Perspicuous (J.HALE)

11

But I just stared at it. Stewing in the rising guilt bubbling in my stomach.

"Is it okay?" Jared asked, concerned.

"It's lovely," I whispered.

Silence followed.

"I'm really sorry," I burst out, lifting my eyes from my plate to look at them all. "I'm so dumb, and I was so nasty yesterday, I-

"It's fine, Im," Embry cut in.

"No, it's not," I said, shaking my head. "I was a dick. And I'm sorry."

"Emily told us about your mum," Jared said, expression strikingly serious.

I faltered.

"We don't hold a grudge," Quil said, shooting me a wink across the table. "Eat your food. It'll go cold."

"Or Jared will steal it," Embry murmured.

Jared looked offended.

My eyes settled on Paul's back as he scrubbed at the egg pan under the faucet. He hadn't said anything and barely looked at me, and it made me want to cry. I wasn't sure what it was about him that made me need his approval quite so much.

"So, you have a brother?" Jared asked as I bit into the toast.

"I do."

"What's he like?"

I chewed slowly and swallowed the mouthful. "A bit of a prick."

Quil snorted. "Runs in the family, then."

I kicked him under the table, a dry smile pulling on my lips.

"What's he done?"

I shrugged at Embry's question. "He just, sort of, disappeared a year or so ago. No communication whatsoever."

"Huh, he does sound like a prick," Quil mumbled.

Paul put the pan on the drying rack with a loud clang, before moving onto a stack of dirtied plates. I winced.

"Have you guys seen Meg this morning?"

"She left for work about half an hour ago."

My eyebrows flew up. "She went into work today?"

Embry nodded. "We made her breakfast and she said she had to run to her shift."

I frowned. "I thought she'd call in sick or something."

"Some people are practical grievers," Jared said softly.

"Mm," I hummed.

I chewed on a forkful of eggs and frowned at the table for a moment. In the light of day, having ingested food and water, I was finally aware of the state in which I'd left the kitchen. I hadn't cleaned anything up from the morning before, including the shards of ceramic from the cup I'd broken. I hadn't even unpacked the bag I'd taken to the Cullen house for the wedding.

"Have any of you heard from Jake?" My question was hesitant.

"Not directly," Embry said. "He's still in Washington, though."

I nodded. "Right. Werewolf voodoo mind-meld."

They all huffed in amusement, aside from Paul.

He dropped the dishcloth into the sink and dried his hands, before stalking across the kitchen toward the front door. The cool tone he'd begun the morning with had almost entirely disintegrated. The rest of them avoided my eyes or cleared their throats, and my stomach churned.

"I'll be right back," I mumbled, rising from my seat and following him out the door.

He headed toward the cliff path down to the beach. I was ill-prepared for the climate—large t-shirt and sweatpants lacking in the heat-retention I needed—but I folded my arms and gritted my teeth, the uneven, stone-scattered path unkind to my bare feet.

I waited until his pace had slowed to even think about calling after him. He reached the shingle of the beach and his shoulders gradually sank back down to their level of comfort. Eventually, he came to a halt a few metres away from the water, wiggling foam sneaking up the sand toward his feet. I stopped a little away from him, disturbing as many pebbles as possible so as to make him aware of my presence.

"We accepted your apology. You don't have to be here."

I pressed my lips together, nostrils stinging with the salt of the sea spray that washed over me in a gust of wind. "I get the distinct feeling you haven't quite forgiven me yet."

"That's different," he said.

"I understand that."

He stared out at the grey water, the waves rising and falling like the backs of stampeding wildebeest soaked in liquid graphite. "I tried really hard, you know?"

I grimaced. "I know."

"I didn't..." he trailed off, scrunching up his face. "I'm not good at friendships, but I tried really fucking hard for you, and it..." He bit down on his lower lip and dropped his gaze to his feet.

"I know," I said again, more softly.

"I'm being dramatic," he scoffed, shaking his head. "It's fine. You just lost your mum, and...really, it's fine. You can go back now."

I watched his face for a few moments, before taking a step toward him. He turned his face away from me as I approached, which stung a little, but I came to standstill at his side and turned back to look at the water. Birds swooped down toward the stained-glass surface, kicking up salted mist or dodging the peak of a wave just as it was about to break. The sky was equally as moody as the sea, but there was a hint of possibility in the brightness behind the heavy clouds.

Paul's arms slackened, hands falling limp at his sides. Heat from the back of his palm surged across the gap between us, curling around my curved fingers. After a few minutes of silence, I bumped into his hand with my own. Neither of us turned to look at the other, but his fingers laced through mine and we let out a collective breath.

I smiled.