“Um, Bella? You've got a huge cut on your forehead, and it's gushing blood," he informed me. I clapped my hand over my head. Sure enough, it was wet and sticky. I could smell nothing but the damp moss on my face, and that held off the nausea.Oh, I'm so sorry, Jacob." I pushed hard against the gash, as if I could force the blood back inside my head.Why are you apologizing for bleeding?" he wondered as he wrapped a long arm around my waist and and pulled me to my feet.”

“Finally, he pushed back the chair and exhaled."He's alive," I said. "Your dad's alive."He loooked up at me and, I couldn't help it-- I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him. Then I realized what I was doing. I let go, backing away, tripping over my feet, stammering. "I-I'm sorry. I'm just--I'm happy for you.""I know."Still sitting, he reached out and pulled me toward him. We stayed there, looking at each other, his hand still wrapped around my shirt hem, my heart hammering so hard I wash sure he could hear it."There's more," I said after a few seconds. "More emails, Tori said."He nodded and swiveled back to the computer, making room for me. When I inched closer, not wanting to intrude, he tugged me in front of him and I stumbled, half falling onto his lap. I tried to scramble up, cheeks burning, but he pulled me down onto his knee, one arm going around my waist, tentative, as if to say Is this okay? It was, even if my blood pounded in my ears so hard I couldn't think.”

“Jacob caught my arm with a shivering hand. "Please, Bella. I'm begging."His dark eyes were glistening with tears. A lump filled my throat."Jake, I have to―""You don't, though. You really don't. You could stay here with me. You could stay alive. For Charlie. For me."The engine of Carlisle's Mercedes purred; the rhythm of the thrumming spiked when Alice revved it impatiently.I shook my head, tears spattering from my eyes with the sharp motion. I pulled my arm free, and he didn't fight me."Don't die Bella," he choked out. "Don't go. Don't."What if I never saw him again?The thought pushed me past the silent tears; a sob broke out from my chest. I threw my arms around his waist and hugged for one too-short moment, burying my tear-wet face against his chest. He put his big hand on the back of my hair, as if to hold me here."Bye, Jake." I pulled his hand from my hair, and kissed his palm. I couldn't bear to look at his face. "Sorry," I whispered.”

“Still sitting, he reached out and pulled me toward him. We stayed there, looking at each other, his hand still wrapped in my shirt hem, my heart hammering so hard I was sure he could hear it.when I inched closer, not wanting to intrude, he tugged me in front of him and I stumbled, half falling onto his lap. I tried to scramble up, cheeks burning, but he pulled me down onto his knee, one army going around my waist, tentative, as if to say Is this okay? It was, even if my blood pounded in my ears so hard I couldn't think.”

“You okay now ?" he asked."Okay."He tightened his arms and lifted me off my feet. "Mercy?" he growled into my ear. I wrapped my legs around his waist. " Yeah" , I said. "Me too.”

“I stopped walking and wrapped my arms tightly around him. "You know I can hear your heart.""Could you hear it breaking when I accused you of getting my cartoon pulled?" he asked.I held my head back so I could look him directly in the eye. "I didn't pull it.""You couldn't have," he replied, "because I did.”