Hopeless Devotion ~ A Jasper Hale Story

Preferance

Two months. That's all it had been since Jasper and I married, and already our life together had became a rhythm of its own.

The cottage smelled faintly of wood, paint, and fresh bread—the combination of construction and domesticity I had come to love. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms. One was a library and office Jasper had claimed, with shelves of carefully arranged books and my little touches: a plant here, a photograph there. Another bedroom remained empty, a blank canvas for later decisions. The kitchen was enormous, mine entirely, filled with spice jars, flour, and the lingering aroma of whatever I had baked that morning. Baking had become a sort of meditation, and Jasper hovered nearby, taste-testing and giving his faint nod of approval, always present but never intrusive.

Outside our walls, the world carried on, sometimes loudly. Bella had told our father she was engaged. A few days later, Renee learned, and I had caught glimpses of Dad's cautious pride and Bella's excitement that was laced with nervousness of a soon to be bride. Then there was Bella's truck, which broke down midweek, leaving Edward to swoop in with that absurdly shiny Mercedes Guardian—I grinned, amused remembering the story the way Bella had explained the situation, frustrated, returning to the comforting quiet of the kitchen.

And Jacob. The pack's chaos had touched Forks in his absence. Jacob had received Edward's wedding invitation—and vanished. I didn't need to ask questions; I could feel the tension in Bella's fleeting glances and in the pack's whispers. A week or so later, Charlie posted flyers across every city on the Olympic Peninsula, searching for the boy who had phased and run off, grief-stricken and untethered. All the while Bella and Billy constantly told him it's fine and he will find his way back.

Inside the cottage, none of that reached us fully. The floors gleamed, counters were dusted, and our home was as calm as the forest looming outside the windows. Jasper moved through the rooms easily, hot cocoa in hand, brushing crumbs off the counter, tending to details that didn't really need tending, and I leaned against him in quiet comfort.

Life had found a rhythm here: morning coffee, a warm fire, baking, quiet evenings together, a hand resting on my shoulder, his presence steady. The chaos outside—the engagements, the disappearances, the heartbreak, and Edward's over-the-top gestures—existed, yes, but for now it could wait.

In the cottage, with the mountains holding us like silent sentinels and the smell of bread warming the air, life felt ordered. Life felt ours.

But I knew, even as she stirred her dough and watched Jasper adjust a shelf, that the calm was only temporary. The world beyond these walls will intrude again. Soon.

For now, though, I let myself savor the quiet, the warmth, the small victories. The cottage, the baking, Jasper's steady presence—these were theirs. And that was enough.