BPOV

Eleven Days. Eleven fucking days had passed since I'd seen or heard from Edward. Not since the night he'd taken me up to Exploration Peak, or the evening Carlisle found a bouquet of flowers outside of our building with my name on it. Everything felt out of control. Edward was in every thought I had, whether I was sleeping or awake, and I certainly spent more time awake than sleeping.

"Hey," Carlisle murmured, coming up to stand behind me. He placed his hands on my hips and leaned his chin on my shoulder. "Doesn't it help to paint if you have the brush in your hand?"

"That's the rumor," I groused, grabbing his hand and pulling it around my body, hugging his arm. Every morning I climbed out of bed, usually detangling myself from Carlisle's arms and settled on my stool and stared at the canvas sitting on the rackety easel in my living room. The bright colors mocked me, begged me to paint more, but I couldn't seem to get my fingers to touch my brush, get the picture inside of my head to become clear enough for me to paint.

Once again I'd lost my muse.

"I'm worried about you," he whispered.

I nodded, unsure of what to say.

"Tell me you're okay," he urged.

"I'm okay," I lied.

Carlisle sighed, turning his head and pressing his lips to the side of my neck. "I have to go to the clinic. Are you working today?"

"Yeah," I scoffed. "Every day until Mr. Call hires someone else to run the place or fires me. Probably that latter."

"That fucker won't fire you, Bella," he quipped. "He wants to fuck you too much."

I cringed. Carlisle was convinced that Mr. Call had a thing for me and that's why he put up with my shit. Maybe he was right, or maybe he just knew that nobody else would keep his place above water.

"Okay, I'm leaving," he sighed, kissing my neck again. "I'll see you later?"

"Be careful," I whispered, shifting my eyes to his. "Please?"

Carlisle nodded. "I will. Love you, honey."

"I love you, too."

I watched as Carlisle walked out of my apartment, closing the door behind him. My eyes fluttered to a close as I released the breath I'd been holding. Carlisle was the only person I had right now, especially since Edward had seemed to decide I wasn't worthy of him anymore. I shouldn't have been surprised. I'd taken a chance and let him into my life. Just like everyone I've ever encountered, he'd thrown me away. I really was worthless.

Doing my best to shake all thoughts of Edward out of my head, I climbed off my stool and walked into my bedroom, shrugging off the T-shirt I was wearing and walking into the bathroom. Maybe a hot shower would help clear my head.

Of course it didn't.

I showered, dressed in my uniform for work, and made my way to the diner with Edward on my mind. Why had he come barging into my life, only to leave without a word? It was cruel and mean, yet I still wanted to see him, to talk to him. It was crazy, but I felt this need for him that scared me. Edward didn't know me, not the real me. If he did, he'd leave me, too.

When I walked into the diner, I saw Mr. Call perched up behind the register while Jasper was in the kitchen, trying to prepare for the breakfast rush that would be coming in within the next fifteen minutes.

"Nice of you to show up, Isabella," Mr. Call snarled.

I rolled my eyes and waved him off. He could be an asshole all he wanted, but he needed me to run this shithole. Once I'd stowed my bag in my locker and tied my apron around my waist, I walked back out front, stopping in front of the coffee pots. The empty coffee pots that had been left on the burner so that the few drops of coffee that had remained was burned.

Sighing, I turned and glared at Mr. Call. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to make a pot of coffee."

"Probably not," he admitted, pushing away from the register and shoving a white envelope in his back pocket. "But then again, that's why I pay you so well."

I snorted, but didn't say anything. It wouldn't do any good. Instead, I started four fresh pots of coffee: two regular and two decaf. A moment later, I heard the door the diner close and saw that Mr. Call had left. Just before the rush, as always.

"Hey, Bella," Jasper muttered, carrying a tray of freshly cleaned coffee mugs and placing them under the counter. "These were kind of heavy, so I thought I'd bring them up for you."

"Oh, thanks."

Jasper simply nodded before walking back into the kitchen. He was quiet, sometimes too quiet. Though I knew that he'd been through Hell and had the scars to prove it, I liked him. He was skittish and nervous, but then again, I was untrusting and closed off. Which, of course, was probably why Edward hadn't been around. It was clear to me that he couldn't deal with my issues. Better that I learned that now rather than after I got too attached, right?

The morning was busier than usual. Sam brought Emily and the girls in for breakfast. When Bridget and Cassie saw me standing behind the counter, they squealed and scrambled onto two of the stools on the other side of the counter and tried to climb onto the countertop, but Sam was quick to wrap his arm around them both and stopped them.

"You can't go back there, girls," he chided, but his tone was soft and kind.

He was such a good father, the kind of father his girls deserved. I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. Cassie and Bridget were lucky to have him and Emily. They loved their girls more than life, and would never do anything to hurt them. Not like other parents who expected more than their children could give them, and when they failed, they made an example of said child, making sure they knew what a disappointment they had been.

"Bella," Sam called.

I shook my head. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Are you okay?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

I nodded. "Yeah, sit wherever you want. You want your usual drinks?"

"Yes, please," Emily answered, placing her hand on Cassie's back and smiling.

A couple minutes later, I placed two cups of coffee and two glasses of chocolate milk on the table. Cassie and Bridget cheered as their parents passed the milk over to them.

"So," Sam said, shifting his eyes up to mine. "Has that guy been back here?"

My shoulders tensed as the door to the diner opened again. I looked back, watching as the old man shuffled inside and walked over to his booth. There was something off with the way he walked. He had a limp, and he almost seemed to be dragging his left leg a little.

"Bella," Sam called again, drawing my attention to him. "Has that asshole been here again?"

"Samuel Uley," Emily hissed, tilting her head toward their daughters, who were giggling at their father's use of a curse word.

"Sorry," Sam muttered, but looked at me expectantly. "Has he?"

"No," I told him, and I wasn't lying. Red hadn't shown his face here once since Sam threatened to make him eat his food off the floor.

"Good," Sam said, placing his arm on the back of the booth. Bridgett leaned against him, grabbing his arm and dragging it down around her body. "We'll take our usual."

I nodded and walked back around the corner, turning both their orders in as well as the old man's. Jasper grabbed them and gave me a nod, indicating that he'd get them out as soon as possible. He knew just how cranky the old man could get when his food was late, and always made a point of pushing his order to the top of his list.

Grabbing a clean cup from under the counter and a fresh pot of coffee, I walked over to the old man's table, setting the cup on the table before filling it. Normally, he'd reach for the sugar with his left hand, but today, he used his right, having to turn his body to the side in order to touch it. Something was seriously wrong.

I slid into the booth across from him and grabbed the sugar before he could. He snapped his eyes over to me, but didn't say anything as I poured more sugar into his cup than was healthy and sat it back on the table. Then, I grabbed his spoon and stirred it.

"You're worrying me, old man," I whispered, knowing full well that he could hear me.

He grunted, but didn't say anything as he picked up his cup — with his right hand — and took a tentative sip.

"Is it okay?" I asked.

He simply nodded and took one more drink before placing it on the table. The left side of his mouth dropped more than it had the day before and his eyes were dark and heavy. I sighed and leaned forward, placing my elbow on the table.

"You don't look good," I murmured.

Still he didn't say anything, just stared at me. Jasper hollered from the kitchen, letting me know there were orders ready to go out. With another sigh, I slid out of the booth and walked behind the counter, filling my tray with as many plates as I could. I stopped at Sam and Emily's table first, placing their plates in front of them.

"Need anything else?" I asked.

"No, thanks, Bella," Emily said with a smile before she started cutting Cassie's pancakes.

"Let me know," I murmured, before carrying the old man's plate over to him and setting it down in front of him. Using his right hand, he grabbed it and turned it in a circle, just like always. I sighed again and leaned against the booth, watching him. "Did someone hurt you?"

The old man shifted his eyes up to mine, a frown tugging at his lips. Yet, the left side never moved. "Leave me alone," he slurred.

"You can trust me," I whispered, reaching for his arm, but he pulled away.

"Leave me alone, girl," he slurred again, his words sounding harsher than I'd ever heard from him before.

"Fine," I whimpered, unsure why he affected me so much. "Just . . . just do me a favor and hang out here for a while, okay? I'll buy you lunch. Just don't leave."

The old man's eyes softened, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he turned his attention back to his food. Knowing I wasn't going to get anything more from him, I left him sitting there, hoping that he'd listen to me and stay.

Slowly, the diner began to empty. Sam and Emily paid for their breakfast and left with the girls giggling about going to the park. Yet, the old man never moved. He finished his food, refused another cup of coffee, but didn't move. He worried me. There was something wrong with him, but I didn't know how to get him to trust me and knew that he'd never go to the hospital with me, so instead, I called the only person I could think of for help: Carlisle. However, my call went to his voicemail, so I left him a message and then a text, begging him to come to the diner as soon as possible.

Just after one, Jasper came chugging out of the back with several pies and two large plates of cookies.

"Wow," I said, looking at them as he placed them on the counter and turned toward the display case. "Those look good."

"Thanks," he muttered. "I know you normally make them, but I thought I'd give it a go."

"Apple, peach, and . . . is that blueberry?" I asked, gesturing to each pie.

Jasper smiled. "Yeah. I know most people don't like blueberry pie, but I thought it would be nice."

"It smells delicious," I commented, placing my hand on his shoulder. Jasper tensed, but didn't shrug my hand off. "Do you like to bake?"

Jasper shrugged his shoulders. "I guess."

Before I could say anything else, the door to the diner opened. I looked over, expecting to see Carlisle coming in, but instead, saw Emmett walk in with a tall, curvy blond in his arms. Her hair had been pulled up in a messy bun on the top of her head, and she was turned toward Emmett, almost like he was her anchor. Emmett shifted his eyes to mine, and for the first time since I'd met him, he wasn't smiling. His eyes were full of worry and heartache, something I knew all too well.

"Hey, Bella," he murmured, nearly dragging the blond up to the counter.

"Hey, Emmett," I replied as they sat down. "Can I get you something? Maybe some coffee? We have fresh pie."

He smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes, and turned to the woman sitting next to him. "Want some coffee?"

She simply nodded.

Emmett turned his attention back to me. "Two coffees, please."

Grabbing two cups from under the counter, I placed them in front of Emmett and the woman. I filled their cups before starting a fresh pot. When I turned back to Emmett and the woman, he was leaning toward her, one arm still wrapped around her while the other was cupping her face. He was whispering to her, and while I couldn't hear what he said, I heard words like, "second chance" and "fresh start." Catching my eyes, he cleared his throat and leaned away from her, but kept his arm wrapped around her.

"So, um, Bella," he started, sounding nervous. This wasn't the same fun, loud, flirty Emmett, who called me sweetheart and winked at me the first time we met. This person, this man, was hurting. "I was wondering . . . I mean, we were wondering," he said, gesturing to the woman next to him. "Do you, um . . ." He blew out a deep breath. "I was wondering if you have any job openings here."

"You want to work in this dump?" I asked.

"No," he said, looking at the woman next to him.

And I understood. Biting my bottom lip, I looked to the woman next to him. "I'm Bella."

For a moment, I thought she couldn't speak, but then Emmett tightened her arm around her, and she whispered. "Rose. I'm Rose."

"Nice to meet you," I said, shifting my eyes over my shoulder and looking at the old man. He was staring out the window, while drumming his fingers on the table. I sighed and turned back to Rose and Emmett. "Give me a second, okay?"

They nodded as I turned and walked over to his table, sliding into booth across from him. His attention shifted to me and just stared. "Are you ready for lunch?" I asked. He shrugged his shoulders. "Do you like vegetable soup?"

Again, another shrug.

I sighed. "How about I bring you a cup of soup and a grilled cheese sandwich? Then, if you're still hungry, I'll get you some pie. Jasper, our new cook, made a delicious blueberry pie that I am dying to try. Does that sound okay?"

"Ice cream," he groused, shifting his eyes out the window.

"You want ice cream with your pie?" I asked, smiling when he nodded. "Okay, give me a few minutes."

I slid out of the booth and walked behind the counter, scribbling down his order and passing it back to Jasper, who smiled and said, "I'll have it right out."

"Thanks," I murmured, turning back to Emmett and Rose. They had finished their coffee and were wrapped around each other. Placing my hands on the counter, I sighed. "This job sucks. Surely there are better places for you to work."

Though I was addressing Rose, Emmett was the one who replied. "She doesn't have any work experience. Nothing. And the casinos are full of assholes, and the bars . . . Well, trust me, that's the last place she needs to be."

I nodded. "Well, I mean, we are looking for a few people." Rose shifted her eyes to mine, and I felt my heart clench. Her eyes, much like Emmett's were full of pain and anger. "Can you start immediately?"

"Yes," she whispered.

Jasper called out from the kitchen. "Order's up, Bella."

"Okay," I told him before turning back to Rose and Emmett. "One more second, all right?"

They nodded, so I turned and loaded my tray with the old man's soup and grilled cheese, adding a glass of ice water. Carrying it over to his table, I placed them in front of him, smiling when he grabbed his bowl of soup, turned it in a slow circle, and then did the same with the plate his grille cheese sat on. He picked up his soup and dipped it into his bowl, scooping a small spoonful of soup and brought it to his mouth, slurping loudly.

I laughed softly. "Is it good?"

"Needs salt," he groused, but didn't make a move to grab the shaker.

I reached across the table and grabbed it, pouring just a bit into his soup. "Better?" He took another bit, and then nodded. "Good. Eat all of it and then I'll bring your pie and ice cream."

The old man grunted out an "okay" before he turned back to his food and started slurping his soup. I tucked my tray under my arm and walked back around the counter to Emmett and Rose, who had been watching me with an odd expression on her face. Almost like she'd never seen someone be kind to another. Then, again, maybe she hadn't.

"He's a regular. Usually he's just here for breakfast, but I'm worried about him. Something wrong so I asked him to stay, offered to buy him lunch," I explained.

"Oh," she murmured.

"If you want the job, you can start tomorrow," I told her. "But you have to understand that you're going to have to deal with people, and not all of them are going to be nice. Our mornings are insane, and the dinner rush is even worse."

Rose shifted her eyes to Emmett, giving him a pleading look. He sighed, tightening his arm around her waist and pressing his lips against her forehead. "You can do this, honey. Bella's good people, she won't hurt you."

Emmett's faith in me was touching, but he didn't know me, the real me. If he did, he would know there was nothing good about me.

"Okay," Rose whispered, looking back at me. "I'll take it."

"Good." I smiled, though I knew it didn't come off as being real. I got her settled with an application. While she and Emmett filled it out, I pulled one of the blueberry pies from the pie case and cut a slice out for the old man. But when I saw Emmett eyeing it, I cut him and Rose each a slice, and then added a scoop of ice cream to all three.

When I placed his plate in front of him, Emmett laughed, and for a brief moment, I saw the same light-hearted man who had charged his way into the dinner with Alice on his back. But just as quick as the look sprang up on his face, it was gone.

I placed the old man's pie and ice cream in front of him before sliding into the booth across from him again. He didn't say anything as he pulled his spoon from his soup bowl and scooped up a large bit of ice cream. As he lifted it to his mouth, the door to the diner opened. I looked over, sighing in relief when I saw Carlisle rush in. He looked around the diner, finally finding me sitting in front of the old man.

"Are you okay?" he asked, hurrying over to me and grabbing my arms, yanking me from the booth. I bit back the cry of pain, knowing that he'd never forgive himself if he thought he'd hurt me. Carlisle's eyes drifted down my body, searching for any sign that I'd been injured.

"I'm fine," I whispered, drawing his eyes up to mine. "Sorry, I should have been clearer." Then, I turned and faced the old man, who had abandoned his pie and ice cream. "There's something wrong with him."

"What?" Carlisle asked.

I looked at him, sighing. "He comes in everyday, but I've noticed that the left side of his face is droopy, and he had a limp when he walks. I don't know if someone hurt him, or what, but there is something wrong with him."

"You called me away from the clinic because one of your customers looks wrong?"

I nodded, expecting Carlisle to yell at me.

However, he didn't. Instead, he laughed and pulled me into his arms. "Goddamn it, Bella. You scared me."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, sliding my arms up around him and fisting the back of his scrubs in my fingers. "I can't explain why, but he . . . he's important. Just talk to him. Please?"

"Hey," Carlisle said, tilting my head up so I was looking him in the eye. "All you had to do was ask."

I nodded, and stepped out of his way, letting him slid into the booth so that he was sitting across from the old man. I turned to walk away, but the old man reached out and grabbed my arm with his right hand.

When I looked back at him, he released his hold on me, but muttered one word: "Stay."

"Okay, old man," I said, sliding into the booth next to him.

As Carlisle began his assessment, Jasper wandered into the front of the diner, but stayed in the doorway of the kitchen. Emmett and Rose had eaten their pie and ice cream, and were watching us, waiting to see what happened with the old man.

After asking him a dozen questions, most of which the old man deflected — like his name, age, where he lived, or how'd he had been feeling — Carlisle pulled out a small penlight and leaned across the table, flashing it in his eyes.

"We need to get you to the hospital," Carlisle said, sliding out of the booth and digging his cell phone out of his pocket. "Run some tests."

"I ain't going," the old man snarled, pushing me out of the booth. I hit the floor hard, crying out. The old man scurried out of the booth, stepping over me and making a move for the door. However, Carlisle reached out and grabbed his arm. The old man threw his arm back, striking Carlisle across the face with enough force to send him back against the table. The old man looked down at me before he shook his head and stumbled toward the door. I chased after him, but by the time I got outside, the old man was gone.

I know, I know. I'm worried about the old man, too. Thank you for the reviews.