The ocean wind pushed the scent of brine and cedar across the beach as Bella zipped her jacket up to her chin. She turned and caught sight of Jacob, tall and all limbs, jogging over with a lopsided smile. His hair was longer now, wind-tangled and wild, but his face still carried the same warmth she remembered. It had been weeks since they'd seen each other—since that moment Charlie brought her home and Jacob stood shyly at the end of the driveway, offering a quiet smile and wave.
"Jacob," she said, smiling as he reached her. "You got taller."
"You shrunk," he teased, then nudged her shoulder lightly. "It's good to see you again."
"You too," Bella said, a little breathless, surprised by the genuine comfort his presence brought.
Jacob motioned to the group behind him. "Embry Call and Quil Ateara V. They dragged me out here today—said the waves were too good to skip."
"Didn't think I'd see you here. La Push isn't usually on the tourist list."
"I needed a change of scenery," she said. "Forks is… a lot quieter than I remember."
Jacob chuckled. "Yeah, well. Not much has changed."
She hesitated, then gave him a sideways glance. "Except maybe the way some people… don't go certain places."
Jacob blinked. "What do you mean?"
"The Cullens. Someone mentioned they don't come to La Push."
His expression shifted—subtle, but unmistakable. He stuffed his hands into his pockets. "You've noticed them, huh?"
Bella nodded. "Hard not to. They're… different."
Jacob looked out toward the horizon. "My tribe has stories about them. Old ones."
"Stories?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light, though her pulse quickened.
"Yeah. The kind people say are legends. But my dad—Billy—he believes in them. So do some of the elders."
Bella stayed quiet, urging him on with her silence.
"They call them… cold ones. Pale-faced, golden-eyed, strong as hell. Not alive, not dead."
Bella felt her stomach tighten.
"Of course, they don't call themselves that," Jacob added, shooting her a glance. "But that's part of the treaty. They stay off our land, we don't tell outsiders what we think they are."
Bella's brows knit together. "Why would they need a treaty?"
Jacob shrugged, but his tone grew quieter. "Because they're dangerous."
She searched his face, but he wasn't joking. Her mind turned over the parking lot again—Edward's speed, impossible strength, how the van had crumpled like foil against him.
"Jacob," she said softly, "do you believe the stories?"
He met her gaze. "I don't know what to believe. But you might want to be careful."