That night without Jackson felt endless. My heart warred with itself as I stared at my phone—fifteen missed calls and four voicemails from the night before. Finally, I sat in bed and pressed play. I'd missed his voice more than I wanted to admit, but hearing the raw anguish in each message broke me completely. By the fourth voicemail, I was weeping.
Saved message, 11th of July 2012 @ 8:54 PM
"Bella." His voice was rough, strained. "I'm sorry for being so harsh with you on the phone. But you scared me when you told me you were running in the park alone, in the dark. Do you have any idea what could happen to you out there at night?" There was a pause, and I could hear him struggling with his words. "I don't want you to feel like I'm being controlling—that's the last thing I want. But I car
