Whether they could go to the reserve or not wasn't even a question in Jacob's mind. His dad was the tribe's chief. He was taking his goddess to the reserve for a look around—what was the problem?
It wasn't a problem at all. Who in the tribe would dare say no? He'd rip them apart!
Still, before leaving, he glanced at his dad.
Compared to his dumb son, Billy Black—sitting in a wheelchair—was way more careful.
As the Native American tribal chief, he'd purposely befriended Charlie, the town sheriff, just to keep his people safer.
He hadn't inherited the tribe's supernatural powers due to health reasons, but as the former chief's direct son, he was far more knowledgeable than the average tribesman.
He could see something off about Bella. Letting her into the tribe right now didn't sit right with him.
But he had no real reason to say no. Publicly or privately, there wasn't a single valid excuse.
Faced with Jacob's slightly questioning look, he could only smile and nod in agreement.
"Come on, get in!"
Jacob rolled up in a faded Chevy pickup truck, barely still red. This truck was supposed to be a half-sold, half-gifted present for Bella from him and his dad.
If he gave it to her now, that meant she'd drive and he'd sit beside her. If not, he'd drive and she'd sit shotgun. Wanting to show off, Jacob picked the latter—he drove.
Bella sat in the passenger seat. Jacob was all smiles as he backed the truck up. After saying goodbye to the two adults, the pickup drove toward the forested reserve north of town.
Bella made small talk with Jacob, on and off.
She didn't hate the truck, but she didn't like it either.
A pickup was still a truck, and that open cargo bed in the back just felt wrong. What kind of girl drove a truck anyway? Wasn't this thing for hauling junk? It even smelled faintly of potatoes!
Bella had zero interest in vampire pretty boys or loyal lapdogs. She didn't care about any tragic past a vampire might have, and she didn't care if a simp turned into a werewolf. Forks was just a starting point for her, not the destination.
There was no need to compare the two. It was pointless.
Still, she had to admit—vampire boy, with over a hundred years under his belt, knew how to make moves.
All Jacob could give her was an old truck with peeling paint and huge round fenders. Sure, it looked sturdy—probably would wreck anything it hit—but it was ugly. Even though Bella didn't know much about cars, she could tell this thing was probably older than Charlie. And this was still only half-sold, half-gifted!
Vampire boy? Gave her a Mercedes when they got engaged. A Ferrari after they got married.
In that department, Jacob was completely outclassed.
But she also understood—Native Americans had been "protected" into poverty. Jacob probably wanted to give her something better, but he just didn't have the money.
So she kept the conversation going, switching topics from how to find water to how to identify poisonous mushrooms. She gradually turned the things she'd read online in her past life into actual knowledge.
Jacob answered every question, no matter how basic. He did think it was kinda lame talking about survival skills with his goddess in this setting, but it didn't kill the mood.
Marvel Survival Rule #2: Never piss off handsome men who can fix motorcycles.
Guys in wheelchairs were the spiritual leaders, but the ones who fixed bikes? They were the real-world leaders—like Cyclops, Captain America, or Tony Stark! Those guys were top of the game in their fields. Jacob, being the chief's son, clearly inherited something strong. Making friends with him was never a bad idea.
Bella spent the afternoon in Jacob's tribe. The Native Americans were simple folks. At first they were wary, but once they got to know her, they warmed up.
Jacob pulled out all the stops. He gave her a tour of his workshop, showed her his treasured collections, and shared his thoughts on motorcycle modifications. If time had allowed, he probably would've done a live demo right there.
In her past life, Bella had only ridden those little scooters, and knew next to nothing about machines. She asked some pretty childish questions, but Jacob wasn't annoyed in the slightest. He answered everything patiently and in detail.
When Bella said, "Jacob, you're a good guy," he really thought he'd made serious progress.
In the end, Bella didn't take the motorcycle or the pickup. Instead, she paid Jacob for a bicycle.
She lived in town, and school was nearby. There was no need to drive. If it had been a nice car, maybe. But a truck? Keep that thing to haul groceries!
A bicycle was just fine. Plus, she could get some exercise.
The school had given her a one-month break because of the 180 Flight accident. It was rare free time for her.
After learning she wanted to work out, Jacob ditched his motorcycle too and came by on his bike every day.
They gradually got closer, and Jacob often dragged Bella to hang out at the Native reserve.
Once or twice was fine, but when it became a habit, Billy—the wheelchair-bound chief—started getting worried about his dumb son and the tribe.
But he couldn't just kick Bella out. Whether from the perspective of his old buddy Charlie or for the sake of his idiot son, he had no reason to do so.
The middle-aged chief sighed a lot in private, and after thinking things over, he decided to talk to Bella face to face.
Wearing his signature gentle smile, he asked, "Looks like you've come out of the shadow. That's great. Hardships don't defeat us; they only make us stronger."
It was the kind of generic line that worked on almost anyone.
The reserve was basically a primitive forest. A lot of people in this Native American tribe had werewolf blood. They were all like little furnaces—shirtless and immune to the cold.
Not Bella. After rain, the forest got pretty chilly.
Today, she wore a light yellow parka, matched with her usual jeans and sneakers. She looked decently cheerful.
"Jacob's a good friend. He always brings warmth to people."
Another standard, polite answer. Complimenting someone's kid was never wrong.
The middle-aged chief didn't actually care about the 180 Flight accident. He only knew the basics and never looked into it. Honestly, they were all Americans. What did that have to do with him, a Native? He didn't throw a bonfire party to celebrate—that alone showed some restraint.
But he couldn't say that out loud. So he acted curious and asked Bella for details about the accident.
Bella had told the story a dozen times already, but she told it again. She didn't downplay her role or exaggerate the incident.
"Come take a walk with me," the chief said.
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