Belles of St. Mary's

BPOV

I read the words on the gray piece of granite in front of me.

“This We’ll Defend”

They were the words that my brother had lived and died by.

As I sat there in the cemetery, like I had every day since his death, I wondered for the millionth time why. Why him? He was the kind of guy people couldn’t help but like, loved his country enough to fight for it, and was the best friend I’d ever had. Nothing ever brought him down, and he always had a kind word to say. Yet God had seen fit to take him away from us and leave behind a vacuum.

 I ran my hand over the cool stone, tracing the letters carved into it’s face. It wasn’t right—his life cut short by a sniper’s bullet. A coward’s act ending his life for what? Territory disputes? Animosity because he was thought to be an evil American? I didn’t get it, and I had quit trying. I’d learned a long time before that nothing in the world made sense, and the cowards of the world would try to hurt you if they could.

Jake Swan wasn’t your typical older brother. He didn’t think of me, his little sister, as a nuisance. Instead, he saw me as a playmate. My earliest memory was of Jake holding me over the tide pools so I could get a better look. Our mother, Sue, freaked out, but had relaxed when she realized that he wasn’t trying to dump me into the water.

Honestly, every positive memory I had involved Jake in some way. He was the hero when the bullies would bother me, the shoulder I would cry on when I got hurt, and the protector when the shadows came creeping in. When we were older, and I started dating, it was a contest between him and Charlie, our father, as to who would get to scare my date. Charlie had his guns he’d clean in their presence, and Jake, well, he liked to talk about horror movie scenes and how easy it would be to recreate one. There were a few suitors that couldn’t hack the pressure and would leave scared shitless. At the time, I hated both of them for it, but I’d wished I’d had my big brother around when…

Our parents owned a bar/diner in town. In their ingenious planning, they took the old train station that had been sitting abandoned for years and turned it into one of Forks’ most popular hangout spots. Upstairs and Downstairs had everything you could want. Upstairs held the diner—the place to get a burger and milkshake. High school kids came in droves, and even Jake and I frequented it before our parents put us to work to learn the value of a dollar. Downstairs was one of the town’s only bars, and a favorite of most of Forks’ citizens over twenty-one. It was where I was working when the news came that would change our small family’s lives forever.

It was before the bar opened—Dad and I were setting up for the night when Mom came down the back stairs. Only…she wasn’t alone. A man, wearing his dress blues, followed behind her. Charlie stiffened at the sight—he already knew what was going on because of his past service. Mom and I, though, were confused and couldn’t understand why the man was there.

After a few minutes, it became clear that it wasn’t a social call by the stiff way the soldier stood. Charlie left his post behind the bar, walking over to the man.

“Sir,” the soldier said to my father. “It is with regret I bring you this news. Your son, Corporal Jake Swan, was killed in action during a patrol two days ago.”

“No, you’re wrong. Someone lied to you! Jake is fine! He’s coming home in three weeks!” my mother screamed.

My father grabbed her around the waist, pulling her into a tight embrace. She began sobbing, asking why—that one word echoed over and over again. Dad told her he didn’t know why but that we would get through it. As the scene played out before me, I stood frozen. I saw the soldier positioned off to the side, looking like he wished anyone but him had delivered the horrible message. Mom and Dad clung to each other, while Mom broke down. Dad stood with her in his arms but didn’t shed a tear. He looked empty…like all of the joy in his life had disappeared.

That look didn’t leave his face when, a week later, we stood in the cemetery waiting to bury Jake. Dad stood stock still as the rifles fired off in three sets of seven. Mom and I held onto each other and cried, not wanting to let go of our beloved Jake. At the end, the preacher dedicated his body to God and the earth, and we watched as the cemetery workers lowered his casket into the ground.

The large crowd that had come to say goodbye to their friend left, but the three of us stayed until we were sure he was safe. We watched as the cement lid was placed on the vault, and the dirt put back into the hole. It didn’t seem right to leave until we knew that everything was finished.

We tried to resume a normal pace afterward, but even three months later, the hole that Jake’s death had created was still fresh and gaping. The one thing that didn’t change was our family’s close bond. If anything, the tragedy had made us realize that nothing in life was guaranteed and each little moment counted, making us stronger.

“Well, well, well. Look who we have here, boys.”

I was pulled from my trip down memory lane by Sam, resident jackass of the Quileute reservation down the road, and his band of followers—Quil, Paul, and Jared. They called themselves The Protectors, but it was just an excuse to harass people and feel important. My grandfather, Billy, still lived on the reservation and had no use for them, especially since Sam was…my ex’s best friend.

“Why are you here anyway? Can’t you just leave me in peace to mourn my brother?” I asked as I stood up to glare at the bastards.

“It’s almost disgraceful that you’re mourning him, Bella. He chose his own destiny by going to Afghanistan—he might as well have walked out in front of a train!” Sam said in a condescending voice.

How dare those assholes question Jake’s choice to serve in the Army? He had more honor and courage than those wannabes, pretending to stand up for the rights of the Quileute Nation while mocking the country it was nestled in. No, my brother knew what was right and not only served his country, but our people in that war.

“Jake was a hero, Sam,” I pointed out, stepping closer. “But of course neither you nor any of your stupid disciples would know anything about that, you miserable cowards.”

“A hero?” Jared huffed loudly. “He died fighting someone else’s war. He made a fool of himself, and now you’re making a fool of yourself—again—crying over him.”

Just as I was about to lunge at Jared for his comments, a man came storming into the cemetery. He was tall, not quite as tall as the other men, but he was over six feet. The man was well toned, indicating he worked out. His hair was a strange mix of brown, blonde, and red, and it looked like he hadn’t combed it that morning. His face—oh my God—was pale, angular, and strong. He looked like an angel of destruction coming toward us, beautiful in his rage.

“I suggest you shut the fuck up since you obviously have no fucking clue what you’re talking about, asshole!” the stranger seethed, stopping in front of the group.

“Mind your own business, man,” Paul suggested, rising up to his full height. They stared each other down for a few seconds, and then the man spoke.

“The memory of anyone losing their life to protect what he believes is my goddamn business, and you are being fucking disrespectful!” he pointed in their direction as he yelled.

“What the hell do you know about Jake? He was our friend,” Sam said, leaning toward the man.

He scoffed in an incredulous tone. “Friend? Well, I happen to have met the enemy, and they were about as friendly as you are.”

“Fuck you, man,” was Quil’s brilliant reply, and they slithered off like the cowards they were.

I looked back at the stranger and saw that his eyes were closed. Damn, he was pretty. Get it together, Bella. He’s just like every other man, willing to play hero so he can get into your pants. Snap out of it!

I placed my hand on his bicep, trying to get his attention. His eyes snapped open, and up close they were the greenest eyes I’d ever seen—grass was probably the closest color.

Ugh, quit looking at the pretty boy.

“I didn’t actually need your help. Just because you think you know something about serving in Afghanistan doesn’t mean that you can just play hero to strangers who don’t need it,” I said, forcing myself to ignore his attractiveness as I walked away.

I clenched and unclenched my fists as I exited the cemetery, because I was pissed that the guy had cast me as the damsel in distress. It was fucking typical. A man saw a woman in a tense situation, and he automatically thought she needed rescuing. I was sure he thought I’d just fall into his arms because he stood up to the big, bad men for me, but I wasn’t going to swoon over his actions. I’d learned long ago that men were the enemy—they always turn on you—and I wasn’t going to fall into that trap again.

~.~.~.~

I stood outside of a small house and knocked on the front door. A warm summer breeze caressed my skin, causing my hair to fly into my face. I pushed the strands back and tucked them behind my ear. Knocking again, I wondered if anyone was home. They’d said they would be, so I was beginning to worry.

As I raised my hand to knock for a third time, the sound of footsteps sounded on the other side of the door. They were followed by a thud and a feminine voice cursing. I chuckled softly, not being able to help myself. Honestly, I loved the girl, but walking most of the time was a challenge for her. She liked to say she was so clumsy that she was practically disabled.

A few seconds later, the door swung open, revealing my best friend. Even with her clumsiness, she was one of the most loyal people I knew. She didn’t trust easily, but when you earned it, she would fight for you to the end. At the same time, though, she was shy and would blush at the drop of a hat. She was awkward around new people, but if push came to shove, her protective nature would override her bashfulness.

The one thing that drove me absolutely bat shit crazy, though, was her extreme insecurity. I had never understood her self-doubting, because she was gorgeous. She hid her figure behind grandma clothes—I told her she would be a fox if she’d lose them—but she would always brush me off and say I was crazy. One day, I vowed, I was going to get her to say she was beautiful.

“I was beginning to wonder if you were coming or not,” she said as she peered out the door.

“I know…I’m sorry. I ran into Sam the asshole, and his bitch patrol at the graveyard,” I explained, hoping she’d understand.

“Oh! Are you okay?” she asked and began fussing over me. I smiled and gently brushed her away. I had to be careful as I did it, though. She was pretty sensitive and took everything to heart.

“I’m fine,” I assured with a smile. “Now, I’m hungry. Let’s go eat some lunch, Rose.”

~.~.~.~

Over our sandwiches and soup, I told her about the stranger in the cemetery. Her first reaction was to be concerned after she learned that he’d stood up for me. Rose was well aware of my feelings toward the male gender and was worried about me. I assured her that it was fine, but I was curious as to why he was there in the first place. Having lived in Forks my entire life, I knew he wasn’t from around town. Add the fact that we didn’t get a lot of tourists, and it made his stop in the graveyard suspect. Rose admitted that she didn’t know him either when I described him, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary. The girl hardly went anywhere and didn’t know most people in town, so the fact she didn’t know him wasn’t strange.

During our conversation, a booming voice echoed through the house. I smiled and jumped up, running over to the bear of a man entering the kitchen. He caught me and swung me around, both of us laughing. He set me down and went over to the stove, checking out what was on it.

“Damn, baby, this looks good. I’m hungry.” he leaned over the stove.

“Well, then get some, ya big lug,” Rose teased, turning toward Emmett.

I smirked as I watched the exchange. For all of her insecurity, she had landed herself a wonderful man. No, that wasn’t quite right. Rosalie was with one of the best people I knew—Emmett McCarty.

He had been Jake’s best friend since we were kids, and it had been hard to tell where one of them ended and the other began. Growing up, I always had two goofy big brothers who were always pranking someone or cracking jokes. When Rosalie had moved to Forks in seventh grade, she had become my best friend and hung out with the three of us a lot. It hadn’t been until Emmett was in college that he had begun to notice Rosalie. He’d just thought of her as a friend, but when she was a junior in high school, things had changed.

They were engaged and about to be married in a few weeks. I was happy for them and couldn’t imagine anyone who deserved it as much as those two. I had been a supporter of their relationship from the beginning, even if Jake hadn’t. He was worried that Emmett wasn’t for real, but he had proved my brother wrong. Jake was supposed to be Emmett’s best man, but since he was gone, it was decided that my father would take his place in Jake’s honor.

“You working tonight?” Emmett asked as he sat down.

I nodded my head, coming back to the present.

“Uh, yeah. I’m closing tonight,” I answered.

“Maybe Rosie and I will see you there. I haven’t seen Charlie since our last tux fitting a couple of weeks ago.”

“That sounds great. Dad would love to see you, too,” I said with a smile in my voice. Dad was gruff, but well liked. He said it was because of all the discounts he gave out over the years, but I knew better. My father was a kind man with a big heart.

I left not long after that, heading home. Emmett tried to get me to let him drive me to my house, but I waved him off. It was a beautiful summer day, and I just wanted to enjoy it. When I got there, I went upstairs to get ready for work.

My mother was in the kitchen when I was finished. She was cooking fish, with some of her brother, Harry’s, fish fry. I hated the homemade breading, but it was the stuff of legends in our tiny town and on the reservation. If I told her that, I’d get a lecture on how I didn’t know what was good. I admit it—I was a very picky eater and drove my parents nuts because of it. For the sake of peace, I usually just made my own food.

“Hey, Mom,” I said, coming to stand next to her.

“Hi, sweetie. Leaving for work soon?” she asked as her gaze traveled to me.

“Yeah, just wanted to grab something real quick.”

She shook her head and went back to the food. Yeah, she knew I wasn’t going to eat that crap.

An hour later, I pulled into the parking lot of Upstairs/Downstairs. I’d decided to take my car because it would be after two a.m. when I got off. Running a little behind, I quickly got out of the car and headed inside.

The bar was practically empty, but it was only three in the afternoon, so I didn’t expect too many people to be there yet. I went behind the bar and began setting up for the night. I had a system for the way I did things, and everyone that worked with me knew better than to fuck with it.

As I put the last glass away, I looked up and noticed my father sitting at one of the far tables. Smiling, I shook my head. Good old Charlie—he loved to shoot the shit with people. It looked like I’d be on my own for a while until James showed up.

My dad shook the man’s hand and clapped him on the back. Then they both turned my way, making me freeze. Son of a motherfucker. It was the prick from the cemetery.

They walked over to the bar, and I tried to look busy. I was kind of pissed at the moment, and I needed something to do so I wouldn’t jump across the bar and kick the shit out of him. What the shit is he doing here? Does he follow around women he thought needs saving?

Mr. Wannabe-Savior sauntered over the bar and sat on the stool right in front of me. I ignored him and continued to dry glasses that didn’t need it. Dad sat next to him, clearing his throat. Shit, cock, fuck. I knew that sound—it meant, Bella, stop being a bitch and say hi. I wanted to stomp my foot like a five-year old and tell him I didn’t wanna. Instead, I put down the glass and towel, facing the stranger.

“Hi, I’m Bella,” I said, offering my hand and putting on my best fuck you smile.

“I’m Edward Cullen. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he replied as he took hold of my hand to shake it. I felt a slight tingle when our skin touched, and I pulled away quickly as if it was covered in slime.

“So, Edward here needs a job, and I think he’d be a great bartender,” Dad said with a smile.

Oh great, Mr. Stalker-Extraordinaire was going to work with me? The night was going to shit already.

“Now, Edward, my daughter will be training you. She knows everything there is when it comes to Downstairs, so pay attention to her,” I heard my dad say.

Crazy daddy say what?

Lovely, my own personal stalker was not only going to be working with me, but he had my father’s permission to stay close. I watched as my father and Edward talked for a few more minutes. It kind of irritated me, because Dad was acting like they were long lost best friends. If it kept up, the guy would never go away, and I’d be living in my own version of hell.

I fought the urge to stomp off as I went to the back room. I needed a few minutes to calm down.

“Hey, girl,” a voice said from behind me.

I jumped and spun around. James was standing behind me, laughing his ass off. Prick. He loved scaring me and did it often. One would think I’d be used to it, and my guard would be up. But no, idiot got me every damn time.

“What the hell, James? Why do you always have to do that?” I asked in a huffy voice.

“Because it’s easy,” he teased, staring down at me. “Plus, it’s not my fault you’re unobservant.”

“Fuck off,” I scoffed, hiding my smile. Truth was James had grown on me since he had started working at the bar. At first, I was nervous because he was a decent looking guy, and I was afraid he’d get a wild hair up his ass and try to pursue me. We’d lost a few bartenders before him for that exact reason. It didn’t take long to see that James was different.

One night, we were slow, and there were a few guys sitting on the other side of the bar. James kept staring at them, and I wondered what the hell he was doing. I confronted him and asked why he felt the need to gawk at the customers. He brushed me off, trying to drop it. I had persisted, being my usual bitchy self, and demanded to know what he was trying to accomplish. He pulled me into the back, covering my mouth with his hand after we crossed the threshold to stop me from screaming. He let go when I kicked him, and I told him he had two seconds to explain before he lost his balls.

James was a trooper, though. He looked so nervous but admitted he was gay. I laughed and told him my fears. After that night, we became good work buddies and friends. He had become my favorite person to check out hotties with.

“So, who is that fine man out front with Charlie?” James asked excitedly.

Oh, God. Here we go

“My own personal Buffalo Bill. I swear, he’s probably going to skin me for a bitch suit,” I said in a snarky tone.

“Ha ha,” James said sarcastically. “That boy is too pretty to be a serial killer. Everyone knows the insane are so ugly that even their mammas hate them.”

I rolled my eyes. James was cock-struck, and no amount of convincing was going to change his mind.

“Well, if you want him—go for it,” I suggested.

“Uh, no. Mr. Huge Cock—and yes, I checked out his crotch—is straight. I know because we can recognize our own, and that boy is too stiff to be gay,” he pointed out like it was an obvious conclusion.

“Whatever, just get to work,” I grumbled and pointed to the door leading to the bar.

He saluted me. “You got it, Indian princess,” he said and walked out to the front.

I would never admit it to him, but James’s little nickname for me warmed my heart. He’d taken it upon himself to call me that when he found out about my heritage. I was proud of the fact that I was half Quileute.

I sighed, walking out to start my night. My hopes that stalker boy would start another night were dashed when I saw him standing behind the bar, wiping it down. All right then. If he wanted to work in my dad’s bar, I was going to show him being a bartender wasn’t as easy as most people thought.

“I think it’s clean enough,” I said, pointing to the bar top. He stopped and looked over at me, staring. I really hoped it wasn’t going to be something he did all the time, because the image of boiling puppies came to mind when he did it. I shuddered.

“So, have you ever tended bar before?” I asked with my head cocked to the side. I wanted to know how much experience he had before we got on with it.

“No, I haven’t,” he admitted sheepishly.

Okay, I could work with a newbie. They were always good for a laugh.

I pulled out some shot glasses and a bottle of tequila. Placing the bottle on the bar, I lined up the glasses.

“All right, I’m going to show you the art of pouring a shot. You see this line right here?” I asked, pointing to a nonexistent line on the side of the glass. He furrowed his brow, and I knew he was confused, but I let him pretend he saw it.

“Yeah,” he answered and crossed his arms.

“You want to make sure that every shot contains this much liquor. Charlie may seem like a good guy, but he’s a bastard when you fuck up the shots. Trust me, I’ve gotten enough glasses thrown at me to know,” I said as seriously as I could. I looked over at James and tried to tell him with my eyes to play along.

He cleared his throat. “Uh…um…yeah. Don’t want to make the boss man mad. Things start flying around, munchkins pop out, and the wicked witch tries to get you sell your soul to the devil. It’s not good, so you want to make sure the shots are perfect.”

I bit my lip, trying so hard not to burst out laughing. Fucking James. He was trying to crack me, and he wasn’t going to ruin my fun.

“All right, soldier boy, hop to it,” I called out as I left him, going to the other end.

“Soldier boy?” he asked as he turned to where I was standing.

“Were you or where you not a member of the armed services?” I questioned in a sassy tone.

“Yes, how did you know?” he countered.

“Your comments about facing the enemy in the cemetery,” I answered with a shrug.

“Oh,” was his brilliant reply.

I left him to it, ignoring James’s questioning stare. I knew the jerk wanted details, but I was making him wait. It was payback for the Dorothy speech.

~.~.~.~

As the night wore on, I began to question what Dad had been thinking. Mr. Twinkle-Toes rivaled Rose in his clumsiness. Bottles were dropped, glasses had been broken, and he also managed to bathe a customer in beer. James and I worked around him, filling orders and fixing his fuck ups.

“Hey, can you give me a hand here?” Edward’s irritated voice called out.

It was ten o’clock and we were in the middle of the Friday night rush. It was not a good time for me to play babysitter, but I slammed the bottle in my hand down and went over to see what Mr. Cry-Baby wanted.

“What?” I stopped in front of him, trying to keep my annoyance in check.

“What? What?” he seethed as he towered over me. “You left me to fend for myself when you know I have no clue what I’m doing, and you ask me what?”

I took a deep breath. It would not be a good thing if I killed him. At least, that was what I told myself.

“Look, I don’t have time to baby you. This place is crazy on Fridays, and I have no idea why Charlie had you start tonight of all nights.”

“Are you always this much of a bitch, or did you have that stick up your ass put there on purpose?” he stared into my eyes and taunted me with his words.

Oh, pretty boy is going to get it now

“Listen here, asshole…” I started to say. I was cut off by James pulling me into the back.

“What the hell, James!” I yelled and pushed him away from me.

“I just saved your ass from a night in jail, buttercup. Least you could do is say thank you.” James stared at me, daring me to argue with him.

“Ahhhhhhh!” I screamed, staring up at the ceiling. Why did the stalker get under my skin?

“Listen, I think it might be better if we switched,” James suggested. “That way you can do what you always do, kick ass all by your lonesome, and I can stare at his ass all night.”

I had to chuckle at that. Leave it to James to insert his desire to ogle the man.

“Fine,” I relented with a huff. “Just keep him away from me for the rest of the night. I can’t promise I won’t nut punch the jerk if he calls me a bitch again.”

He rolled his eyes and left.

The rest of the night was much smoother. James kept Edward occupied with small tasks like running to get more bottles, handing him things, and running the register. The man was a godsend, and things would have probably ended in bloodshed if James hadn’t been there.

When we finally locked up, Edward went and got the broom, not having to be told to sweep. I was slightly peeved, because he was showing himself to be a good employee. I was hoping I could run him off, but it was proving to be difficult. If he told Charlie what had happened, I was fucking toast.

I went to the back office with the cash register drawer to do the night’s money count. As I was counting the bills, Edward walked in. His appearance was more disheveled than it had been in the cemetery earlier in the day, no doubt because of the way I had run him ragged most of the night.

“James said I was finished, so I’m just going to go,” he said quietly.

“Okay.” I set down the money in my hands. “Will we see you tomorrow, then?”

He blinked with shock. Shit, I’ve rendered him mute.

“Hello,” I said, waving my hand. “Earth to Eddie.”

“Sorry.” he shook his head like he was trying to clear it. “I just figured you didn’t want me to come back.”

I sighed. I really was being a bitch, and he didn’t deserve my wrath. The thought of how disappointed my father would be in me caused me to have a change of heart. If Edward was that willing to put up with my bullshit just so he’d have a job, then he had earned his place.

“Look, I’m sorry for tonight. We, uh, have a tradition here. You know, razz the new guy and shit,” I explained, playing off my bitchiness. “Just ask James. He would probably tell you I was an asshole to him the first night.”

“Oh, I get it,” he said, staring at the ground and nodding his head. His tone was lighter than before. Damn, now I feel bad. My bitchiness knows no bounds.

“All right, then. See you tomorrow.” he waved once and exited the office.

I sighed when he left, feeling like a total jerk. I’d almost run off an employee, and no matter how I felt about him, Charlie would grill my ass for it. I was going to have to figure out a way to get along with him. However, the names I called him in my head were staying. I needed some way to entertain myself.

James knocked on the wooden trim, entering.

“You do know he’s not Embry, right?” he questioned with his hands on his hips.

“James.” I did not want talk about the stalker. “I am not getting into this shit with you right now. I’m busy.”

“Fine, fine,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “I just don’t think it’s fair that every new man you come across gets treated like shit because your ex is a bastard.”

I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. Only five people knew what had happened with my ex, Embry, and when James had become that fifth person, I never thought he would bring it up again.

“We are not discussing this. I realize—I was out of line, and I apologized. You have to know how hard that is for me, but I did it. Now, can we drop this?”

“Okay, I’ll let it go.” James narrowed his eyes. “He seems like a decent guy, though. I just don’t want you to run him off because one asshole hurt you.”

I nodded and went back to counting. I heard the door close, and I sat back in the office chair. Fuck, having a conscience sucks. I was well aware that he was probably a decent man. Hell, it was likely that he served in Afghanistan like my brother did, which earned him some of my goodwill. I was scared, though, to let any heterosexual male get too close. Even friendship caused me to break out in a sweat.

I pulled a medal out of my pocket and ran my fingers over it.

A few days after we buried Jake, we were invited to attend a small ceremony in Washington D.C., honoring soldiers from Afghanistan. Jake was one of the soldiers who were presented with the Afghanistan Campaign Metal posthumously. It was given for his excellent service during the time he was there. Mom, Dad, and I attended, and my father accepted the medal on Jake’s behalf, wearing his own dress uniform. It was a proud moment for him and the rest of us. It felt good to know that, even though he was gone, someone still remembered him outside our little town.

My father thought it would be best if I kept the medal, reasoning that my brother would have wanted me to have it. I’d had it with me ever since and always kept it close. In a way, it made me feel like he was still with me. Yes, I still visited him in the cemetery every day, but keeping the medal close was just another way I held onto him.

“Damn it, Jake,” I said out loud. “I really wish you were here. I know I screwed up tonight, but I can’t help it. You don’t know how many times I wished that you’d been here when the shit with Embry went down. I could have used my big brother back then, but you were off being a hero.”

I wiped my eyes.

“I’m not upset about it, because I’m so proud of you. It’s just, it was the one time I really needed you, and you weren’t there. And it hurt…really bad. What am I going to do now? This new guy has me all confused, and I don’t know what to do.”

I looked at the medal in my hand like it had all the answers.

“Is he a good guy, Jake? Can I trust him to be a friend? Or should I push him away?”

I was met with silence.

I decided in that moment to be more like Jake. He was never afraid to make friends and always went out of his way to make sure people smiled. It was something I admired about him. I wasn’t going to let Embry rule my actions. I was safe because of all the people around me. Unlike the last time I had let my guard down, I wasn’t alone. I had Charlie and Emmett as my protectors.

I kissed the medal and put it back in my pocket.

I vowed to make Jake proud.