second helpings (and in some cases, thirds), your stomach is dangerously full and your cheeks hurt from laughing.

You're leaning back in your seat, fork dangling uselessly in your fingers when Jacob leans over and murmurs, "Wanna go for a walk?"

You blink. "Walk?"

He nods once, casual. But there's something under the surface-a tension in his jaw, a spark behind his eyes.

You stretch slightly, groaning. "Honestly? Yeah. If I don't walk this off, I might actually explode."

Jacob smirks, brushing his knuckles against your knee beneath the table. "Emily's out here cooking like she's trying to single-handedly feed a small army."

You laugh softly, letting your head fall toward his shoulder for a second. "And succeeding."

"Barely," he teases. "We're still bottomless pits. But you-yeah, you might need the walk more than any of us."

The sun had dipped just below the trees, leaving the forest around Emily and Sam's house aglow in the soft lavender hues of early evening. You and Jacob followed a narrow trail behind the house, weaving through towering pines and mossy undergrowth, the quiet buzz of insects and the distant rush of the creek filling the silence between you.

"They really tried to kill me in there," you said, patting your stomach dramatically. "I don't think Emily's ever let a plate go empty in her life."

Jacob smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah. She sees us and just starts piling food like we're starving or something."

"I swear she gave me four pieces of cornbread."

"Five," he said. "I was counting."

You bumped your shoulder into his. "Creep."

He chuckled, but his thumb ran a steady line across the back of your hand, like he was working up to something.

His smile faded a little, not completely, but enough to let something quieter settle between you. "I'm glad you came tonight."

You glanced over at him. "Me too."

There was another pause, heavier now. Jacob kicked at a pinecone. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you. Something I should've told you a long time ago."

You looked up at him, sensing the shift. "Everything okay?"

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. "This might sound insane, but I need you to believe me."

You stopped walking. "You're starting to freak me out."

"I'm not trying to." He turned to face you fully. "Just-listen."

You nodded, and he took a step closer.

"I'm not exactly... normal," he started.

"I've known that, yeah." you try to joke and lighten the mood, but he gives you a look. A serious one he rarely ever wears.

"I don't mean, like, weird hobbies or anything like that. I mean a not-human normal."

You blinked. "Not human?"

"You know when you left-when you moved-things changed for me. More than I ever really told you."

You waited, heart tightening.

"I got sick. Thought it was just stress, maybe the flu. But then it was like something broke loose inside me. I was so angry all the time. So on edge. Then one day, I just-shifted."

You blinked. "Shifted?"

"Phased," he corrected, glancing at you. "Into a wolf."

You didn't laugh. You didn't move. You just listened.

Jacob let out a breath. "I'm a shapeshifter. Like in the legends. It runs in our blood, kicks in when there's danger near. Like vampires."

You stared at him. "Wait-vampires are real?"

He nodded solemnly. "Unfortunately."

You blinked again. "So your dad wasn't lying all those times he told us those stories?"

Jacob gave you a crooked smile. "Nope. Turns out Billy was laying down straight facts."

You huffed a quiet laugh. "And here I thought he was just really committed to the bit."

Jacob chuckled, but there was a flicker of something searching in his eyes. "You're taking this a lot better than I thought you would."

You shrugged. "Well, I haven't passed out yet. That's a win, right?"

He tilted his head. "You don't think I'm making it up?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Jake. You literally showed up at my house shirtless and steaming. Either you're something freaky and supernatural or you're part sauna. Personally, I'd rather have a werewolf boyfriend than the latter."

He let out a real laugh then, loud and grateful, the tension in his shoulders finally easing.

Jacob swallowed, then took a step closer. "I tried to keep it from you," he said, voice hoarse. "I didn't want to scare you off. I wanted you to fall for me on your own. Not because some magic forced it. But I can't-" His voice cracked. "I can't be away from you like this. It hurts."

You stared at him, the pieces clicking into place. The way he hovered protectively at your side. The way his whole demeanor changed when you were upset or scared. The knowing looks shot every time you were at Emily's, the whispering on the beach when they thought you weren't listening.

"When I walked away that night," he went on, "I thought I could give you space. I thought maybe that was what you needed. But it was like someone took a knife to my chest and just left it there. It took everything in me not to turn around and stay."

You stepped closer, heart thudding.

"I'm not asking you to love me back because of the imprint," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "I just needed you to know because I don't think I can keep pretending anymore."

"Why didn't you tell me before?" you asked softly.

He looked down, ashamed. "Because I didn't want to ruin this. I didn't want you to feel trapped."

"I don't feel trapped," you whispered. "I feel confused. And a little overwhelmed, but I don't feel trapped."

"I need you to understand," he said, stepping even closer, "that you're not just someone I care about. You're it. You're everything."

Your breath caught, but you didn't step back. "Then tell me what imprinting really means."

Jacob hesitated for a long moment, then said, "It's like gravity. It's not something we choose. But the second our eyes met, I knew. It wasn't just a crush or some old friendship. You became the center of everything. You're in every thought. Every instinct. Every heartbeat. I can't go five minutes without wanting to be near you."

The words dropped into the hush of the forest like stones.

You didn't move, didn't breathe.

"I'm still me," he said, gentler now. "But you... you've always been the constant. Even before the imprint."

You looked up at him, your throat tight. "So it wasn't anger that triggered it?"

He shook his head. "It was pain. Because you were gone, and I didn't know how to exist without you."

You stared at him, letting the words settle. The honesty in them-the weight, the ache. And despite everything, despite the impossible truth, the wildness of it all, one thing stood out clear as day:

He was still the same Jacob Black you've loved.

Without thinking, you reached for him. He caught your hands, held them against his chest.

"I'm here," you said quietly. "Still here."

His jaw tensed, but his eyes softened. "You don't know what that means to me."

You did. Because deep down, it meant everything to you too.

And as the woods rustled softly around you, Jacob leaned in and kissed you-slow and certain, like a relief was lifted off his shoulder.

When you finally pulled apart, you smiled, breathless. "You're still you, Jake. The rest just makes you... more furry."

He laughed, forehead resting against yours. "You're unbelievable."

"And you're stuck with me."

"Good," he murmured. "That's exactly where I want to be."