Breaking Dawn   ::   Meyer Stephenie

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.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Are you leaving, son?”

The room was quiet for a long time while I decided how to say it.

“Rachel can have her room back. I know she hates that air mattress.”

“She’d rather sleep on the floor than lose you. So would I.”

I snorted.

“Jacob, please. If you need… a break. Well, take it. But not so long again. Come back.”

“Maybe. Maybe my gig will be weddings. Make a cameo at Sam’s, then Rachel’s. Jared and Kim might come first, though. Probably ought to have a suit or something.”

“Jake, look at me.”

I turned around slowly. “What?”

He stared into my eyes for a long minute. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t really have a specific place in mind.”

He cocked his head to the side, and his eyes narrowed. “Don’t you?”

We stared each other down. The seconds ticked by.

“Jacob,” he said. His voice was strained. “Jacob, don’t. It’s not worth it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Leave Bella and the Cullens be. Sam is right.”

I stared at him for a second, and then I crossed the room in two long strides. I grabbed the phone and disconnected the cable from the box and the jack. I wadded the gray cord up in the palm of my hand.

“Bye, Dad.”

“Jake, wait—,” he called after me, but I was out the door, running.

The motorcycle wasn’t as fast as running, but it was more discreet. I wondered how long it would take Billy to wheel himself down to the store and then get someone on the phone who could get a message to Sam. I’d bet Sam was still in his wolf form. The problem would be if Paul came back to our place anytime soon. He could phase in a second and let Sam know what I was doing.…

I wasn’t going to worry about it. I would go as fast as I could, and if they caught me, I’d deal with that when I had to.

I kicked the bike to life and then I was racing down the muddy lane. I didn’t look behind me as I passed the house.

The highway was busy with tourist traffic; I wove in and out of the cars, earning a bunch of honks and a few fingers. I took the turn onto the 101 at seventy, not bothering to look. I had to ride the line for a minute to avoid getting smeared by a minivan. Not that it would have killed me, but it would have slowed me down. Broken bones—the big ones, at least—took days to heal completely, as I had good cause to know.

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