Lahat ng Kabanata ng THE LYCAN PRINCE OF WESTSIDE EDEN : Kabanata 21 - Kabanata 29

Isabella POV "You've got a face like someone just canceled Christmas."I looked up from my locker to find him leaning against the one next to mine, hands in his pockets, grinning like we were already friends instead of two people who'd exchanged exactly zero words since he got thrown out of a party for scaring me half to death."Do I know you?""Not officially." He held out a hand like we were closing a business deal. "James. I believe we technically met at a party where your... boyfriend? Bodyguard? I never quite figured out his job title... physically removed me from the premises.""He's neither of those things.""Could've fooled me." His smile didn't waver, easy and unbothered, like getting thrown out of a party was a minor inconvenience rather than a genuine humiliation. "For what it's worth, I wanted to apologize properly. I came in a little strong that night. Bad first impression, and all that.""You did seem pretty determined to talk to me out of nowhere.""Guilty." He shrugge

Isabella POV "So this is the famous Jacob," James said, grinning as we walked out of the hardware store and ran straight into my dad loading paint cans into his truck. "Bells talks about you more than you'd probably guess."I hadn't planned for them to meet like this... hadn't planned for them to meet at all, honestly, not yet, not until I'd figured out how to explain James without it turning into another lecture about staying away from him."Dad, this is James," I said. "He's in my grade. We've been hanging out."Jacob turned around with a paint can still in his hands, and the second his eyes landed on James, every ounce of color drained straight out of his face.He didn't say anything for a full three seconds. Just stood there, frozen, the paint can slipping slightly in his grip like his hands had forgotten how to hold on to things."Dad?""Sorry... sorry, hi." He set the can down too carefully, like he needed the extra second to get his voice under control. "James, was it? Nice to

Isabella POV I found Aiden by his car after school and didn't give him a chance to walk away this time."Who is he?" I held my phone up before he could say anything, the zoomed-in portrait filling the screen. "This man. He's in a photo with my dad from decades ago, and he's hanging on a wall in your family's building. So don't tell me it doesn't mean anything, because I already know it does."Aiden went very still, staring at the screen like it had physically struck him."Where did you get this?""That's not the point. The point is you're going to tell me who he is.""Isabella...""No." I lowered the phone but held my ground, refusing to back down the way I had every other time he'd tried to shut me out. "I'm so tired of everyone in this town knowing something about my own life that I don't. My dad won't talk. Marv won't talk. You never talk. I found a bloody scrap of jacket, I overheard a council meeting about me by name, and now I'm looking at proof that my father knew somebody con

Isabella POV Me: you good?Me: aiden?Me: ok i'm starting to worry, can you just say somethingI set my phone face-down on the table for the fourth time in an hour, which lasted exactly as long as it took me to flip it back over and check again."Okay, that phone has been face-down and face-up more times than I've blinked today," Sheila said, sliding into the seat across from me at lunch. "What's going on?""Aiden left school yesterday like the building was on fire. Wouldn't tell me why. Hasn't answered a single text since." I dropped my head onto the table, forehead against the cool plastic tray. "I don't even know why I'm this worried about it. He's not my responsibility.""But you are worried about it.""Obviously I am." I lifted my head just enough to glare at her. "That's the whole problem.""Have you tried Marv?""He's not answering either. Which, honestly, is scarier than Aiden not answering, because Marv answers everything within four minutes, minimum.""Okay, that is genuine

Isabella POV "You can't just keep avoiding this conversation, sweetie."My mom's voice came through the phone tight with the specific kind of patience that meant she was two sentences away from losing it entirely. I sat cross-legged on my bed, staring at the ceiling instead of at anything real."I'm not avoiding it. I'm just... thinking.""You've been thinking for three weeks. The flight's in twelve days, Bells. I need to know if you're coming home for good or just for a visit.""I don't know yet.""That's not really an answer anymore." She sighed, and I could picture her exactly, standing in our old kitchen with one hand on her hip, the same way she always stood when a conversation was about to get real. "I know things with your dad have been better. I'm glad, genuinely. But better isn't the same as fixed, and I need you to think really carefully about whether staying there is actually good for you, or if it's just... comfortable, right now, in a way that feels good but isn't.""It'