"He never leaves, does he?" she mumbled to herself.
"Mom, I'm so glad to see you!"
She bent down to hug me gently, and I felt warm tears falling on my cheeks.
"Bella, I was so upset!"
"I'm sorry, Mom. But everything's fine now, it's okay," I comforted her.
"I'm just glad to finally see your eyes open." She sat on the edge of my bed.
I suddenly realized I didn't have any idea when it was. "How long have they been closed?"
"It's Friday, hon, you've been out for a while."
"Friday?" I was shocked. I tried to remember what day it had been when… but I didn't want to think about that.
"They had to keep you sedated for a while, honey — you've got a lot of injuries."
"I know." I could feel them.
"You're lucky Dr. Cullen was there. He's such a nice man… very young, though. And he looks more like a model than a doctor…"
"You met Carlisle?"
"And Edward's sister Alice. She's a lovely girl."
"She is," I agreed wholeheartedly.
She glanced over her shoulder at Edward, lying with his eyes closed in the chair. "You didn't tell me you had such good friends in Forks."
I cringed, and then moaned.
"What hurts?" she demanded anxiously, turning back to me. Edward's eyes flashed to my face.
"It's fine," I assured them. "I just have to remember not to move." He lapsed back into his phony slumber.
I took advantage of my mother's momentary distraction to keep the subject from returning to my less-than-candid behavior. "Where's Phil?" I asked quickly.
"Florida — oh, Bella! You'll never guess! Just when we were about to leave, the best news!"
"Phil got signed?" I guessed.
"Yes! How did you guess! The Suns, can you believe it?"
"That's great, Mom," I said as enthusiastically as I could manage, though I had little idea what that meant.
"And you'll like Jacksonville so much," she gushed while I stared at her vacantly. "I was a little bit worried when Phil started talking about Akron, what with the snow and everything, because you know how I hate the cold, but now Jacksonville! It's always sunny, and the humidity really isn't that bad. We found the cutest house, yellow, with white trim, and a porch just like in an old movie, and this huge oak tree, and it's just a few minutes from the ocean, and you'll have your own bathroom —"
"Wait, Mom!" I interrupted. Edward still had his eyes closed, but he looked too tense to pass as asleep.
"What are you talking about? I'm not going to Florida. I live in Forks."
"But you don't have to anymore, silly," she laughed. "Phil will be able to be around so much more now… we've talked about it a lot, and what I'm going to do is trade off on the away games, half the time with you, half the time with him."
"Mom." I hesitated, wondering how best to be diplomatic about this. "I want to live in Forks. I'm already settled in at school, and I have a couple of girlfriends" — she glanced toward Edward again when I reminded her of friends, so I tried another direction — "and Charlie needs me. He's just all alone up there, and he can't cook at all."
"You want to stay in Forks?" she asked, bewildered. The idea was inconceivable to her. And then her eyes flickered back toward Edward. "Why?"
"I told you — school, Charlie — ouch!" I'd shrugged. Not a good idea.
Her hands fluttered helplessly over me, trying to find a safe place to pat. She made do with my forehead; it was unbandaged.
"Bella, honey, you hate Forks," she reminded me.
"It's not so bad."
She frowned and looked back and forth between Edward and me, this time very deliberately.
"Is it this boy?" she whispered.
I opened my mouth to lie, but her eyes were scrutinizing my face, and I knew she would see through that.
"He's part of it," I admitted. No need to confess how big a part. "So, have you had a chance to talk with Edward?" I asked.
"Yes." She hesitated, looking at his perfectly still form. "And I want to talk to you about that."
Uh-oh. "What about?" I asked.
"I think that boy is in love with you," she accused, keeping her voice low.
"I think so, too," I confided.
"And how do you feel about him?" She only poorly concealed the raging curiosity in her voice.
I sighed, looking away. As much as I loved my mom, this was not a conversation I wanted to have with her. "I'm pretty crazy about him." There — that sounded like something