okay, before you shoot me, im REALLY REALLY sorry i didnt update!!!! life got in the way. thats all imma say. ._. once again, i really reallyy am sorry D: i promise ill try to get some more chaps up, faster. seriously. i feel terrible.
this chapter is strictly buildup. it has a bunch of random stuff, but its necessary for the rest of the story to keep going on. so bare with me. o.O
***on a brighter note, i really really loved your reviews for the last chapter!! im so glad you guys understood it, and some of you even plotted it out perfectly. wink wink. :) hmm. i would like to thank AlwaysMyBella for advertising this story in HER story, Unknown Caller. So check that out. oohhh, and she posted another story. you should check thta out too. :) and haha yeahh guys, i agree, mmmm for shirtless edward. :)
***ALSO! i would like to thank FuturerMrsCullen for posting a Spanish version of Tuned and Confidential! the link is on her profile. thank you very very much!!!! :)
now, review. i love the songs for this chapter.
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CHAPTER 24 – The Super Secret Spy
Heaven Forbid – The Fray
Heroes & Thieves – Vanessa Carlton
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The corridor stretched far beyond the bedroom. The hard, marble floor was smooth and cold beneath my bare feet. At the end of the hall, I could see the shadow of a towering white door with a gleaming silver doorknob. It was partially open, enough to allow a sliver of darkness to stream onto the floor. I walked in a daze, past the 1800s wooden table and the antique candles illuminating the otherwise gloomy and tedious walls. All was silent in the house, except the whispers of breaths and steady heartbeats. In the back of my mind, I knew where I was. At the front of it, I didn't know a thing.
I kept walking towards the dark end. The tips of my fingers were ice cold, but a drop of sweat slid down the side of my cheek. I was nervous and I didn't know why. Strangely enough, I couldn't feel my heart thundering against my chest, though I knew it was. I also knew that whatever was in that room was something I didn't want to see. My mind screamed for me to stop, but my legs continued to carry me on.
Suddenly, a rusty, salty scent filled my nose. I froze five feet away from the door and stared down at the ground beside my feet. A puddle of dark red blood lay idle and undisturbed, immediately making my heart sink down to my stomach. Gasping, I backed away, and then ran for the door at the end of the hall, my footsteps loud in the unusually quiet and ghostly house. After a moment of hesitation, I pushed the door open completely, bracing myself for whatever was ahead. But all I saw was pure darkness.
I glanced around the lifeless room, trying to steady my breaths, which came out in uneven pants. My fingers fumbled around the wall for the light switch, but even when I flicked it upward, nothing glowed. I tried again. Nothing. Again? Still nothing happened.
Eerie.
I took a small, wary step into the room, squinting through the darkness and hoping that I'd see a lamp or some source of light. I sent a cautious look behind me, noting the stillness of the hazy hall, then turned back around. The darkness made anxiety course through my entire body. Anything could jump at me, and I wouldn't be able to see it coming.
I took a couple more small steps, then squeaked when my hip bumped into something hard and still. I froze, waiting for hands to grab at me, but nothing came. After feeling around the air, I realized it was a table with a dusty lamp on it. I quickly pulled the switch.
The light bulb glowed after a couple elongated seconds, and despite the way it flickered weakly, I was thankful for the illumination. Now that that was settled, I noticed the bedroom structure was simple, but the design was intricate. It was very classy and full of antiques with elaborate golden flowers and abstract leaves. There was another door to my left, and right beside the bedside table, there was a smear of blood on the wall. Interesting.
After my brief evaluation, I walked around the end of the bed, admiring the beautiful red bed sheets that were messily pulled back. The bed was large and what I assume was king-sized, and it had a matching red canopy above. My gaze then fell upon a figure lying next to it, on the floor in a pool of…blood. It was a man with messy bronze-colored hair and skin paler than the moon; his eyes were surrounded by dark circles, and his lips were almost white. For a moment, I racked my brain trying to figure out who it was, and when I did, my stomach clenched in panic.
I hastily took three steps to round the bed, unable to hide the fear and dismay I felt. What happened? Was he okay? Alive?
The light went out.
Something crunched under my foot.
I stopped where I stood, feeling a bit of itchiness at the bottom of my feet, meanwhile uneasily staring around in the darkness. Rather than continuing the short journey to the man on the ground, I lifted my foot and ran my finger across the bottom of it, instantly meeting wet, jagged flesh and the sharp edge of glass buried deep in the sole of my foot. My brow furrowed, and with a strange surge of bravery, I pulled it out. It didn't hurt one bit.
I brought the bloody, triangular shard up to my eyes and examined it closely, instantly realizing that it was the piece of a mirror. I could see my reflection; see the dark shadows under my eyes, and how wide they were in fear and uneasiness.
Something brushed my back.
I froze, holding my breath as my gaze darted in every direction, a futile thing to do in such a dark room. For a moment, nothing moved or twitched, but then something warm grazed the back of my neck, lingering for a long second before pulling away.
The sliver of mirror fell to the floor with a clink.
Something—hands, I assumed—shoved me into the darkness, and my hands flailed before me, my mouth open in a silent scream. I waited for the hard impact of the ground, but nothing came. Just the darkness, swallowing me in, sucking the breath out of my lungs. It was so much colder now, colder than the marble floor, colder than the ice of my fingertips. I screamed and screamed, for Edward, for Alice, for someone to come help me. But as I continued to fall, sinking deeper and deeper into blackness, my hands grabbed nothing but air…nothing kept me from falling…
I jerked awake, my gaze landing on the curtained window of Edward's bedroom. My heart pounded against my ribcage, and just like in my dream—nightmare—the roots of my hair were damp from sweat, and my cold fingers clenched tightly to the blanket covering my body. I blinked a couple times, trying to will my heart to calm, then rolled onto my other side. I reached for Edward's hand, bolting upward when I realized he wasn't lying beside me.
Skeptical, I felt around the bed again, feeling a rise of panic in my stomach. Nope, just me.
Shit! I either thought or said aloud. I couldn't tell which.
I ran my fingers through my hair in frustration, pulling the covers back and groping around for Edward once again—his arm, his hand, his shoulder. But he wasn't there, and I bit back tears of frustration. Where was he when I needed him most? Suddenly, I remembered the part from my nightmare, when Edward lay on the floor beside the bed, arms spread, beautiful face cut and splintered…
I gasped and scrambled off the bed and—thanks to my luck—miscalculated the distance between the bed and the floor. Cursing, I clutched my knee and hopelessly glanced around, fearful, anxious, and frustrated all at the same time. Where the hell was Edward?
I tried calling his name, but again there was no response. No sound other than the loud thuds of my heart pounding against my ribcage. I stumbled to the east wall and flipped the switch, praying to God that the light would turn on.
A yellow lamp gleamed stoutly.
I breathed a sigh of relief, my eyes immediately sweeping the large room. The bed, the couch, the desk. No sign of messy bronze hair or smooth pale skin.
Frowning, I crept to the doorway and peered out into the dark hall, shivering at how the temperature seemed to have dropped forty degrees. The nightmare I'd had rang clear in my mind, and just looking at the deserted hallway made me want to scream for help.
I closed my eyes and forced myself to calm down, though my heart seemed to race even faster. I tried listening for sounds, any sign of movement, but the pulse of my blood was the only thing I could hear.
You're being stupid, Bella Swan, I chided.
Gritting my teeth, I forced my eyes open again and squinted through the darkness. Where were the stairs? To the left, I thought.
Carefully, as to not trip and disturb Carlisle and Esme, I descended the stairs to the second story of the mansion, one hand on the wooden rail, and the other spread out to break my fall, in case I were to crash my face to the floor. I past by Carlisle and Esme's dark and silent bedroom and descended the second set of stairs, reaching the ground level with no noticeable injury.
There was a light in the family room.
Hesitating, I glanced back up the shadowy stairs, then around the rest of the ground level. Only the family room showed any sign of life.
I quietly slipped down the hallway to the kitchen/family room area, peering around the corner to find Edward's lanky figure at the piano. I couldn't help but feel relief flutter all over my body—he was fine.
His back faced me, the pale, smooth skin glowing in the dim lighting of the room. Locks of coppery hair were pushed in every direction, a sure sign he'd been running his hand through it for a while. Hunched over the piano, one hand clutching a pencil, the other resting on the keys, he mumbled things under his breath, sounding overall as mad as a pack mule.
Suddenly, Edward sighed and dropped his head into his hands, remaining still for a brief moment. Then the sound of rustling papers filled the air, and he stood, rubbing his eyes with his hands. I thought it was adorable.
But then he saw me watching.
Edward blinked a couple times, and then his eyes widened.
"Bella? Why are you awake?" he said, looking appalled and somewhat guilty.
I took a short moment to appreciate the fact that he was still shirtless, and then felt a surge of anger. I glared at him. "Why are you awake?" I asked suspiciously.
"I'm fine," Edward replied, sitting down on the couch. I saw a couple books lying stacked on the coffee table, one of them open about midway. He was reading, too.
"I didn't ask if you were fine," I said indignantly. "I said—"
"I can't sleep," Edward said dejectedly, his tired gaze meeting mine and daring me to challenge him. We stared at each other for a moment, and my eyes traced the dark, purple circles around his eyes. They were darkening every day, I realized. "Now, why are you up?" he asked, leaning back and staring at me.
"Nightmare," I said a little sheepishly.
Something flashed in his eyes—anger?—but it quickly dissolved. Suddenly, Edward stood and walked over to me, his eyes a beautiful shade of green and his hair in the perfectly styled disarray.
"I'm sorry," he said simply, wrapping his arms around my waist and tucking my head under his chin.
We stood like that for a long, long time. His warm, protective embrace made me feel safe from my nightmare. And the fact that he stood there for my eyes to see filled me with candid relief. He was here, in my arms, not lying unconscious—or dead—beside a large bed. I shuddered at the thought of it.
Edward leaned away slightly, just far enough to look down at me. His thumb traced the shadows under my eyes. "We need to get you to bed," Edward whispered. "You need to sleep."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Don't go telling me how to run my life," I said sternly. In a more serious voice, I reached up to cup his cheek and said, "You're the one who needs rest."
"It won't do any good," Edward countered, shaking his head.
"Still," I disagreed. "I don't even want to sleep anymore. That dream was"—I shuddered again—"terrible."
Edward looked at me for a moment, then led us both over to the couch. He gathered me into his arms and said softly, "Why don't you tell me about it?"
"I don't think I wanna do that," I muttered.
Of course he heard. "Why not?" He looked a little affronted.
"Because it's dark," I squeaked, looking up to find his eyebrow raised. Oh, right. He was the master of dark stories. I sighed and leaned my head against his shoulder, gently kissing the side of his neck. "You were dead in it, I think," I said finally, and even I could tell my voice was shaky. I forced the worry out of my stomach.
Edward was still for a long time, processing the simple sentence.
"Oh, God," I blurted, repeating the image several times in my head. The panic was back, blended with misery and distress. "You were dead." I buried my face into the side of his neck, and his arms tightened around me.
"Bella, it was only a nightmare," he finally said, running his fingers through my hair. "I'm here now."
"I know you're here," I mumbled, wiping my tears away before he could see. Glancing up at him, I said, "It just worries me. Dreaming that your boyfriend is dead isn't a good thing. I even got a foot injury." I don't know why I added that last part.
Edward surprised me by laughing. "Only you would get a foot injury in a dream, Bella," he said lightly.
"I stepped on a shard of glass. From a mirror."
Edward's smile faded immediately, his eyes studying my expression. I couldn't read his face—it was simply indecipherable. Finally, he grinned crookedly. "My stories are causing you to have nightmares," he said, trying to make a joke out of this whole situation.
"They are," I said seriously, and Edward grimaced.
He sighed and leaned his forehead against mine. "I'm sorry, Bella. But I promise—I wont leave you, okay? Remember that I'm here."
I nodded weakly and snuggled deep into his chest, basking in the feeling of his soft skin and sweet scent. About five minutes later, I whispered, "Edward, you didn't sleep the other two nights, did you?" I didn't sound mad, just inquisitive.
"No."
I reached up to trace the dark circles under his eyes. "Why not? Is it because you couldn't sleep? Like tonight?" Did I snore? I thought in horror. Or worse. Maybe it's my sleep-talking…ah shit.
Edward sighed again. "It's not that I can't," he said slowly, his eyes watching mine. "I just don't want to."
I frowned at him. Suddenly, it clicked—he had nightmares, right? I thought back to the conversation I'd heard the first night, recalling his words. Then I looked up at him suspiciously. "Nightmares?" I guessed grimly.
Edward looked surprised, but replied, "Yeah."
I nodded slowly, resting my head on his shoulder again. "I'm sorry," I said, quoting his words from before. I stared at his sharp jaw. "What are they about?"
For once, Edward didn't tense when I brought up a sensitive subject.
"Sometimes, it's my parents running down the hallway, away from the men." He sighed into the top of my head, his warm, steady breaths parting the strands of hair. "Sometimes, it's one of the men trying to kill me." His voice, velvety smooth as ever, was soft and muted. "Other times, I dream of Alice. In those cases, they aren't nightmares, more like flashbacks."
I thought for a moment. That would explain the weird looks he'd sent my best friend when he first saw her: he'd recognized her from his dreams.
"Sometimes I'd step out of my bedroom," Edward said, and I brought my mind back to the conversation at hand, "I'd walk down the hall towards my parents' room, but one of the men would catch me first. In those cases, the vision is false."
False, because it didn't happen like that, I thought with certainty.
I opened my mouth to ask a question, but he cut me off unintentionally.
"Bella, sometimes I feel like I should have helped them," Edward said, running his fingers through his unruly hair. His eyes stared down at me, full of pure anguish.
I frowned. "Help them?"
"My parents," he said. "I ran away from them, back then. I didn't even try to stop the men from hurting them."
"You were ten—"
"I was naïve," he growled, his gaze sharpening. I grimaced, and a second later, Edward seemed to realize what he was doing. Gradually, his posture softened, and abruptly an apologetic smile formed on his face. "I'm sorry. It makes me a little bitter, talking about my nightmares."
"Oh," I said lamely, trying to get over his sudden mood change.
Edward chuckled, but I could tell he found it humorless.
"Can I ask you one more question?"
He nodded, taking a strand of hair into his hand and playing around with the ends of it.
"How long have you had them?" I asked.
"Ever since I started working at La Bella Italia," he instantly replied. "It happened the first night, actually."
"Strange," I muttered, and Edward nodded in agreement.
I suddenly felt selfish. Here I was, cradled in the arms of a man I loved, because of one stupid (and scary) nightmare, while the man himself had suffered four years worth of horrific dreams. The guilt was plain on my face, and Edward noticed.
"It's alright, really," he quickly said, his index finger under my chin and forcing my gaze to meet his. He pressed his lips to mine, as though to emphasize a point. "I don't want you hurting," he said seriously.
"You're the one that's hurting," I accused with narrowed eyes. Then my expression softened, and I wrapped my arms around his neck in a tight, protective embrace. "I don't want you hurting either."
"I'm fine," he argued like before, his eyes hardening. "Besides, I'm not bored or anything. I read, listen to music, and play the piano." He gestured to each thing as he listed them, his eyes pleading with me to understand.
I sighed and cradled both of his hands in my lap. "Have you even tried?" I asked quietly.
"Tried what?"
"Sleeping," I replied, my gaze steady. I wasn't even blushing. "With me."
Edward shook his head wordlessly, but he seemed to be thinking it over. Good.
"Then let's try it," I pressed urgently. "I don't want you staying up like this for the rest of your life." The thought of it made my stomach churn.
Edward looked startled, but his eyes studied mine with obvious disbelief. "Bella, you'll be wasting your time," he finally said, after a long and skeptical silence. He scowled at the Christmas tree.
I narrowed my eyes at him. "I'm not wasting my time," I said stubbornly. Then, in a more tentative and truthful voice, I added, "As long as it's with you, everything's okay."
Edward's gaze snapped to mine faster than lightning. "You don't mean that."
"Yes, I do."
Edward stared at me for a long time, his expression holding an air of disbelief, yet there was hope meddled in there somewhere. Did he really not understand that I loved him?
"Fine, we'll try it," he said stiffly, his gaze hardening once again. But he smiled weakly and cradled my head to his chest, my ear pressed right against his heartbeat. He actually seemed…excited, as though we were going snorkeling for the first time.
"Good," I said, burying my nose in his sweet-smelling skin. "Do we have to go upstairs?" I thought of the dark hallways and eerie shadows and shuddered. "I'm real comfortable here…" I mumbled.
Edward chuckled and titled my head back, gently kissing the top of my neck. "Of course not. We can stay here, if you like…" He sounded like he really meant it.
We both nodded at each other, and he took the lead by standing up and turning off the light. When he returned to the couch, I let him lay his head on my chest, his body nestled snugly between my legs and his weight surprisingly not that heavy. I really was comfortable. With a satisfied sigh, I gently playing with strands of soft coppery hair, meanwhile gazing through the darkness. The large square window of the family room was concealed by elegant white curtains that glowed from the moonlight outside. Despite the fact that the mansion was in the middle of a forest, it was strangely comfortable; the sense of isolation seemed almost desired. And even though I was in near total darkness, Edward's presence was by far the most calming thing I'd ever experienced.
"I can't do it," Edward suddenly said, sounding frightened.
Rather than laughing it off, I felt my heart break. "Edward…"
He sat up and stared at me, his wide eyes shimmering in the dim room.
I sat up as well. "I'm here," I said gently, quoting his words from before. I was doing that a lot tonight.
He faltered a bit, so I knew I had him. As gently as I could, I pulled him back down, but he hesitated again, his forehead crinkled in a deep frown.
"Trust me," I murmured, staring directly into his eyes and willing him to believe me.
Edward scrutinized my expression for a long time, then we both slowly lay back on the couch, his nose buried in the side of my neck and my fingers laced tightly through his. With my other hand, I resumed stroking his soft hair, trying to subtly breathe in his scent.
"We've met before, you know," I whispered softly, mesmerized by the gentle rise and fall of his chest. "At Lincoln Park."
Edward chuckled, but it was a tense one. I kissed the top of his head. "Really? I wish I could remember…" he said ruefully, but it was followed by a gasp. "I was the one that married you, wasn't I?"
I laughed into his hair. "Yep. That little boy was you."
I could almost hear his smile. "That's…amazing."
"It is," I murmured, having another Alice moment. Fate. Fate brought us back together, right?
Edward seemed to ponder the same thing, for he twisted around and faced me, his arm bent at an awkward angle to support the weight of his body. He leaned towards me and I closed my eyes, waiting for the blissful moment where I'd feel his lips on mine. When it didn't come, I opened my eyes to find him staring at me with a small smile, our noses gently bumping into each other.
"I guess we're meant to be, then," Edward said slowly, finally kissing me.
When he lay down on my chest again, he closed his eyes, much more relaxed than just minutes earlier. In fact, he even wore a smile I recognized as one I wore every time I lay in his arms—pure contentment. The moonlight bounced off his broad chest and young face, casting a shadow over one side of his toned and well-built body. Our hands were clasped together, gripping so tightly to one another that not even a knife could drive a wedge between them—or us. Edward was so peaceful, so unperturbed, in my arms. For once, I felt as though I could protect him. It was no longer the other way around.
"Good night," I murmured into his hair, but he was already asleep.
-T-w-i-l-i-g-h-t-
"I'm sorry for bothering you, Dr. Cullen," I said nervously, awkwardly sitting down on the empty hospital bed, fidgeting with my sleeves as though I was sitting in for a job interview.
"Carlisle," he replied with a handsome smile. He peered at me through his expensive, black-rimmed glasses, a curious expression on his striking face.
"Are you sure you don't have any appointments?" I asked again, sending a sour look at the door to the office.
Carlisle chuckled. "Relax, Bella. It's a slow day today."
I nodded, looking around the medium-sized room with my hands folded around my knees. It was like any other doctor's office, with a brown leather chair, a little check-up bed, a tall desk cluttered with papers, and tedious white tiles. Carlisle seemed to glow in the dreary room.
"So, this is your office?" I blurted stupidly, simply stalling.
Carlisle nodded, clearly seeing through my wariness.
I took a deep breath. "I would like to begin by saying that I was hoping I'd catch you without Edward around," I said smoothly and quickly, just as I rehearsed. Another deep breath. "Last night, Edward slept for eight hours," I said, and Carlisle looked surprised. He quickly composed his expression, his demeanor once again calm and collected.
"That's wonderful," Carlisle said, sounding genuine.
"It is," I agreed, drumming my fingers.
I thought back to earlier this morning, waking up to find Edward fast asleep. We were still on the couch from earlier that night, yet somehow we'd managed to readjust our positions so that Edward was on the bottom, with my head on his chest and his arms draped tightly over my body. I'd spent the entire night waking up periodically, glancing at Edward and checking to make sure he was in hibernation mode, and then falling back asleep again. I wasn't uncomfortable, and I wasn't getting any freaky nightmares. Everything was flawless.
In addition, Edward was beautiful in his sleep. I loved the way his thick, dark lashes hovered over his broad cheekbones, the way he managed to look confident and adorable even while asleep. His hair was an unruly mess this morning--even more than his usual disarray--and I teased him about it the moment he woke up. After, I confessed that I thought it was sexy. In the end, Edward left his hair as it was. Nonetheless, he had spent the rest of the day—up to this point—kissing me in thanks for the "best sleep he'd ever had" in his entire life.
In the doctor's office, Carlisle stared at me, his eyebrows raised in a signal to continue.
"The first night I came to Seattle, I overheard the conversation you, Edward, and Esme had, in your office," I admitted, my voice unwavering.
His young face was expressionless, displaying a poker face I came to recognize as the one Edward wore when I first met him.
"Then yesterday, Edward told me what happened to his family—his biological family," I continued, and Carlisle didn't look surprised, just intrigued.
"Bella, why are you telling me this?" he asked, after a short silence.
"You're not mad?" I blurted.
Carlisle chuckled, shaking his head. "No, I'm not mad."
"Oh," I said, stumped.
Carlisle smiled dazzlingly, but the glare of his glasses beneath the bright light prevented me from seeing his eyes, the way he really felt. "So, why are you telling me this?" he repeated questioningly. "Most people don't admit these kinds of things."
I shrugged, concealing the intense relief that gathered in the pit of my stomach. "I just thought…that you should know," I said, forcing my gaze to meet his. "I feel kind of bad, after all you've done for me."
The forty-something man chuckled, the sound strikingly similar to Edward's. "There's no need," he assured me. "Besides"—and he suddenly looked much older—"whomever is important to Edward is important to me. You're too important to lose, Bella, so please remember that."
I felt a smile form on my face. "Thank you, Carlisle," and he just chuckled again.
"You know, I'm not surprised Edward decided to tell you about his past," he said lightly.
I stared at him questioningly.
"He spoke to me before coming to you, and I gave him all the insight. I knew he would tell you, Bella. The man really cares about you."
I blushed, and Carlisle just smiled.
"I have one more thing?" I said suddenly, and he nodded, his eyebrows raised. "Why did you tell him everything...now? Why not the night that I…eavesdropped? Or five years ago?"
Carlisle took off his glasses, folding them and tucking them neatly into his coat pocket. Now, I could see his ice blue eyes, solemn but guarded.
"Esme didn't want to hurt him. She wanted to protect him from his past," he answered simply. "What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. That was how it seemed, at the moment."
"Oh," I said thoughtfully. "You know, he closed people off when I started working at La Bella Italia." I would know. "Isolated. I wondered what was wrong with him," I mused.
Carlisle looked at me, then reached up and grabbed a file from one of the cupboards. I couldn't see what he was doing—his back was to me—but I heard papers being shuffled around. "PTSD," Carlisle said a moment later, turning back around to face me. "That's what I thought it was."
"Since when?"
"Since I met him after he dropped out freshman year," Carlisle said. "If I recall correctly, he got those nightmares sometime after high school. I thought his past was finally getting back at him. Thing is, Edward received retrograde amnesia when he was ten."
I stared at him blankly.
"It's a condition that is caused by injury to the brain and head region," he recited smoothly. "The victim is unable to recall the events that occurred prior to amnesia, which in this case, would be the part where his family was murdered."
"So he didn't know what happened when he woke up," I concluded.
Carlisle nodded wearily. "The doctors did try to bring up some memories, by showing him photo albums and things like that. He was able to remember some things, but even then it was very vague. Esme was really worried about him." He said the last part softly, and suddenly, finally, he revealed a deep emotion—misery. I envisioned him ten years earlier, a young and talented doctor watching all this happen, coping with the loss of his close cousins and the new son left alone—and their daughter. My heart crushed with sympathy. What had Carlisle done to deserve such a thing? And Elizabeth, what had she done wrong? Nothing, that's what. Absolutely nothing.
"I'm sorry for your loss."
Total silence.
"Thank you," Carlisle replied in what felt like hours later.
I looked up at him, and he was still sitting at his desk, his gaze focused on the light blue walls. Suddenly, moments later, Carlisle seemed to unfreeze. He sent me a dazzling smile and stood, replacing the folder to the correct spot in the cabinet.
"Carlisle," I said, before he could ask me to leave. The doctor raised a blonde eyebrow, though I could tell he was becoming impatient. "You adopted Edward ten years ago. Why not Alice?" I stood and faced him determinedly.
A small smile flitted across his face. "The Brandons are great people, Bella. Caroline was unable to give birth, much like my very own Esme. She adopted Alice before I even got a chance to think about it."
I slowly nodded, processing his words, and Carlisle retrieved a green-tabbed file from the cabinet.
"I've got an appointment coming soon, Bella," he said, still smiling.
I hooked my purse over my right shoulder and nodded guiltily. "Thank you for your time, Carlisle."
The man nodded, holding the door open for me as I departed the room.
Just as the door shut, I collided with something warm and hard.
"Oh, I'm sorry—" I apologized, my cheeks bright red, as I gazed up at the victim of my clumsiness. Jacob Black stared down at me, copper skin and black eyes and all. The hearty smile slipped from his face, and I was instantly reminded of our phone conversation the day Edward and I departed Chicago.
"Hey, Bella," he said tightly.
I nervously straightened out my coat, never taking my eyes off his handsome, boyish face. "Hi, Jake."
"What are you—oh, right, you're on vacation," he grumbled.
I decided to ignore that. "What are you doing here?" I inwardly smacked my forehead at my foolishness. "Is your father okay?" I asked.
Jacob shrugged gloomily, his gaze not meeting mine. "I was thinking of seeing Dr. Cullen, asking him some more about the conditions. Everyone at the reservation is praying."
I somberly nodded. "I hope he gets well," I said sincerely, and Jacob nodded, his hands tucked deep into his pockets, his gaze trained on the white tile floor.
"You okay?" I asked, a second later.
He scowled. "I'm fine."
"No, you're not." I took a small, tentative step closer, and he grimaced. Cautiously, I brought my hand to the soft, warm skin of his jaw, a tiny frown on my face. "You can tell me," I said, looking directly into his coal black eyes.
Jacob snorted softly, but he didn't move from his spot. In fact, he was so tense it seemed impossible for him to move at all. "No thanks. I'm not telling you about my problems."
I glared at him, affronted.
"Not this one in particular," he corrected, taking a step away from me and leaving my hand dangling in mid-air. His expression hardened again. "Look, I've got to go see your boyfriend's daddy, so I'll see you 'round."
The way he sneered "boyfriend" brought a glare to my face. Before I could say anything, though, Jacob brushed past me and disappeared into Carlisle Cullen's office.
--
jacob, poor kid.
i thought it was an a-okay chapter. wasnt too bad, not the most fantastical. hopefully you agree? o_O so yeah, i hope this hcapter cleared up some of your concerns and questions n stuff. if not, let meknow, and ill do somethin about it. school is coming up, so life. will. suck. T-T
sorry about the negativity. xD
Poor Carlisle, too.
revieww? christmas time, next chapter. ;)