Nowhere to run to, baby, nowhere to hide
Got nowhere to run to, baby, nowhere to hide
It's not love, I'm a running from
It's the heartbreak I know will come
'Cause I know you're no good for me, but you've become a part of me
Ev'rywhere I go, your face I see, ev'ry step I take, you take with me yeah

Nowhere To Run - Martha & The Vandellas

Alice was the one who found her. She was mostly good in small doses, but he was infinitely grateful for her nosiness that night. Bella was nothing short of a mess; Knees scraped and dirty, weeping, she wobbled back onto her bare feet like a fawn, and Alice escorted her into the house through the back door and into the guest room out of sight. He kept his distance, partly for fear of aggravating her condition, and partly because a strange sense of helplessness had taken over. His first instinct was to scoop her up, extract them both from this ridiculous soiree, and fix whatever it was that had her in such a state, but that wasn't what she would want, was it? The temptation was great, especially as his imagination started trying to fill in the blanks.

She could have just had too much to drink.

It didn't sound anything at all like Bella, but then again, it was clear that he didn't know her half as well as he thought.

Is this about me?

The thought had definitely occurred to him before. He tiptoed towards the door, hoping to overhear something, some clue that would relieve this unbearable need to know what had toppled this girl. Nothing was audible but some muffled coaxing from Alice. Her friend gingerly stepped out and immediately found him.

"What happened?"

"I was hoping you'd tell me," she answered flatly, her eyes accusatory. "More importantly, why am I the one taking care your girlfriend?"

"Because she's not my girlfriend," said Edward, his voice low and quiet. Her eyes widened in shock, and he braced himself for the inevitable onslaught.

"What did you do?" she hissed. "Because if you-"

"-I didn't do anything. She broke up with me while I was in Seattle."

"What? Why?"

He sighed heavily. "Well, I guess not 'doing anything' was the problem. I neglected her while I was away, and I didn't fix it when I had the chance. By the time I got my head on straight again, it was too late. "

No longer on the offensive, she pursed her lips.

"Do you think that's what this is about?" He shrugged.

"Maybe. Did she say anything?"

"Barely. Nothing I could make out. I don't think I'm going to get much out of her tonight anyways." He glanced anxiously at the bedroom door. "I think she needs to go home." He nodded.

"Do you need me to follow you?"

"No thanks," she replied. "You stay here with the family and look pretty. I'll tell Jas to pick me up. You might want to split before I bring her out, though."

He nodded and strode back towards the living room, loosening his necktie and giving Bree a reassuring smile on his way. A quick glance in the hallway mirror confirmed that everything was in order. Hopefully, a little more champagne would settle his nerves.

Relax. She's in good hands.

Rose had to be around here somewhere. She and Vicky couldn't hide forever, especially once Mom and Pop caught wind. He could only hope that she wasn't drunk already, though given the circumstances, if she wasn't already, she was probably trying her best. If so, she hid it well, stationed by the drink cart and giving one of her patented non-smiles whenever necessary. He wasn't convinced she was looking for company, but better that he found her than one of their mother's friends.

"Enjoying the party?"

"Sarcasm doesn't become you, baby brother."

"Sorry. I thought I'd maybe lighten the mood," he replied with a discreet smirk. "They all seem to be enjoying themselves. Mom and Pop especially.

"I suppose they got what they wanted out of this mess, didn't they?"

"And what's that?"

"A respectable daughter. Or a convincing replica, anyways."

"They would have done it either way," he replied. "You know how Mom is about this kind of thing. Though, maybe they would have been less...theatrical."

"Somehow, I don't think the reviews are going to be as kind as these tipsy assholes," she chuckled darkly.

"Neither are yours if you don't watch the language." She rolled her eyes.

"So how's Bella?" He peered curiously over at her.

"Alice already got to you? I swear, that girl has no sense of discretion."

"Who?"

"Jas's girlfriend," he huffed impatiently. She looked at him blankly before taking a long sip of her gimlet.

"Sure."

"I don't know," he sighed heavily. "She was acting so strange all summer. I barely recognized her last time I came home. She seemed so calm about the entire thing, but it must have been harder on her than I thought."

He expected some snide comment at Bella's expense, but she said nothing, lazily watching her parent's friends slipping out of their usually restrained chitchat.

"Do you know something that I don't?"

"I've met her twice, Edward," she said flatly. "I wouldn't know the first thing about her."

"You could have at least tried."

Her constant aloofness was frustrating. He always considered himself a great judge of character, more perceptive than most when it came to the feelings and motivations of those around him. Rose had deliberately obfuscated her own for the better part of a decade, though that didn't mean she was so completely opaque. Vicky was the only exception, and he couldn't fault Rose for leaning so heavily on her only real friend, even if she was a 'bad influence,' whatever that meant. This he was used to. This he could handle. What he could not handle was the possibility that she and the girl he loved could have that in common.

"What a funny thing for you to say."

He couldn't rightfully challenge that, and though he was irritated by her prickliness this evening, he was inclined to be patient with her.

"It'll get better once you're out," he offered. "You won't be under their thumb anymore. You and Emmett could move to Seattle or New York or something, and then you won't have to see them except for Thanksgiving and Christmas."

"Yeah." Their father appeared from the dining room. He was searching for someone, as if they didn't already know.

"Speak of the devil," she muttered, watching him make a beeline for their roost. His hair was somehow a bit disheveled, which was not an encouraging sign.

"I've been looking for you everywhere, Rosalie. Where were you?"

"I stepped out for some air," she said innocently.

"For nearly an hour?" asked Carlisle, his low voice betraying a fracture in his permanently warm and charming visage.

"Yes."

Her tone was already becoming defiant, perhaps in the hopes that the risk of causing a scene would assuage the incoming lecture. This strategy had worked in the past, but there were certainly no guarantees here. She always loved playing with fire. Their father looked about the room again.

"Where is Emmett? You shouldn't be ignoring your fiance right after the announcement."

"Enjoying the party, I assume."

So much for that theory, I suppose.

"You're being incredibly rude to your guests," he said, a veiled warning.

"They aren't my guests. They're your guests."

"Of course they're your guests. This is your party, and you are their hostess, and as such, it's your responsibility to make them feel welcome."

"No, this is just another one of your Ward Cleaver publicity moments for Mother's society friends, and they seem to just fine to me."

Edward could feel them both on the verge of boiling over, one misstep away from their father hauling her into the kitchen by the elbow like when they were kids. Most everyone else didn't seem to be catching on. He hoped it wouldn't come to that.

"You are being incredibly selfish! I spent a small fortune on this party, and your mother spent weeks planning it, making sure every detail was perfect, all for you!"

"Then perhaps you should have asked me if I wanted any of this in the first place," she replied coolly, tossing back the remains of her glass. "Could have saved you the trouble."

Before he could respond, she brushed past her brother and made for the bedroom. Carlisle's mouth was agape, but he had thankfully maintained his composure.

"Sometimes I wonder what went wrong with your sister. We've given her everything, and this is what we have to show for it. We never had that problem with you."

"Pop-"

"-We gave her too much freedom when what she really needed was discipline. I let your mother talk me out of sending her to a reformatory, but I should have put my foot down. 'Spare the rod, spoil the child.'" He sighed and shook his head. "I hope Emmett can straighten her out."

He walked away, leaving Edward to contemplate this tangled mess in solitude. Was there a single woman in his life that was actually happy, or were they all hiding something from him? When did everything go so wrong? Through the window, two sets of headlights drew back from the driveway and out into the darkness.

The shop looked the same as it had every time before; same shabby roof and peeling paint, same cyclone-level mess adorning the workshop floor. But now, there was something different about it that eluded her. The pack's absence didn't help. The radio was now crystal clear out to the driveway without hubbub of half a dozen rambunctious boys bickering and braying like mules. She stopped hard in the gravel, making the brakes cry out with the same high-pitched squeak they'd been giving her for days. If only she knew a good mechanic.

She wasn't sure if it was open, or if she would even be welcome without Jacob there to enforce it. The latter didn't particularly concern her. Her mind was made up, and she'd hassle each and every one of them until she got...something. Truth be told, she wasn't entirely sure why she was here or what she was hoping to find inside. A careful knock on the office door yielded a half-hearted response from inside.

"We're closed. Come back tomorrow."

"My truck's running fine."

Leah was nose-deep in a magazine and not interested in being disturbed. She sized her up, seemingly hardened since their last meeting, and dumped it on the floor beside her.

"I wondered when you'd show up. What took you so long?"

She didn't know how to answer wondered what kind of answer the she-wolf was looking for, and how much her cooperation depended on it.

"I didn't know what to do," Bella replied, looking at the floor. "At first, I couldn't believe he would do it. I thought it was just a bad dream. But then-"

She twisted her bracelet nervously about her wrist, the charm dangling among cohorts. The last days had been a death march. Propelled only by absolute necessity, she spent hour after hour packing for the return to campus, locking the four walls of her room around her like a cocoon. He could be there any minute now, rapping on the window with that cheeky grin, ready to confirm her desperate hopes: it was just a nightmare, or a particularly cruel practical joke. She was prepared to forgive the latter if it could just be true. Anything to not be real.

"I told him it was a shit idea," said Leah. "Especially jumping at the last minute like that. I could have strangled him." Her voice suddenly softened. "But I can't say I didn't understand his reasons."

"Really? Because I thought they were pretty fucking stupid," she snapped.

Leah chuckled. It was nice to be around someone who was so unphased by her bad impulses. Her amusement almost felt like a sign that Bella had finally earned her approval, a milestone she didn't realize she'd wanted in the first place.

"They are!" she continued. "I'm sick of men deciding they know what's best for me. Jake is the only guy I've ever met that cared about what I wanted. I thought he would at least talk to me about something this huge. I told him I didn't care about what anyone else thought. We could have figured things out if he would just try, but no. He just left, and I barely got to say goodbye." A lump rose in her throat again, trying with all its might to push her over the edge, but she fought it back.

"I know you would've followed him anywhere, even if it was off a cliff. I think he knew that too." Leah swallowed,and her words started coming out less nimbly with each syllable. "You don't care now, but what you don't realize is that there's no turning back. What if you woke up one day and realized that you didn't like what you chose and what you had to give up to get it?"

She had no response to this, no great counter-argument to Leah's reflections, only a sympathetic aching in her chest. She didn't come here expecting to feel better, but she didn't expect to get worse, either. There was no winning in this, and there was no way to climb out of this pit feeling whole again. She shook her head solemnly.

"I guess it doesn't matter anymore. Jake made his choice. He might have loved me, but he decided it wasn't enough, and there's nothing I can do about that. I just can't go on wondering if he's alright or if he'll even come home. No matter what, I need to know that he's alive."

A peculiar thing happened: Leah's semi-permanent scowl faded into a sad smile, a brief moment of commiseration before she turned on her heels and walked to the desk. She grabbed a pencil, tore off a piece from an old grocery bag, and quickly scribbled a few lines before presenting it to Bella. It was mostly numbers and abbreviations that she didn't recognize, but there were two words she recognized.

Tucson, Arizona

"They shipped him there for basic training. After that, the mail goes wherever he is."

Completely overcome with relief, Bella threw her arms around her and hugged her tightly. Leah stiffened and was nearly knocked over by her sudden outpouring of gratitude. She was probably being overly familiar, especially with someone who, until very recently, objected to her very presence, but one spoonful of hope was now filling her up too completely to give a rat's ass.

"Thank you so, so much, Leah," she choked out through the only happy tears she'd ever had. "Thank you."

She raced home, making straight for her bedroom without missing a step, much to Charlie's bewilderment.

"Paper...paper…" she whispered to herself.

She rifled through the moving box currently holding the contents of her desk until her fingertips found her notepad and her favorite pen. Staring down at the blank page in front of her, she didn't know where to begin. What do you say to a boy who broke your heart and who you'll never see again? Emily Post didn't cover this. Well, there was only one way to start:

Dear Jacob,

A/N: Sorry it's been a little longer than I usually update. January was completely crazy for me, and I started noodling around with another concept for a lighter J&B story that I might start on once we get closer to the end of My Guy.

As always, thanks for reading, and please continue leaving your thoughts in the reviews.