Chapter Text
For the first time in months, Bella felt like she could breathe again.
Forks was quiet, the kind of quiet she’d once hated but now found strangely soothing. The rain still fell every other day, the sky still wore its dull gray cloak—but something in her had shifted.
Jacob had a lot to do with that.
He made her laugh again, really laugh. He’d tease her endlessly, tugging on her ponytail or flashing that easy grin that seemed to melt the cold corners of her heart. Even after everything—the vampires, the secrets, the wolves—he was still just Jake. Her safe place.
They were sitting on the couch that night, the TV on but ignored. Jacob’s arm was draped along the back of the sofa, his fingers occasionally brushing her shoulder. Bella leaned into him, barefoot and relaxed, the scent of motor oil and pine clinging to his flannel.
Charlie was “out late,” as usual. Something about a call from the station. Nothing unusual for the chief of police. Bella had even rolled her eyes when he left, telling him not to drink too much coffee.
She didn’t know those would be the last words she ever said to him.
The phone rang. Once. Twice. A hollow sound that cut through their easy laughter. Bella frowned and reached for it.
“Hello?”
A pause. Then a voice—low, tight, official.
“Miss Swan… I’m so sorry to inform you…”
The words blurred after that. Heart attack. On duty. He didn’t make it.
Bella’s hand went numb. The phone slipped from her grasp, clattering onto the floor.
“Bells?” Jacob’s voice broke the silence, but she didn’t answer. Her eyes stared blankly at the floor, her lips trembling as the world around her dissolved into static.
“Bella?” He crouched in front of her, worry slicing through his face.
She shook her head. Once. Twice. Then a strangled sound left her throat—something between a sob and a gasp. “No… no, that’s not—he’s fine, he was just—”
Jacob picked up the phone, heard the quiet voice on the other end, and his jaw clenched. When he hung up, he pulled her into his arms.
Bella broke.
Her sobs came hard and fast, shaking her entire body. She clawed at his shirt, the fabric bunching in her fists as she buried her face in his chest. “He can’t be gone, Jake—he can’t—”
Jacob’s hand found the back of her head, fingers trembling as he held her close. “I know, Bells. I know.”
But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Because no one knew how to fix that kind of pain.
She couldn’t breathe. The room felt too small, too dark, too empty. Every memory of her father—his quiet smile at breakfast, his laugh when she burned dinner, the way he’d call her kiddo—came crashing down like waves, drowning her.
Jacob tried to steady her, but his own eyes glistened. He’d loved Charlie too—like the father he wished he’d had longer.
“Jake, what am I supposed to do?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “He’s all I had left.”
He pulled her closer until she was practically shaking in his lap, her tears soaking through his shirt. “You’ve got me,” he whispered, voice raw. “You’ll always have me.”
The clock ticked softly in the background. Rain began to fall outside, tapping against the window like a heartbeat.
Bella didn’t know how long she cried—minutes, hours. The world blurred. Her chest ached from sobbing, her throat raw, her mind a storm of disbelief and grief.
When her strength finally gave out, she stayed still, wrapped in Jacob’s arms. His warmth was the only thing keeping her from completely breaking apart.
She stared blankly at the wall, her voice barely a breath.
“He was supposed to walk me down the aisle one day…”
Jacob’s arms tightened around her. “He still will, Bells,” he said softly. “He’ll always be with you. Just… not the way we wanted.”
She let out another broken sob, clutching his hand.
That night, the world outside went on—rain falling, waves crashing on the shore, life moving forward—but inside that small house in Forks, time stopped.
And in the hollow silence that followed, Bella Swan’s laughter—the kind Jacob had worked so hard to bring back—was gone again.
The rain never stopped that night.
Hours passed, but neither of them moved. Bella’s sobs had turned into trembling gasps, then into silence. Her tears, though, didn’t stop—they came in endless, quiet streams, soaking into Jacob’s shirt as his hand moved slowly up and down her back.
He didn’t say much. There weren’t any words that could fix something like this. Every now and then, he’d whisper something soft—I’m here, Bells. You’re not alone. But she didn’t respond.
Her fingers stayed clenched around his sleeve, as if letting go would make it real.
When her body finally gave out from exhaustion, she fell asleep against his chest, her breathing shallow and broken, like her heart had forgotten how to beat without pain.
Jacob sat there in the dim living room, holding her long after her tears stopped. The glow of the lamp flickered faintly, casting tired shadows on the wall. He stared at nothing, his throat tight, his own eyes burning.
He couldn’t believe it either. Charlie—gone? The man who always grumbled at his jokes, who’d taught him how to change out brake lights, who’d smirked whenever Jacob came by claiming he was “just checking in”?
It didn’t seem real.
The front door creaked open hours later. Billy rolled in, with Sam just behind him. Their faces said it all—they already knew.
Billy’s voice was hoarse. “How’s she holding up?”
Jacob looked down at Bella, still asleep in his arms, pale and trembling. He swallowed hard. “She’s… not.”
Sam nodded quietly, his usual stoic calm cracking for a second. He’d known Charlie, too. He looked around the room—the untouched mugs, the flickering TV screen—and sighed. “We’ll handle things on our end. The department’s already calling it a sudden cardiac arrest.”
Jacob just nodded, unable to say much more. He brushed a strand of hair from Bella’s face and whispered, “She doesn’t deserve this. Not after everything.”
Billy looked at his son, pride and sadness mixed in his eyes. “Then don’t let her face it alone.”