EPOV

Chapter 10

"That dinner was amazing, Es." I dropped my fork onto my plate before leaning back in my seat and groaning.

"Thanks. You can repay me for my exceptional cooking skills by clearing the table and putting away the leftovers." She sent an exaggerated grin my way.

"Yeah, sure," I grumbled, getting to my feet. But as soon as I did, my phone pinged with an incoming text. I pulled it from my pocket, trying to hide my smile, but it was impossible.

It was never much. We didn't text constantly or have super long conversations. There was only the occasional, "Hey, how are you?" or a random meme, or a stupid picture. It was slow moving, and it was more like we were acquaintances at this point.

But I couldn't really ask for more, not when I was pretty sure she was giving me more than she wanted to.

However, today it was a picture of her cute little toes, nails painted with bright pink polish. "Best day ever," was what she wrote beneath it.

"Ooh, is that Bella?" Esme asked, her eyebrows raised.

I glared in her direction.

"Esme, leave the kid alone." Carlisle chuckled as he defended me.

"I know, Carlisle, but look at him. I haven't seen him smile like that in a long time."

"Kid?" I turned to Carlisle. "You're, like, twelve years older than me."

He stood, gathering up some plates, shoulder checking me as he walked past. "When you're in your late-thirties, kid, you'll see how young someone in their twenties seems. I'll take care of the table. You go ahead and text Bella back." He glanced at my phone. "Cute toes." He smirked before heading to the kitchen.

I rolled my eyes as I headed out onto the back deck. I didn't know how I felt about their teasing, but I knew they meant no harm. All Esme—and then later on, Carlisle—ever wanted for me was to have some happiness.

I pulled out a pack of cigarettes before dropping onto one of the lounge chairs. I stared at my phone while I smoked and tried to figure how I wanted to reply.

The back door opened and Carlisle stepped through. "Hey, I wanted to apologize. I shouldn't have looked at your phone back there. Your private conversations are none of my business."

I nodded in response, thankful for his apology. "It's cool, man."

He took the seat next to me. "You doing okay? We don't see much of you these days."

I shrugged, snorting lightly. "Esme send you to check on me?"

"Nah. I might not be the smartest man, and I'm not about to pry deep into your life, but the last two years have been kinda rough, kid. You've been quiet, more closed off, so I guess I just want to know how you are."

"Is 'I don't know' a suitable answer? I'm always busy, I guess less so now that I'm at the shop more than the restaurant. But at this point, I'm not sure. I worry a lot, I have a shit ton of anxiety some days. Did I tell you about the tattoo I did a few weeks back?"

"No, you didn't."

I dropped my cigarette, putting it out with the toe of my boot. "Twenty-year-old girl, sexual assault survivor." I didn't like using the word victim for her, because she was anything but that. "She was celebrating a new lease on life. And I guess I've just been feeling like…I don't know, man. I just feel stuck, more so recently."

Carlisle stared out at the horizon, his elbows propped up on his knees. "That's some heavy stuff."

He knew parts of my past, so he was aware just how serious it all really was for me. Esme had asked my permission years ago to say something to him. I was a moody, disgruntled teenager when he started coming around, but it'd been obvious that my anger was more than just your average raging teenage hormones. Letting him in meant he knew when to step back and give me space. It was necessary if he was going to hang around, and thankfully, he did.

It was actually his idea when I was seventeen to let me get my first tattoo. I'd shown him some of my drawings and he'd thought that maybe feeling my art and always having it with me could help. And to a degree, it had.

I'd never heard Esme yell so loud then when he'd suggested it, but in the end she'd relented. She realized that even if I didn't do it then, I would have just done it when I turned eighteen.

I raked a hand through my hair, blowing out a rough breath. "Heavy; that's one word for it."

"I wish I knew what to say. I wish I had some good, solid advice for you. You know, like an older brother should have for his younger brother. I'm always here to listen, though."

We sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before he spoke again. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Have you ever thought about talking to someone?"

"Like a therapist?"

"Yeah, something like that."

I shrugged. "It's crossed my mind a time or two."

And it had, but I didn't know how to explain that when I thought of therapy, I panicked. The thought of sitting there, telling someone about my past—it made me feel like I was drowning. As if when I fully opened up, I'd never be able to find the surface again.

Suddenly, it felt as if I couldn't breathe. How the hell could I bring Bella into all of this? What if I could never open up to her? What if I could never tell her the truth?

I swallowed around the lump in my throat. "I don't know what I'm doing, Carlisle. Ten minutes ago I was thrilled Bella messaged me, and now I'm wondering what the fuck I'm doing. How am I supposed to bring her into this goddamn fucked up world I live in?" I spat.

He stared at me for a moment before taking a deep breath. "We all need one person who we can tell things to, things that no one else really knows about us. If you love her like you say you do, there's something inside of you that trusts her. I have a feeling she's stronger than you think, Edward. It doesn't have to be now or tomorrow. Hell, it doesn't need to be next year. But one day, you'll let her in." He stood from his seat, clasping me on the shoulder. "For right now, though, I think you need to text your girl back."

"Not my girl," I mumbled.

"Maybe not yet, but she will be. Girls don't send pictures of their toes to just anyone." He winked. "She loves you, too." He stood from his seat. "I'm gonna go help Esme finish cleaning up from dinner. You'll be okay?"

Nodding, I said, "You know she's probably already done, right?

"Yup." He smirked and headed back inside.

I pulled another cigarette from the pack, lighting it up before picking my phone back up and typing out my reply.

Edward: Cute toes.

And before I could give myself the chance to overthink things again, I hit send.

Now that you've met Carlisle, what do you think?