6. Kick Me, Spank Me, Pull My Hair

EPOV

“Bella…”

“No, Edward.”

“Bella, just-”

“Go away, Edward.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Bella, get in the car,” I demanded, getting fed up now.

She raised her eyebrows and gave a stiff shake of her head, still refusing to make eye contact with me. “No,” she stated with finality, and kept walking down the dark, paved road.

I was slowly creeping beside her in my Volvo. It was at this point that I finally gave in to the urge to roll my eyes at her childish insolence.

I risked a glance at the clock and realized that it was nearing 11pm, before I set my determined gaze back on my mate.

She had decided to go for a little walk after her therapy session with my Sire, but I refused to let her walk out here alone in the dark. Well, I used the ‘dark’ as an excuse…but really, I couldn’t give a fuck about her privacy. I don’t care whether it’s pitch black or bright as the sun with pretty little rainbows in the sky, she is not walking anywhere by herself.

And that’s final.

I took a deep breath and decided to try one more time. “Bella-”

“No,” she clipped, cutting me off.

I gritted my teeth. “Get. In. The. Car.”

There was a brief moment of silence before she swallowed audibly and growled in a hoarse voice, “Fuck. Off.”

That’s it!

I slammed on my brakes, not that I really needed to, or anything; I had only been going like 2mph, then threw my car in park, and got out, leaving the driver’s side door open as I walked around the hood of my car to retrieve to my indignant, disobedient love.

“No!” she protested as I came up behind her and wrapped one arm around her waist, picking her up with ease.

I walked at a human pace with her fighting, flailing body held against of mine, and headed for the back passenger door of my car. I made sure to land six very awkward, but precise swats to her backside before I promptly, but gently, threw her into the backseat and activated the childlock mechanism before she could make a run for it.

I moved at my natural pace then, wanting to get back in my seat and close my car door before she realized it was still open and went for that exit route instead. When I slid into my seat, she began kicking the back of it; angry wet tears streaming down her beautiful, rosy cheeks.

“I hate you.” *kick*

“You and your coven.” *kick*

I furrowed my brow as a loud sob tore through her throat and focused on her tear-stained face in the rearview mirror while I pulled my car back onto the street and started for home. “Why?” I asked softly…apprehensively.

Maybe Joey wasn’t so far off in his assumption then I thought sadly.

“You left me!” she screamed then. *kick* *kick* *kick* *kick* *kick* *kick*

Her kicks were getting more forceful now; both of her feet in perfect unison with each other…she was using the soles of her shoes to stomp on the back of my seat.

I just sighed through the beginning of her tantrum…a first for my Bella, I might add, but then she leaned forward and smacked me, making contact with my right ear and cheek.

“Ow!”

Damn it.

She had foolishly hurt herself more than me with that ridiculously soft blow. She should’ve known better.

“Bella! Stop it. Just stop it right now!” I yelled, reaching back and gently grabbing her wrist, preventing her from hurting herself any further.

She immediately tried pulling her wrist out of my grip. “I hate you!” *kick*

“Bella, stop - you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“You hit me first!” she insisted with yet another kick, still trying to yank her wrist free.

I growled before I could stop myself, then hit the brakes and turned around in my seat to face my mate. “You’re damn right I spanked that ass, and you’re fuckin lucky I don’t pull over and put you over my knee right now, young lady. Stop,” I demanded in a low voice.

She didn’t respond, just continued to cry. I watched her for a minute, fixing her with a hard stare, as the fight in her right arm diminished and she was no longer trying to pull her wrist out of my hand to hit me again. Her kicks had also come to a halt, so I slowly loosened my grip on her hand and let it fall freely to her lap.

“I love you,” I said then, speaking in a clear voice over her distressed and distorted cries.

I saw how she rolled her tired eyes and fixed her watery stare out the car window as another sob wracked her small frame.

“I do, Bella. I love you…very much,” I assured her, softening my features. “And yes, I did leave. I left because I was stupid. I thought that I was doing the right thing by you…you already know this. Baby, I may have been away, but that doesn’t mean that I ever stopped loving you.”

Her only response was more crying and a hiccup as she determinedly avoided my gaze.

I picked up her sore hand and brought it to my lips then, giving each knuckle a soft kiss. She didn’t fight me, so I focused on her distracted eyes and watched each little teardrop fall as I pressed my lips to her warm skin again, and again, and again…whispering an apology with each kiss, until of all of her tiny knuckles had been comforted.

Sorry, love.

I didn’t know how many times I could apologize for leaving her before it finally sunk in that I was truly repentant and remorseful, but I would continue to say my daily “sorry” to my Bella until her little heart was content.

It didn’t escape my notice that she seemed to be the only one that was holding a grudge…her alternates, Marie included, barely even mentioned it.

After I gently set her hand back down in her lap, I faced forward again and continued the journey home. She was obviously very upset and extremely tired, hence her childish fit earlier; I needed to get her home ASAP so that she could relax in a warm bath and lay in bed at her leisure.

I cringed and sighed at the sounds of my mate’s distress, then finally decided to try and hum in an attempt to sooth her, but my poor Bella just continued to incoherently cry and sob, so I eventually stopped with the damn humming and just held my breath, both at the wretched anxiety in my chest, and the distinct salt in her tears.

**********

When we finally made it back to the mansion, Bella, still teary-eyed and cranky, avoided the questions and concerned gazes of my coven, and insisted that she wanted some “alone time”, so I complied, more agreeable to the idea of her having some privacy now that she was home and under the same roof as me.

I still didn’t like it, it was still bullshit…her being away from me and in a separate room, but I was more agreeable. I guess that’s all that mattered.

I tried relaxing and spending time with my brothers in a rowdy round of Halo on the Xbox, but my mind and senses stayed focused on the fragile girl two floors above me.

I knew that her heartbreaking sobs had stopped, but I worried and wondered if she was still upset…if she still ‘hated’ me. I listened to her bathing…the soothing sounds of water raining down on her soft skin as she stayed under the warm spray for forty-three minutes and eighteen seconds; I was stiff the entire time though, remembering my baby love’s inability to deal with the pounding spray from a shower head, and listened for any signs of Isabella’s whimpers, but they never came...my Bella had stuck around for her entire shower, and for that, I was thankful. I continually and methodically…almost religiously breathed in her intoxicating, sweet, and clean scent. I listened to her heartbeat and breathing levels. I wondered if she was relaxed or tired enough to go to sleep yet…it was nearing one o’clock in the morning, after all. 

I worried...

“Dude, are you even paying attention?” Emmett barked, breaking me out of my reverie.

I looked at the game stats on the flat screen and saw that my guy had died seven times…yes, I was definitely distracted.

“Get your head in the game, bro,” Jasper chimed in.

“Leave her alone for an hour…can you do that?” Emmett asked.

“Yeah, Edward…give her some space, man,” Jasper readily agreed, fully aware and knowledgeable of my mate’s emotions at the moment: sad, overwhelmed, and embarrassed.

I furrowed my brow, frustrated because they wouldn’t let me get a word in, and pissed because my Bella was none of their business.

“Fuck off,” I growled, throwing the controller down and heading for my piano.

I plopped down on the bench, then fiddled around with some music paper and tinkered with the keys a bit, but eventually just huffed and paused all of my movements, thoroughly frustrated with my current shitty situation. I want Bella. My Bella. My mate. I barely ever get to see her anymore, and she’s finally out, right fucking now, right this fucking second, but she doesn’t want to see me!

Fuck my life.

After a few minutes of silent thought and eerie stillness, my fingers lithely found their way to the piano keys on their own, and my Bella’s lullaby filled the stale air mere seconds later. I had unconsciously chosen that tune, so I decided to just go with it, simultaneously allowing myself to relax at the familiar, comforting melody, and giving my Bella a reminder of my love from a distance…a two-story distance.

Hopefully, it would relax her as well; it was way past her bedtime.

**********

Two lullabies, Esme’s song, and Mary Had A Little Lamb later, I finally said, “Fuck it,” and went upstairs…only to find Hadassah under the bed. She was laying on her back while she traced the top of the box spring with her little fingertip.

“Hey…” I greeted as I joined her under there, mimicking her position.

“Hi,” she whispered.

I smiled, glad that she was talking to me, even if my Bella wouldn‘t. “What are you doin, angel?” I whispered back.

“Hidin…”

“Why are you hiding?”

“B’cuz I’m scared…”

“Why are you scared?”

“B’cuz I’m in trouble,” she replied, chancing a glance at me with her little whispered statement.

I raised my eyebrows questioningly, wondering what she could have possibly done that I didn‘t know about. “…why are you in trouble?” I asked after a moment of silence.

She traced a tiny crack on the wood surface for six seconds before she answered me, with great apprehension and wide eyes, I might add. “B’cuz I spilled my bubbles…”

I cracked a small smile, amused by her adorable expression and wanting to alleviate her fears. “How did they spill…what happened?”

She subtly shrugged. “I was blowin ‘em, and the bottle was by my feetsies, and when I moved, it got spillded over…Isabella said to hide from the spankins, so I came under here.”

I chuckled lightly and leaned to the side a bit to give her forehead a quick kiss, and smooth some damp curls out of her eyes.

I’ll have to brush it in a minute I thought with a smile.

“Well, how about you show me where they spilled?” I suggested, keeping my voice soft to match her little whispers.

She nodded eagerly and proceeded to slide out from underneath the bed, so I followed suite. When we were standing side by side, she gently took my hand in her own and tugged me toward the toy corner on the other side of the room.

Slowly, we approached the side of her purple toy box, and when we were at the site of the accident, she apprehensively pointed a little left pinky finger toward the puddle on the hardwood floor. The red tipped over Mr. Bubbles bottle confirmed that, yes…the small puddle on the floor was clearly bubble-blowing solution.

She hung her head in shame and sniffled a little bit then. “Sorry…” she whispered, her Rs still sounding like Ws.

I subtly shook my head and put my index finger under her chin, tilting her face up to meet mine. “I know, baby…but you know what?” I said, making sure to keep my voice soft.

“Huh?” she breathed.

“This was an accident, and an accident means that you didn’t mean to make the mess. You’re not in trouble,” I assured her.

She shook her head a little. “M’not?” she asked curiously.

I shook my head as well and gave her a small smile. “Nope.”

She smiled back, but remained silent as I bent down to retrieve the tipped over, empty bottle. “Hadassah, baby…you‘re going to be my helper girl, huh?”

“Mm-hmm,“ she hummed, nodding enthusiastically at the prospect of ‘helping’.

I gave her a reassuring smile, letting her know that I was happy with her answer. “Good.”

“Good,” she repeated.

I chuckled and held the bottle out to her. “Okay so, you need to throw this in the trash and get me a few paper towels from the bathroom, sweetheart. We need to clean this up.”

She nodded, then took the bottle from my hand and asked, “Trash?”

I nodded my assent, but she persisted with raised eyebrows and a higher pitched voice this time. “In the potty room?” she squeaked.

“Yes, baby…in the potty room,” I confirmed.

“Kay.”

She turned and headed for the ‘potty room’ then, and I waited patiently for her to return with the paper towels, so that I could wipe up this simple, little mess…

…except she didn’t come back with any paper towels.

“Hadassah,” I called out when she started heading for the bed.

She paused her movements and focused her attention on me. “Hm?”

“Paper towels, baby…I need paper towels,” I reminded her.

She subtly shrugged. “But dunno where…” she trailed off with a slow shake of her head, the wet tips of her brown hair sticking to her chin.

I furrowed my brow. “You don’t know where they are?” I asked.

She shook her head again, but remained silent as she stared over at me from her side of the bed.

I sighed, reminding myself to be patient with the two year old. “In the bathroom, sweetie,” I repeated slowly. “They are in the bathroom.”

“Ed-ward?” she hesitated.

“Yes?”

“Wha’s a paper towel?”

I chuckled and shook my head, standing from my position on the floor. “Never mind, angel…you lay down. It’s past your bedtime.”

She nodded and did as she was told, crawling up onto the large bed while I passed by her to go into the bathroom. While I was in there, I ripped off three sheets from the roll underneath the sink and grabbed the hair brush off the counter.

“Here baby, hold this…” I told her, offering her the brown brush.

She took it from me with a silent, yet questioning gaze.

“When I’m done cleaning up the mess, I’m gonna brush your hair,” I explained.

She didn’t respond, but sat up and watched me as I swiftly and efficiently wiped the hardwood surface clear of all bubble-blowing solution. When I passed by her to go to the bathroom and throw the soaked paper towel away, she started whimpering…I paused my steps and looked at her just in time for that small whimper to turn into a cry.

I dropped the paper towel on the ground and went to her side. “What’s wrong?” I asked, perplexed.

“W-want my…m-my buuubblesss,” she cried, pitiful tears beginning to stream down her rosy cheeks.

I sighed. “You have a new bottle in your toy box, baby…don’t cry,” I pleaded.

“D-don’t th-throoow ‘em awaaay…” she begged, then started to sob. Tiny fists began to curl as she brought them to her face and wiped her tears away. She looked up at me once her eyesight was clear again, and sniffled…then pouted her bottom lip and quivered her little chin at me.

“Hadassah…” I trailed off, unsure of what to say. I had to throw the paper towel away. There was no way I was letting my baby play with trash. “Baby, it’ll be okay. You have a whole new bottle of Mr. Bubbles in your toy box. The bubbles on this paper towel…?” I trailed off, picking the towel back up and showing it to her. “These bubbles are all gone and used up…they went bye-byes and now it’s time for the paper towel to go in the trash,” I tried to explain.

“Nooo…” she cried, and even went as far as to dramatically place her face in her hands as she mourned the loss of her bubbles.

That’s when I realized that her crying was really more about her being tired than about some spilled bubbles.

I sighed and quickly threw the paper towel in the trash, then went to my baby’s side to offer a comforting shoulder to cry on…and probably sleep on. “C’mere…” I said as I picked her up and brought her to my chest.

She clung to me, wrapping her arms and legs around my upper body and continued to cry and mumble about her bubbles and how they went bye-bye and how she misses them and how it’s not fair.

Aw.

I just caressed and softly patted her back, trying to pacify her while she calmed herself down. I even hummed, figuring that it would work for my two year old, even if it hadn’t worked for my eighteen year old. Eventually, I reached for an actual pacifier on the shelf in the closet and offered it to my very upset, very exhausted baby girl.

As I continued to pace my usual route on the floor, Hadassah’s cries gradually stopped, but she reverted to grabbing the hair at the back of my neck and pulling on it. It didn’t hurt…in fact, it felt similar to how Bella or Marie would pull my hair as we kissed, but I knew that that wasn’t what Hadassah was aiming for.

Maybe she’s trying to get my attention?

I paused my methodic steps and turned my head slightly to the side so that I could look at her. Her pink pacifier, that matched her short pink nightgown by the way, was subtly moving against her lips, and she had a frustrated look on her face.

“…what is it, baby?”

Her response was another tug on my hair.

“No…” I trailed off a bit sternly in admonishment. “You don’t pull people’s hair, Hadassah. That‘s not nice.”

She whined in the back of her throat.

“What is it?” I questioned. “Talk to me, angel…do you want something? Are you thirsty? Hungry? Do you want a snack?”

She shrugged and whined and pulled on my hair…all at the same time.

I gave the outside of her bare thigh a light tap. “I said no, Hadassah. Don’t pull people’s hair. If I have to tell you again, you‘re going in time-out,” I warned.

She started crying again and yanked harder on the small hairs by my ear this time, so I gave her a brief glimpse of my ‘stern-face’, then turned in the direction of the time-out corner. When I set her down on her feet, I landed one firm swat to her bottom and instructed in a stern voice, “You stay here for two minutes, Hadassah. You’re in a time-out. When you’re done, you can take that binky out of your mouth and tell me what’s wrong, without all the hair pulling, or it can go in the trash.”

She immediately sank down to the ground, sitting Indian-style in front of the corner, then buried her face in her hands and continued to cry her little sobs that were consequentially being muffled by that little pink pacifier in her mouth.

I furrowed my brow and stared at her small form on the floor, wracking my brain for anything that could possibly be bothering her right now…why couldn’t she just talk to me and tell me what’s wrong? Why did she have to pull my hair and then disobey me by doing it again after I told her not to? Why was she choosing to be naughty at…

Christ, it’s 2:13 in the morning?

I blinked at the digital clock on our nightstand.

I know she’s tired. Hmm…maybe I should just tuck her in bed when her two minutes are up.

“Edward?”

I sighed and plucked a tissue out of it‘s box for my little girl. “Yes, Isabella?”

It had only been one minute and twenty-eight seconds. Hadassah was still supposed to be in time-out.

“I get’ta get outta the corner now, huh?” my baby asked, surprisingly calm and tear-free, as opposed to how drastic Hadassah was being just a second earlier.

“Yes,” I stated in my own calm voice, relieved that my mate’s cries had stopped.

She giggled and promptly hopped up from her seated position on the floor, then immediately came over to me for a hug.

I wrapped my arms around her small form and picked her back up, relishing in her warmth, listening to her little giggles in my ear, and enjoying one of my favorite hugs. She pulled back a little bit to gently rub her button nose against my cold one, and I smiled, feeling her chest’s heartbeat against my own.

“I love you,” she cooed, handing over her pink pacifier...her subtle reminder that it was bedtime.

“I adore you, baby love,” I countered, stuffing the baby accessory into my pocket.

She laughed as she gently wiped her eyes and cheeks with the soft tissue. “A door? What’s that mean?” she asked with furrowed brows and a puzzled little smile.

I gave her a knowing look. “Means that I love you and I think you’re adorable.”

She giggled as she half-heartedly blew her nose.

All by herself.

Like a big girl.

I usually hold the tissue for her, but…but…

She didn’t need me to do it…

“Oh!” she chirped, but then she yawned, effectively cutting off any playful comebacks she had from coming out.

Right.

My baby’s tired. And apparently, growing up.

I sighed despondently and focused back on the task of Bedtime to try and clear my thoughts.

I brushed my lips across her cheek and softened both my features, and my voice. “You tired, angel?”

She nodded and rubbed her right eye with a small fist.

I nodded in return and started making my way over to the bed. “Okay sweetness, let’s get your hair brushed.”

“Kay,” she sighed.

I sat her down on the bed, then quickly went about the task of picking out a movie for her to watch while I diligently worked out all the tangles that had subsequently gathered in her damp hair. While I was standing by our TV and scanning the titles in our large DVD collection, Isabella exclaimed the words, “Lion King!” so I immediately reached for that DVD and loaded the disc into the player.

When the opening credits started, I made sure the volume was set to low, then came back to bed and took my usual position behind her. She crawled into my lap, and as she lay back against my chest, I ran the first experimental brush stroke through her messy hair.

“Edward?”

“Yeah?” I responded, trying to be as gentle as possible while I worked through the various tangles.

See, this is why I need to brush her hair as soon as she gets out the bath…or the shower, in this case. But, nooo…my Bella is stubborn and insisted on ‘alone time’ tonight.

Never again.

“Dassah in trouble?” she asked curiously in a small voice.

I subtly shook my head. I had come to expect this line of questioning from her, and she clearly wasn’t going to disappoint tonight. Baby Love always seems so concerned and questions whenever any of the ‘others’, besides herself, gets in trouble. “No,” I whispered behind her ear, trying to keep the atmosphere quiet and relaxed.

“She got spankins…” she trailed off, somewhat accusingly.

“That’s right. I spanked her bottom one time and she was put in the corner for two minutes. She didn’t listen when I told her that she wasn‘t allowed to pull hair. You know that not listening gets you into trouble, Isabella,” I pointed out.

She subtly nodded and quietly hummed, “Mm-hmm…”

“Mm-hmm, but that’s over, baby girl…Hadassah is not in trouble anymore,” I assured her.

“Edward?”

“Hmm?

“She pullded on your hair b’cuz she was mad at you…” Isabella whispered then.

I furrowed my brow.

Why?

“Why was she mad at me?”

“B’cuz her bubbles went goodbye-byes, but you didn’t let her say goodbye-bye to ‘em,” she told me, as if it should have been obvious.

I rolled my eyes, aware that Isabella couldn’t see me, and sighed. “Well then, she should have told me that, instead of pulling my hair when I told her not to. Not listening will always get you in trouble, baby girl…remember that.”

“Kay,” she relented with a short nod.

I continued to brush her hair and was satisfied when four minutes and thirty eight seconds later, it was all smooth and soft and dry and tangle-free.

I rock.

I smiled and set the brush down on the nightstand, then switched off the bedside lamp, glad that my mate would be sleeping peacefully soon enough. With an arm around Isabella’s mid-section, I kept her snuggled to me, and started to lightly caress her bare arm.

I was tracing her tiny elbow with my index finger just as the first tired sigh fell from her slightly parted lips. I gently pressed my lips to her temple, getting ready to tell her to close her beautiful eyes and go to sleep, when she immediately gasped and sat straight up.

Then she smacked my leg. Hard.

And when I say hard, I mean it was hard for her…I barely felt it.

“Wha-”

“No, Edward!” Isabella suddenly yelled, cutting me off. “You don’t hit Bella!” She twisted around in my grasp to stare me down while she continued to yell at me. “You want a spankin? I’ll show you a spankin - don’t you ever, ever, ever hit Bella!” she demanded, smacking my jean clad thigh again.

“Isabella, stop.” I went to grab her hand, thinking that she was going to hurt herself trying to hit me the same way that my Bella had done earlier, but she pulled her arm out my reach and glared at me, making it clear that she didn’t want to be touched right now.

“No, Edward! That’s bad!” she admonished me, chancing another smack on my thigh again.

I gritted my teeth and tried my best to keep a straight face through my baby’s scolding.

“That’s naughty!” she insisted, hitting me again.

“You!” *smack*

“Don’t! *smack*

“Hit!” *smack*

“Bella!” *smack*

Then she went and crossed her arms over her chest, thoroughly huffy and puffy, and obviously very proud of herself for dishing out my ‘real spanking’ for spanking my Bella earlier.

Could my day…no, could my situation get any weirder?

I raised my hand from where it lay on the mattress and ran it through my hair a few times, taking in the fact that she didn’t flinch at the sight of my hand, and trying to figure out what to do with my angry little girl at the moment.

She knew hitting me was against the rules. But she did it to ‘protect’ Bella…I see where she’s coming from. At the same time, I had told her that she needed to reign in her anger and work on her temper…that hitting people wasn’t the answer. Also, if my Bella needs a firm hand, I will not hesitate to give it to her…Isabella needs to know and accept that.

All of her alternates do.

Looking at her now, I can see that she’s not sorry for hitting me…not in the least. She feels justified. She’s as still as stone, her eyes just as hard, as she continues to stare me down and almost dare me to do something about it…or, God forbid - talk back. I bet she’d ‘spank’ me again if I got ‘sassy’ right about now.

I sighed and internally chuckled at the daily insanity that I go through for my mate.

And that a five year old is ready to take me on.

That’s my girl.