Thank you so much for the reviews, and I hope you enjoy the next chapter!

A million more thanks to my beta MelissaMargaret for making this pretty. She's amazing...even when she's threatening me. ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or these characters.

Song for chapter: Somebody to Love by Queen

I work hard everyday of my life

I work till I ache my bones

At the end I take home my hard earned pay all on my own-

I get down on my knees

And I start to pray

Till the tears run down from my eyes

Lord- somebody- somebody

Can anybody find me- somebody to love?

Carlisle POV

Thursday, May 13th

I sat at my desk, cup of coffee in hand, quickly scanning my morning devotion book to find the text I needed to look up for the day. Oh joy, I thought after I found it. 1 Corinthians 13 (a.k.a the love chapter.) I quickly had to remind myself not to be sarcastic. I just couldn't imagine who would write the book like this. It's May 13th, not February 14th. I pushed my cynicism aside and started reading. I was quickly hung up on verse four: Love is patient.

I had been wondering the past eight years if I had ever prayed for patience because I was surely being tested for it.

My life had not been perfect by any means, but I was still blessed. My parents, Carlisle, Sr. and Elizabeth, were from old money, going back for generations on both sides. Their untimely deaths when I was four-years-old left all of that money to me. I was sent to live with my mother's sister, Carmen, her husband, Eleazar, and their eight-year-old daughter, Kate. My aunt and uncle were wonderful, respectable people who raised me to be the man that I am today. I am forever thankful for the morals and values they instilled in me.

I had been gifted with intelligence and excelled in school. But school was just something to pass the time for me. It turned out, I was looking for so much more. I longed for companionship; someone who truly understood me. Being mostly only child I was a little shy, but still got along with the other kids easily. I needed more than that though.

I was also gifted with some athletic ability. After being trained for years, I became the quarterback for the high school football team when I was a sophomore. This title awarded me with popularity; however, I didn't want that. I couldn't pinpoint exactly what I was looking for.

That was until I saw her.

She was Esme Anne Platt. And if I hadn't believed in love at first sight before, then I surely did after I saw her.

Her family moved into town when she was fourteen and in eighth grade. She was beautiful, inside and out. I first met her at a youth event at church. I went over to introduce myself and she blushed lightly, and cast her eyes toward the floor as she shook my hand. She explained that she had come with her older sister, Chelsea, who was sixteen like me. Their parents didn't attend church anywhere, but they wanted to. They had moved to Washington from Ohio because of her father's job. I tried my hardest to make her feel welcome, and I think I succeeded.

Esme and her sister continued to attend church for a few weeks before finally joining. I loved being able to sit next to her every Sunday morning during Sunday school and during the worship service. She had every opportunity to sit somewhere else, but she always chose to sit next to me.

Our friendship grew into something more very quickly.

We automatically coupled up during every youth outing. Our peers seemed to notice our behavior, but did nothing to try to discourage or poke fun at us. It was almost as if the whole world could tell we were meant for each other. The whole world, that is, except for Esme's parents.

Esme's parents didn't like me for some unknown reason. I still to this day did not understand their attitude. They didn't try to keep us away from each other, but they in no way encouraged us.

When I was a junior and she was a freshman, we began going out on non-group dates. They were always very innocent, and we learned a lot about each other. For instance, her favorite color was purple; she loved to work in the garden; she loved to cook; she was very soft-spoken and never said a negative thing about anyone; she had a passion for interior design, which she excelled at; and, she had a kind heart and would do anything she could for anyone else. Those qualities were just the tip of the iceberg, but with every new thing I learned about her, I knew she was the one for me.

My aunt Carmen once told me that I had an old soul. She said that most seventeen-year-olds do not go around looking for the "future mother of their children." I did. But I didn't have to look far because Esme was the one.

The only thing standing in our way was our ages. Two years is not a lot after the age of twenty-one, but while you are a teenager, two years can make a world of a difference. So we decided to take every opportunity to be together that we could. We were each other's first everything: first date, first kiss, first serious relationship, and first person to say "I love you" to outside of a family relation.

We planned to experience every first together. Both of us had serious commitments to ourselves and to God to save ourselves for marriage. But we wanted marriage. We were practically a ring shy of being engaged and openly talked about getting married and living happily ever after.

Age once again got in the way. When I was eighteen, I graduated from high school - the salutatorian of my class. I made plans to become a doctor, just like my father had been. I was very passionate about it, but I was also very passionate about Esme. I would have to leave her behind to follow this particular dream. She assured me that she was very proud of me and we would make it work.

But we never had the opportunity.

The last time I saw or heard from her was the day I made the drive to the University of Washington.

I tried calling, but there was always no answer. Her parents didn't allow her to have a cell phone until she was driving, and since she had just gotten her license, calling her personally was not an option. I asked my aunt and uncle about this strange turn of events. They were sorry to inform me that Esme's parents had moved her back to Ohio after graduation and evidently forbid her to contact me.

I was heartbroken and have been for eight years now. But I was willing to wait. I had often prayed for guidance in what I should do, if I should move on. But her face was in my mind everyday - that heart shaped face, big hazel eyes, and gorgeous dimples around her delicate mouth. The fact that I could still see her so clearly reassured me that I needed to wait.

Love is patient. You better believe it.

I read on down until verse eight: Love never fails. That was what I had to have faith in. The love I had for her would never fail. I would continue to love her every day in the way I had for ten years: selflessly, gently, meekly. I had discovered that it was difficult to love selflessly. I wanted to hope that she was waiting for me as well, but if she was happy with someone else, then I should be happy for her. But I wasn't perfect, so I hoped for her to be waiting. If what she felt for me was even half of what I felt for her, then I was sure she was out there somewhere.

I quickly finished my devotion and coffee and made my way down to the emergency room where my shift was for the day. Thursday's normally weren't too busy, so I was hoping for an easy day.

The nurses flirted with me, like always.

When I first came to work here, I started wearing my family crest ring like a wedding ring, just to try to throw them off. It had no effect, but I still tried.

The day was long and drawn out. I was just about ready to leave for the evening when paramedics came rushing in. I could hear them discussing the case with the other on-call doctor. They were calling it domestic assault, possibly attempted murder. I quickly washed my hands and put gloves on before following them into the trauma room.

The breath quickly left my body at the sight before me.

My love.

My Esme was bloodied and bruised, lying unconscious on the gurney.