I stretched my neck up, straining to reach my lips to the edge of his jaw. I couldn’t see into his eyes. He was staring up at the ceiling of the tent.

“Sorry,” I murmured. “That’s just the way I differentiate.”

“Differentiate?”

“Between Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Between the Jacob I like and the one who annoys the hell out of me,” I explained.

“That makes sense.” He sounded slightly mollified. “Tell me another favorite night.”

“Flying home from Italy.”

He frowned.

“Is that not one of yours?” I wondered.

“No, it is one of mine, actually, but I’m surprised it’s on your list. Weren’t you under the ludicrous impression I was just acting from a guilty conscience, and I was going to bolt as soon as the plane doors opened?”

“Yes.” I smiled. “But, still, you were there.”

He kissed my hair. “You love me more than I deserve.”

I laughed at the impossibility of that idea. “Next would be the night after Italy,” I continued.

“Yes, that’s on the list. You were so funny.”

“Funny?” I objected.

“I had no idea your dreams were so vivid. It took me forever to convince you that you were awake.”

“I’m still not sure,” I muttered. “You’ve always seemed more like a dream than reality. Tell me one of yours, now. Did I guess your first place?”

“No — that would be two nights ago, when you finally agreed to marry me.”

I made a face.

“That doesn’t make your list?”

I thought about the way he’d kissed me, the concession I’d gained, and changed my mind. “Yes . . . it does. But with reservations. I don’t understand why it’s so important to you. You already had me forever.”

“A hundred years from now, when you’ve gained enough perspective to really appreciate the answer, I will explain it to you.”

“I’ll remind you to explain — in a hundred years.”

“Are you warm enough?” he asked suddenly.

“I’m fine,” I assured him. “Why?”

Before he could answer, the silence outside the tent was ripped apart by an earsplitting howl of pain. The sound ricocheted off the bare rock face of the mountain and filled the air so that it seared from every direction.

The howl tore through my mind like a tornado, both strange and familiar. Strange because I’d never heard such a tortured cry before. Familiar because I knew the voice at once — I recognized the sound and understood the meaning as perfectly as if I’d uttered it myself. It made no difference that Jacob was not human when he cried out. I needed no translation.

Jacob was close. Jacob had heard every word we’d said. Jacob was in agony.

The howl choked off into a peculiar gurgled sob, and then it was quiet again.

I did not hear his silent escape, but I could feel it — I could feel the absence I had wrongly assumed before, the empty space he left behind.

“Because your space heater has reached his limit,” Edward answered quietly. “Truce over,” he added, so low I couldn’t be sure that was really what he’d said.

“Jacob was listening,” I whispered. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“You knew.”

“Yes.”

I stared at nothing, seeing nothing.

“I never promised to fight fair,” he reminded me quietly. “And he deserves to know.”

My head fell into my hands.

“Are you angry with me?” he asked.

“Not you,” I whispered. “I’m horrified at me.”

“Don’t torment yourself,” he pleaded.

“Yes,” I agreed bitterly. “I should save my energy to torment Jacob some more. I wouldn’t want to leave any part of him unharmed.”

“He knew what he was doing.”

“Do you think that matters?” I was blinking back tears, and this was easy to hear in my voice. “Do you think I care whether it’s fair or whether he was adequately warned? I’m hurting him. Every time I turn around, I’m hurting him again.” My voice was getting louder, more hysterical. “I’m a hideous person.”

He wrapped his arms tightly around me. “No, you’re not.”

“I am! What’s wrong with me?” I struggled against his arms, and he let them drop. “I have to go find him.”

“Bella, he’s already miles away, and it’s cold.”

“I don’t care. I can’t just sit here.” I shrugged off Jacob’s parka, shoved my feet into my boots, and crawled stiffly to the door; my legs felt numb. “I have to — I have to . . .” I didn’t know how to finish the sentence, didn’t know what there was to do, but I unzipped the door anyway, and climbed out into the bright, icy morning.

There was less snow than I would have thought after the fury of last night’s storm. Probably it had blown away rather than melted in the sun that now shone low in the southeast, glancing off the snow that lingered and stabbing at my unadjusted eyes. The air still had a bite to it, but it was dead calm and slowly becoming more seasonable as the sun rose higher.

Seth Clearwater was curled up on a patch of dry pine needles in the shadow of a thick spruce, his head on his paws. His sand-colored fur was almost invisible against the dead needles, but I could see the bright snow reflect off his open eyes. He was staring at me with what I imagined was an accusation.

I knew Edward was following me as I stumbled toward the trees. I couldn’t hear him, but the sun reflected off his skin in glittering rainbows that danced ahead of me. He didn’t reach out to stop me until I was several paces into the forest shadows.

His hand caught my left wrist. He ignored it when I tried to yank myself free.

“You can’t go after him. Not today. It’s almost time. And getting yourself lost wouldn’t help anyone, regardless.”

I twisted my wrist, pulling uselessly.

“I’m sorry, Bella,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I did that.”

“You didn’t do anything. It’s my fault. I did this. I did everything wrong. I could have . . . When he . . . I shouldn’t have . . . I . . . I . . .” I was sobbing.

“Bella, Bella.”

His arms folded around me, and my tears soaked into his shirt.

“I should have — told him — I should — have said —” What? What could have made this right? “He shouldn’t have — found out like this.”

“Do you want me to see if I can bring him back, so that you can talk to him? There’s still a little time,” Edward murmured, hushed agony in his voice.

I nodded into his chest, afraid to see his face.

“Stay by the tent. I’ll be back soon.”

His arms disappeared. He left so quickly that, in the second it took me to look up, he was already gone. I was alone.

A new sob broke from my chest. I was hurting everyone today. Was there anything I touched that didn’t get spoiled?

I didn’t know why it was hitting me so hard now. It wasn’t like I hadn’t known this was coming all along. But Jacob had never reacted so strongly — lost his bold overconfidence and shown the intensity of his pain. The sound of his agony still cut at me, somewhere deep in my chest. Right beside it was the other pain. Pain for feeling pain over Jacob. Pain for hurting Edward, too. For not being able to watch Jacob go with composure, knowing that it was the right thing, the only way.

I was selfish, I was hurtful. I tortured the ones I loved.

I was like Cathy, like Wuthering Heights, only my options were so much better than hers, neither one evil, neither one weak. And here I sat, crying about it, not doing anything productive to make it right. Just like Cathy.

I couldn’t allow what hurt me to influence my decisions anymore. It was too little, much too late, but I had to do what was right now. Maybe it was already done for me. Maybe Edward would not be able to bring him back. And then I would accept that and get on with my life. Edward would never see me shed another tear for Jacob Black. There would be no more tears. I wiped the last of them away with cold fingers now.

But if Edward did return with Jacob, that was it. I had to tell him to go away and never come back.

Why was that so hard? So very much more difficult than saying goodbye to my other friends, to Angela, to Mike? Why did that hurt? It wasn’t right. That shouldn’t be able to hurt me. I had what I wanted. I couldn’t have them both, because Jacob could not be just my friend. It was time to give up wishing for that. How ridiculously greedy could any one person be?

I had to get over this irrational feeling that Jacob belonged in my life. He couldn’t belong with me, could not be my Jacob, when I belonged to someone else.

I walked slowly back to the little clearing, my feet dragging. When I broke into the open space, blinking against the sharp light, I threw one quick glance toward Seth — he hadn’t moved from his bed of pine needles — and then looked away, avoiding his eyes.

I could feel that my hair was wild, twisted into clumps like Medusa’s snakes. I yanked through it with my fingers, and then gave up quickly. Who cared what I looked like, anyway?

I grabbed the canteen hanging beside the tent door and shook it. It sloshed wetly, so I unscrewed the lid and took a swig to rinse my mouth with the ice water. There was food somewhere nearby, but I didn’t feel hungry enough to look for it. I started pacing across the bright little space, feeling Seth’s eyes on me the whole time. Because I wouldn’t look at him, in my head he became the boy again, rather than the gigantic wolf. So much like a younger Jacob.

I wanted to ask Seth to bark or give some other sign if Jacob was coming back, but I stopped myself. It didn’t matter if Jacob came back. It might be easier if he didn’t. I wished I had some way to call Edward.

Seth whined at that moment, and got to his feet.

“What is it?” I asked him stupidly.

He ignored me, trotting to the edge of the trees, and pointing his nose toward the west. He began whimpering.

“Is it the others, Seth?” I demanded. “In the clearing?”

He looked at me and yelped softly once, and then turned his nose alertly back to the west. His ears laid back and he whined again.

Why was I such a fool? What was I thinking, sending Edward away? How was I supposed to know what was going on? I didn’t speak wolf.

A cold trickle of fear began to ooze down my spine. What if the time had run out? What if Jacob and Edward got too close? What if Edward decided to join in the fight?

The icy fear pooled in my stomach. What if Seth’s distress had nothing to do with the clearing, and his yelp had been a denial? What if Jacob and Edward were fighting with each other, far away somewhere in the forest? They wouldn’t do that, would they?

With sudden, chilling certainty I realized that they would — if the wrong words were said. I thought of the tense standoff in the tent this morning, and I wondered if I’d underestimated how close it had come to a fight.