The moment the idea of visiting the rock pools came up, Tyler looked like he wanted to burst into tears. His eyes flicked from his crutches to the uneven rocks in the distance with a despair that needed no words.
Mike caught the look immediately. "Alright, you guys go ahead," he said. "I'll stay with Tyler. Was thinking of getting into the water anyway, maybe catch some seafood to take home."
Leah nodded without hesitation. "I'm staying too."
Bella opened her mouth, ready to volunteer as well, but Mike gently cut her off.
"Go with them, Bella. Seriously. Don't miss the pools. You'll regret it."
She hesitated a moment longer, then gave in to curiosity, everyone else looked far too excited for her to pass up the opportunity.
Before the others left, Mike tugged his shirt over his head, and suddenly, he was surrounded by silence. A stunned kind of silence.
Tyler blinked at him, jaw dropped. "Woah, dude… when did you get so ripped?"
Jessica and Lauren weren't subtle about gawking; if their eyes had tongues, they'd be licking him. Angela and Bella both pinked around the cheeks. Ben and Eric stared like they'd just witnessed the evolution of mankind.
Eric muttered, crushed, "How? I lift every day and still look like a breadstick."
Leah simply bit her lip.
Then Mike bent down to untie his sneakers, kicked them off, and hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his pants. Tyler panicked instantly.
"NONONO, dude, I don't wanna see your junk!"
The boys recoiled. Jessica and Lauren, on the other hand, leaned forward like predators spotting prey. Leah clocked the two girls immediately, eyes narrowing.
Mike rolled his eyes. "Relax. I've got swim shorts underneath." causing the boys to exhale in collective relief.
Lauren clicked her tongue in visible disappointment.
Leah gave her and Jessica a long, flat side-eye, mentally marking them as potential threats.
"Alright, show's over," she announced, clapping her hands once. "Weren't you all going to the rock pools? Move along. Go, shoo."
Ben snorted as they started walking. "He could have waited until we left, you know? He definitely did it just to show off…"
Mike just grinned proudly. Tyler sighed. Leah slipped her fingers through Mike's, giving him a small squeeze that made him grin wider.
…
Mike jogged back to the parking lot and rummaged through the back of his Mountaineer. A moment later he returned victorious, holding a large plastic bucket like a trophy.
The group of three walked towards the shore, Tyler looked at the waves and turned to Mike with a raised eyebrow. "Dude… really? You're gonna go in there? That water is literally glacier tears."
Leah's expression tightened with worry. "Mike… maybe don't? It's March. You'll freeze something important off."
Mike just flashed them that bright, confident smile of his.
"Don't worry. I'm cold-proof."
He handed the bucket to Leah, who took it reluctantly, still watching him like he was about to do something profoundly stupid, and then jogged toward the water.
"Be right back!" he called over his shoulder.
Tyler cupped his hands around his mouth. "Don't freeze your balls off!"
Mike ignored him and hit the surf at a full sprint, splashing through the shallow water until it was deep enough for him to dive. He cut under the surface cleanly, disappearing into the dark, icy blue.
Where any normal person would've seized up instantly from the cold, Mike felt just pleasantly refreshed. His skin tingled, his muscles humming with wolfish vitality as he paddled deeper, eyes open and scanning the rocky floor. It didn't take long before he spotted clusters of oysters clinging to a boulder and mussels nestled between cracks.
'Perfect.' He started prying them loose, tucking the mussels into his pockets and cradling the oysters in his arms.
Back on the shore, Tyler crossed his arms smugly.
"Alright, I give him thirty seconds before he comes running back empty-handed, crying for a heater."
Leah snorted, shaking her head. "You don't seem to know him well enough. Five bucks says he actually comes back with something."
Tyler blinked. "…You're on."
They waited.
Thirty seconds passed.
Then a minute.
Then another.
Leah's amusement began shadowing with worry, her eyes kept darting between the waves and the spot where he'd disappeared.
Just as she opened her mouth to voice her worry, a shape broke the surface farther down the shore. Mike staggered out of the water triumphantly, arms full of oyster clusters, his shorts so overloaded with mussels that the pockets bulged like overstuffed saddlebags.
And because gravity didn't care about dignity, the weight pulled his waistband lower… and lower… and lower.
Mike froze, feet suddenly planted far apart, adopting the wide, stiff-legged gait of a cowboy to avoid a wardrobe malfunction. He took each step carefully, the way someone does when they're one inch of fabric away from being banned from public beaches forever.
Tyler stared. Then he slapped a five-dollar bill into Leah's waiting hand.
"Never mind," he wheezed, already losing it, "I take it back, he's a menace to society."
Leah didn't even try to hide her laughter. She doubled over, clutching the bucket, as Mike inched his way toward them with all the grace of a startled crab.
Tyler stared at Mike's cowboy waddle and cackled.
"Bro, you look like you're walking home after losing a fight with a horse."
Leah shook her head, grinning. "No, it's more like… you're trying not to drop the world's most delicate egg." She mimed his wide-legged stance and almost fell over laughing.
Mike ignored them with the serenity of a monk, stepped close, and let the oysters tumble into the bucket with a satisfying clatter. Then he began pulling mussels out of his pockets; one, two, three, six, ten, like some kind of seafood-themed magician.
Tyler blinked. "Dude… how many pockets do you have?"
"Enough." Mike said proudly, brushing sand off his hands. "And I'm going for another round."
Before either of them could protest, he jogged back into the surf and disappeared beneath the waves again.
By the second return trip, he had managed to fill the bucket. After setting down his latest haul, he was still breathing lightly, as if he'd just gone for a stroll instead of a freezing underwater forage.
"Oh," he added casually, "I saw some lingcod down there."
Tyler perked up. "Like… little ones?"
"No. Big one." Mike motioned with his hands, way too wide. "Thinking about trying to catch it."
Leah raised both eyebrows. "With what, exactly?"
Tyler jabbed a finger toward the ocean. "Yeah, genius, you didn't bring any fishing gear."
Mike shrugged. "I'll improvise."
Before they could stop him, again, he dove back in.
Leah crossed her arms. "Your friend has no self-preservation."
Tyler nodded solemnly. "None. Zero. The tank is empty."
They waited.
Wind blew.
Waves crashed.
Then Leah pointed suddenly. "Uh… Tyler?"
Tyler followed her gaze… and his jaw dropped.
Mike was swimming back, but with only one arm. His other arm was stretched behind him, gripping something thrashing hard enough to whip the water into foam.
"No way, no freaking way," Tyler sputtered. "Leah, please tell me you're seeing this too. I don't wanna be the only one hallucinating."
"Oh, I see it," Leah murmured, stunned. "I just really wish I didn't."
As Mike trudged out of the surf, soaked, triumphant, and dragging a massive lingcod by the gills, one easily half his size, the fish flopped violently, nearly pulling him sideways. He heaved it up like an unruly toddler having a meltdown and grinned.
"Look what I got!"
Tyler almost dropped his crutches. "Mike, what the hell?! You fish with your bare freaking hands?!"
Leah just pressed a palm to her forehead. "Okay… that's actually impressive."
Mike beamed, holding the monster fish like a trophy, right until Tyler asked the very practical question:
"…Where exactly are you planning to put that thing, genius?"
Mike's smile faltered. He blinked. Looked at the fish. Looked at the beach. Looked at his hands as if hoping a solution would magically appear.
Then his eyes lit up.
"Oh! I brought a cooler with food. If I empty it, maybe the fish can fit!"
Leah and Tyler exchanged a look of deep skepticism.
But five minutes later, after Mike dumped sandwiches, chips, and three bottles of soda onto a towel… he managed to wrestle the fish into the empty cooler. Barely. The lid stuck out at an angle, but it closed.
Mike planted his hands on his hips, proud as a hunter who just downed a mythical beast. "See? Perfect fit."
The cooler wobbled ominously. Something inside thumped.
Tyler shook his head, defeated. "I can't believe I'm saying this… but that actually worked."
Leah exhaled slowly. "I'm dating a lunatic."
Mike just grinned. "A resourceful lunatic."
…
They spent about an hour lounging by the fire, chatting idly while the ocean hummed behind them. Mike had disappeared earlier and returned dragging an absurd amount of driftwood, enough to build a small cabin, so the campfire crackled warm and steady, warding off the chill.
By the time the rest of the group came back from the rock pools, Mike, Leah, and Tyler already looked settled in. Tyler sat with his cast propped up on a log, sipping hot chocolate Leah had prepared for him. Mike was in the middle of shoving an entire s'more into his mouth at once, half proud, half daring anyone to challenge him on it.
Jessica plopped down dramatically. "Finally! My feet are killing me."
Lauren rolled her eyes but said nothing, grabbing a marshmallow instead. Angela and Ben were side by side comparing photos, and Eric tripped on a rock before pretending he'd meant to sit exactly where he landed. Bella quietly slipped into the spot between Angela and Mike, thanking him when he handed her a skewer and a marshmallow.
But Mike noticed right away that she wasn't really there.
Her posture was stiff, her brows drawn too tight. She rotated the marshmallow a little too close to the fire, burning one side black without blinking.
She was thinking deeply.
Mike licked melted chocolate from the corner of his lips and followed her gaze. That's when it clicked.
Could it be that she still met Jacob?
This was the day Bella was supposed to hear the old stories, the ones about cold ones, the Cullens, the treaty. The ones Jacob didn't think meant anything but still carried enough truth to nudge Bella down the path she wasn't supposed to be on.
Mike chewed thoughtfully.
Bella looked troubled, exactly the way she had in the books after hearing the legends, just enough doubt to become curious, just curious enough to be in danger.
Her marshmallow caught fire but she didn't even notice.
Mike gently reached over and blew it out for her.
Bella blinked and gave a small, distracted smile. "Oops."
"You alright?" Mike asked in a low voice.
She shrugged, eyes drifting toward the treeline. "I met a friend earlier. Jacob Black. He was really nice. It's just… he told me some things that got me thinking."
Mike kept his expression neutral, even though internally he was screaming oh great, here we go.
Behind them, Tyler laughed loudly at something Leah said, and the rest of the group dove into a chaotic debate about whether burnt marshmallows tasted better.
But Bella stayed quiet.
And Mike could practically feel the plot trying to realign around her.
He popped another marshmallow into his mouth, because honestly, he was going to need the sugar.
…
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