BB

The summer in La Push is supposed to feel endless—salt in the air, bonfires that burn too late into the night, laughter carrying over the sound of waves—but for Y/N, something has been wrong for weeks, something she can’t explain and no one has bothered to explain to her. It starts small, easy to ignore: heat under her skin that never goes away, a pulse that won’t slow, irritation that flares too quickly and dies just as fast, leaving her confused and guilty and exhausted. She tells herself it’s nothing, that she’s just tired, just stressed, just not herself lately—but the truth is, she hasn’t felt like herself at all. Not when sounds are suddenly too loud, not when she swears she can smell things no one else reacts to, not when her own emotions feel too big for her body to contain. And the worst part is the way the others look at her—especially Sam Uley—like they’re waiting for something, like they already know what’s coming and have decided not to tell her.