Eclipsed Secrets // Jasper Hale

Cracks in the Calm

The rain didn't let up the next morning. Forks felt heavier, as if the sky itself was bracing for something. Althea moved through the hallways with practiced ease, Jasper beside her as they slipped into school. They didn't need words—his presence had become something steady, familiar, something she no longer questioned.

The moment they stepped into the cafeteria, the atmosphere shifted.

Bella was already there.

She hovered, pretending to look for somewhere to sit, but her eyes kept drifting toward Edward's table. Subtle, but not subtle enough for vampires. Rosalie's expression sharpened instantly—hers wasn't irritation anymore; it was contempt wrapped in warning. And Althea felt that same tug in her chest again, quieter but present.

Rosalie leaned close to her as they passed. "She's staring again," she muttered under her breath.

Althea didn't bother denying it. "She has no idea what she's doing."

"She never does," Rosalie replied coolly. "And she's going to make everything worse."

Althea didn't disagree. But she also didn't let her stare linger on Bella too long—Edward already looked like he might snap the fork he was holding.

Jasper brushed his fingers lightly against her hand, a grounding gesture. He didn't need to push calm into her; he just wanted her to know he was paying attention.

Emmett plopped down at the table, grinning as if the tension around them wasn't suffocating. "So," he said loudly, "anyone else feel like today's gonna be a mess?"

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "That's because it is."

Althea hid a faint smile, settling beside Jasper. Edward stiffened suddenly, and Bella—three tables away—instantly looked over at him. The connection between them was becoming obvious, even without words.

And Althea hated that she could feel it.

Gym was the same as always—sweat, floor polish, and the distant hum of mortal clumsiness. Althea paired with Angela for volleyball, letting the girl's gentle nervousness fade under her calm presence.

But every time Bella stumbled (and she stumbled often), Althea's jaw tightened. She didn't know why Bella irritated her, not fully, but it was instinctive, like a warning bell ringing too early.

Jasper appeared in the doorway midway through class, waiting for Althea. He leaned against the frame, arms crossed, pretending he needed to speak with Coach Clapp about something. But his eyes were really on her.

When the period ended and she passed him, he fell into step beside her without invitation.

"You're tense," he murmured.

"My patience is... thin today."

He huffed a quiet laugh. "Rosalie's rubbing off on you."

Althea nudged him lightly with her shoulder. "I'm not that bad."

"No," he said with a smile that almost warmed the hallway, "you're not."

Their shoulders brushed again—not accidental.

And this time, neither of them pulled away.

The house was filled with a low undercurrent of stress when they returned. Edward was pacing in the living room, Esme trying not to look worried, Rosalie glaring at nothing in particular.

The moment Althea stepped inside, she felt all their emotions like threads pulling in different directions.

Rosalie turned to her immediately. "He's being ridiculous," she huffed. "She just keeps asking questions—of course she does, she's Bella—but he's making it worse."

Edward shot Rosalie a sharp look. "I am not—"

"—handling it?" Rosalie cut in. "We noticed."

Althea crossed her arms, leaning against the wall. "She's human. Curious. Persistent. You can't expect her to ignore what happened."

Edward's jaw tightened. "She should."

Jasper stepped beside Althea, offering silent support. "Avoidance won't work forever," he said calmly. "Her emotions are... unsteady. She's not going to drop this."

Rosalie scoffed. "She can't even walk straight without tripping, but she's decided she's going to solve 'the mystery of Edward Cullen.' Wonderful."

Althea couldn't help it—she laughed. A small, short sound, but real.

Edward scowled. "You two are enjoying this too much."

Rosalie smirked. "Oh, absolutely."

When the house finally settled, Althea found her usual place on the back porch. The rain had thinned into a mist, soft enough to let the trees breathe again.

Jasper joined her, sitting close enough that their shoulders touched.

"She bothers you more than yesterday," he observed.

"I don't want her to," Althea admitted. "I don't even know her. But something about... all of this feels wrong."

Jasper didn't rush to explain, didn't try to soothe it away. He simply let their emotions settle around each other naturally, like two currents merging.

"You'll understand in time," he said softly.

Althea looked at him then—really looked at him. The calm steadiness in his eyes, the warmth hidden under all his control, the quiet way he held himself close to her without hesitation.

"I hope so," she whispered.

Jasper's fingers brushed hers—light, fleeting, familiar. Not a question. Not quite a promise.

Just a beginning.