The sound of his voice brings me back to reality.

Stirring, I shift myself and manage to sit upright at the sound of my name being whispered again and again. "Leah?" I blink slightly, realizing I am now in the bed of Sam's truck and we are moving.

My gaze lands on Jake's worried expression and I roll my eyes. "No, sorry, Easter Bunny again. Try the next truck over," I growl, though my tone is slightly teasing. I am suddenly aware that the broken bones have seemed to repair during my slumber, and it is now dark.

"Your bitchiness can't even make me unhappy, because I'm so glad you're alive," he informs me. I am touched, somewhat, but I say nothing. "Sadly, though, so is the leech. I hate them, I really do. How do you feel? We were worried because you didn't wake up when we moved you."

Remembering that I'm naked, I glance down and pull the blanket up around my chest from where it had been sliding due to my upright position. Had his eyes not been on my breasts, I likely would have never noticed. Wonderful hot temperature and all. "I guess I was tired, probably all that healing I had to do and whatnot." I shrug, acting as though it is nothing. But I can see it in his eyes as they lift to mine; I truly don't like what I see. "What?"

"I saw it," he says accusingly, though his tone is soft. "You wanted to die. You thought that just before the truck hit you. You hated her, first, then thanked her for killing you. Then you said that you loved someone." His eyes glare at mine now. "You didn't picture a face when you said it, then the truck –" he stopped, incapable of continuing. "Who?"

Silence. What kind of interrogation is this? "Dude, I just woke up, I almost died and you're gonna nag me about who I love right before I think I'm gonna die?" I sound cold, perhaps too snappy, but it's agitating. I'm starving and tired and am not in the mood for his games. "Probably everyone. Yanno, I'm not this cold heartless bitch everyone thinks I am."

He glances away but I see it just before he does – pain. I have hurt him and I oddly feel remorse, wishing I could erase the words I had let slip past my lips. But they remain and can never be forgotten. His lack of response draws me to move closer to him, still holding the blanket around my body, as I sit beside him, shoulder to shoulder. "I'm sorry," I whisper softly. "I just – I don't know anymore, Jake."

His arm lifts as though he considers putting it around my shoulders, then it drops again; reconsidering. "Don't know what?" he asks, confusion flustering his features as he arches a brow, looking at me quizzically.

"Everything," is my answer. How can I really tell him what's on my mind when I don't know for certain myself? "I just – I was so afraid she killed you." Some response, but I cannot really figure out what more to say.

Laughter is his response. "Me?" he roars against the wind. "God Leah, I was certain you were dead, you were so limp in my arms and every bone was shattered. I was certain it was the end, Christ almighty." He is still laughing and I join in, glad that it no longer pains me to breathe or speak.

"Yeah, I guess that is stupid," I agree, "but when Sam said you went after her, I don't know. I panicked. Of course I couldn't move, let along phase to make sure you were alright. And he sends that idiot Paul after you, of all people." I groan, remembering his cool stare upon my naked frame. Absentmindedly I tighten the blanket around my body.

He sighs. "I saw all into his mind and gave him a lashing I had saved for Victoria," he responds. "He's so disgusting."

I arch my own brows, wanting to know more, but he does not elaborate and the expression on his face says more than enough; he does not want to talk about it. "Yeah, he is," I agree quietly. "Did they find the bear?"

Pausing, he looks at me like I have lost my mind. "Bear?"

"Yeah, the one that guy hit. You know, the enraged psychotic beastly bear that is probably rabid and whatnot."

In spite of himself he is laughing again, a sound that is somehow soothing to my ears. "Oh, no, the hunt continues," he declares. "Poor guy has no idea what hit him."

We are both chuckling at this thought and I turn my face toward his, smiling. "Why did you do it?"

He stops laughing and tilts his head. "Do what?"

"You know, chase Victoria. Why bother? She already had a head start and we all run about the same."

Considering this, he shrugs. "I don't know, my adrenaline was pumping so hard I was certain I would get her. I almost did too."

"But why bother? She wasn't staying in Forks," I press, curious to know his motive.

Biting his lip, he scowls. "She was running then doesn't mean she'd turn around and not come back." He is quiet as he thinks. "I was so angry, especially thinking she had – well – killed you. I wasn't thinking. I left your body there and bolted after her, determined to make her pay."

"Pay?"

Exhaling, he shakes his head. "Why do you care, Leah? I didn't get her, it's over. We're all alive."

"I want to know."

Growling, he looks embarrassed but finally admits it. "I wanted to make her pay for hurting you. Don't even ask why, I'll tell you. Everybody hurts you, and you've had too much pain. I was trying to protect you from that and failed. Thinking she had the final blow of hurting you just enraged me. You deserve better than that. I was pissed; I had to make her suffer for hurting you."

I am silent, contemplating this. I smile then, looking into his dark eyes that are boring into mine. "Well, thank you. That is perhaps the nicest thing anyone's told me in awhile."

We say nothing, sitting in the back of Sam's truck, nestled together in the warmth of werewolf lifestyle; my focus drifting from the blanket and upon his face. He leans in toward me and I inhale sharply but this time I do not pull away. A gentle bump of the truck brings our lips together and he gives me one gentle kiss, the break initiated by me. I can hear my mother calling me, and I offer him a weak smile. "Guess we're back already," I whisper to him, feeling the truck come to a halt at the end of my driveway. Jacob nods and hops from the truck, disappearing into the woods; I stare after him for but a moment before turning my gaze to my mom, sliding out of the bed and into her embrace.

As she pulls me into her arms, though, I cannot shake him from my mind.
The warmth on my lips remains through the night, and as I later drift off to sleep, I find myself dreaming of him.