Chapter 6

It took Isabella several sluggish moments before her new reality registered. The unreal, disorienting feeling of waking up in her own childhood bed, back in her parents' home, made it so easy to believe that the gruesome ending to her year out of state had just been a bad dream. She laid still a little while longer, trying to hold on to that version of reality.

The police officer at the hospital turned out to be exactly what she needed. The woman spoke to her for a while, talked to her parents by phone and explained everything that Bella couldn't, then took her by her apartment to change and gather up a few things. The officer left her at the airport when she was sure she had a seat on the next flight to Alaska and safely in the terminal. Bella tried to recall the woman's name and couldn't. She had her card somewhere in her bag.

Bella looked at her old alarm clock. 7:32. Late for homeroom.

The sounds of a conversation downstairs reached her ears. It sounded serious, but she couldn't make out the words. They probably didn't intend to wake her. Bella remained flat on her stomach, staring at an interesting pattern of plaster on the wall.

She should be crying, she thought. Wasn't that what you were supposed to do when people died? Why couldn't she cry?

Bella decided she couldn't stay in this room any longer, looking at the same four walls that had been both prison and refuge her whole life. She put on a pair of slippers and went downstairs in her pajamas.

Isabella stood in the doorway before entering the kitchen. Her mother sat at the table with a cup of coffee, already perfectly put together in a tasteful green dress and not a hair out of place in her blonde bob. She looked tired, but hid it well. Her father stood a little behind her. He was dressed for work, but his graying red hair was rumpled and his eyes were red and puffy. Even with a smart tie and blazer, he looked less put together than his wife.

Two others had joined them. One was Connor's father, Robert, who looked like an older, shorter, mustached version of his deceased son. Both of them had the same dark hair and eyes. Then there was Robert's brother-in-law, Damon. He leaned back against the kitchen counter, muscular arms folded over his hard chest. His presence in the house was comforting and familiar to her. Damon had been a part of the family since before she was born. Since he lived in a dry cabin by himself, he used his friend's house for showers or laundry. He spent most weekends with her father, drinking beer or fishing.

Damon's rough appearance would have looked more at home in a roadside bar or out in the wild than in a neatly kept middle class kitchen. As the only werewolf present, and his family's alpha, he effortlessly dominated the room without intending to. His height alone made him stand out. He was at least a head taller than everyone else, with a powerful build to match. His wavy brown hair showed faint silver threads on the sides and the back was pulled into a short, messy ponytail. His brooding gaze remained focused on the floor some distance away. He rubbed his stubbled jaw as he listened to the others speak.

Robert paced. "It seems pretty clear to me—"

The conversation stopped.

Everyone looked at her.

Damon spotted Bella first. He lifted his chin, his eyes showing concern, and his stance softened slightly.

Her mother got up and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. "Bella ! You should be sleeping. I'm sorry if we woke you. Can I make you anything?"

"I was just going to get some cereal," Bella answered. She barely moved her mouth as she spoke. Words were still hard to use right now. She let her mom hug her, and she appreciated it, but she only leaned in. If she hadn't been so hungry, she would have left the room and avoided everyone. But she had skipped food in the airport and on the plane, so the last time she'd eaten anything was at the movies with Connor. As she moved to the fridge, she kept her gaze focused on objects, not people.

Her father broke the awkward silence. "Well, we'll have to call a meeting anyway. We'll figure it out."

"There's nothing to figure out, Carson. We round up everyone who can fight, go down there, and finish this." Robert's voice had an edge of anger to it.

I really shouldn't be here right now, Bella thought. Where she was supposed to be, she didn't know. She kept herself quietly busy and as small as possible by searching for a spoon.

Damon's deep voice interjected, "We still don't know all the details." He addressed Isabella directly, using a softer tone, "Isabella , when you're feeling up to it, I need to talk to you. The sooner the better."

Bella was his name for her. She'd known Damon her whole life, but as far back as she could remember, he had never called her by her actual name. He used lots of names for her: Bella, Bells, Isa, Ella, Ells, Girly, sweetie etc. Somehow "Isabella " had stuck.

"Sure," she answered. She caught Robert's piercing stare directed at her.

No one said anything.

Her mother broke the silence this time. "Well, it sounds like all of you have important calls to make. Robert, I'll stop by in little bit to see Laura. I don't want her to be alone right now."

Robert broke his hard gaze on Bella and looked at her mother. "Thanks, Andrea. I'm sure she'd appreciate the company." He turned to Damon, "Coming?"

Damon shook his head. He was studying Isabella . "I think I'll stick around for a bit. Okay, Isabella?" He raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

She nodded, understanding.

...Her father approached Robert and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'll walk you to the car."...

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