Sunday morning brought one of those rare, almost mythical days in Forks, sunlight breaking through the clouds, bright enough to make the damp town sparkle. For once, the rain had retreated, and the air carried that crisp, clean scent that only came after days of drizzle.
Mike stood by his white Mountaineer, squinting up at the sky like it was some kind of cosmic joke. "Well, guess I can't use the weather as an excuse today," he muttered, sliding on a pair of black sunglasses.
He'd thrown on a casual outfit: a soft gray hoodie over a white T-shirt, dark jeans that fit a bit too snugly thanks to his recent growth spurt, and a pair of white sneakers. It wasn't exactly beachwear, but this wasn't exactly a planned vacation.
Still, he felt pulled there, to La Push.
The road wound through the trees like a ribbon of gray, sunlight spilling through the evergreens in flickering patterns. When he finally reached the Quileute reservation, the sound of waves greeted him, low and rhythmic. The ocean stretched endlessly, a deep, moving mirror of blue and silver.
La Push First Beach was quieter than usual, dotted only by a few locals enjoying the rare sunshine. Mike parked near the dunes and stepped out, the salty air rushing to greet him. He walked toward the water, hands in his hoodie pockets, and stood watching the horizon for a while. The distant shapes of whales breached far out at sea, and seagulls wheeled lazily above the surf.
"Alright," he said under his breath, dropping down onto a smooth driftwood log. "Let's see if I magically connect with my ancestors or something."
Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, the smell of brine and pine mixing in the air. For a few minutes, he tried to "meditate," or at least his clumsy version of it: breathe in, breathe out, picture some mystical connection to nature.
Nothing happened.
He cracked one eye open. "Yeah, that's what I thought," he said to himself with a half-smile. "Total nonsense."
After another hour of pretending not to care that he felt nothing, Mike gave up. He kicked off his sneakers, slung them over one shoulder, and started walking barefoot along the shoreline. The wet sand was cool against his feet, the tide curling around his ankles as he walked.
It was peaceful. Quiet. Almost too quiet, until he noticed her.
Up ahead, in a more secluded stretch of the beach, a woman stood with her back half-turned toward him. Her long black hair moved like silk in the ocean breeze, catching the sunlight in dark ribbons. Her skin glowed with a smooth copper tone that seemed almost otherworldly in the sun. High cheekbones, long lashes, full lips curved in a serene smile, she looked like something carved out of the very essence of this place.
Mike froze in place.
For a long, ridiculous minute, he just stood there like an idiot, sneakers dangling loosely from his hand, completely entranced. The world around her seemed to blur, like she was the only thing in focus.
Then she noticed him.
Her serene smile vanished, her features hardening instantly into a scowl. "What are you looking at, pale face?" she snapped, voice sharp as the wind.
Even her anger, somehow, looked beautiful.
Mike didn't immediately respond, mostly because his brain had short-circuited. Her glare deepened, dark eyes narrowing. "I said, what are you looking at?"
He blinked, finally shaking himself back to reality. "Ah-uh, sorry! I wasn't, I mean, I was just…" He gestured helplessly toward the ocean, sneakers swinging in his grip. "I swear I wasn't creeping or spying or anything like that. I was just taking a walk and, um…" He swallowed. "I just… got a little distracted by your smile."
Her lips parted slightly, surprise flashing across her face before color rose to her cheeks. She looked away quickly, but not before he caught the faintest ghost of a smile fighting its way through her scowl.
Then she remembered she was supposed to be mad.
"Don't think a pale face's compliment will make me happy," she muttered, glaring at him again. "You people really have no shame."
Still, the blush stayed on her cheeks.
…
Minutes before she saw him, Leah Clearwater sat on a sun-bleached log by the beach, her elbows resting on her knees and her thoughts a mess of fury and heartbreak.
It wasn't enough that Sam had broken up with her. No, the universe had to twist the knife by making him fall in love with her cousin. Her best friend. Emily.
She'd seen it in his eyes for weeks, how he followed Emily around the rez like some lost, lovesick puppy. And even though Emily had turned him down, Leah could see it, the hesitation, the way her cousin's gaze lingered on him a moment too long, the way her voice softened when she said his name. It made Leah's blood boil.
And now, after everything, her mom expected her to forgive Emily? To comfort her?
"Because she got mauled by a bear," Leah muttered bitterly under her breath.
Sure, she was worried. She wasn't heartless. Emily had been horribly hurt, and deep down, Leah knew it wasn't fair to resent her for that. But her pride, her dignity, refused to let her show that concern. Not for the woman who'd taken her future husband away.
She looked down at the silver ring in her hand. Sam's ring. The one he'd given her when he'd promised forever.
Her thumb rolled it slowly, over and over, catching the glint of sunlight off its surface. The motion was almost hypnotic, one more loop of pain she couldn't stop replaying.
Then, suddenly, she couldn't stand it anymore.
She stood up, arm trembling, and drew back. With a sharp cry she hurled the ring into the ocean as hard as she could. It vanished into the waves with a faint splash, swallowed whole.
And just like that, the last piece of Sam Uley was gone.
She stood there for a moment, chest heaving, staring out at the water. The wind tugged at her hair, cool and salty. For the first time in weeks, her heart didn't feel quite so heavy.
She sat down again on the log, breathing deeply, letting the sound of the surf fill the silence. It wasn't peace, not exactly, but it was close enough. The grief hadn't vanished, but it had lost its claws. Her eyes were dry, her spirit raw, and yet... she felt lighter.
Unknowingly, a small, serene smile found its way to her lips. It wasn't forced. It just happened. Maybe, just maybe, she'd finally started to heal.
That was when she noticed movement in the corner of her eye.
She turned her head slightly and saw him, a tall guy, standing awkwardly a few dozen feet away, sneakers in hand, staring at her like he'd forgotten how to breathe. Pale skin, messy blonde hair, broad build that looked like it didn't quite fit his clothes. He wasn't from the reservation, that much was obvious.
Her smile vanished instantly, the warmth on her face replaced by instinctive irritation. "What are you looking at, pale face?" she snapped, the words cutting through the sea breeze.
The idiot didn't even react. He just stood there, blue eyes unfocused, still looking.
Her scowl deepened. "I said, what are you looking at?"
That finally seemed to shake him out of it. He blinked, fumbling like a deer caught in headlights. "Ah-uh, sorry! I wasn't, I mean, I was just…"
Leah crossed her arms, unimpressed.
"I swear I wasn't creeping or spying or anything like that. I was just taking a walk and, um…" he said quickly, voice tripping over itself. "I just… got a little distracted by your smile."
Leah froze.
She felt the heat rise to her cheeks before she could stop it. Idiot. Why did her heart just skip a beat? She was supposed to be angry, not flattered.
For half a second, she almost smiled again, but she caught herself just in time.
"Don't think a pale face's compliment will make me happy," she muttered sharply, turning her head away so he wouldn't see the faint blush creeping across her face. "You people really have no shame."
Still, as she looked back out at the water, she couldn't quite chase away the flutter in her chest. She didn't quite remember the last time she'd received such an honest compliment.
…