However I knew I had to keep going and tell him the rest, so I turned and took a few steps away from him. “Edward, that’s not all. I’m not just your ordinary everyday FBI agent. I have a very specific job that I do for them. I don’t do the normal investigating of the bad guys like you might think I do. I can and I do—I’m trained for it, but it’s not usually what I do.”
I could feel my heart trying to pound its way out of my chest as I waited for him to say something, anything. Turning back around to gage his reaction, I could see a somewhat perplexed look on his face. He looked confused and I wasn’t sure why but wanted to get this over as fast as possible so I went on, “I’m a psychologist, I profile the bad guys. Get inside their heads, you know... see what makes them tick and try and get confessions out of them.”
“Is that what you were so afraid to tell me? Did you think I’d worry about you getting inside my head or something?” he asked moving closer to me, and pulling me into his arms. Oh god how I wanted to stay there and never leave. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t read him; I had never felt so safe.
“Um, something like that,” I muttered.
He backed away slightly and asked, “Something like what? What do you mean? Are you teasing me?”
“No I’m not joking, I wish I were, more now than ever before in my life I wish I were.”
I felt tears beginning to well in my eyes. As I heard him say, “What do you mean, Bella? Tell me now. What are you a mind reader, you trying to get in my head, Bella?" he chuckled, probably thinking it couldn't possibly be true.
“Normally I would be. Normally any guy I go out with, yes I try to get into their heads. And actually I do it quite easily.”
“Normally?" he asked. When I didn’t respond, he took a few steps away from me, running his hand through his hair, tugging on it in frustration as he pulled away.
Here we were, I knew it would come to this, he was preparing to leave. I felt so defeated and so angry with myself that I had even let myself hope for a second that he might be different.
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