A/N: So, this post-Twilight story has been mulling around in my head for months now. I'm posting this as an incentive to see if anyone would be interested in reading a full story. Follows/Favorites/Alerts/Reviews are highly encouraged to help me get a sense if this story could go anywhere. Let me preface with a few things: First, I have misplaced my Twilight books, so any information pertaining to them will come from the movies or that Twilight Wiki. Second, I am not a member of the Quileute tribe. I have done about a few hours a day worth of research for about a month on the history, culture, and language of the Quileute people. So, please forgive me if I still manage to get anything wrong. Any Quileute words and/or phrases come from the website quileute-nation-.-org (no dashes). Thirdly, this story is rated M for some very mature scenes involving Postpartum and depression in general. Also maybe a lemon or two if I feel like enough people are interested in this story for me to post the full thing. Lastly, these few tidbits are subject to change as this is just an experiment of sorts. So please enjoy some of these little writings of my new Twilight story!

June 16th, 1990

The final screams of a woman in labor rang through the halls of the small home in La Push, Washington. A very pale Caucasian man with messy red hair was sweating profusely as his wife gripped his hand as she pushed as hard as her body would allow. His hand was throbbing. He thought that his beautiful Quileute wife may have broken a bone. But it was of no consequence to the pain she has been in for the last 28 hours. Pauline Ateara-Bloom had been going through labor pains for a little over a day before she was dilated enough to start the actual birthing process. Despite her husband's insistence of going to a hospital, the Quileute woman demanded that she have a natural home birth. The older Quileute midwife was excellent; answering every question the Pale Face husband, Roger Bloom, had and she managed to keep them both calm despite the long labor. Pauline's father was also in attendance. Quil Ateara III had been present for the recent birth of his grandson and the soon to be newborn's cousin, aptly named Quil Ateara V after his grandfather and father. The elder Quil was, as all grandparents would do in this era, videotaping the entire process.

"Just a few more big pushes, Pauline," the midwife told the new mother. The baby's head was almost out now. Pauline panted deeply before she ground her teeth together, crushing Roger's hand as she pushed as hard as she could. The midwife cupped her hands under the baby's shoulders as they slipped out of the birth canal. Pauline was wailing in pain. Roger smoothed her sweaty hair back, murmuring words of encouragement to his petite wife. Neither of them noticed that the baby hadn't made a noise yet. Quil III lowered his Video Hi8 recorder slowly. The midwife pursed her lips together before saying, "One more. Nearly there now."

Pauline pushed with all the strength she had left, screaming herself hoarse. Once the midwife confirmed that the baby had made it out, Pauline slumped down, exhausted. Roger was crying and kissing his wife's forehead and cheeks, so very proud of her. The midwife had quickly cut the umbilical cord herself and rushed the baby away, not bothering to check the sex of the infant. Quil III grabbed the nearest towel and the midwife went to work, cleaning the afterbirth from the infant's nose and mouth, trying to get a reaction.

"Where…?"

Roger was standing up, staring at the end of the umbilical cord. His green eyes darted around the bedroom, frantically searching for the child that hadn't made a noise yet. Quil III rushed to his side, placing a firm hand on his son-in-law's chest. Pauline was muttering lowly about the sex of the baby. She was whispering about a boy; her baby boy. Panicking, the midwife flipped the still baby over and started a combination of patting and rubbing the infant's back. She whispered pleading words to the Gods and Ancestors to save the Ateara-Bloom baby.

"Where's my son," Pauline moaned softly. No one responded. The only sounds were Pauline's heavy breathing and the midwife gently patting the baby's back. "Where's my son," Pauline asked again, louder this time. Roger and Quil III were at her side, telling her to lay back down as she tried to sit up. "WHERE IS HE?"

Pauline wailed. Not a moment later, the bundle in the midwife's hands jolted. The baby let out a wail in response to its mother's cry of pain. All four adults sobbed with relief. The midwife calmed her shaking hands and continued to clean the baby. As she turned the newborn over to correctly swaddle, she smiled. The infant was staring up at her with wide eyes so dark she couldn't see the pupil. She wondered if the child would grow up to have warm brown eyes like her Quileute family, or green eyes like her Caucasian father. The infant was completely bald and her skin was a light russet. Her. Pauline seemed to be expecting a boy. The midwife chuckled. What a happy surprise to have a little girl.

The midwife turned and presented the baby girl to her young parents and her grandfather. Pauline stretched out her arms like a grabby toddler to receive her child. "Congratulations," the midwife beamed as she placed the white bundle in Pauline's arms, "you have a beautiful baby girl!"

Pauline stilled. Roger and Quil III were cooing and in complete awe at the tiny baby who yawned. The twice-made grandfather commented on her button nose and chubby cheeks, saying with pride that those were Ateara features. Roger ran a hand over his little girl's bare head, wondering what color hair would grow there. He hoped with a chuckle that she wouldn't share his flaming red. While a thousand thoughts were running through her husband and father's heads, Pauline's mind was blank. She stared down at the little human she'd just given birth too. A girl. She had wanted a boy; had prayed for a boy. And she got a girl. A darkness creeped into her mind. Pauline looked to her father and husband for strength, both were still grinning.

"She's beautiful. We need a new name," Roger chuckled. They had picked male names. Pauline was so sure their child was a boy, she didn't even think about female names. But Roger had.

"Olathe," Quil III smiled softly. "She will have her grandmother Olathe's beauty."

Roger nodded. "Then she will be named after her grandmothers'," he whispered. He kissed the sleeping infant's head. "We'll name her Nova Olathe Ateara-Bloom."

Pauline was crying. Roger and Quil III took it for happiness. But, Pauline wasn't happy.

I thought this would help, she thought. The dark sickness that was Postpartum Depression seeped into her brain, clouding her mind. I thought this would help, but it never will. She never will. Pauline bit her fist to keep from audibly sobbing. Concerned, Roger took her hand and kissed her palm.

"I'm so –" but Pauline couldn't finish the sentence.

Pauline was anything but happy. Nova Olathe Ateara-Bloom was not her little boy; her little Kiowa. She'd never forgive Roger. It was his fault. He was the one who determined the sex of a baby. And Pauline would never forgive him for ripping her boy away from her.

(After Embry phases—Jan 2006, New Moon)

Embry was out of school for a week. Jacob, Quil, and I couldn't get ahold of him. His mom had told me he was really sick when I called her. She turned me away when I asked if I could visit, saying that she didn't want me to catch whatever it was he had. He did feel really warm that last time I saw him. The three of us waited for a text, a call, an email, anything to let us know he was still alive. It must have been something serious for him to ignore us like that. But then again, not serious enough because he was finally at school the next Monday. Jacob and I were hanging out at my locker before classes started when Quil ran up to us, beet-red and out of breath.

"I saw – I saw – he's – it's –" he leaned against the lockers to catch his breath.

Jake shook his head and laughed, "What's up, man? Spit it out."

"I saw – Embry's back."

I clutched my books to my chest and bounced on my toes, trying to see over the other students' heads. "Where did you see him," I asked my cousin as I scanned the hall. "Does he look okay?"

"He – he's –" Quil trailed off like he couldn't think of what to say.

It was then that a group of seniors parted and I saw Embry standing in front of his locker, oblivious to everything around him. My mouth dropped open in shock. Not only was Embry's hair cropped short (something he said he'd never do), but it looked like he grew at least 6 or 7 inches! He towered over the other students. Then there were his muscles. Embry was a skinny dude. But if I wasn't staring right at him, I'd never believe that he turned into some kind of body builder. I wasn't the only one staring. Jake looked dumbfounded and shock was still all over Quil's face.

"What the hell happened to him," I whispered.

I watched as another freakishly muscular student walked up behind Embry. They slammed their hand into his back, making my friend stumble into his locker. He grabbed the metal door to steady himself as Paul Lahote, a boy our age and one of Sam Uley's followers laughed loudly. Jacob gasped in shock at the friendly gesture. But I didn't take my eyes off the locker door. There were four dents in the top of the metal door where Embry had caught himself. There was no way he could have just done that. Our lockers weren't flimsy enough to bend without some kind of enormous pressure. My eyes flickered to Embry who was smiling at Paul uneasily. Embry grabbed his books and slammed his locker shut. Paul threw and arm around Embry's shoulders.

"No. No way," Jacob frowned. "There's no way Embry would ever go near one of Sam Uley's cult members."

Quil was uncharacteristically quiet. He usually made a ton of jokes at Sam Uley's expense. But my cousin looked like he'd eaten something rotten. Embry and Paul were walking right towards us. He must have seen us because the other boy whispered something to Embry. The small smile was suddenly replaced with a stony face. Quil, Jake, and I all watched him pass us without a word; without even looking at us. My heart stopped beating. I felt like someone had poured ice water down my back. Quil's eyes watered and Jake was shaking slightly. The bell rang to start classes but none of us moved. We were all rooted to the ground, still trying to process the snub that just happened.

"Lunch," I managed to choke out. "We'll find him at lunch."

But it proved harder than I had thought. As soon as the lunch bell rang, Quil, Jacob, and I went to our usual table. It felt incomplete without Embry who was sitting across the cafeteria with Paul and Jared Cameron, another of Sam Uley's followers. Jake glared at the trio, who were laughing like old friends, as he stabbed a fork into his lunch. It was so weird. Embry looked – nervous – but also happy with them by his side.

"I'm going to go talk to him," I told my two cousins as I stood up with my tray.

"And what makes you think he'd listen to you," Quil muttered darkly. He was glaring at his apple.

"Dude," Jake elbowed Quil in the side. My cousins shared a look. I rolled my eyes. The boys could keep their little secrets. I knew they did things and shared thoughts when I wasn't around. I was a girl and, even though the four of us literally grew up together, they still couldn't tell me everything.

I left our table and discarded my half-eaten cafeteria food. I turned and watched the new trio closely, forming my plan of attack. My heart was racing. The only way to do it was to just walk up to them. So I pulled up the shoulder strap of my messenger bag and marched to their table. I watched Embry the whole time. I didn't care about the other two. Embry was my best friend. They couldn't keep me from speaking to him. But I nearly chickened out as I got closer. Paul Lahote saw me coming and glared me down. He had always been intimidating with his anger issues. But, since he joined up with Sam, something changed and he was even less approachable than before. Jared Cameron wasn't glaring, but he didn't look happy that I was standing at the end of their table now. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Embry whose eyes widened.

"Can I talk to you," I asked quietly. Embry didn't say anything. Paul and Jared were watching him now, seemingly gauging his reaction. My friend was staring at me. His brown eyes still held all the warmth that I was used too. But there was something else in them.

"You should go back to Jacob and Quil," Embry jut his chin in their direction. My lips parted but I couldn't figure out what to say next. I was just standing there dumbly. "I don't want to talk to you."

"Embry," I managed to whisper in shock.

"In fact, I can't really see us hanging out anymore," Embry's words cut deep but his eyes were full of unhappiness. I shook my head. He didn't mean it. He was my best friend. I could always tell when Embry was lying to me. Best friends. "I only hung out with you because you were always around. It's not like we're –" Embry swallowed before I saw his eyes grow cold "– friends."

A train hit me. My whole body went numb. It felt like a train had barreled into my heart and dragged it along the tracks from here to the end of the world. "You don't – you don't mean that," my voice shook as well as my body.

Embry stood up, towering over my 5-foot-4 frame. He was definitely a foot taller than me now. I didn't know how. You couldn't grow that tall or gain that much muscle in a week. Unless he was on steroids or something. I felt like he could squash me with those now bulging arm muscles. I bit my lip to keep my tears at bay as I looked into Embry's emotionless eyes. One of his hands hovered by my elbow, as if he wanted to touch me but couldn't. I could feel the heat rolling off his hand in waves. Paul Lahote growled something at Embry who ignored the other boy. He was looking at me like he'd lost something. And then I tried to steel my heart for what I knew was to come.

"I don't want to be your friend anymore, Nova."

I knew the little sob that left my mouth was pathetic. But I couldn't even look at Embry anymore. I turned and bolted for the cafeteria doors. Just like that, I'd lost a friend to Sam Uley's cult. The same friend who had called them "hall monitors on steroids". The same friend who joked that we should kill him if he ever joined up with them. The same friend I loved more over my two cousins. As I burst through the double doors, six pairs of eyes watched me leave; Sam Uley's gang, each with knowing looks of sadness, Quil and Jake, who were very confused but quick to follow me out, and a pair of young and kindly dark brown – almost black – eyes which belonged to Seth Clearwater.

(a few weeks after Seth changes - March 2006)

It was nearing nine in the morning as Quil helped me place the last of my stuff in the back of my dad's rented van. I didn't want to leave La Push. My family was on the reservation. My friends – well, Quil seemed to be the only friend I had left at this point. It had been three months since Embry disowned us for Sam Uley and his gang. Then, to our horror, Jacob joined too. The two had stopped all contact with us. Billy had said Jake was "going through stuff" but I didn't buy it. A few weeks ago, I noticed that Seth Clearwater had also stopped hanging out with his group of friends for Sam Uley, Paul, Jared, Embry, and Jake. Little Seth Clearwater; the boy who had asked me to be his friend in elementary school because he saw that mine didn't want to play with me one day. Like Embry and Jake, he'd missed a week of school. It was the week before Spring Break, but I knew something was up. Then, Quil told me he saw him following Jake and Paul around like a puppy, all tall and suddenly jacked like them. He was only 15. There was no way he'd had a 5 to 6 inch growth spurt within a week. Quil had also mentioned that a beanpole like Seth Clearwater wouldn't have gained all that muscle in a week. It was Embry and Jake all over again.

But none of it was my problem anymore. Not that they'd know – or care – but I had started to have issues with my mom again. She'd fallen back into her dark depression. Her depressive state caused random mood swings; which made her either breakdown in tears or shut off completely. She'd also been distancing herself from Grandpa Quil and Aunt Joy for the better part of a year. Mom was always telling me how terrible of a mother she was, then turn around and take me out for ice cream, then scream at me for being overweight at my age. Last month was the final straw. I'd come home from school one day to find mom on the couch. There was a bottle of Jack spilled all over the floor and an empty pill bottle on the coffee table. Since I was still underage at 16, Grandpa Quil and Aunt Joy took me in. Then dad's lawyer somehow found out about the incident and that mom was going to a special hospital in Port Angeles to get help for a while. Even though he liked and trusted his ex-in-laws, he didn't want me in the same state as mom anymore. So he took custody of me without a fight on Grandpa Quil or Aunt Joy's end. They knew I had been miserable for months. But that meant I had to leave La Push and move to San Francisco, California with dad, my step-mom Kimmie, and their 10 year old son Max – which, to be honest – made me feel more miserable.

Dad clapped Quil on the shoulder, sighing. "It was nice to see you, Tási," dad smiled warmly at his ex-nephew, fondly using an old nickname for Quil. Five, referring to Quil's nomenclature suffix. It was one of the only Quileute words he'd managed to pronounce correctly. Then, dad's eyes became gloomy. He sighed again, deeper this time, "Whenever you're ready, Kiddo."

But he knew I wasn't ready. I'd never really be ready. But I wasn't going to cry. I was done crying over things I couldn't change. I looked back at the house I'd grew up in and found myself scowling. I'd actually be happy if I never saw it again. That place didn't hold many happy memories. It wasn't warm or accepting or full of love like Billy or Tiffany Call or Grandpa Quil and Aunt Joy's houses. In my sudden anger, I picked up a rock from the ground and threw it at the house with all my might. It hit the front door with an echoing thud, scuffing the light blue paint.

"You'll be okay Jenny," Quil let out a watery chuckle as he made a Forrest Gump joke.

"It's not okay! None of this is okay, Quil," I shouted. "I shouldn't be leaving! Grandpa told me it's better this way! But is it? How can it be better when I'm leaving my best friend? I don't want to leave you alone!"

Quil threw his arms around me in one big swoop. I buried my head in his chest as my best friend and cousin shook, his small sobs only heard by me. After I let Quil have a good cry, he pulled back, wiping his tears with his sleeve. For the first time, I really looked at my cousin. We shared the same button nose and chubby cheeks – although I attributed this to my being overweight at 150 pounds, even if it was mostly swimming muscle. I chuckled as I ruffled his short black hair. He groaned, swatting my hand. He always hated that.

"Promise me you'll write," Quil asked seriously.

I looked at my cousin incredulously, "Write? Jeeze, Quil. What decade are you living in? I'll text you every day. And I'll call too."

My best friend and cousin smiled genuinely for the first time since we found out I was leaving the Rez. Dad honked the car horn and leaned out the driver's side window. He waved and shouted, "We should get going, Kiddo. We've got to make a stop before a six hour drive to Portland."

"Oh," I exclaimed, fumbling for my coat pocket. My fingers found the gift I had made for Quil a few days ago. When I pulled it out of my pocket, he chuckled, taking the bracelet. It was made of dark brown woven leather and I had very carefully etched a star on the material. "I know boys don't do Friendship Bracelets," I shrugged. "But I thought, what the hell?"

Quil slipped the too big bracelet on his left wrist. "Friends appreciate any gift from each other, right?"

"Right."

Quil's chin trembled as he pulled me into one last hug. "Enjoy Big City life," he told me as he pulled away again. Then he laughed, "And come back as soon as you turn 18."

"You know I will, cuz."

If I thought getting in that van and leaving Quil alone was hard, what happened next had become the top contender for the "Worst Moment of My Life" Award.

The stop dad needed to make was for snacks at the grocery store. He'd asked if I wanted to go in, but I declined. I didn't want to risk seeing anyone I knew and get emotional. I hadn't cried when I said goodbye to my family. I wasn't about to break that record. I climbed into the very back of the van and pulled out a photo album from the last box Quil had helped me with. It was quite old and falling apart. I'd need to get a replacement when I got to San Francisco. It held photos and memorabilia from when Quil, Embry, Jake, and I were kids. The last photo of us all together was over Christmas Break last year when we had a campout in Embry's living room. The four of us looked so happy. I missed those days. Not a day went by that I didn't think about Em and Jake. Not that they were thinking of me, I thought woefully. They probably didn't even know I was moving out of state.

Dad came back, hands full with six grocery bags. He'd gotten sodas, water, chips, some boxes of pastries, a random bag of grapes, and a ton of candies. I unlocked the door for dad and he put the bags in the mesh basket between our seats. He emptied out one of the bags so we'd have a trash bag for all the junk food. Dad scrunched up his face in concern when he saw that I was going through old photos. I had told him about the Embry/Jake drama last month.

"You wanna choose the music, Kiddo," he asked slowly.

"Sure," I shrugged. "But can we just get going? I don't wannna stick around any longer."

"Of course, Nova. Whatever you want, whatever you need. I want you to be comfortable."

"Dad," I whined.

"Okay, okay," he held up his freckled arms in defense. Dad started up the car and began to pull out of the spot. "We're off!"

I sighed sadly, snapping the photo album shut. As Dad began to drive around the parking lot for the exit, I leaned over the back seats to gently put the album back in the box. My dad called back that there was a bump ahead. I didn't pay attention and my body jolted as the rear wheels went over the speedbump, making my head hit the ceiling of the van. I groaned in pain, rubbing my crown. Dad chuckled as he watched the road, waiting to make a right turn. I opened my eyes and met the dark brown – almost black – eyes of a very tall and jacked Seth Clearwater.

I watched in that half a moment when Seth's eyes widened. He had dropped the groceries he was carrying, making everything spill out over the concrete. A small, goofy smile appeared on his face, one that I had seen countless times before, but never really took notice of until that half a moment. I found myself smiling back at Seth Clearwater. I adored his goofy smile. I felt light in those few moments, like his smile was all I needed to make everything better. But it was torn away too soon. My dad made that right turn onto the main highway and off the Rez. Dread filled my heart and I pressed my hands against the glass of the van's trunk. A look of horrible pain passed over Seth's face as he started to run after the car. My chest squeezed strangely as he fell further and further behind. Two shirtless boys had run up behind Seth; Jacob and Paul Lahote. But I didn't care about them. All I saw was Seth, growing smaller and smaller until he was gone completely. I remained staring out the trunk window for nearly an hour. It made me feel sad – hìtkʷotaɫítali – completely and irrevocably heartsick. It was the first time I had cried in over a month.

A/N 1: Tási [TAH-see] – taken from quileute-nation-.-org (no dashes)

A/N 2: hìtkʷotaɫítali [HATE-cool tah-THAY-tuh-lee] – taken from same website

(March 2016 – 10 years since leaving La Push)

Nova

As Time just so very happens to do, it flew by in the blink of an eye. It was strange that almost ten years ago to the day, I was sitting on the same swinging bench, waiting to leave the small white house I was staring at. The light blue door still even had the scuff mark from when I threw a rock at it so many moons ago. I had spent the last ten years hating this house – hating the woman who had lived in it. I had thought she was the worst mother imaginable. I turned to my Aunt Joy and even Tiffany Call when I needed a mother. I hated Pauline Ateara. She had mentally abused me which was just as bad as any physical abuse – which thankfully she had never done. She was hot and she was cold; she never really took the time to know me. I was thankful for the visits to SF to see my dad and Kimmie because they were real parents. I was always scared to tell them what was happening in that house because I was afraid I'd be taken away. But Pauline's attempted suicide was the final nail in the coffin. I didn't realize how bad her Postpartum Depression was until I got to college and took a psych class. Dad cried all night when I finally told him what I never could as a minor. I never forgave her – and I never wanted too – but I realized that she was sick and refused to get help. After ten years, I hoped she was happy. She never seemed happy with her life on the Rez.

And just being on the reservation after so long set my nerves on edge. Embry Call had said no one had left. The boys' of Sam Uley's gang had grown into strong and respectable men. They ran after-school programs for boys and girls now. Embry, Brady Fuller, and Paul worked as mechanics in their own auto shop. In their spare time, the guys – and apparently Leah Clearwater – fixed some of the buildings and homes on the Rez. Today, Embry said he and Collin Littlesea were replacing the old linoleum flooring in Pauline's old house and swapping it with a sturdy oak hardwood in preparation for the new family that was to move in. Embry didn't know I was in town today. We'd just – reconnected – two years ago when Pauline traded my new phone number for a new roof. He called every Sunday for two months before I finally picked up the phone. Three months ago, I took a new job as a Field Archeologist in Seattle. We were currently examining the remains of a few Makah canoes that had been found rotting away in the forest. And now I was here…swinging on the old bench that creaked under my weight.

I heard male voices from inside and the front door was pushed open. A tall, shirtless man was standing in the doorway, wiping his hands on a rag. Embry's short cropped black hair was pushed back, sleek with sweat probably. I noticed the tone and definition of his cheekbones, abs, and arms which made me gasp breathily. But Embry Call still had the same dimpled chin, pouty lips and warm brown eyes. Eyes that were currently narrowed at me with a look of warning. He threw the dirtied rag aside and took three long strides toward me. He stared down at me and his eyes suddenly glazed over when I looked back up at the 6-foot-4 man. The warning look was gone.

"You shouldn't be here," Embry murmured. After talking on the phone for two years, I found his deep voice was nicer in person, sending chills down my spine. He breathed softly as he brought his hands up to hover by my elbows. I could feel the heat radiating off of his body. It was strangely intoxicating.

"Hello to you too," I whispered as I stared into his eyes. I wasn't able to hold his gaze for much longer, however. Instead, I turned my head down to the left at his large hand which was still hovering, not touching.

"Embry! Who is it, man?"

The voice, smooth as honey, had snapped Embry out of whatever spell he'd been under. I leaned to the side, peering around Embry's large form and into the house to try and catch a glimpse of that familiar voice. I knew I had heard it before. Someone from my youth, maybe? Embry took my small hand in his much larger, scalding hot hand and nearly dragged me back to the street where my car was parked. There was a frantic look in his eyes now.

"What the hell was that!?"

"I told you, you shouldn't be here," he nearly growled, disappearing back to that almost angered expression. I scoffed, completely suspicious of his attitude. Whatever, I thought. I yanked the car door open and slid into the driver's seat, slamming the door in his face. I'd forgotten that I'd left the window down on this sunny day and Embry's large arms crossed over the window frame as he ducked his head down to my eye level. I started the car, trying to ignore him. An old song, Eclipse (All Yours) by Metric was softly playing on the radio. "How long are you here for," Embry smirked. The Bipolar attitude was starting to get to me.

"Why do you care? I thought I wasn't supposed to be here," I ended up replying cheekily. I looked at my old friend. The smirk on his oddly adult face was still annoying like it was when we were kids.

Embry rolled his eyes, "I meant you shouldn't be here at Pauline's old place. I know it doesn't hold great memories for you. You should have gone to Joy's and Old Quil's."

"You told me you'd be here, so I came here first." Gone was all the anger and annoyance on Embry's face. His warm brown eyes softened and then glinted playfully. I shook my head, "Yeah, yeah, don't think you're anything special."

"But you wanted to see me first," Embry bit his bottom lip and wiggled his shoulders teasingly.

My shoulders rose as I chuckled, "I'm leaving now."

Embry reluctantly pulled away from my car and I put it in drive, starting to roll forward. "You wanted to see me first," Embry called after me as he waved his arms and bounded a few steps like an overgrown puppy. I threw my arm out the window, waving him off, still chuckling as I made my way to see my aunt and grandpa.

Embry

She had wanted to see me first! Me! Not her family. Me. My whole body felt warm and light. I hadn't felt this good in years. I was smiling even as I walked back into Pauline Ateara's old house. I had heard all about imprinting, but it hadn't happened to me in the ten years I'd been a shapeshifting wolf. Sam, Jared, Paul, Jake, Quil…I had received every description of the action. Gravity moves and she's the one holding you to the ground. You become anything and everything she needs; unconditionally bound. Nothing else matters but her. I'd been in love with Nova Ateara-Bloom since we were kids. When I first shifted and learned about imprinting, I tried to force myself to imprint on her. But you can't force that kind of bond and the love that comes with it.

Nova was perfect to me. More perfect than any other woman in the world. As kids, Nova had always been bullied for her larger size. She said the comments never bothered her, but they often came from her own mother. It had made losing weight that much harder because she tended to eat her feelings way into our teens. Now? Nova was thicc. It took everything in me not to run my hands through her dark maroon dyed hair and sweep her off her feet, running into the forest and never looking back. But that would be impossible. She was an imprintee. I'd be breaking Pack Law for her. But I'd do it. I'd do anything for Nova Ateara-Bloom.

"Dude! Embry!"

Speaking of Nova's imprint… My eyebrows furrowed. Seth ran out of the house. There was a smear of dirt on his forehead. I picked up the rag from where I had tossed it and threw it at his face. He chuckled, still out of breath. Seth had always been a cheerful guy. He took to shifting better than anyone in the pack had. Seth actually enjoyed it and the perks of being a shifter. But something in him changed after he imprinted on Nova. According to Jake and Paul, Seth had imprinted on my old friend just as she was leaving La Push – something only Quil knew about at the time. Seth's mind grew dark with a deep emotional pain the farther she got from the reservation. He'd been constantly suffering, even as Quil assured the kid she would come back when she was 18. Nova never came back and Seth fell into an even darker place. It took years for us to bring back some of the light into his former self.

"Embry! Dude! I felt it!"

"What," I shook my head, not understanding.

"That – that –" Seth was breathing hard and he was tapping his chest rapidly. "– that pull."

No.

"I felt her," Seth exclaimed eagerly as he ran off the porch and into the middle of the street. Seth excitedly spun in all directions, trying to catch a scent. My heart lurched painfully. I hadn't seen him this happy in years. In fact, I don't think Seth Clearwater had been this happy since he imprinted.

I was going to lose her again.

"You sure you didn't smoke anything before coming to work," I chuckled lightly. In his late teens, to battle his depression and anxiety, Seth had taken to smoking weed every day almost all day. It wasn't something we looked down upon, but the stuff messed with his wolf instincts and it had become detrimental to the pack.

"I haven't felt – it's her," Seth's eyes were bright. "It's her. I know it! I gotta go!"

"Seth, wait!"

I tried calling out to him as my younger pack mate ran across the street and burst through the tree line. I flinched as his wolf howled in the distance. I didn't bother locking up the house as I fumbled for my keys. Joy and Old Quil lived across the Rez. It wouldn't take me long to get there. But I had to get to her before Seth found her – before it was too late.

(May 2016 – Nova and Seth see each other for the first time since she left)

Kim Cameron – nee Connweller – laughed good-naturedly as we strolled down the beach. I had run into her at the museum in Seattle a month ago and we spent my lunch hour catching up. She'd married Jared Cameron – of Sam Uley's "gang" – three years ago and she was five months pregnant with their first child. She really seemed to have that pregnancy glow as she laughed when I brought up that I had once believed Sam Uley to be the leader of a secret La Push cult. She took it upon herself to explain that Sam had been helping those who were the most troubled as they transitioned from boys to men. I had had a hard time believe that someone as sweet and kind as my cousin Quil had become troubled. But he had stopped contact with me a few months after I had left, so who really knew. If Kim and Embry said they weren't a cult, I'd believe them.

Kim rubbed her belly as we stopped and watched the sun set against James Island, or, as our people called it, A-Ka-Lat. I closed my eyes and took in the sounds of my youth. The cries of the seagulls and gentle waves crashing were like a lullaby. The mix of the smells of the sea and forest instantly transported me to the days when Jake, Embry, Quil, and I would run around First Beach, playing soccer and diving into the freezing winter waters. I could admit that I missed those days. The squeals of a young teen brought me back to the present. I looked down the beach to see my cousin Quil chasing a girl who looked like the younger version of Sam's wife, Emily Uley.

"Come on," Kim nudged me. "I smell food and I'm eating for two now so baby wants those hot-dogs before the boys get them all."

I chuckled and followed Kim back to the bonfire she randomly invited me to. I felt a little awkward accepting her invite. She, Embry, and Quil were the only people in Sam Uley's group that I really reconnected with now that I was back in Washington. It had been two months since I had went to see Embry, Quil, Aunt Joy, and Grandpa Quil. I promised them I'd visit more, but work took up a lot of my time. I think Grandpa Quil was just happy that I was back in the state. He had mentioned once that I was needed here. I didn't see why, or how. But that was contemplation for another time. As we approached the bonfire, Quil stopped chasing the young girl and bounded towards me and Kim. His curls bounced and he had a gleeful smile on his face as he ran up to us.

"You're here," Quil shouted, opening his arms wide.

I shook my head furiously as he picked me up, spinning me around in a circle and setting me back on my feet like I weighed nothing. I was a 5-foot-4, 180 pound woman. I was not light. But my cousin managed to pick me up and swing me around without breaking a sweat or hurting himself. He was leaner than the other boys, but just as strong it seemed. Quil threw an arm around my shoulders and started jabbering on about their famous bonfires. I was starting to enjoy his jumbled story when a super tall person ran towards us with a sick expression on his face.

"Quil, what is she doing here," Embry asked hurriedly, stepping in front of me.

"I invited her, Embry Call," Kim narrowed her eyes at my old friend. "She happened to already be on the beach when I came upon her. Now move aside. We're all hungry!"

Embry stepped towards me with a hand outstretched. His hand engulfed my upper arm, warming my whole body. He turned me around and out of Quil's side-embrace. Quil looked annoyed. Embry started to pull me away from the two, "Well, it was nice to see you, but you need to go. You weren't invited."

"What the hell is wrong with you," I grunted as I tried to pull myself out of Embry's tightening grip.

"Dude," Quil growled, "you're going to hurt her. Let Nova go. You don't have a say in this, man."

I had a strange feeling Quil was talking about something completely different than my arm or crashing a bonfire. I heard Kim huff and mention something about getting Jared and she walked off as fast as she could towards the growing fire. Quil and Embry argued some more as I kept trying to pry his burning hand off my arm. But Embry kept a firm grip. Someone called out to my old friends. Embry's eyes widened in fear as Quil's expression softened.

"Let go," he said again. This time it sounded like he was pleading with Embry.

Embry's grip loosened but he kept me in his grasp. With his other hand, Embry clasped my chin, forcing me to look up into his warm brown eyes. His chest was heaving. I searched his eyes for some kind of answer before he said, "I need you to choose."

"I don't understand…"

A silky smooth voice called Embry and Quil's names again, making my head start to turn in the same direction. I knew that voice. Embry softly tugged my chin and focus back on him. The voice gave way to the sound of squishing sand. Were they running? The heat of Embry's body warmed me in a way I wasn't sure I wanted. Was this the same boy I had been in love with as a child? The same boy who, at the tender age of 16, told me he didn't want to be my friend and ditched me for Sam Uley, breaking my heart in the process? From the coldness I once experienced, all I could see now was warmth and devotion. Love.

"I love you."

"I –"

"Seth! Don't!"

Quil's voice surprised me. Embry's grip had relaxed enough that I was able to tear myself away from him. I turned around to a sight that stopped my heart. Standing not even two feet away was Seth Clearwater. He was standing tall – a few inches shorter than Embry – but tall. His fists were clenched at his sides; every muscle in his body seemed tense – on edge. I drank in his strong russet legs, those muscular arms with the same tribal tattoo as the other members of Sam Uley's gang, his slight dimpled chin, the thin upper lip with the plump lower lip, those sharp Quileute cheekbones, and his black hair thrown into a messy manbun. And there was a fire in his dark brown – almost black – eyes. I thought, if I could only have one more thing in this world before I died, it would be to be consumed in that fire.

I was suddenly 16 again and feeling like I was staring at Seth Clearwater for the first time. The emptiness I had felt for the last ten years melted away just as the fire in Seth eyes had as he stared right back at me. I felt light – as if he was all I needed to be happy. I was filled with adoration for Seth Clearwater; the same adoration I had felt moments before it had been ripped away from me. His voice as he whispered my name was like the sweetest honey – the most beautiful overture to a love story what was just beginning – the sound of gulls crying and waves crashing – he sounded like home.

"Seth…"

My feet had moved me right in front of him. My hands were shaking. I was so scared that he wasn't real; that I was hallucinating. I had seen him in my dreams so often, that I couldn't comprehend reality. I looked up at Seth and a small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth; one side higher than the other. I was so close to him that I could see a small smattering of freckles across his nose. Those were something I had never noticed before. I brought a shaking hand up to cup his cheek. Seth's eyes fluttered shut. I could see the water from the tears he was holding back. Seth turned his face down so that his warm lips were touching my palm. He breathed in deeply through his nose.

"Nova."

Embry's voice shook as he called out to me. Seth's eyes flew open; the fire raging once again. His nostrils flared and his lips curled maliciously and his almost black eyes flicked behind me. I could feel him shaking.

"Nova! Step away from Seth," a new and deeper voice called out to me. Sam Uley had a hand outstretched to me but was carefully watching Seth.

"Seth…" I whispered again, sliding my palm from Seth's cheek and around to the back of his neck.

Seth's dark eyes flicked back to mine. There was pain in them. All I wanted was to take away that pain. "You never came back to me," Seth whispered softly.

"Nova. Please."

Embry had taken a few steps forward. His pleading had twisted my heart.

A/N: To be continued? I'll keep this up until mid to late August where I'll decide my next step with this story. Thank you!