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Chapter 5

Isabella woke up to the sound of a crash in her shop. She sat up quickly, disoriented by the dark and the lingering effects of her medicine. Isabella tried to get up out of her bed, but her foot caught in the blanket and she went tumbling to the floor. She hit the hardwood with a loud thud and was still rolling around clutching her knee when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder.

Isabella startled away from the touch, because it was as unfamiliar as it was shocking. She had hardly expected her patient to be awake and in her bedroom, but even more so, no one ever felt warm to the touch compared to her. She was used to the cold feel of others' skin, so to have this man in her personal space, and as warm as she was, concerned her.

"Are you h-hurt?" He asked.

"I'll be fine," she answered before meeting his gaze. "You spoke."

"Yes," he looked at her, confused.

"Okay, I really need to do a thorough examination, so I think we should go back to my shop. I'll meet you there in a few minutes." When he didn't move, she shooed him with her hands. "Go, please. I need to change."

His face showed some apprehension, but he followed her instructions and she was able to change into something more appropriate. Or at the very least, more comfortable.

Charles had long lamented her fashion sense, which mixed pants and leather accessories with the skirts and corsets that were expected of her. She was just happy that the queen appreciated her fashion sense, because Alice had applauded Isabella's resourceful choices and would on rare occasions do the same. Isabella did still wear more traditional garments when needed, but in her own home, she would be herself.

It took longer than it should have for her to pick a shirt and corset pair that was pretty but still respectful to her being in mourning. Finally selecting a dark grey shirt without all the ruffles and a black corset and pair of pants, with a pair of low-heeled boots and her hair pulled into a ponytail, she went back downstairs.

Isabella found the man in her shop, sitting on the couch, his back ramrod straight. She took a deep breath and walked over to him.

"I'm glad to see you're doing better. How about we start with an introduction? My name is Isabella Swan and I'm a healer. Do you remember meeting me in the woods last night?"

"Yes, my name is Edward." His speech was slow and tentative, like he wasn't used to speaking.

"What's your last name, Edward?" Isabella asked.

"I don't know. I don't remember much."

"What do you remember?" she asked.

"Running into you. I don't remember anything before that."

Isabella thought how best to proceed with her examination, but in truth, Edward needed to clean up.

"I think the best way to start is for you to clean up. Do you feel comfortable bathing by yourself, or did you want help?"

"Help me?"

"All right, come this way." Isabella led Edward into the full bathroom in her shop and turned on the faucet, as the water filled up the tub, she turned to her patient. "Edward, I need you to take off your clothes and get in the water. I'll be back in a moment."

Isabella left the room and picked out an outfit for Edward and grabbed the soap. She returned to the bathroom and stopped short, the sight of the man in front of her was extraordinary.

Firm muscles and sharp lines cut a very strong figure, a smattering of hair spread across his chest and tapered to a narrow path that ran below the water. Isabella shook her head and sat down the pile of clothes before grabbing a rag.

"Lean forward a little," Isabella instructed and he complied.

She lathered up the rag with the bar of soap and began washing Edward's back and shoulders. From there she scrubbed his arms and chest, her fingers itching to go below the surface of the water, but she knew it was a bad idea.

The pull she felt to Edward was strong, and she couldn't understand it, so she fought her urges and handed him the cloth. "You can wash what's below the water, just like I did."

"Okay," Edward said. His eyes held hers, the look in them unreadable.

Isabella blinked and moved to pick up the cup on the side of the tub. Filling it up, she rinsed the soap off his back and shoulders while he worked below the surface. When he seemed done, Isabella tapped his chin. He leaned his head back and she washed his face with a separate cloth before she wet his hair.

Her fingers scratched his scalp as she worked the soap into his hair and Edward leaned into the touch. "Bre."

"It's Isabella," she reminded him.

"No, Bre, it is something my father used to call my mother. It means strength."

"That's good, that you remember them. Do you remember anything else?"

"No," he whispered. His eyes fell closed again and Isabella washed the soap from his hair and helped him to stand and step out of the tub.

"Here's a towel to dry off with, and a change of clothes. Once you're ready, come back into the shop and I'll cut your hair and begin your examination."

"Okay."

Isabella made a quick exit and set up a chair in the shop so she could cut his hair. She fidgeted with the towel and scissors until Edward emerged. The pants and shirt stretched across his body, he filled them out well.

"Edward, come and sit here."

Edward followed Isabella's request and she ran her hands through his hair before she picked up the shears to make the first cut. She worked quickly, until his hair was short, but not too cropped, leaving enough for him to run his fingers through. Or her.

Isabella shook that thought from her mind and took the towel she'd wrapped around his shoulders off to brush off the loose hairs. Edward stood and turned to face her, a smile on his face.

"How do I look?" Edward asked.

"You clean up quite well. But I think we should move on to the exam."

Isabella worked diligently, looking for an injury or cause of the memory loss and his lack of coordination in the woods, but there was nothing she could find. No broken bones, bumps or bruises, nothing. It was infuriating to her.

Edward seemed to grow tired as she finished her work, so she suggested he take a nap until morning. She watched as he tried to fold his long and lean form onto the couch. She couldn't watch him attempt to sleep there, but there weren't any other real options in her shop. There'd never been a need for someone to spend the night.

"Edward, come with me."

She led him to one of the spare bedrooms, feeling right about him staying there if he was going to be in her care for a while. Isabella was thankful for keeping the rooms made up when she led him to the bed. She turned to leave, but he reached out and gripped her hand.

"Can you stay until I'm asleep?"

"Sure," Isabella smiled at his nervous expression.

He climbed into the bed and Isabella sat on the edge of it. Edward reached for her hand again and she began to draw patterns on his skin, tracing the lines and exploring innocently.

"My consciousness exploded the first time you touched me, Bre. I don't know what it means, but I'm happy for it," his muttered declaration was the last thing he said before sleep took him.