Secrets & Lies

Chapter Thirteen

Bella

The unfamiliar weight wakes me up the following morning. It takes a moment for me to come out of my sleepy daze and look at my surroundings to realize where I am. The events of the night before come rushing back to me.

His tattooed arm is draped over my abdomen while the other is under my head, holding me close to his naked chest. I slowly shift between his arms, trying my best not to wake him up and simply admire his sleeping form. He looks so young, peaceful, and childlike when he's sleeping. His lips pout and are lightly parted, his hair is a messy and the side of his face is pressed against the pillow. I lean in and press a gentle kiss on his parted lips, and I smile when his lips twitch into a smile and he opens one eye.

"Mornin'." He holds me tighter against him, tucking my head under his chin. "How'd you sleep?" He asks as he kisses my hair.

I hum happily, wrapping my arms around his waist. "Like a baby."

"What time do we have to meet Jacob at the cabin?"

"At four." He pulls away and lays on his back, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes. He looks back at me and sighs. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

He sighs, his fingers tracing small circles on my arms and asks, "Your panic attacks, how long have you've had them?"

I pull back, a little taken aback. "That's an odd morning question."

Edward chuckles. "I know, but I've been meaning to ask you about this."

"Why?"

"Because I care and I've never asked before."

I sigh, laying on my back and look at the ceiling. How do I begin to explain?

"I've had them for as long as I can remember, but I started treatment when I was about eleven years old. Dr. Wyatt says I've probably had them since my father died, only my mother didn't notice until I was older. She took me to several doctors until we found Dr. Wyatt."

Edward leans on his elbow. "Really? Since you were eleven?"

"Yes. The man has known me my entire life."

"And how has he explained it to you?"

"Basically the way he and my mother have explained it, I have my own defense mechanism that developed when my dad died. My mind simply blocks bits and pieces of information when I go into this panic..."

"And you don't remember everything," he says, almost to himself.

I nod. "Nothing."

He begins to play with my hair. "Does it ever bother you?"

"It did at first, but when the panic attacks begin to happen less and less frequent, I learned to let it go."

"When did it start to slow down?"

"A little after I met Emmett," I admit. I start tracing the tattoos on his arm. "And the irony now is that because of him, they've been worse than ever."

"But you don't have to worry," he whispers and leans in to kiss me. "I got you, okay?"

I smile. "Okay."

"We should get ready for the day, we don't want you to be late on your first day at the garage." He gives me playful smile.

I roll my eyes. "Well, it's a good thing my new boss likes me." I give him one last kiss before I crawl out of bed. "But I really do need to go. I have to take the boys to school."