Chapter Seven

Two weeks after I send my email to Edward, he finally calls. It wakes me up well after one in the morning, which means it's probably even later wherever he is.

"Hello?" I ask, groggy and disoriented.

"Hey… I can't see you…" he says.

"What?"

"Put the phone up to your face."

It takes a second for my brain to catch up, and I pull the phone away from my ear, blinking against the brightness of my screen. He didn't just call, but he FaceTimed.

"Oh. Hi." I fight a yawn, but can't fight the immediate longing I feel when I see him.

"Fuck. Sorry. You were sleeping. I didn't even think about the time," he mumbles, looking apologetic and a little thinner, but still so fucking good. His hair is sticking every which way, and his scruff has grown into a beard. I've always loved him with facial hair, but this is new. It's full and rugged and does something big to my heart.

I clear my throat, rubbing my eyes and sitting up against the headboard. After a second, I flip on the lamp beside the bed.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

"Yeah. No. I don't know." I have no idea where he is, but he's sitting alone outside. "Sorry I haven't replied to your email. I wrote you something, but I just… I'm still trying to find the right words."

"You don't have to say that if it's not true," I say evenly. Not hurt or even mad. Just honest.

"It's true," he promises. He must catch my disbelief, because he asks, "What?"

"I mean, you texted that you missed me and couldn't even reply to that, so…"

"I know. I'm… I was fucking…" He sighs and runs a hand through his greasy hair. "I shouldn't have texted that."

I raise my brows, smiling sadly. "So, you didn't mean it?"

"Of course I meant it. I fucking miss you. But I guess I didn't really think it through. I just wasn't sure what to say after that. Wasn't sure if I overstepped or…" He pauses, but it doesn't feel like he's done yet, so I stay quiet. "But I'm sorry, too. For… everything. For every fucking thing, Bella. I really am." He doesn't just sound sorry, but he looks like it, too. There's sincerity in his eyes and in his voice, and it tugs at me.

"Thank you for saying that," I say softly. "Is this why you called, or…?"

"No. I wanted to talk." He stands then and begins pacing. "Do you hate me?" he whispers, and I merely shake my head. "Everything kind of escalated, you know? I just feel like we needed to take a step back."

"You're not wrong. Things were… bad," I agree, and his focus darts past his camera. "But I'd say we took more than a step back."

"I know." He looks at the screen then, his eyes dark and apologetic. "It was shitty of me. Shitty timing. All of it was shitty. But I'm so fucking sorry."

"I am, too." With our apologies out of the way, my chest feels a little lighter, my heart a little more open. "How's your hand?" I ask.

He holds it up to the camera. "It's healing. Probably won't be punching any brick walls in the future." He laughs a little. "At least, that's what the doctor advised."

"That'd be a good idea," I agree, my stomach twisting from his small laugh.

"How are you?" he asks.

"I'm…" I shrug. "How are you?"

"Same." He sighs, and we just stare back at one another. "So, I was thinking..."

"About what?"

"Will you still come to Austin?" he murmurs, voice warm and velvety. "Please?"

I still have everything booked, and have been avoiding dealing with all of that. But my plane ticket is already paid for, and so is the Airbnb we were going to stay at during my visit. I told myself Alice or Rose could use the accommodations during their stay. But maybe that was an excuse I came up with. Maybe I was holding out hope for something like this. Maybe I knew he'd ask me to come, anyway, because it's so like us to fall back into this.

"I don't know if that's a good idea," I reply. Even if I desperately want to see him, that doesn't mean it's smart.

For a moment his face falls, and he looks down.

"I need to see you," he says quietly, words laced with longing. "I think it'd be good for me. For us? And you already have everything booked, right?"

"Right. But I don't want to go just because it's… what? Convenient for you?"

"That's not why I'm asking you to come," he clarifies. "I miss you, and I want to spend time with you. And talk? I dunno. Things haven't been good here."

"Why not?" I ask, rolling onto his side of the bed, desperately wishing that it still smelled like him.

"I can't stop thinking about you." He says it so quietly, so desperately.

"Could've fooled me," I mumble, the hurt clear in my voice.

"You don't think I want to reach out to you every day? You don't think it's killing me inside, not to see you or hear from you?"

"No," I say honestly, swallowing back emotion that's threatening to come out. "I don't."

He's too quiet. "It's killing me. It's been killing me. Okay? I fucking hate this. The guys are giving me shit 'cause it's bleeding into the tour. I just really wanna see you. So, please… come?"

"Edward…"

"We'll just… hang out. And talk. No bullshit. Nothing. Just us. Please." It comes out like a whisper, like a plea. "Please, baby."

My stomach flips and clenches with nerves and anticipation. My heart stutters. I want to cave so badly. It'd be easy, too, and it'd feel so good to see him, hold him, talk to him. It'd feel so right to just be with him again.

"I don't know," I say, but the prospect of potentially going to Austin bubbles in my chest. "How's the tour, anyway?" I ask, changing the subject.

"Fine." His words are clipped and he brings a cigarette to his mouth, lighting it.

"Fine?"

He inhales, exhales. "There's been some tension between me and the guys."

"Even with Emmett?" I ask, but I know he and his brother butt heads from time to time.

Edward snorts. "Especially with him."

"Why?"

"I dunno if I wanna get into it right now."

"You can tell me," I remind him. "You said you wanted to talk, right? No bullshit. So?"

"Not here. Not now," he clarifies softly. "In person or whatever."

"Edward, I just don't know," I say again.

His head tilts downward, and he blows smoke toward the ground. "Bell?"

"I stopped following you and the band on Instagram 'cause it was too hard. Because I'm having a hard time, too. Like…" I stop, not wanting to get into just how difficult it's been. Not wanting to sound too pathetic or desperate. But I also want to be honest. "I've missed you so much."

"Then come to Austin. Please? I just wanna be with you for a few days. Not even like… that, just… I wanna see you."

"Not even like that?" I echo, knowing he's lying. "Yeah, right."

"I'm serious."

"Edward." I level him with a look, and he fights a small smile. "We've never not been like that." We were like that before we were even officially together. We can't be friends. We never could be. So, I don't know who he thinks he's fooling.

"Can you fucking blame me? You're all I want," he says simply.

"Yeah?" I ask rhetorically. "But you broke up with me." There's no animosity behind my words, just the truth.

"And I fucking regret it," he says instantly, shaking his head. "I've regretted it every single day."

"Again, you could've fooled me," I mumble.

"I'm sorry," he says sincerely. "I was trying to do what I thought was best. Give us both space. That doesn't mean I'm not hurting, though."

"Yeah." I nod, understanding. I can't argue that space hasn't done us good, because it has. It's brought clarity, but that doesn't mean there's closure there. "So, then what? I'd go to Austin and we just… forget everything that's happened?"

"No? We don't have to figure it all out now. Just… come. Please?"

"What are your intentions?" I question, and to my surprise he doesn't laugh.

"To just be with you and see you," he says seriously. "To make everything up to you."

"Is this a booty call?"

He laughs, then, and my stomach simmers with lust. "A booty call a week in advance?"

"I don't know." Jealousy creeps in when I'm reminded that he could likely have anyone at any time. He doesn't need me to fly across the country to get laid. I'm curious to know if he's been with anyone else, but I don't ask. I don't want to know yet. But deep down, I hope he's abstained the way I have.

"This isn't me wanting you to just come here so we can fuck. This isn't anything more than me wanting to see you and missing you and… I mean, if something happens between us, I'm not gonna stop it. But if that's not what you want, then that's fine."

"I appreciate you saying that, but I'll always want more with you, which is why going to Austin would be the worst idea ever."

"The worst idea ever?" He breathes a laugh through his nose. "Ouch."

"You know what I mean." I smile a little. "Maybe not the worst idea. But maybe not the smartest."

"Yeah, I get it. But I selfishly want you here," he urges. "I don't even have to stay with you. You can still have space. I'll stay at the hotel."

I can feel my resolve quickly crumbling with each pleading look, each persuasive murmur of his voice. It's never like this. With the apologies and the begging. He wants me, and I'd be lying to myself if I said I didn't want him, too.

When he says my name again, slowly, softly, I release a sigh and tell him okay, a smile brightening his tired face. My smile mirrors his, and for the first time in weeks, I feel hopeful.