He scrutinized her in the dark, only a shaft of moonlight washing, cold, over her pale body. It dipped in through the curtains, curving across the mattress and sheets. It was a winter moon, despite the fact that it rose in the middle of summer. The room was almost too warm with minimal effort exerted on behalf of the air conditioning. The window unit buzzed grumpily in the living room, and the sound carried. It sifted through the house like a stale breeze.

The sheet wrapped around his leg was damp from the lingering sweat of sex. It pressed against his skin like a clammy hand. Jacob tried to maneuver his leg free without jostling the bed, but the smallest movement made Bella pout in her sleep, so he conceded himself to the bind, and he watched her sleep.

Because he couldn't.

Maybe, once upon a time, he would have believed that it was all he needed, but he couldn't continue to convince himself. In the dead of night, he was the one lying awake, staring at the arm that somehow never remained tucked underneath the covers. It rested upright, and he could see the crescent moon scar of raised skin. He didn't know who had marked her, but it didn't matter. The scar always brought his thoughts to one person, and the horrible idea that, if Edward had come back, Bella would not be sharing his bed.

Jacob was just the filler, crudely occupying the cracks, trying—and failing—to be enough. He couldn't stretch himself far enough to be convincing, even if he rarely saw the vampire in Bella's eyes anymore, in the way that she would sometimes take a step away. She'd stopped looking over her shoulder, second-guessing herself.

And he had picked up all of her nervous habits as his own.

It was a miserable way to live, barely surviving, but he'd turned himself into a crutch, and he was so heavily leaning on the identity that he didn't know how to begin to break free. If he pulled away from Bella, it would break her. He couldn't break her like Edward had, because he loved her, and nothing could ever free him from that.

He would remain here, forever, to accept and return whatever love she had left to give, even if it was barely lukewarm affection. He would be her second place trophy, the guy that helped her survive when the other had left her for dead.

And he would lead a second, secret life in order to keep existing—to ingest the fuel that it would take to keep being there for Bella Swan. A little taste of freedom to smooth over the lifelong servitude he'd pledged himself too.

Because all Bella had to do was tell him that she loved him, and he would bow to that single emotion that he had always needed from her.

Bella breathed lightly in her sleep. He could barely make out the rise and fall of her chest. In moments of weakness, he would place his head there, above her heart, and he'd listen to it beating, and he'd remind himself why he was doing this: pretending that they could have been meant to be together. He was keeping her alive, and that was all that mattered.

She inhaled, sighing, and rolled away from him, onto her side—pulling the covers as she went, looping them around her naked waist. The movement unraveled the binding around his leg, and Jacob felt a scarce moment of freedom, which he seized by sliding off the bed, landing lightly on his feet.

He'd learned how to move quietly through his house. The floors weren't aged enough to creak and groan with his weight, but he kept to the same tracks, each night trailing through the house like a ghost across the navy carpet of his bedroom and onto the white carpet that led down the hall to the living room. Jacob knew where the coffee table was in the dark, where the lamp stood next to the bookshelf, and how many steps it took to get safely around the couch without any stubbed toes.

But he didn't have to do any of it blind, because the kitchen light had been left on. It drew him to the linoleum floors—cold against the pads of his feet—where he switched off the light, dragging a blanket around his waist that he had grabbed off the back of the couch.

He tucked the corner under the length around his waist, so that it would hold itself in place while he rummaged through the fridge for a snack that he didn't really want, needing something to fill his anxious hands. Bella was still on them.

"Fuck." He wiped them on his chest, though Bella was there too.

She was everywhere in his house, on his hands, in his head.

Jacob froze as he reached for the door to the refrigerator, his eyes drawn to a dot of light left in the darkness—a glowing ember on the other side of the glass sliding door that led from the kitchen onto a back porch. His thoughts scattered as he stared at the light, half a notion that Edward Cullen was on his porch.

Not quite.

He listened to the house before he made any move toward the door, worried that Bella had woken, though he hadn't made a sound. The only noise came from the air conditioner, and it followed him out onto the porch until he slid the door shut behind him.

It was just crickets after that, just the sound of lips closing and parting over a cigarette—breathing in and exhaling smoke. The clouds of smoke wafted away as he fanned them with his hand.

"Why do you do that?"

Leah Clearwater smiled. "Because I'm miserable."

The moonlight reflected differently against her. It cast shadows that blended seamlessly with her black hair—shadows that crawled toward her eyes. The irises gleamed only when she turned her head to blow smoke into the yard, turning black again when she faced him. Her shirt consisted of straps that tapered down from her shoulders and formed a cylinder of loose cloth around her breasts and stomach. He thought it might have been pale yellow, but the color was lost in the dark.

She tapped the ash, letting it fall freely.

"I'm surprised you don't smoke," she said.

He felt the weight of the house against him, as if the walls were leaning on his back. The burden of the girl sleeping inside was almost unbearable. He stared at Leah, seeing glimpses of freedom when she turned to blow smoke. The material of her shirt twisted with her, and he saw the smooth shapes of her body, feeling something he hadn't felt when he'd been entwined with Bella.

He decided to change the subject. "What are you doing here?"

Their meetings were usually scheduled, more secluded. His house was sitting on a far point of the La Push reservation, deep enough to be densely surrounded by tall, soldier-like trees. He seldom heard the sound of cars or life outside of the forest, but it wasn't the place to meet Leah still, because Bella was inside.

Leah was staring at the blanket wrapped around his waist, her cigarette suspended between two fingers, momentarily forgotten. Her face was in the shadows again, so he couldn't read it, but it seemed like it took a long time for her gaze to lift back to his. He felt naked but wasn't bothered by the sensation that Leah was imagining him so.

"I came to tell you that I'm leaving."

Maybe he had been expecting this to happen for awhile—for Leah to detach herself from their no-strings commitment. She had said that she needed the escape too, but it wasn't an escape. The chain that connected him to Bella had quickly snapped around her ankle too. Leah felt as trapped as he did, and, unlike him, she didn't have motivation to stick around. She couldn't understand what he would sacrifice to keep Bella safe and happy.

But he felt the pain of her rejection tearing deep—invisible to the naked eye as it worked its internal damage, and he refused to show it. If Leah wanted freedom, who was he to stop her? But he wanted to. The feel of her skin was as real to him as Bella's, as present on his hands as anything else. It was the taste of her lips that he remembered most.

Chocolate cake had been on her tongue the last time they'd met, sweet with icing from the flower she'd scooped off the top. Sue's birthday party had been an excuse to see her. Sue's bathroom had been a risky place to meet for a fleeting kiss.

He couldn't pinpoint exactly when it had started with Leah. Maybe a year after Edward left. Maybe a year and a half—after Sam and Emily's wedding, a moment when she had seemed so vulnerable and exposed that he'd been drawn to her, feeling as if he knew what she must be going through as real as if Edward and Bella had been getting married.

She'd asked him about Bella, and he'd kissed her behind the shrubs at the church. It was the craziest thing he'd ever done—kissing Leah. She'd never even hinted at the idea that she might have wanted him to. If anything, it had always been an effort to even be polite with Leah.

But when he'd kissed her, she'd kissed him back, and it hadn't been a peck.

It'd escalated from there into secret meetings. She'd known about his relationship with Bella, said she understood. It didn't seem to be the case anymore.

"Where are you going?"

She lifted a shoulder, and the strap of her shirt slid down. He leaned forward, pushing the strap gently back into place, touching her skin.

"I don't know. Farther than Seattle. Somewhere you can't just drive to without packing some clothes."

Jacob wanted to ask her if she was leaving to get away from him. Why else could she need to leave? He liked to think that it didn't have to do with Sam. As strange as it was, it would have made him feel worse. If she left because of him, she had feelings for him.

He ran a hand through his hair. "Why?"

Leah snorted, cocking a brow. "Don't you know? Tell me you don't want to do the same."

Inside the house, Bella was sleeping—possibly dreaming about Edward, not him. He would always live with the apprehension. He'd seen the way that his absence had destroyed her. It'd been incredibly difficult to build her back up again, but it was likely that she was still on a shaky foundation. One wrong move, and he could send her crumbling. Whatever he felt for Leah, he knew that he loved Bella. He always had, hadn't he? It wasn't as easy for him to leave. He couldn't just cut and go.

"It's not that easy."

Leah took a drag from her cigarette.

"It is, actually," she said, "and, once I go, I'm going to kick this habit you so disapprove of. Everything will be better outside of La Push."

She gestured to her cigarette, flicking away what was left. Jacob watched it flip through the air, landing a few feet away in the grass. He wanted to tell her not to go—or to take him with her. But he couldn't risk everything for something that wasn't a sure thing. He didn't know what was between them.

But he wanted to fucking touch her more than he could explain. One kiss behind the church, and he was toast. It shouldn't have happened. He shouldn't have risked his sanity further. He was barely functioning as it was. He was a shitty excuse for an alpha, hardly capable of being human.

"Good luck then, I guess."

Leah pursed her lips. "That's it?"

"What else is there?"

"You know…stuff. A going away present."

Her hand was between him and the blanket. He felt her fingers curl beneath his belly button. She tugged, and the blanket slid away, leaving him bare ass naked on his back porch.

"Damn it," he said.

The air outside was warm, but her hand felt unnaturally cool as it closed around him, pulling him hard without much effort. His attraction to her was ridiculous. If she hadn't touched him, it wouldn't have mattered. He slid his hands underneath her shirt, cupping her bare breasts. When she moaned, he thought of Bella inside.

They were standing directly in front of the door. His hands slid away.

"Leah…"

"Yeah I know." She dropped her hand. "Bella's."

He wanted to lean into her. He closed his eyes, waiting for the need to subside. They had kissed, touched, but never sex. He couldn't commit like that. What he and Bella had was classified as a relationship. They were together. He didn't know what that made things between him and Leah, except probably wrong.

He felt her mouth press against his, and he didn't open his eyes as her tongue parted his lips.

One more kiss, and then it was over.

"See ya, Jake."

()()()()()

The sheets were still warm. He'd spent less than ten minutes telling Leah goodbye, and now she was in her car, driving to who knew where, escaping. And he was stuck in La Push, bound to the ghosts of his past.

He didn't realize how much he'd miss her until he'd gone back to bed, spread himself out next to Bella. She'd turned into him, her head falling into the crook of his arm. She'd sighed in her sleep, looking extremely contented while he felt his heart leaving in a car on a darkened road.

Was it his heart or his dick?

No denying he wanted Leah physically, but Bella was…

"Jake?"

He remained still as Bella lifted her head, peering down at him sleepily. Her brown hair fell into her face in tangled locks. She was beautiful. He lifted his hand, pressing her hair back. His thumb grazed her cheek.

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

He felt it carving into him, another scar.

"I love you too, Bells."

And he was bound again.

He shouldn't even be considering going after Leah. Not in a million years.