I do not own Twilight.
"Come. Sit, Edward," Beth says softly, placing her hand against his back and I'm suddenly riddled with jealously that someone is allowed to touch him; that she is allowed to touch him.
He doesn't move, his eyes still on me and I haven't moved my gaze either. I'm desperate to know the expression on my own face, because his feels shockingly familiar.
Beth gives him a small push and he finally stumbles forward a step, dropping into the chair that he must have occupied many times before, because he does so without moving his gaze from me.
I want to say something, anything, but I don't. I force my eyes from him and look at Emmett instead. He's like a beacon of hope, right now. The calm in the middle of the storm.
"Edward," Beth says gently and my gaze snaps to her at the way she says his name, like he's some lost lover. "Your brother thought it may be a good idea to bring Bella into a session. How do you feel about that?"
I can sense the moment his gaze moves away from me. It's like I can breathe again.
He doesn't respond, but I see him nod imperceptibly. My throat constricts even more because I can't help but to think I have turned him into this. Have I made him this way by leaving him?
"Is there anything you'd like to say?" Beth asks him and her voice is too soft, too caring and I know it's not something he responds to. He responds to three things: anger, tears, and sex.
Again, he doesn't answer, only leans forward in his chair, rests his elbows on his knees, and looks at me.
I squirm uncomfortably in my seat because he's looking at me like that light again and I can swear I see the corner of his mouth start to lift, but it falls quickly. He runs a hand through his hair and looks away.
"It's fine," Emmett says in response to Edward's lack of answer and I look at him, thankful that he seems to know what to do. He's probably been through this many times and I wonder if their dad ever joined him and then hope to hell he hasn't.
"Are you okay with Bella being here?" Beth asks, and Edward makes no show of responding. It reminds me of the guidance office in high school. He doesn't do well with authority figures; he doesn't do well with emoting.
"Would you rather her leave?" she asks simply. My muscles tense up until Edward shakes his head and his green eyes lift to meet mine. I let out a breath and feel my face relax; his does, too, in response.
Beth glances at me and then towards the mirror and I know what she is going to say before she says it and I am helpless to stop her.
"Bella has brought Mike with her."
I can see the moment everything within Edward seizes up. His teeth click together, his jaw and eyes tightening and any leeway we could have made is gone in an instant.
I look first at Beth and then at Emmett, who seems surprised that she brought up Mike at all.
"Would you like for Mike to come into the room?"
"No!" I answer quickly, and Edward's gaze snaps back to me. I can feel the hatred rolling off him, mixed with the ever-present sorrow, rolling through his irises like a dark green sea.
Beth's blue eyes turn on me now, slightly narrowed in a chiding way.
"It's important for Edward to understand the change in your relationship," she says to me. "It's important for him to realize that you brought Mike here, with you, for a reason."
I know what she is saying is right, in hindsight, but right now, all I can think about is the way Edward's brow is furrowing as he takes in Beth's words. Because why else would I have brought Mike here? I am still with him, she wants Edward to realize. I am still with him, and he is helping me get over you.
"He wanted to come with me," I say automatically and I'm more than grateful Mike can't hear me. "I didn't want him to come."
I stare at Edward as he takes in this new information, and I can see Beth is not liking what I am saying. She steeples her fingers against her lips.
"Bella," she admonishes and I suddenly feel like a child again, being scolded by my parents, "when you say things like that, you confuse Edward. He needs to know, for himself, that whatever this thing," she waves her hand in the space between Edward and I, "was between the two of you, it's over now. He cannot move on without that knowledge."
My breath catches in my throat and I stare over at Emmett, just for something to look at that isn't Edward's slowly dying soul. Emmett stares back and I can tell by the look on his face that he has no idea what to say, or what he thinks I should say.
I feel like I'm drowning; like I'm freefalling off of those cliffs in La Push again. Like Edward's the one waiting at the bottom and the one pushing me off the top at the same time.
My stomach flips as I look back over at Edward, the pull too strong to ignore as is the look of pain etched on his unfathomably beautiful features. His eyes search my face for a moment and I'm shocked to see a watery glaze settle over his eyes. I know that if we were alone, he'd be crying.
I stand quickly, nearly toppling over my chair in the process and barely register the looks of surprise from Beth and Emmett because all I can see is Edward jolt forward when he sees I'm about to bolt; Edward's hand as it reaches out for me, just as he had that first time I visited him.
"No," he says, and his voice is thick with confusion and anguish, low with nonuse, and more beautiful than I could have remembered. The sound pierces my heart, but I'm already moving towards the door.
"I—I'm—Please, I just need a minute," I plead, grasping for the handle that I know won't open unless the guard outside lets me out.
The door opens and I'm back in the white room without a second glance, keeping my head in Mike's chest as I breath in his cologne. It's familiar, but not the scent—nor the chest—that I desperately want at the moment. I keep my head there so as not to see the commotion from the one-way mirror, but by the buzzing sound of another door opening, and the quick steps of two of the guards from the room I stand in, I know something is happening.
"Edward, relax," I hear Emmett demand just before the door swings close again, shutting me out from everyone and everything.