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Chapter Five

"Did I overreact?" I ask, blowing my nose for what feels like the hundredth time. "Be honest with me," I urge, and Alice and Rose merely exchange a look.

After the van pulled away, I immediately called Edward's phone. It rang and rang until I hung up. When I tried a second time, it went straight to voicemail, which meant he purposely turned it off.

Panic turned to shock. Knowing he could just leave and cut off communication with me, not even offering an explanation fucking hurt.

Edward was gone. He broke up with me like it was nothing, and he was gone.

My disbelief over everything quickly turned into desperation, which is where I still am emotionally as I sit in Alice's kitchen, wallowing over a bottle of tequila.

"Did you overreact?" Rose echoes. "I mean, it sounds like you could've handled it a little differently," she suggests gently. "You both could have, though."

"You were at the venue Friday night," I prompt, still unable to let it go. "There was seriously nothing I needed to worry about?"

"Not at all," Rose says assuredly. "It was innocent. I don't even think they were ever alone."

"God dammit," I mutter, dropping my head in my hands as guilt sinks in. "I'm a fucking idiot."

When I look up, Alice smiles sadly. "What's going on with you two lately?" she asks.

"I don't know." I shrug, deflated and fucking exhausted. "He just… things have felt a little off recently. Like he's pulling away? Aloof? I don't know how to explain it." I don't have any concrete evidence to back up my apprehension. It's just a gut feeling that's been nagging at me over the last few weeks.

"Isn't he always kind of like that?" Rose snorts.

I shake my head. "No. Not with me."

"Maybe he's just been preoccupied with the tour. Jasper's been a little distracted, too. But there's no way Edward is serious," Alice promises, filling a glass of water and handing it to me. "There's no way! He loves you."

"He sounded pretty fucking serious to me, Al," I sniffle. My eyes are raw and red, and just when I think I don't have any more tears, my throat tightens. "How could he do that? Motherfucker. How could he just call it quits and leave me there?"

"You're both drunk and upset, and it was probably just… I don't know," Rose tries this time. "Give him the night. Or even a day."

"Yeah." His phone is still off anyway. They're probably halfway to Portland by now. "What if…"

Alice eyes me. "What?"

"What if I go to Portland tomorrow? I have the day off. We can make it a road trip and show up for their show? And we can talk—"

"No," Alice and Rose say simultaneously.

"But—"

"Bella, no," Alice says again. "I really don't think that's a good idea."

Desperation sets in deeper. "Okay, so I'm supposed to just let this go? Move on and let him reach out to me? Fuck that. Everything is on his terms. Everything."

"I'm just saying be reasonable about this," Alice says gently. "Things have been pretty intense with you two for… forever, really. Emotions were probably running high, and I guarantee he's going to regret leaving you that way. But I don't think showing up and surprising him and forcing him to talk would be smart."

She's right. Deep down, I know she is. I don't know how it's possible to desperately ache for someone and hate them at the same time, but that's how I'm feeling right now.

"Fine," I mumble, the water cooling my raw throat. "I'll wait."

XXX

It takes Edward two days to reach out to me.

It's just after midnight when he calls, and I don't even bother greeting him when I pick up the phone. I just sit and wait for him to speak. It feels like nearly a full minute before he does.

"Bella…"

"I can't believe you." It's not how I wanted to start off the conversation. Alice and Rose coached me to be calm and cool. To talk this out and get to the bottom of our issues, not create an even bigger one. And I agreed. But that was two days ago, when I thought he'd reach out the very next day.

"I know." He sighs into the line. "I… fuck."

I sit up in bed, my heart racing. The darkness of the room creates a lonely pang in my chest.

"Are you even sorry?" I ask rhetorically. "Do you even care that I've been miserable for the past two days?"

"How do you think I feel?" he shoots back, but his voice is low and sad.

"I don't know because your phone has been off the entire time. I don't know how you feel or what you're thinking because you fucking shut me out."

"Baby."

My eyes sting with tears. "So, is it really over? Like, we're through? That's it, huh?"

"I don't know."

"You seemed pretty damn sure the other night."

"I was pissed. I was… fuck, Bella. You think I want to hear that someone else who was a huge part of your life can offer you something I can't give you? You threw it in my face because you wanted me to feel like shit."

That wasn't my intention. Not at first, but maybe he's right. I also have to bite my tongue from saying he can give me what I want, he just… won't.

"I'm sorry," I say, meaning it. "I'm sorry. So you ended it as what, payback? For making you feel bad?"

"I don't know what I was trying to do. I wasn't thinking straight."

There's faint conversation and laughter in the background, and I can hear the closing of a door.

"Where are you?" I ask.

"We're in Bend."

"Not the city. Like, where are you right now? At the venue still?"

"No. Someone's letting us crash at their place."

"Who?"

"I don't know who they are," he says. "Sam knows them."

"The people you're staying with don't have to work tomorrow?"

"I don't know, Bella. I didn't ask what they do for a living when we got here. My head's kind of been all over the fucking place. Between my hand and you—"

My stomach sinks. His hand. I didn't even think to ask.

"Is it okay? Are you gonna be okay?"

He breathes humorlessly into the phone. "Going to a doctor tomorrow. It's been a really interesting couple of days."

"Have you been able to play?"

"Kinda? It hurts like a bitch, though."

"Is it broken?"

"Fucking feels like it," he mutters.

I'm crying then. Not loud enough for him to hear or even notice, just silent tears streaming down my face. I give myself a second to calm down before I ask, "Are we broken?"

"Feels like it," he says again after a moment, and then I'm really crying. Heavy sobs into the phone. He lets me cry, but when I hear him sniffle, I realize I'm not the only one.

"I hate this," I tell him. "I don't want to break up."

"Baby, I know. Me either. I just… fuck, I don't know what else to do?"

"Don't end it. Please. It's not… this isn't fair."

I feel pathetic. Like I'm begging. But I don't know what else to do, either. If he really wants to break up, I can't stop this from happening.

"Why isn't it fair? Because you wanted to be the one to do it?" he sniffs. "It seemed like that's what you were hinting toward the other night. Wanting to break up…"

"No. I don't want that. We're hundreds of miles away, and we can't even really talk, and you're just… you don't even care?"

"I do care. But things aren't good. We're not good. I can't be on the road and have the same fight with you every night."

"Then we won't talk," I say simply, as if that would work.

"So, we'll be together, but just… won't talk for a few months," he says flatly.

"Sure. I don't know? At least I'm trying here. At least I'm not throwing in the towel, like you are."

"I'm tired, Bell. I'm just… fucking tired."

"Of me?" I whisper. When he doesn't respond, I say, "Fuck you," and I hang up on him.

We don't talk for a week after that. And when we finally do, it's merely a text letting me know that Rose is coming by to pack up his things.