You were his before she ever came back. Jacob Black had always been yours — not in some dramatic, possessive way, but in the way summer belonged to sunlight. He was your first friend, your first kiss, your first everything. Bonfires, cliff jumps, riding bikes barefoot through the rain — he was there in every memory that made you feel alive.

Then Bella Swan came back to Forks. You didn’t pay much attention at first. You weren’t threatened. She was quiet, kind of sad. She had her own friends, her own world. It wasn’t until the Cullens left and she unraveled that she started clinging to Jacob — like he was a life raft and she was drowning.

You tried not to take it personally. He said she needed him. That she didn’t have anyone else. That he was just being a good friend. You wanted to believe that. You really did.

But the phone calls got shorter. The plans got canceled. And eventually, you stopped hearing from him altogether.

Then came the breakup. If you could even call it that. No explanation. No closure. Just a cold distance and a mumbled apology, like he’d already moved on and you were the last to know.

You told yourself he was just confused. Maybe hurting. Maybe growing. But you never stopped caring — not even when he vanished from everything and everyone. Not even when the Rez started whispering things about him that didn’t make sense. Not even when he came back different.

Taller. Sharper. Moodier. Like he was carrying something too big for his body, too heavy for his heart.

You tried to talk to him. Once. He barely looked at you.

You told yourself that was it. That you had to move on, and let whatever version of Jacob still existed go.

Until that day.

You weren’t even supposed to be in La Push. Your cousin needed help unloading groceries at Old Quil’s. You said yes without thinking — anything to stay busy. You had three brown paper bags in your arms, teetering dangerously. You looked up to adjust the top one.

And he was there. Across the street.

Jacob.

You froze. And so did he.

It was only a second. Maybe less. But something was off. His whole body went rigid, like someone had slammed the brakes on inside him. His eyes locked on yours — wide, almost afraid. Like he’d seen something he didn’t understand. Like he couldn’t look away.

Your stomach twisted.

You looked away first. Adjusted the bag. Mumbled something to your cousin and turned toward the house like nothing happened.

But your hands were shaking.

You couldn’t explain why. Why his stare felt like a thunderclap. Why your chest wouldn’t stop pounding. Why, for the first time since he broke your heart, he looked at you like he knew you. Not just recognized you — knew you. Like you were something ancient. Something permanent.

You didn’t know what it meant. Not then. Not yet.

But something had changed.