Hopeless Devotion ~ A Jasper Hale Story

Chapter 19 - A Motorcycle Ride

Sunday January 25

I heard Bella ask if I wanted to come, and I didn't even hesitate. Of course, I wanted to go—these bikes weren't just some random things Jacob fixed up. I helped pay for them and damn it, I wanted to ride.

Grabbing my jacket, I followed Bella outside. The cold air hit me, sharp and real. Jacob was already there, working on the bikes like they were his own kids. The bikes looked perfect in red and black, shining under the dull sky.

"Ready to give it a try?" Jacob asked, grinning.

I smirked. "You bet. I'm not gonna let you have all the fun."

He chuckled and handed me the helmet. I slipped it on, feeling the nervous excitement twist in my gut.

I pulled up next to Jacob, the bike wobbling under me as I got used to the throttle and balance again. The last time I'd ridden a bike was as a passenger on Jasper's—this was definitely different, and a lot more terrifying. But this was mine now, in a way—I'd helped pay for it, and I wasn't about to back down.

Jacob was grinning like a kid showing off a new toy. "Not bad, Tiff. You're getting the hang of it."

I let out a shaky breath, glancing back at Bella. She looked nervous but excited. "Your turn," I told her. "You want to try it?"

Bella gave me a lopsided smile, gripping the handlebars like it was her first time. "I think so."

I stayed close as she pushed off, her legs shaky as she found her balance. She wasn't as smooth as I was yet, and it wasn't long before she lost control, the bike slipping beneath her. My heart jumped — instinct took over. I was beside her in a second.

"Bella!" I breathed, helping her sit up. Her face was pale, eyes wide but she was blinking, so I hoped no serious damage.

Jacob came running too. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Bella touched her forehead, the spot beginning to bruise already. "I think I hit my head."

I felt my stomach twist but kept my voice steady. "Let's get you back to the truck. We'll figure this out."

Even though she was hurt, I was proud she tried. Hell, I was proud of both of us. We'd come a long way from terrified passengers to riders with bruises and scrapes to prove it

We stopped just short of the cliffs. The wind hit first — sharp and salty, tugging at our jackets and hair. Then the sound: shouting, laughter, the whoosh of bodies flying through open air. One after another, they leapt.

"Okay," I said slowly, arms crossed as I watched Sam and his gang line up like lemmings. "That's not normal. That's a cult, right? Are we really not talking about how that's a cult?"

Jacob didn't answer right away. He looked... tense. Not his usual playful grin or cocky shrug. Just a flicker in his jaw as he stared at the cliffs, at Sam.

"Yeah," he said finally, voice tight. "It kinda feels like that."

I blinked. "Wait, what? You agree with me?"

He laughed nervously. "You're not wrong. I used to think they were just weird. Now? I don't know. Sam—he's not the same anymore. None of them are. It's like... they joined something and forgot who they were before."

I gave him a sidelong look. "You say that like you're scared of them."

He didn't deny it. "I am. A little."

Bella, quiet the whole time, finally spoke. "They're not afraid to jump."

Jacob tore his eyes away from the cliffs. "They don't feel fear the same way anymore."

There was something bitter in his voice, something hurt. Like a kid left out of a secret club and suddenly not sure if he ever wanted in to begin with.

I studied him. His shoulders were drawn in tight, his hands stuffed deep into his jacket pockets, like he was trying to hold himself together. "Jake," I said gently, "do you think they're dangerous?"

He hesitated. "I think... Sam is. I think he gets into your head. Makes you feel like you owe him something. Like you're not you anymore unless you're one of them."

I looked back up at the cliffs just in time to see Paul take his turn, letting out a yell before diving with perfect, terrifying ease. They were young. Strong. Fearless.

Too fearless.

Bella stared like she was watching something sacred. I saw it — that pull in her eyes, the same one I'd seen when she looked into the forest and whispered his name. Edward.

I elbowed her gently. "Don't get any ideas. You've already got a head injury quota."

That earned a ghost of a smile. But her gaze didn't waver.

Jacob, still staring at the pack, whispered almost to himself, "I don't want to be like them."

And something about the way he said it made me wonder: What if it's not a choice?

However, we had more important things to worry about such as Bella's head.

I sat in the hard plastic chair beside Bella's hospital bed, arms folded tight. She had seven stitches across her forehead, a ridiculous-looking butterfly bandage, and a shaky smile that screamed nothing's wrong — which meant everything was wrong.

The door creaked open and in stomped Charlie, wearing the full-on "dad mode" scowl. His eyes went straight to the injury. His mouth set in a grim line.

"What the hell happened?"

Bella didn't flinch. "I was helping Jacob in his garage. I tripped. Hit my head on a tool bench."

Her voice was calm, even — like she'd practiced.

Charlie blinked. "In the garage?"

"Yeah. My fault," she added. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

Charlie looked from her to me. "And you were there?"

I nodded slowly. "She slipped on an oily rag or something. Landed wrong. It looked worse than it was."

He exhaled like he'd been holding it for hours. "Why didn't anyone call me sooner?"

"There was no signal out there," I said. "We got her here as fast as we could."

It wasn't a lie — not exactly. Just blurred around the edges. Jacob had freaked out, driving like a maniac while I held Bella's bloody hoodie to her forehead.

Charlie rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm gonna have a talk with Billy. That garage isn't safe."

Bella winced at that but didn't argue. We were already walking a tightrope. If he found out we were riding motorcycles, we were dead girls.

"I'm fine, Dad," she said gently. "It was an accident."

"You've had a lot of those lately."

He didn't mean it as a dig, but it landed like one. Bella dropped her gaze. I squeezed my arms tighter around myself.

Charlie eventually softened, brushing a hand awkwardly over her blanket-covered leg. "Just... be more careful, alright?"

She nodded.

When he stepped out to deal with paperwork, I finally exhaled.

"'Oily rag'? Really?" Bella whispered.

"Better than 'my skull cracked open after I crashed a secret death bike'," I muttered.

She smiled a little. "Fair."

"You scared me," I said, quieter this time.

"I know."

"Jacob looked like he was gonna hurl."

Bella laughed softly. "He was really worried."

"Yeah. Puppy Boy's not as chill as he pretends."

She blinked, then turned her head. "I'm sorry."

I just sat there, the sterile white of the hospital buzzing around us. I couldn't tell if I was more mad at her... or terrified for her.