I uploaded this a while back, and then I realized it never took, I am SO sorry about that!

I gave it a quick read-through but didn't have time for a full-on edit, so I apologize now for any spelling/grammar mistakes.

I hope you enjoy it anyway, and reviews are always appreciated!

Leah's POV:

It was raining.

Hard and fast, like an ice-cold shower you just stepped into. Everywhere you looked, there was that tell-tale mist that promised hours and hours of precipitation. I had just gotten home from school and was sitting in the kitchen, doing my literature homework, trying to tune out Seth and his friends in the other room.

Graduation was a month away. A month, and then I would move out, to Seattle with Sam. We'd been planning it for ages. At first I'd insisted that we should just stay in La Push and I could attend the community college thirty minutes away, that way Sam could keep his job. But Sam knew my dreams, and a part of me thought it would have killed him more than me if I'd given them up. Washington State had sent me my acceptance letter a few months ago, and he'd immediately started looking for apartments near camping, insisting there were plenty more job opportunities for him in Seattle than there were in La Push. And despite the weirdness with Sam lately, the disappearance a few weeks ago that had nearly killed me, the distance he was putting between us and the time apart, I knew – just knew – nothing would change. It was us, after all.

I didn't hear the first knock at the door because of the rain. When the pounding became more insistent, Seth called out, "Leah, door!"

I checked the digital clock on the microwave. Quarter to five. More than likely, Mom was home from the grocery store and had forgotten her keys, which was something she was doing more and more often lately. I put down my pencil and crossed the room to open the door for her, and then let out a pathetic little, "Oh."

Sam was looking down at me, his face impassive, almost like he was hidden in the shadows, even though he wasn't. His hair was shorter, and he might have been even taller than the last time I'd seen him. It had been so long since I'd seen him. Longer than I'd realized.

He was on edge, everything he did careful and choppy, like he was afraid of something. "Can I—come in?" he asked, motioning inside. I noticed that his hands were shaking.

"Yeah." I closed the door behind him and started walking to the kitchen, knowing he would follow, because he always did. My friends jokingly called him my "little puppy dog", and maybe that was true, but it went both ways.

"Do you want anything to dr—"

He was talking before I could get the sentence out. "Look, I don't know how to do this. Christ, I can't—I don't—" His eyes flew to mine, and as sad and pathetic as his words sounded, they were completely blank. So many times I'd comforted him. I thought about just two weeks before, that night he'd finally come home, the relief that had turned into single-minded fear when he wouldn't tell me anything. Even then, I'd tried to make it better. Make it okay for him. But now, I couldn't. I was afraid, I realized – afraid of Sam.

Or maybe the look in his eyes. I'd always loved his eyes – deep and expressive, the kind of eyes that gave away emotions. When he looked at me, I'd always been able to find love within their depths.

Now, I couldn't find anything.

"I don't know how to do this, Leah," he finally choked out.

"Do what?" I demanded, my voice hoarse and panicky.

"I don't want to hurt you – I never wanted to hurt you," he said. It was almost to himself. "But I – something – something happened and – "

I took a step back from him, fear rising in every inch of me. "What are you talking about, Sam?"

He started pacing, his hands shoved deep in his pocket, his eyes squeezed shut. I felt like something was going to burst within him. For a long time, he just walked back and forth in my kitchen, not talking or looking at me, and then finally he burst out, "There are some things you don't understand, okay?"

Tears I didn't know had formed started to fall from my eyes. "Then explain them to me," I whispered.

"I can't tell you and I can't – shit, I can't do this anymore."

I had a horrible feeling he wasn't talking about just the conversation.

"Just tell me," I said softly, and took a step toward him. He was frozen in place, staring at me, and for a second I thought for sure he was softening. I took a few more steps until I could reach a hand up to touch his cheek. His skin was stretched taut over his strong jaw, and it felt rougher than before. "I can help you, you know I can. Whatever it is, we'll fix it together, okay? Like always."

For a while, he looked at me, and then he stepped away.

"I'm sorry" was all he said.

"I don't care if you're sorry!" I finally cried out, because I was sobbing and I hated crying and I just wanted him to hold me, but Goddammit, it was clear he wasn't going to. "Tell me what's the matter and I'll fix it, okay? You're scaring me!"

I didn't realize I'd screamed it, but apparently I had and that was enough to get Seth and his curious friends to peek through the doorway.

"Go away!" I yelled at them, and two of them scurried away, while Seth and another remained behind, watching me intently. "Seth, get the hell out of here!"

"What's the matter?" he asked, and for being thirteen, he sounded almost touchingly concerned.

"Nothing," I said, and my voice was a little nicer. "I just need some privacy, okay? Please."

Seth tugged on his friends sleeve and then they disappeared into the hallway.

Sam took this opportunity to start ignoring me again, and before I knew it, he was pacing again.

"I can't do it anymore, Leah," he said after an appallingly long time. "This…we…I can't."

That was what set me off.

"Oh, you can't do it, can you?!" I screamed. "You stupid son of a bitch! Are you the one who had to lose your mind for a week after your goddamn, good-for-nothing boyfriend decided to take off in the middle of the night and then suffered for even longer because he wouldn't tell you where the hell he went! Are you the one who is being totally ignored by the person you promised you'd spend the rest of your life with?!"

He just stared at me, letting me continue. I realized much later that maybe this was Sam's one last favor to me.

"I haven't stopped worrying about you for the last month, and you won't tell me anything, and I'm losing my mind! And now you're telling me you can't do it anymore? If you leave now, I swear to God, I'll never forgive you." I was shaking, literally shaking, as I realized how much he'd hurt me.

"I can't keep my promises," he said quietly. "I'm sorry, but I can't."

"And you're not going to tell me why? You asshole, you don't even have the nerve to say it to my face?" My face was streaked with tears, and I realized I was no longer crying – I was too mad.

"I can't tell you why!" he finally yelled, the first time he'd raised his voice. He closed his eyes roughly and took several seconds before continuing. "I wish I could."

It took me a long time to reply. I tried to separate my thoughts and emotions so I could tell him how I really felt, and it wasn't easy.

"But I gave you everything," I whispered.

"I wish I could have kept it," he said. "I wish I could give it back to you now and I wish you weren't crying and I wish I hadn't done this to you. Shit, Leah, you ever felt like your hurting everyone you care about and there's nothing you can do about it?"

"Yeah." It was out of my mouth before I could help it, and then I felt a surge of annoyance at myself for agreeing with him.

He looked at me in surprise. "I really am sorry, Leah."

"That isn't enough," I insisted. "This can't be it. You love me. I love you. We're moving in together! You proposed, Sam!"

"You didn't accept," he reminded me.

"I didn't not accept! I said we should wait until we were older and got jobs and – we had an agreement! You bought me a ring and I gave you my word that I would marry you someday and, fuck you, you can't just take that all back now."

"I have to!"

"You don't have to do anything, you liar!"

"You don't understand!"

"You're right, I don't understand, because you won't tell me anything, and I hate you for that, Sam, I truly do."

"It just can't work."

"It can't work because you don't want it to anymore and for the life of me, I don't know why!" I took a deep breath. "You said you'd always love me. Remember? You said – "

"I know what I said," he said, his voice rough and hurt.

That made me want to say more. He looked so helpless, and I liked that he was helpless. I didn't feel very kind or generous at the moment.

"You said that once I graduated, we'd move to Seattle together and you'd prepare the biggest, best dinner for me and you'd get down on one knee and propose. You said you'd wear a tux for me, even though you hate them and would never do it for anyone else, and no matter how much you hate rings, you'd wear that damn wedding band for the rest of your life, because you knew it meant that I was your wife. You said we'd have kids, and you said you hoped for a daughter that would look just like me, and you'd protect her from all the bad stuff, just like you do for me. You said you'd love me more and more everyday and that you'd never stop!" The words flew from my mouth easily; it didn't take much to recall the promises that Sam had made to me. They were always right on the top of my mind.

"And now," I whispered, placing my hands on the counter to balance myself, "you're saying you don't love me at all?"

"I can't anymore," he said.

The pain that ripped through me then was unbearable and I doubled over in sobs that wouldn't calm down. I don't know what I'd expected Sam to say, but it wasn't that. He didn't love me. He'd just said he didn't love me. I clutched my waist desperately and wondered how I hadn't collapsed yet.

"Get OUT!" I screamed through the tears.

Sam stood there for a moment, his face unreadable, and he made a move almost as if to come to me before turning around and leaving through the front door. It took me a second to stand up and walk through the hallway, but he was already halfway out the door.

"I can't believe I gave you my virginity, you fucking bastard!" I shouted after him, and then somehow my legs found the floor and I was sprawled out, completely limp.

"Leah, honey?" My dad's voice was so close so fast that I knew he must have heard my last words, but I didn't care. He picked me up in his arms like a doll and cradled me for a long time, murmuring shh sweet baby girl it's okay it's okay in my ears until my sobs subsided some.

"I love you, Leah," Daddy said, and for the first time in my entire life, I wondered if those words meant anything at all.

That night, I called Emily for comfort.

It was the last time I ever did.

A Year Later.

A part of me understood Roger's anger.

His and mine was not a relationship of conversations or mutual respect; we were fuck buddies, and even I knew that. So the fact that I was holding back on him threw our entire system off dangerously off balance. After a straight week of me denying his constant request for sex, I knew the end was inevitable at this point.

I just didn't think it would be this…dramatic.

"I've had enough of this," he said. I could never get over how much his voice bothered me. It was the voice of a smoker, and when he kissed me, he tasted like cigarettes and cinnamon breath mints, two things I hated even when they weren't mixed.

He slammed open his car door, which surprised me, because I knew how much he loved his car. Sometimes he was lazy and forgot to shave for a while, and today was one of those days. His face was scruffy, but even so I could see the flush work it's way from his chin to his hairline.

I followed him out of the car, hoping that maybe I could sidetrack him and get a decent breakup conversation in, but before I could even open my mouth, Roger's hand was over my head, his body looming over mine threateningly, and I was pushed up against the side of his car.

A sense of fear rose in my stomach. "Stop it," I warned him, because I had no idea what he was going to do or what he was capable of. That was the thing – I didn't really know Roger at all.

"You are such a fucking tease," he spat at me, and his hand moved to grip my waist tightly.

I sucked in a breath. I'd never seen Roger angry; I'd never given him a reason to be angry. I certainly didn't think he was the kind of guy to rape someone, but then again, what did I know? Some of his friends weren't above such things. What made me think he was any different?

In a second, my mind became unattached to my body. I gave up. I quit. I didn't care what he did, because no one gave a shit anyway, and if someone had then I wouldn't be in this situation anyway.

And then Roger's weight was gone, and an inhuman sound echoed in the air, and a huge form was suddenly pummeling Roger's face into the cement. I couldn't breathe, not because of the shock or the confusion, but because I couldn't believe I'd just been about to let what Roger was doing happen. A feeling of shame trickled down my spine, and I shuddered.

Then I remembered what was happening.

Oh.

Roger was being trampled by someone who was much bigger than him, someone with russet skin and huge muscles and dark, silky black hair. And in that moment, all I could think was Sam.

He'd saved me.

Of course he had.

But it wasn't Sam. I knew his form too well, and the person who was beating Roger was a little less tall, a little less big, and a little too mad. It took me a second, but finally I got a close enough look at his face to see who it was.

"Embry?" I cried out, but he didn't hear me, he was so intent on beating Roger into the ground. There was blood everywhere; it covered Roger's face and Embry's fists.

He was going to kill Roger.

And, I realized, I didn't really want Embry Call to go to jail, at least not because of me.

"Embry, stop!" I yelled, hurrying forward. He either didn't hear me or was choosing to openly ignore my request.

"Does it make you feel good?" he was hissing at Roger. "Does it make you feel good to hurt someone half your fucking size? I swear to God, I'm going to rip off your face and make you – "

"Stop it. Stop it!" I put a hand on Embry's shoulder and tried to pull him back. His strength surprised me, though – considering the way his muscles stuck out even from his T-shirt – it probably shouldn't have. "Embry, you have to stop! Please!"

For a second, he froze. It was like the calm before the storm. He was shaking, his face a mask of pure rage, but he was completely silent as he stood up and moved away from Roger. I realized too late that he was coming towards me, and his face was changing. Suddenly it was full of concern and something else I couldn't quite pinpoint, but I'd seen it before in his expressions.

"Did he hurt you?" he said, and his voice was so hoarse.

I realized then that there a long streak of blood from his ear all the way to his jaw. Before I thought about, before I said anything, I reached out and touched it with my palm.

His eyes flew to mine searchingly, and he relaxed slightly.

"Are you…okay?" I asked, my voice cracking.

Embry looked confused, and then he laughed a choking laugh, strangled with anxiety and anger. "Shit, forget about me. What did he do to you? I heard him…say…but he didn't…"

"He didn't do anything to me," I said. I was unable to keep out the tinge of annoyance from my voice, that same feeling that I got every time someone doubted my ability to defend myself.

"I'll kill him," Embry offered, only it was more like a demand. "I want to."

Just like that, I was reminded of my situation, the fact that my boyfriend – well, ex-boyfriend now, I guess – was bleeding on the ground below me. I doubted Roger was going to face any serious problems besides maybe a slight facial disfigurement, but for the life of me, I couldn't bring myself to care.

"We should probably move him," I said. "Get him out of here, you know. Maybe to the hospital or something…"

"I'll cover it," Embry grunted. He pulled out a cell phone that looked sleek and tiny in his hands and was saying something into the phone I could barely here.

"Yeah…at the Clearwater's…dunno, you come and see and decide for yourself, I'm not going to do shit…No, no, don't bring him, come by yourself…yeah, thanks, man. Bye."

I stared at him, waiting for an explanation.

"Jared's going to come get him," Embry told me. "He'll see if he's hurt enough to go to the hospital, or maybe just dump him in the woods…" He sounded hopeful at this last idea.

"What were you doing here?" I asked, not because I was particularly interested but because I didn't know what else to say.

"I was…walking by and I heard him," Embry said, blushing. Maybe he was embarrassed at having walked in on that. Maybe he was lying.

"Yeah, well," I said in that awkward way I have when I don't know how to fill a moment. "Thanks, I guess."

He just looked at me for a really long time, his expression unreadable. There was something about Embry that was really open, completely different from Sam, despite the fact that they were apparently good buddies now. To me, Embry seemed like the anti-Sam, happy and carefree to Sam's sullenness and mysterious "responsibilities."

If my mother were here, she would insist that Embry be ushered inside and offered a warm meal. Of course, I wasn't my mother, and she was mostly likely inside asleep at the moment, but I had the most peculiar urge to do something nice for Embry. Not peculiar that I should feel grateful after what he'd done for me – that went without saying. But peculiar because it had been a long, long time since I'd done anything nice for anyone.

"Do you want to come inside or something?" I asked, blowing out a breath through pursed lips.

"Sure." Embry's response was immediate and enthusiastic.

I took him up to my room and snapped the door shut, hoping that it wouldn't give him any ideas about my intentions. Embry was too sweet for that, I thought, not like the other men I knew lately. Normally the living room would have been preferable, but I really didn't want to wake up my parents and have to face their annoyingly happy faces when they realized I was with Embry.

Lately, the amount of time they spent talking about him was exhausting. I don't know why, exactly, except maybe that they wanted me to move on with someone they approved of. It threw me off, because they'd never done that before, and it's always freaky having to listen to your father call a boy "perfectly charming and attractive."

I sat on my bed and Embry took the desk chair, and for a little bit we just looked at each other, neither of us making the move of speaking first.

"I could get you something to drink," I finally offered, eager to break the silence.

"I'm fine," Embry said.

"Okay then," I said, stumped. What did he expect me to do? I smiled at him, hoping say something, anything that might make this less uncomfortable.

"You have a great smile," he told me suddenly, looking up at me through those dark, hooded eyes. He really was handsome, in the most straight-forward and traditional way there was.

"Uh, thank you," I replied.

"You barely ever smile," he observed, about as tactful as a five-year-old.

"Well." After a few moments of thought I said, "I'm not one to waste a smile." It was true. I wasn't.

Embry smiled now, revealing a row of perfectly straight, white teeth. "No, you wouldn't be."

"Look, Embry…I know you're interested in me, or whatever, because to you I'm this dark and twisted soul with an especially nice ass, but it won't ever work between us. I just think you should know that."

I wasn't expecting his reaction, the twisting in his face that was almost angry. "I'm not interested in you because I think your dark and twisted, or because you have a great ass. I'm not like that, Leah."

"Then why are you interested? Sam's leftovers look appealing all of a sudden? I bet he talks about me to you, about how I was an easy fu—"

"It's not like that!" Embry interrupted. "Sam doesn't talk that way about you, you know."

"No, I don't know," I snapped. "Sam hasn't spoken to me in quite a while."

"Maybe…" he trailed off, looking away from me, examining some pictures on my bulletin board.

"Maybe what?" I asked.

"Maybe you should just let him go," he said. His eyes met mine again, and there was pity in them, pity that I couldn't bear to look at.

"Don't act like you know what Sam and I had!" I almost shouted, flushing an angry red. "You don't know anything."

Embry looked so ashamed of himself that, despite everything, I found myself wanting to give him a hug. "I only meant that you could be happy again…if you let yourself be."

"I am happy," I said, my voice completely lacking conviction.

"Happy with someone like Roger? Someone who's just using you for…sex? You're better than that, Leah, so much better," said Embry adamantly.

"You don't even know me," I said.

"Because you won't let me know you!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air like this was an ongoing source of exasperation for him.

"Fine. Fine! You want to know me? Be my guest. But I have to warn you, Embry, that I'm not nice, and I'm not pretty, and if you get involved then you're going to wish that you'd stuck with the nice little girls in your Chem class. You're only going to be disappointed."

He muttered something under his breath that sounded like "That's what you think" and then grinned. "I'm stronger than you think."

I checked out his biceps, thinking that if he was like all the other guys I knew he'd start flexing right then to prove his point. But he didn't.

"I'm sure you think you're very strong," I said anyway. "And I bet you think I'm going to fall at your feet eventually, because, what? You're so handsome and charming and sweet?"

His grin grew wider. "Maybe you will."

I rolled my eyes. "I wouldn't bet on it."

Embry leaned forward, his face taking on a mischievous smile as he said, "Well, you might have noticed that you're up here with me, and not the boyfriend you came home with. Doesn't that say something?"

"No!" I informed him, feeling stupid, because when he put it like that it sounded like he was already working his magic on me.

"If I can get this far in a night, then I'd estimate that in a week I'll have you sharing all your deepest, darkest secrets and—"

"And what?" I demanded incredulously. "And talking about my hopes and dreams under the stars with you?"

He smirked. "Maybe not that…"

"I gave you permission to get to know me," I pointed out. "Not once did I say you could make any type of move on me, whether that be for a friendship or sex."

Embry nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, then."

I raised my eyebrows. "Really? It was that easy?"

At that he just grinned, that wide toothy grin that was soon to become a constant presence in my life, and shrugged. "Well, to be honest, if I'm going to make a move on you…I probably won't ask your permission."

This chapter was almost impossible to get out, because no matter which point of view I tried it in it never seemed to work. I'm not really thrilled with the way it turned out, and it doesn't end the way I originally planned, because I have a hard time imagining Leah just "letting" Embry into her life.

Also, I'm having a bit of a writer's block problem with this story, so I really would appreciate any ideas from you guys! I'm always happy to please, and I'd like to know what would make you happy.