Twilight...not mine (sigh).
Chapter 156
BPOV
"Now, the money question," she smiled softly. "Do you love him?"
I sat in my bed and replayed that question over and over again. I said no to Dr. Cope. Why did I say no? Because you're in denial, Bella! I did love Edward. I loved him even more now than I did before because his true personality was coming out. That 'thing' that was hovering over us is gone and he's truly amazing.
Perhaps, it was the trust issue. Did I trust him? That's the money question...ask me that, Dr. Cope! Will I ever trust him?
Come on, bitch, you know you want to trust Edward. He saved your naked ass from that awful room. He's been with you. Every step of the way. He's quitting his job. For you. Admit it, chickie, you love him and the trust is coming back.
Shut. Up.
I think that Dr. Cope didn't believe me. You don't believe you. Why would she? She smirked and jotted down a few notes before ending our session after she asked that.
Did I love Edward because he saved me or did I love Edward because of what we had before and what was building now? I rubbed my head and whimpered quietly.
This sucks. I want my mom...
Oh, wait...she was poisoned by the monster who's your birth father. There's got to be more to that story.
"Knock, knock," came a quiet voice from the door.
"Hello," I said, looking at the beautiful woman standing at the edge of my bed. She was a little taller than me and was the epitome of 'Mom.' Her light brown hair was curled in soft waves. Her hazel eyes sparkled jovially and she just radiated warmth. As weird as it sounded, I wanted a hug from her. Yep, weird. "Do I know you?"
"No, but you know my son," she smiled. "I'm Esme Cullen." She held out her hand, shaking my hand gently. "I spoke with Edward and he said that you possibly needed someone to talk to who wasn't male or who wasn't a shrink."
"Damn," I chuckled. "He's always a step ahead of me."
"Edward is always a step ahead of everyone," she said, sitting down. "Sometimes, too far ahead." I frowned. "I think that was why he was so sloppy in his apartment with you. He was more concerned about your well-being after the fiasco with Heidi that he didn't think about his badge or gun in the nightstand. Edward always worries about everyone but himself."
"It's one of his most attractive qualities," I said, blushing quietly.
"It is. But, it almost cost me him," she muttered.
"I don't understand," I replied, confused.
"The case prior to yours, Edward was injured. He was shot in the chest because he was worried about an innocent and not about himself. He wasn't wearing a vest and if the bullet was a millimeter to the left, he would have died. I begged him to quit after that, but he refused because being an agent was his life. Well, until he met you," she smiled softly. "Now, I'm getting my wish and I pray that he gets his. My son has been dealt an awful set of cards."
"He told me about his past," I said, sighing sadly. "I know what he was dealing with."
"I know. He told me, too. Well, that he informed you about his past," she chuckled lightly. "You know more than Carlisle and me. Edward doesn't trust anyone. The fact that he opened up to you was shocking. I'm glad that he did, though. My son, he needs someone to talk to. He never much cared for talking to therapists and it was like pulling teeth, at first, when he came to live with us."
"He is very quiet," I said.
"He had to be," Esme frowned. "He didn't want to be hurt or tortured by his sperm donor. If he opened his mouth, Edward got hurt. Even now, he's quiet. He only speaks when he needs to and it's not very often."
"Though, he is a smart ass," I giggled.
"He's definitely smart," Esme said, her features softening.
"What's his wish?" I blurted out. Inner filter! All of those blows to my head knocked all the sense out of me.
"He'll tell you if he wants to. I'm not going to divulge his secrets," she said, giving me a secretive grin. I scowled good-naturedly. "Edward did say you were a spitfire."
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" I deadpanned.
"In his eyes, a good thing," Esme laughed. "Edward is very strong in some respects. For a little boy to go through what he did...he had to be. In other ways, he needs someone to be strong for him. That's where the spitfire comes in. You don't let him get away with anything, do you?"
"Not really, no," I snorted. "I really laid into him when I found out his true identity."
"He said that you had a mean right hook," Esme smirked. "He's worried about you, though."
"I'm fine," I said, waving my hand dismissively.
No, you're not.
"Bella, I'm here because Edward asked me to come. I'm also here because I'm worried about you. No woman should have to go through what you did. I can see on your face that you're not fine. You're putting up a strong front, but inside...it's eating you up. I saw it before in Edward." She stared at me. I turned away, not wanting to be scrutinized. "Edward exploded when he saw his mother getting beat up. His explosion resulted in the death of his birth father. I wish I could bring him back to life and kick his ass."
I turned abruptly, shocked at the comment made by Esme. She seemed so sweet.
"I lived in a house with two men, both of whom are FBI agents. I can swear with the best of 'em," Esme snickered. "Now, I don't want to force myself into your life, but if you ever want to talk, I'm here for you. I come bearing gifts." She placed an iPhone on my bed and Edward's Sylvester. "Edward's personal line, along with my cell phone and Carlisle's cell phone are already programmed on there. Also, Edward said that you went through hoops to get that for him and now it's Sylvester's turn to take care of you."
"Thank you, Esme," I whispered, holding the cat to my chest. Tears fell out of my eyes.
"Sweetheart," Esme crooned, sitting on the edge of the bed. She gently ran her fingers through my hair. I turned as best as I could and collapsed against this perfect stranger, sobbing for everything that happened to me. Everything that happened and I still didn't know exactly why.
I hated it.
A/N: Who wants to hug Bella? I want to make her better. (Yes, it was my fault that she's a mess. Don't throw tomatoes at me.) She's got a long way to go, but all will improve soon. Leave me some!