(Mike)
The river looked calm.
That should have been my first warning.
The Sol Duc flowed wide and steady, water sliding over rocks with a deceptively gentle sound, like it was minding its own business. Mist clung low to the surface, the kind that soaked your jeans if you stood too close for too long. The sun was just high enough to throw weak light through the trees, turning the water into moving glass.
We spread out along the bank, rods in hand, lines cutting quiet arcs through the air.
Harry and Billy claimed a spot further downstream, already deep into an argument about bait choice. Charlie stayed closer to shore, methodical and quiet, like fishing was less about catching something and more about remembering how to breathe. Jacob stood a little behind him, arms crossed, watching the water with that alert stillness he always had.
And then there was Seth.
Seth, who had been vibrating with excitement since we parked.
"Okay," he said for maybe the tenth time, "but what if I catch something huge?"
I didn't even look at him. "Then don't let it pull you in."
He laughed like that was ridiculous. "I'm not that weak."
I glanced over just in time to see his line jerk hard.
Not a nibble.
Not a tug.
It was a violent, sudden yank that nearly ripped the rod out of his hands.
"Oh, oh!" Seth yelped, feet scrambling for traction as the rod bent sharply. "Mike! Mike, I got one!"
The water exploded.
A massive salmon broke the surface in a flash of silver, twisting violently before slamming back down. Seth let out a startled shout, digging his heels into the muddy bank.
"Don't yank!" I shouted. "Let it run!"
"I am letting it run!" he yelled back, voice already tipping toward panic.
The fish surged again, but Seth did not.
Instead, the river won.
His foot slipped, boots skidding uselessly over wet rock, and in the next second his balance vanished entirely. The rod went tight, his arms flew wide, but he didn't let the rod go even as he disappeared with a splash loud enough to make everyone turn at once.
"Seth!" Jacob shouted.
I was already moving.
I dropped my rod and launched forward, hitting the water hard. The cold slammed into me like a punch, I was so thankful for my higher temperature right now. The current was stronger than it looked, tugging at my legs immediately, trying to pull me downstream.
Seth surfaced a few feet away, coughing and sputtering, still clinging to the rod like his life depended on it.
"I still have it!" he yelled, somehow proud.
"Let go of the damn fish!" I shouted back, swimming toward him.
"No!"
Of course not.
Another surge from the line dragged him sideways, water rushing up over his chest. I grabbed the back of his jacket just as he went under again and hauled him upright.
"You're insane," I growled, planting my feet against the riverbed. "You know that, right?"
"But it's huge!" he said, eyes wide, soaked hair plastered to his forehead.
The salmon chose that moment to leap again, line slicing through the air, body thrashing violently before crashing back into the river. The force nearly tore the rod free.
Seth yelled something incoherent.
I swore.
Then I wrapped one arm around him, anchoring him against my side, and reached out with the other hand to grab the rod above his grip.
"Alright," I said through clenched teeth. "You want it? Then we do this together."
The river fought us every step of the way. The current shoved against my legs, water pounding into my thighs as I dug in. The fish pulled hard, powerful and relentless, every movement deliberate and strong.
To be honest, I could have easily ended this, but I didn't want to take it away from Seth.
"Reel when I say," I told him. "Not before."
"Okay!" he said, breathless.
The salmon surged.
"Now!"
He reeled. The rod flexed dangerously, but the line held. The fish twisted, thrashed, tried to bolt again, but we leaned into it together, weight and strength forcing it closer to shore inch by inch.
The shouting from the bank blurred into background noise.
All that mattered was the pull, the resistance, the steady give and take.
Finally, the fish got tired.
I felt it before I saw it, the strength fading just enough to matter. I hauled us toward the shallows, boots scraping rock, water dropping from waist-deep to knee-deep to ankle-deep.
Jacob was there instantly, net in hand.
"Now!" I barked.
The net plunged.
The salmon thrashed once, twice, then went still.
For a second, nobody spoke.
Then Seth looked down at the massive silver body flopping weakly in the net.
"We did it," he said, stunned.
I laughed, completely soaked, water dripping from my hair and jacket. "Yeah," I said. "You almost died, but sure. Totally worth it."
The bank erupted.
Harry whooped loud enough to echo off the trees. Billy laughed, clapping his hands together. Even Charlie shook his head, smiling despite himself.
Seth threw his arms up in victory, rod still in one hand. "Did you see that?!"
I dragged a hand down my face, cold finally sinking into my bones. "Next time," I said, "when I tell you not to get pulled in…"
"I'll try to get pulled in less," he finished, grinning.
I snorted.
The river flowed on like nothing had happened, calm and indifferent as ever.
But as I stood there dripping, heart still racing, I realized how happy I felt right now.
And maybe that meant we were finally doing something right.
…
(Bella)
I had not realized how long it had been since I had been nervous about something so normal.
Not vampires. Not abandonment. Not the constant weight in my chest that came and went without warning.
Just… people.
Leah's house smelled like coffee and something warm and sweet baking in the oven. The kind of smell that made you feel like sitting down before you even knew where the chairs were. Sue met me at the door with an easy smile, like she had known me much longer than five seconds.
"Bella, right?" she asked, already pulling me into a gentle hug before I could answer.
"Yes," I said, startled, then quickly added, "Hi."
She laughed softly and stepped back. "You're welcome here," she said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.
That alone made my throat tighten.
Leah hovered nearby, arms crossed, watching me like she was assessing structural damage. "She's not going to break," she told Sue. "I promise."
"I know," Sue said, amused. "But I still worry."
Emily arrived not long after.
I noticed her immediately. Not because of the scars, not at first, but because of how the room seemed to adjust around her. Like she carried warmth with her, the same way sunlight filled a space without asking permission.
She smiled when she saw me, wide and sincere. "You must be Bella."
I nodded, suddenly very aware of my hands. "Yeah. Hi."
She stepped closer, and that was when I saw them clearly.
The scars.
They traced across the right side of her face and down her arm, pale and uneven against her skin. I tried not to stare. I really did. I focused on her eyes, her smile, the way she tilted her head slightly like she was used to people hesitating around her.
But she noticed anyway.
"It's okay," she said gently. "You can look."
I froze. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"
"It's fine," she repeated, still smiling. "Most people do."
The room went quiet in that way that made my chest tighten. I swallowed and nodded, forcing myself to breathe.
"What happened?" I asked quietly, unsure if I should have.
Emily didn't hesitate. "A bear."
Sue snorted softly from the kitchen. "She says it like she tripped on the sidewalk."
Emily shrugged. "It was big."
She glanced at me, eyes thoughtful, then added casually, "They look awful, don't they?"
My mouth opened. Closed. Panic flared briefly as I searched for the least wrong answer in existence.
"No," I said finally, voice steadier than I felt. "They're… proof. That you survived."
Emily blinked.
Then her smile softened.
"I like that answer," she said.
Leah nodded once from the couch. "Told you she's not an idiot."
Sue brought out mugs of tea and set them down, shooing us all toward the table. "Sit," she ordered. "You can't bond properly standing around like nervous deer."
That earned a laugh from Emily and a small smile from me.
We talked.
About nothing important at first. School. Forks. How small the town felt when you had lived there long enough. Sue asked me about Charlie, and I told her he had been hovering more than usual, which made her nod knowingly.
"He does that," she said. "Men like him love quietly."
Leah rolled her eyes. "That's one way to put it."
Emily asked about books. I admitted I liked old ones, the kind that smelled like dust and ink. That somehow turned into a conversation about favorite places to read, which turned into Sue confessing she had once read half a romance novel in a grocery store because she could not wait until she got home.
"That explains a lot," Leah muttered.
I laughed before I could stop myself.
It surprised me. The sound felt strange, like using a muscle I had forgotten existed. Everyone noticed, but no one pointed it out. They just let it happen.
At one point, Emily leaned back and looked at me carefully. "You've been through a lot," she said, not asking.
I nodded. "Yeah."
She didn't push. Just nodded back, like that was enough.
And even after those words made me remember Edward, I did not feel like I was about to break.
I felt… held. Not physically. Something quieter. Like being in a room where no one expected anything from me except honesty.
It was honestly wonderful.
…