Chapter 32.

Daytona Season is finally here.

It's almost as if time speeds up after the holidays, and in the following months our main goal is to prepare for the final championship at Daytona Beach. With a good idea of what people on our team can do, Coach Hale has put together a routine that goes way beyond what everyone had expected, in both difficulty and skill. We will be attempting stunts nobody has performed at Daytona before—a pyramid so intricate we need to break it down in little pieces to be able to practice them.

And practice them is all we do.

I quit my job at Subway as soon as I got back to Utah. The private lessons are more lucrative anyway, and I can manage to schedule them in my limited time off. Between privates, financial aid, and my partial scholarship, I am pretty much supporting myself through college, without having to burden my mom with it. She already has enough on her plate.

Before leaving Colorado after the holidays, Mom and I had a long, heart-to-heart chat. She was aware of Uncle Masen's debts and was already working toward paying them off—it's why she was so behind on everything else. I promised to help more, but she insisted taking care of myself was already more than helpful enough. We agreed, I would focus on Daytona through the spring, then I would insist on helping her out again in the summer.

So I focus on Daytona. Practice with the team. Train with Jasper. Spend any remaining time with Bella. It's exhausting, and exciting, and physically and mentally challenging. But most of all, it's so undeniably fulfilling, consistently hitting our new stunts, getting better and better at it, wanting to keep pushing and pushing for more.

While it's been tough, it has easily been the best months of my life.

All thanks to Bella.

She's been busy, too. Her commitments outside of the team—commercials, photo shoots, and social media content for her brand—have all skyrocketed since we got back from the holidays.

"Holy shit…" Emmett faceplants on his bed, on top of the covers. "I don't think I'll be able to move tomorrow."

I drag my own feet to my bed, sitting on it and checking my phone first. I haven't heard from Bella since after practice. She stayed behind as the girls had to try on their new uniforms, which takes them longer than our simple shirts and pants.

"Coach Hale wants morning practice outside tomorrow," I say, dropping my head on my pillow with a huff. "We need to be ready for anything."

It's finally gotten warm enough for us to practice outside. With roughly a month left for Daytona, Coach Hale wants us to get as used to the elements as possible. Coming from Utah, we might be at a disadvantage against the Florida weather. It could be windy. It could be rainy. It will most likely be humid and hot as fuck.

She's had us perform as well, go through the full routine, mostly without an audience.

This weekend we have our first official show off going full out—performing the full routine–for family and friends and everyone at Summit University. Bella's parents are coming. I'm half excited, half terrified to meet them.

"She wants to kill us," Emmett says, turning on his back with a groan. "I'd die happily in her hands."

I chuckle softly and let my eyelids flutter closed, my whole body screaming for rest.

I don't know how long it's been when I wake up to Vicky coming into our room. She sits on Emmett's bed but she's staring at me, looking pale and worried, like she's just seen a ghost.

My stomach drops. Something's wrong.

"Where's Bella?" I sit up quickly and check my phone again. Nothing from her.

"Um…" Vicky intertwines her fingers, looking down while Emmett props himself on his elbow behind her, a worried expression on his face too.

"What happened?" I'm off the bed, standing in front of her, my heart beating wildly in my chest.

"She's okay," Vicky says quickly, too quickly. "Nothing happened. She just had to stay behind with Coach." She avoids my eyes, and I know she's lying.

"Bullshit. Tell me what's wrong."

"I don't think I should say. Maybe just wait until you talk to her?"

"Vicky, I swear to god." I pinch my nose and try to think, but my head is spinning. I shake off my sleep and start fetching my things. Wallet. Phone. Shoes. My goal clear in my head: I need to find Bella. "Where is she?"

"Gym," Vicky says, still avoiding my eyes. "With Coach, and Laurent."

Laurent? The team doctor?

"Could you just fucking spit it out, Vicky? Is she hurt?"

"Fine." Vicky slaps her hands on her thighs, finally looking up at me. "She's not hurt. Coach overheard a conversation about Bella feeling sick and missing her period…again. So Laurent is checking on her. I thought she was just sick from the watermelon cleanse, but maybe it's something else."

I can feel the blood drain from my face.

Emmett is off the bed, a hand on my shoulder. I don't even know what he's saying, but he's not even trying to be funny about this.

"What watermelon cleanse?" I ask in a whisper. I don't even know why that's what I comment on first. It's the least problematic statement in what Vicky just recounted.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Could she be? From that one time in Emmett's Jeep? It's the only time I have not used protection. I can't believe I allowed myself to be so stupid and irresponsible. My brain plays every possible scenario as I leave the room.

~.~.~

I arrive at the gym, cold and sweaty all at once. Coach Hale is coming out of the medical room at the back of the gym, Laurent behind her. She stops and crosses her arms over her chest, looking disapprovingly at me. I gulp as I walk to her.

"Is she okay?" My voice is as shaky as my knees.

Coach's eyes bore into mine. She looks upset, worried, but I don't think she's angry at me like she should be.

"Come find me after you talk to her," she says, patting me on my shoulder, leaving me petrified in front of the medical room door.

I take a quick breath before knocking on the door. There is no answer, so I open it slowly. My eyes find Bella sitting on the examination table, still in her cheerleading outfit. Her hair is loose, covering most of her face as she looks down at her hands.

I take a step forward and she sniffles, gazing up at me. When her eyes meet mine, she perks up, and even smiles, running her fingers on her cheeks to wipe her tears.

"Hey," I croak out, then clear my throat and try again. "Are you okay?"

She nods, extending her arms up to me, until I close the distance between us, and she wraps them around my neck.

I breathe her in, exhaling in relief, and place the paper bag I've been carrying on the table next to her. My arms then wrap around her, holding her to my chest. "It's going to be okay," I tell her softly, hugging her tight.

She pulls back with a sad smile and a sniffle. "What do you have in there?" She gestures to the bag as I clasp my hands on the edge of the table, flanking her legs.

"Just some tests," I say and she peeks into the bag, her grin expands on her face even through her tears. "I got one of each brand. I don't know which one works best. There's some ovulation ones too, which I know makes no sense, but I was in too much of a rush to notice, and all the fucking boxes look the same."

"Cullen—"

"I'm all in, one hundred percent, okay? Whatever you want to do, I'm here." I try to sound calm even though my head is spinning.

"Edward…" She wraps her hands around my face, making me look at her. "I'm not pregnant."

"We'll know for sure." I wrap my hands around her wrists, running my thumbs over her hands in support. "I'm going to be there for you, every step of the way."

"You're not listening to me," she says through a small laugh. "I am not pregnant."

"Vicky said you missed your period again." I step back, my gaze meeting hers in confusion. "I-I don't—"

"I just don't get my period," she says softly, calmly. She even shrugs.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't get my period," she repeats, unfazed.

"Is that normal?"

"It's normal for me," she says defensively, hopping off the table.

"Let's just make sure." I pull on my neck, looking around the room for a clue or a sign or something—frankly, lost—before turning to her. "Please."

"I've already taken several tests." She's collecting her things, throwing stuff into her bag. "One just now, with them." She zips the bag closed before turning to face me. "I'm not pregnant."

"I-I don't understand." I lean against the table, my hands on the edge for support.

"It's been two months since that time in Emmett's Jeep. If I was pregnant, we would know by now."

"Then why are you not getting your period?"

"I've always been irregular." She shrugs again, inching closer to me and smiling as her hands cup my face. "Don't worry about it."

But worry is all I do on our walk back to the dorms, and all I think about as she falls asleep in my bed. Once she dozes off, I leave her side, get my laptop out, and a couple of searches later feel like an absolute idiot.

Second to pregnancy, extreme weight loss is listed as a cause for missed periods. That takes me through a rabbit hole of eating disorders. Everything fits like a puzzle that has been right in front of me. Her lack of eating. Her stressing over food and calories. Her crazy diets and fucking watermelon cleanses.

Even my mom had noticed, when Bella visited my in Utah, and when she mentioned it to me with concern, I wrote it off as Bella being jet lagged or nervous about meeting her. I never thought…I never imagined. I've been oblivious and neglectful and just overall useless.

I lean back on the chair, my eyes trained on her, not really knowing how to help her. What to do, or what to say. She looks tiny in my bed, now more than ever, swimming inside of my shirt.

Have I really been this clueless?

I pull out my phone. It's almost midnight, but I type the text anyway.

Can we talk now?

Coach Hale not only replies right away but offers to pick me up, and only fifteen minutes later, I am waiting for her outside of the dorms, under the drizzle.

~.~.~

Coach Hale drives off campus and to the hills, finding a viewpoint where she parks. We've been in absolute silence except for the rain that has now started pelting on the car.

"Okay," Coach says, unclasping her seatbelt and tucks one leg under her, turning to face me. "How much do you know about it?"

"I don't know anything. I-I thought she was pregnant."

"She could very well have been," Coach says, smacking my arm. "I would have thought better of you two than to be having unprotected sex."

"We're not," I say quickly, rubbing the sore spot on my arm. "Not anymore. It was just that one time."

"Okay, good." She scowls at me, her eyes disapproving.

"So, is she okay?" I think I know the answer to my question, but I ask anyway.

"What did she tell you?" Coach is annoyingly evasive, which only infuriates me more

"She didn't tell me anything!"

"Edward…" Her face softens and she clasps a hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "Breathe."

I close my eyes and do as she says, try to calm down, but I am frankly overwhelmed. "She just said she doesn't get her period and that's somehow normal for her."

Coach sighs next to me.

"Then I looked it up and now I think she might have an eating disorder?" I look back at Coach as the words leave my mouth and realization bounces off her face.

"Have you noticed any particular concerning behaviors?"

"Well, now that I think about it, yes! I can't believe I've been so incredibly oblivious." My legs are bouncing under me, my mind speeding. "She barely eats. She's always checking and counting her calories. I mean, I count my calories too, roughly. A lot of us do. But not in the obsessive way she does. I thought she was just being careful."

Coach Hale clasps her hands over her thighs, remaining quiet and letting me get it all out.

"So many times we've been to eat together and she would just say she wasn't hungry or that she ate already. I never really insisted. I believed her."

Moments with Bella flash in my head as I try to look for other signs I might have missed.

"She fainted when we were at the hot springs…I-I thought it was because of the change in temperature…I just…" I cover my face with my face, my heart sinking in realization. "Fuck, I've just been completely clueless."

"Edward, if she has an eating disorder, it's not your fault." Coach's voice is soft, and when I look up at her, her eyes are full of concern.

"So, does she have one?"

"I suspect so as well. I've confronted her about it several times, but she says she's fine. That it's just stress. That she'll do better. But I can see the signs; I've lived through them. And it's been getting worse."

"Shit…" My eyes water in frustration and realization.

"I've given her an ultimatum. If she loses any more weight, she's off the team. But I can't force her to get help. She needs to want to."

"How do I help her?"

"Just be there for her. Talk to her. Tell her about your concerns and what you've noticed. How it affects you."

"Do her parents know?"

"Her parents are aware," Coach says and lets out a frustrated sigh. "But they're in complete denial. I warned them last month when Bella dropped under ninety-five pounds, and Renee seemed to think that was acceptable. When she started lecturing me about BMI, I knew I'd lost the fight with them."

My fingers rub my temples, my head hurting. But my heart aches the most—how long has Bella been starving herself right before my eyes?

"How do I even talk to her about this?" I ask between my hands while they cover my face.

"Just be your gentle, understanding self." Coach clasps her hand on my shoulder in another squeeze. "She'll listen to you."

I scrub my hands down my face and look up at Coach. She gives me a reassuring nod, even though I am not too sure myself.

"I think between the two of us, we can encourage her to do better, to take better care of herself, and to seek professional help if she needs to. I will try to talk to Phil and Renee as well, if anything at least so they ease up on her and get her out of some of this other shit they have her do."

I take a deep breath and stare at the rain pouring down the window, letting it wash down the uncertainty and hopelessness. Then I replace those feelings with determination. "Okay. I'll talk to her."