A/N: idk if i'm taking forever to write because i have so much shit going on rn (getting married, which is not actually shit but its taking a lot of shit out of me to plan) or because the closer we get to the end the sadder i get :( i had to split up two chapters for size tho so next one will be out ASAP

Chapter 40

"Your mother is dead."

.*.*

Four months after meeting Peter, we were on the road. As in, we were on tour. As in we were a fairly successful, albeit small, band of misfits that managed to glob onto a tour when its original opening act bailed at the last second.

We were so fucking lucky that Leah's brother, Seth, had a van that he let us borrow. We would never have been able to travel with all of our shit, otherwise.

The tour was nothing major; we were getting paid, but after all of the travel costs, it amounted to basically nothing. Still, we couldn't turn it down - I couldn't turn it down. I needed to get the fuck out of that city that was ridden with memories of things I shouldn't hold on to.

We were in Colorado when Charlie called. Peter and I were crammed into a small motel room while Leah and Sam wandered the neighborhood.

"She'd dead, Bella. She overdosed and now she's dead."

I really couldn't come up with anything to say. I expected this to happen eventually - always had - but now that it had come to fruition, I didn't know what to do or feel, let alone what to fucking say.

So I said, "I'm sorry."

When I asked if there would be a funeral, Peter's head snapped up. He was toying around with his guitar, not really paying attention to me, but he caught that.

Charlie sighed on the other end of the phone. "No. It's too expensive, Bella, and… and I don't know if anyone would show up."

He was probably right about that.

"I figured we could go spread her ashes together or something. You know, when you get home."

Getting home wasn't really something I'd contimplated since I left; I was kind of hoping I would just dissolve off the face of the earth with the tour ended, I guess.

"Who died?" Peter asked once I finally hung up the phone.

"My mother," I said, and even though I didn't even know if I was sad, saying the words aloud caused a sob to wrack through me. Instantly, Peter was there, wrapping me up in his embrace and holding me as I cried.

"Hey, guys. Thanks for coming out. My name is Bella, we're Midnight Sun, and this is our last song."

Being on the road made it so easy to avoid anything and everything that I so chose to. Most of the time, we were packed into a van with barely any room for our bodies, let alone our equipment. We smoked and sang and laughed and slept, and when you're cramped together with people like that, you don't really have time to think about the shit you don't want to think about.

When we weren't driving, we were practicing. If we weren't practicing, we were working on finding a place to spend the night - most of the time, it was crammed up in the van. Sometimes we managed to swing a night or two at a motel if they were cheap enough.

Ultimately, the only time I had - or allowed myself to have - to think about all of the bullshit that made up the past 22 years of my life was when I was on stage singing the songs I wrote about said bullshit.

I'd have to add a Dead Mother song to my arsenal.

Four or five days later, we were in Phoenix. I knew it was irrational to be afraid of running into Jacob; it was a big city, and if he had been here, they would have found him by now. It was nearly a year since The Incident, and although I was sure the cops were done looking for him by now, the case was still open, so if he was spotted…

The Incident was the name I'd given to the night Jake shot Edward. It was also the name of the last song on our setlist. It felt fitting to end a show that way - the song symbolized the end of my fucking life, as it was.

Okay, okay. Dramatic, I know. If only I still had contact with my old social worker, I'm sure he'd tell me some cliche shit about over-dramatization and theatrics. For a second I thought maybe I should give him a call - I wasn't far from Phoenix Community College, anyway, but I knew that realistically, his advice would not extend to anyone who was no longer paying tuition.

Well, in my case, the state paid my tuition. One of the small perks of growing up piss poor.

I could tell Peter was walking on eggshells around me, and I couldn't blame him. I was a loose fucking cannon walking through that city that reminded me so much of the time spent with Jacob and Mom. Leah and Sam didn't really know half of the shit that went down in my life - big shocker, I know. It's not like I've ever been much of a sharer, - but Peter did. He had that way of coaxing things out of me that people rarely did. He was gentle about it, a huge difference from the way Edward used to pry confessions from me by any means necessary, but it worked.

"Bella? Did you hear me? We could just go hang at the motel, if you want…" The way that he spoke was so caring… it pissed me the fuck off.

"Jesus, Pete! If I wanted to go back to the motel, I would fucking tell you."

"Sure you would," he mumbled, kicking a rock out of our pathed as we walked.

"I'm fine. If you want to walk around in the blazing hot sun, I'm fine with that."

He stopped in his tracks. "I knew it! I knew it, Bella." He reached out to wind his long fingers around my wrist. "I don't want to die in this heat, either. I just wanted you to admit it."

Okay, maybe he did have a way of prying confessions, too. But it was different.

Everything is Different also happens to be the name of a song; this one is our opener. An appropriate start to a journey that was different - God knows I never thought I would find myself traveling the United States, but it wasn't written about that. It was the song I played for Peter the first time he got me to sit at my piano, a song I'd written in those months between last seeing Edward and starting Midnight Sun.

When Peter laid down over the sheets on the crappy bed in our crappy, but air-conditioned, motel room, I didn't think twice about crawling up next to him and resting my head on his chest.

It wasn't like that, and he knew it. He had to know it because he knew all the words to all of the songs I wrote, and if he knew them, he had to know it wasn't like that.

I certainly knew it. Everything inside of me screamed that this wasn't right - this man's body wasn't tall enough, and the muscles under his shirt weren't tight enough. There wasn't nearly enough hair on his arms and his hair was too dark and he didn't fucking smell right, like cigarettes and cheap deodorant and boy-across-the-street. He smelled like soap and cologne, and it's not like it was unpleasant, but it just wasn't fucking right.

Still, sometimes, people just need someone to hold on to, and right then, I really fucking did.

My cell phone ringing startled me out of what must have been a quick snooze - the sun was still shining through the window with all of its might. I reached over to grab it from the nightstand, not looking at who was calling when I placed it to my ear.

"Yeah?" I grumbled, sitting up to wipe the sleep from my eyes. Peter stirred next to me but didn't seem to wake.

"Oh, Bella," Alice's tiny voice was forlorn, and every muscle in my body stiffened in response.

"Alice?"

No, no, no. Not here. Whatever she had to say, whatever horrible shit she had to say, I couldn't take it now. Not while I was here, in fucking Phoenix, of all places.

Only a second had passed, but my heart was pounding in my chest and a sweat broke out on my brow as I waited for her to speak.

"I'm so sorry," she squeaked, and the way my heart clenched in my chest made me gasp, and for some reason, it was that sound that woke Peter.

He sat up quickly, placing his hand on my shoulder and squeezing as he stared at me with wide eyes.

"What happened?" I had to take a deep breath before I could ask the question. Pete's grip on me tightened.

Alice paused. "What?" She asked.

"What the fuck happened, Alice?" I shouted into the phone, nearly falling out of the bed as my fight or flight mode kicked in. I stood at its foot, my hand going to my hair and tugging as I waited for the bomb to drop.

"I…um, your mom died?"

The relief that washed through me was so nearly euphoric, that all I could do was laugh. I nearly doubled over as Alice stuttered in my ear and Peter looked at me as if I'd gone insane. Maybe I had, but if that was true, it happened way before this moment.

"Oh, Jesus fuck, Alice," I exhaled into the phone when I finally got control over myself again. "You scared the fuck out of me."

"What did you think I meant, Bella?"

I shook my head, both to her, though she couldn't see it, and to Peter, silently telling him to back off. I took the opportunity to step outside for a cigarette, anyway, taking the phone with me.

"I don't know, Alice. I have no idea." I sighed as I lit up my smoke, hiding in the shady corner beside our room's door. "So everything is okay, then?"

It's not like Alice and I talked much, but… we talked enough that she knew what I was asking.

"Oh, well, yeah. Everything's okay. Same shit, as far as I know. Doesn't Uncle Carlisle still text you?"

"Now and then," I told her.

"Okay. Well, anyway…" she trailed off, and at this point, I knew how to take the fucking hint and move on, so I thanked her for calling about Mom. She asked about a funeral, I told her what Charlie told me. She asked how the tour was going, I told her it was good, and that was that. There was nothing else to say, except agree when she told me she missed me and give Jasper my best.

"What was that?" Pete stopped in his tracks - he'd been pacing - when I walked back into the room.

I shrugged. "Nothing important,"

"Oh, give me a break, Bella! I know that being here is hard for you, I totally get it, but your mood swings are killing me."

"Mood swings?" I asked, tossing my phone onto the bed so I could effectively place my hands on my hips.

"C'mon, you know what I mean. One second you seem scared to death, then you're laughing your ass off, and now you're acting all nonchalant, like nothing happened? You might be able to get away with that shit with everyone else, but not me, Bella, so what the hell happened?"

"Holy shit, Pete, chill the fuck out. It was Alice."

His mouth formed a silent 'oh,' and that was that. He knew that was that, because he knew who Alice was, and he knew all of the words to my songs which meant he knew that was fucking that.

"Everything's okay, then?" He spoke without emotion, now, something I noticed he did after I'd shut him down.

"Yep. Just sending her condolences for mommy dearest."

He hummed in acknowledgment before turning away from me and facing his guitar in the corner. "We should probably practice before the show."