an: thanks to all the usual suspects! I've now finished writing this (apart from the inevitable tinkering), so four more chapters after this one ❤
•seventeen•
Dirt churning underneath new tires, Edward went into the corner way too fast. The back wheel of his bike slid out from under him, sending him gliding through mud until he stopped on his back, staring up at a dark gray sky.
He heard the feet running towards him, before Emmett's concerned face swam above him.
"You all right?"
Emmett extended a hand which Edward gratefully took, shaking himself off as he stood, splattered with mud from head to toe. He removed his goggles and helmet, shaking out sweaty hair.
In the distance, he could see Jasper perched on the fence, smoking. He raised a hand and Edward raised one back, before his gaze returned to the makeshift track in a recently harvested field. The natural peaks and troughs of this one had made for a good circuit for him to practice; Emmett had helped carve it out—Jasper, too.
"All good," he told Emmett as he shook his right arm out, getting rid of the tingling in his hand, lifting his face to the sky as it started to rain; a fine mist that coated his face.
"Took it way too fast."
"I know." His voice came out too snappy. He could see Emmett grimace out of the corner of his eye, like he was trying to hold himself back… he didn't.
"Can you just fucking stop with the attitude? I get you're pissed off about—about things, but you've been acting like a little bitch ever since we came back from Georgia."
"I'm not—"
"Yes, you fuckin' are. Even got Gram riled up yesterday. Thought she was gonna sling you one at dinner."
Edward fell silent, looking at the clumps of mud underneath his feet, the neon green of his boots barely visible from the mud caking them. His hair blew into his eyes, and dragging a hand through it didn't seem to help; tangled with sweat.
"Sorry." He looked at Jasper again. He hadn't moved for the couple of hours Edward had been out here, and although he didn't verbalize any encouragement, his presence had done just that, Edward tearing around the circuit feverishly with the need to impress.
A week at home. Another canceled meet, and Edward was feeling the sting of leaving Bella behind. The silence of his cell phone weighed on him. He had what he could only think of as a type of withdrawal. A hangover. He craved Bella in ways that seemed normal to him; sex, her body, the feel of her wrapped around him at night, the Instagram conversations... and in ways that were more foreign: wondering what she was up to at various times of the day, whether Kasey had a good day at kindergarten... whether they were both still in the house, or whether they'd gone back to the trailer. It was all the little things he found himself wanting.
They hadn't talked since he left her standing there in the field, in the pouring rain, and he had no intention of being the first to break the silence. He was done trying.
"Gonna call it quits for today," Edward said gruffly. "Going out with Eric and Mike later if you want to come? Just to Joe's."
It was an olive branch on his part.
"Ah, I'm okay. Gonna take Jasper over to the diner for some food. You're welcome to join us? You've been drinking a lot recently."
Edward hesitated. Food sounded good, but he'd already made plans with Eric and Mike to meet up after they finished work.
"Can't. Meeting them in an hour or so."
Emmett brushed it off.
"Well, have fun. And lighten up for fuck's sake, before I have to smack some sense into you."
Edward smiled faintly as he picked up his bike from the dirt and started walking it back to the field entrance.
"You could never."
"Well, someone needs to."
Edward ignored the jibe, watching as Jasper dropped from the fence, smiling faintly. The three of them made their way back to the farmhouse in the distance, together, Riley running in circles around them.
"Doing good," Jasper offered after a minute. Edward smiled, reaching out, arm coming around him to squeeze Jasper's shoulder.
"You too, bro."
...
The bar was warm, the faint smell of sweat, smoke, and beer clinging to the air as Edward weaved his way through heated bodies. Mike and Eric were sitting toward the back as a band kicked off at the front, two pints each already in front of them.
"Here he is—long time no see, stranger!" Mike crowed, a boyish grin on a baby-face.
"It's been a while," Edward agreed, thankful when Mike slid one of his beers over the wooden table toward him and he sat down, taking off his thicker shearling checked jacket. "Still having trouble growing more than a couple of hairs on your chin, I see."
Mike pursed his lips, fingertips scratching through patchy stubble. "Now, now. It's because I'm blond."
"Still going through puberty, you mean?" Eric interjected. Mike slapped him on the head.
Edward picked his pint up, amused, taking a few gulps.
"Cheers."
The rest of the first pint slipped down easily, as did the second and third. Eric and Mike were the type of mindless company Edward wanted. He didn't have to think around them; they provided all the laughter and entertainment he needed for the sullenness he'd been carrying around with him for the past few days to melt off his back.
It was on his way back from the bathroom hours later that he got sidetracked—a familiar curly head in the crowd. His steps faltered as he watched Angela disappear with a drink in her hand, outside, onto the porch where she took up residence at one of the large beer barrel tables with her friends.
It was a split second decision to follow her. The buzz in his head from knowing she'd still caused problems for him, fanning the flame of anger. Because she was; The fact they were getting gossiped about had plainly upset Bella, and Edward had no doubt in his mind it all came back down to one person.
Not that it really mattered now, anyway.
But still, he needed to know—would she do this every time he was seeing someone? His feet carried him outside, the door shutting the roars of laughter and music behind him. Heat lamps above him prickled the skin on the back of his neck.
Emmett would tell him he was better than this, but Edward really wasn't beyond telling Angela to her face to fuck off. Again.
As Edward approached, he saw the surprise in Angela's eyes turn into a smile—hopeful, welcoming, warm. And he wondered whether last time, in the Kangaroo Express lot, if he hadn't been clear enough.
"Can I borrow you?" he asked curtly, jerking his head away from her friends—a group he disliked even back when they were together. He kept his distance and his hands stuffed in his jean pockets.
"Sure." Angela slid down from her bar stool, picking up her purse from the table and walking a little further away with him, a glance cast over her shoulder at her friends who seemed to find it wholly amusing, giggling amongst themselves.
"Was it you?" he asked abruptly, stopping in the lot.
"Was it me what?" Angela replied, crossing her arms over her chest, a leather jacket layered over a black and red dress.
"Going on those forums again, postin' pictures of me and—"
Angela cut him off with a laugh.
"You really think so little of me, don't you?"
Edward threw a hand up in the air.
"What am I supposed to think, Ang? You made it a fucking habit when we were together—after the accident—before it."
"And I said I was sorry—"
"No, you aren't," Edward cut her off, acidicly. "You're sorry you got caught out. You're not sorry you were taking my money while I was unconscious in the fucking hospital."
Angela's mouth flapped like a gate in the wind. He had to laugh.
"There was a reason for that," she countered eventually. "I needed to help my mom out—I had to. But I didn't think you'd mind. I planned to pay it all back. Look, I'm just trying to enjoy a Saturday evening, Edward, and you're still barking up that same tree. You're like a dog with a bone. It's been over a year."
Edward faltered.
"I think I've got the right to still be mad about it."
"You're the one who told me to fuck off and leave you alone months ago, remember? That's what I'm doing. And here you are, drunk and—and hassling me."
"Not that drunk," he defended himself. Even though he was. "Not hassling you, either. Just…asking you to fucking stop if it is you."
"I swear it wasn't me. I swear on my mom's life; those pictures of you and whatever her name is, it wasn't me. I mean, come on, it's not like you were being subtle about it. You were all over her. Anyone could have seen you and taken pictures. Quite frankly, it's embarrassing that you're still trying to pin it on me at this point."
She rolled her eyes and looked away from him. Edward studied her, unsure whether she was just that good of a liar. The problem was, even if Angela was telling the truth, he didn't trust a word out of her mouth, which meant that this was a fucking pointless conversation.
He laughed, bitterly. "You know, I don't even know whether I believe you. I don't even know whether I can trust one fucking word outta your mouth. I've got no reason to think it's anyone else. All I'm saying is if it is you, for the love of God, fucking stop or—"
"Are you threatening me?"
"Not a threat if I follow through on getting lawyers involved. Should've done it last time."
Angela scoffed.
"People are going to gossip. Isn't she—"
"I know who she is, thanks," he replied coldly.
"You didn't strike me as the type to go into a ready-made family," she added, sourly.
Edward started backing away, done with the conversation, regretting his spur-of-the-moment decision to follow her out here.
"Guess that goes to show how little you actually knew me, then."
…
Edward woke with a sore head on his couch with his pants half off and his cell somewhere on the floor. He was cold and stiff and he realized his dick was half hanging out of his boxer shorts. A groan escaped his mouth, wondering whether he'd tried to jerk off, but passed out. He tucked himself away, kicking off his pants before reaching for his cell, abandoned on the floor. Memories started to come back, swirling around his hazy head, Angela's indignant face, Mike and Eric shoving him into a taxi. Him… vomiting somewhere? Outside the house? He couldn't remember.
He had no recollection of what he did or what he said. If anything, he was still drunk.
He lay back down against cushions Alice had bought him, soft velvet type ones, nuzzling his face into one and closing his eyes, willing the nausea and the dull throbbing in his head to go away.
He was woken much later by Emmett, standing in the doorway, crunching loudly on a bowl of cereal, shaking his head.
"Stop," Edward rasped, wincing. "Please."
Emmett continued to chew loudly until he finally swallowed, pointing his now empty spoon at Edward.
"I got a text message from Angela. If you go near her again, she says she's gonna report you to the cops."
"She's gonna—oh, that's fucking rich."
"What did you do?" Emmett didn't look happy.
"Told her to stop posting shit about me. Problem with that?"
Emmett sighed, bringing another spoonful of cereal to his mouth, milk dripping back into the bowl.
"Sometimes you just gotta let it go, Edward. Before you wind up in trouble."
Edward knew Emmett was right, but he replied with a stubborn "Whatever," instead.
"Look, just… get it together. Tennessee next week. Memphis." Emmett reminded him. "Gonna be a good one, I can just feel it."