Veil of Desire - Jasper Hale

2.7

Two months. It had been two months since the Cullens left. Two months without Jasper, without Alice's quick wit, without Emmett's humor. Even without Bella, who had become a ghost in her own right, retreating from everyone. Catalina had tried, at first, visiting Bella's house, knocking, calling, waiting by her locker at school. But Bella only gave her silence, wrapped up in her own dark haze. Eventually, Catalina stopped trying; the attempts seemed to hurt more than the lack of reply.

So Catalina focused on herself, though her heart remained shattered. She'd become an expert at putting on a brave face, smiling at teachers and classmates, answering questions, laughing at jokes—anything to keep up the illusion of normalcy. Yet every hallway, every glance at an empty chair, and every casual conversation reminded her of the people she had lost. School was nothing but a constant reminder, a hollow routine. Only in the library could she find some solace, a place where she hadn't shared memories with Jasper, where the absence didn't feel as acute.

Each day after school, Catalina found herself driving out to the La Push reservation. It had become her sanctuary, the one place where she could let her guard down. She had grown close to Sam and the pack, leaning on them as she tried to make sense of her loss. A new face had joined their circle recently—Quil Ateara, the latest to transform. Sam guessed that it would soon be Embry's turn, and Catalina found herself both worried and strangely excited. She and Embry had always been friends, but he had yet to fully understand her connection to Sam and the rest of the pack. That would change soon enough.

The pack had made it their mission to lift her spirits, taking her on hikes, races, and trips deep into the forest. On these outings, they transformed into their wolf forms, allowing Catalina to ride with them through the woods at exhilarating speeds. Though it was meant to cheer her up, even these escapades brought bittersweet memories of Jasper and his family, and they could all see the sadness in her eyes. She tried to be strong, but at times, she couldn't help herself. Panic attacks would strike without warning, leaving her gasping, consumed by an overwhelming fear that everyone she cared for would eventually leave her.

The pack watched her struggle, saw her vulnerability, and felt an anger simmering beneath their own sadness. They were furious with the Cullens, blaming them for the pain she carried, the endless nights she spent in tears. They took turns keeping an eye on her, never leaving her alone for long, hoping their presence would help her heal.

One crisp autumn day, Catalina joined the pack for something they liked to call "cliff-jumping." It was a thrill reserved for the strongest among them, a leap from the towering cliffs above the icy water below. Catalina had watched them jump before, but today was different—she wanted to feel the rush for herself, something to break the numbness that had taken hold of her heart.

The pack gathered near the edge, overlooking the drop below. Catalina felt her stomach twist as she peered down, but she wasn't about to back out. She craved the adrenaline, the reminder that she was still alive, still capable of feeling something other than heartbreak.

"Okay, this is actually pretty high," she muttered, clutching her arms. The guys laughed, the sound echoing over the water below.

"You'll be fine, Lina. Sam and Jared will be in the water, ready to pull you out if you pass out 'cause you're scared," Embry reassured her with a grin.

She gave him a half-hearted glare, rolling her eyes. "Very funny, Embry. Not."

Sam placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Just start running a bit earlier, and make sure to keep your feet pointed down. Trust yourself."

Catalina took a deep breath, letting Sam's words ground her. One by one, the pack members jumped, each one disappearing over the edge and into the water below. She heard the splash as Jared surfaced, giving her a thumbs-up from the water. Now it was her turn.