Bodychecking (13 page)

She did need to earn some money. She refused to mooch off Izzy and Cooper forever. Mooching had never been one of her faults, and she didn’t plan on starting now. Yet, the thought of going back to party crashing or teaching martial arts paralyzed her, but getting back on the horse was exactly what she needed to do if she ever hoped to heal.

For now, she opened her laptop, accessed the steamy romance novel she’d started at Cedric’s condo, and put her ability to create drama to good use.

A few days later, Bella had settled into her studio. She hadn’t seen Cedric since she’d moved out. He’d called and texted, but she’d asked for time, and he’d given it to her. She was a confused mess of conflicting emotions, fear being the most overwhelming of all. Not just fear of being attacked again, but a fear of putting herself out there and feeling something for another person—a fear of being hurt emotionally.

Through it all Cedric exhibited incredible patience. Bella appreciated his sacrifices, even though she wasn’t sure why he continued to hang in there. Maybe he saw something in her she didn’t see in herself. Maybe—

A sharp rap on the door interrupted her introspection—thank God. Bella stood, approached the door, and cautiously stared through the peephole. Seeing who it was, she swung open the door, a smile forced on her face as she braced herself for whatever might come.

Her mother, Fawn Maxwell, walked inside. In her fifties, Fawn’s classical beauty had faded under wrinkled, leathery skin that had seen too much sun. She looked tired and not as vibrant as usual, but decades of partying took its toll on her body. Bella shuddered to think she could be looking at herself in twenty-five years.

“Hi.” Bella and her mother hugged briefly. They’d never been particularly close, and Fawn wasn’t exactly the touchy-feely type.

“I haven’t heard from you since the wedding,” Fawn said without preamble.

Bella blew out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Since neither of her parents were good at keeping in touch, Bella didn’t see the point of her mother’s comment. On a positive note, because Bella was working on seeing the positive, Izzy hadn’t told their mother about the attack, or it would’ve been the first thing out of her mouth. Fawn wasn’t known for tact.

She’d never been much of a mother, more like a sister or a distant cousin. Bella grudgingly admitted she was the most like her mother of all her sisters, and that wasn’t a compliment. Not that Bella didn’t love her mother—she did. But even Fawn’s best qualities weren’t all that wonderful, if you didn’t count her beautiful singing voice.

“Do you have any beer?” Fawn asked, bending down to pat the grumbling Rumble. Fawn loved animals like her daughters. Oddly, that’d never occurred to Bella until now. Damn, maybe there was more of her in her daughters than any of them would care to admit.

“Fawn, it’s early afternoon.” None of them called her Mother. She’d hated the title, saying it made her feel old.

“Never too early.” She grinned as she flopped onto the leather couch. Rumble leaned against her and stared up at her with soulful brown eyes as if he were in love—the fickle traitor.

Bella took a beer from the refrigerator, popped the top, and handed it to her.

“What? You’re not drinking with me?” Fawn didn’t wait for a reply but promptly downed a good portion of the beer.

“No, I’m not in the mood.” Bella sat down in a chair and wondered what the hell was going on. Fawn wasn’t one to pay casual visits.

Her mother took another long gulp and set down the can. “What’s up with you?” she asked conversationally. Warning signs clanged in Bella’s head. Her mother never made small talk. Maybe Izzy had told her.

“Nothing,” Bella said, trying to look innocent.

Fawn narrowed her eyes. “Something’s wrong. You’ve been odd since your birthday.”

Bella doubted Fawn would’ve noticed such a fact since she rarely paid attention to such things. “Did Izzy set you up to talk to me?”

“No, should she have?” Fawn studied her daughter. In her rare moments of sobriety, she was pretty perceptive.

“No,” Bella answered too quickly.

“What aren’t you telling me, Bellani?”

Bella shrugged and stalled by getting a glass of water. She leaned against the counter, forcing her mother to turn sideways on the couch to face her.

“I’m worried about you. You’re the daughter most like me. A rolling stone. An adventure seeker. Never satisfied. Always looking for the next best thing.”

“That’s me,” Bella said flippantly. She couldn’t dispute what Fawn said even if she didn’t like it.

Fawn blew out a heavy sigh, her gaze troubled. “Don’t make the mistakes I made. Here I am in my fifties without a monetarily viable career and still partying like I did in my twenties. I’m always looking back instead of forward, as if the only life worth living already happened.”

Bella swallowed hard as dread settled in the pit of her stomach. Fawn wasn’t prone to lecturing or motherly words of wisdom. This conversation bordered on fucking weird.

“Bella, I want better for you. I hope you don’t hold up your father and me as good examples of how to live your life.” Fawn twisted her hands in her lap and met Bella’s gaze. “Do you know what my biggest accomplishment is?”

“Your two hit songs,” Bella answered confidently.

Fawn smiled, an odd melancholy smile. “No, my daughters. It took me years to realize that. I’m proud of each and every one of you. You’re all better people than your father and me. Izzy, Emma, and Avery are where they need to be. I want to see you there too.”

“I will be, Mom.”

Fawn raised a brow at being called Mom. A lone tear escaped and trickled down her check.

Bella had never seen her mother cry. The alarm bells in her head rose to a deafening decibel. Fear sat in her gut heavier than a dozen hockey pucks. Her already shaky world shifted underneath her.

“Are you okay?” Bella asked, realizing this conversation wasn’t about her as much as it was about her mother.

Fawn shook her head and buried her face in her hands. Silent sobs shook her body. Frightened, Bella quickly crossed the room and sat next to her, hugging her close. Rumble put his huge head in Fawn’s lap and licked her hand.

Something was seriously wrong, and Bella’s heart constricted. Fear tightened her chest, making breathing painful and laborious. She kept her arms around Fawn, feeling as if she were the mother comforting the child, a role Izzy usually played in their dysfunctional family, and one Bella had always avoided.

When her mother’s tears finally subsided, Fawn, ever proud, squared her shoulders, and stood. “I didn’t come here to fall apart on you. I came here to tell you that Rock and I are going to Mexico tomorrow for an extended stay. I wanted to say good-bye in case—in case I never saw you again.” Fawn was walking toward the door as the last of her words reached Bella, who scrambled after her.

“What do you mean?” Feeling dizzy with shock, Bella put a hand on the wall to steady herself.

Fawn opened the door and looked over her shoulder. “You were always the daughter I understood the most, the one I encouraged to be a free spirit, to follow your dreams, and change them on a whim. I’m responsible for your inability to stick with one thing.” Fawn’s comment came out of left field, leaving Bella confused.

“No, you’re not. I’m a big girl. I make my own choices.”

“Promise me you’ll find that one passion that fulfills you, go after it for all you’re worth, and stick with it even when it gets tough.” Fawn touched Bella’s cheek with one finger. Her eyes were filled with unshed tears, but she maintained her dignity.

“I will. You taught me to do that.”

“Stick with it.” Fawn leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “I love you, honey.”

“I love you too, Mom.” A sense of foreboding crawled through Bella, as if this were their final good-bye. “When will you be back?”

“I don’t know.” Fawn held her gaze with sorrow in her eyes. “I’m dying, Bella.” Before Bella reacted, Fawn turned and strode out the door, leaving Bella rooted to the floor and unable to speak.

Her forever-young mother couldn’t be growing old, much less dying.

* * * *

The team had a ten-day, five-game home stand, and Cedric endured eight of those days without Bella. They’d played four games so far, winning two and losing two. His performance improved, but not up to first-line expectations, yet Coach Gorst didn’t make any line changes. In some ways, Cedric wished Coach would’ve punished his poor play. Leaving him on the first line demonstrated a faith in Cedric’s abilities he didn’t believe he’d earned lately.

Cedric had Saturday night off, and he was out of sorts. He’d turned down Brick and Rush’s invitation to party, claiming he had a hot date. If their skeptical expressions were any clue, they didn’t buy his story. Even the team had started thinking of him as a homebody instead of a partier. He couldn’t decide if he should be insulted or flattered.

Being a homebody would have its merits if he had someone to stay home with, and only a certain someone would do. He wanted Bella and not just in his bed. He wanted a relationship. She didn’t want one, never had, and certainly didn’t now after the attack.

Or did she? That last kiss they’d shared haunted his dreams and lived in his head. He’d fantasized about another, analyzed his emotions, and speculated about hers until he drove himself beyond fucking crazy. The kiss had been different. Even Bella couldn’t have disputed that one fact. It’d been packed with raw emotions and bold promises, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Frustrated, Cedric flicked the channels back and forth between a couple of true crime shows, his secret addiction. He knew how to kill someone one hundred different ways and not get caught. He also knew it was almost always the spouse who did it, or the spouse’s lover. The stupidity and arrogance of the suspected killers fascinated him from a psychological point of view. If he hadn’t been a hockey player, he’d have been a detective. He did a damn good job as an armchair one.

Cedric’s cell buzzed, signaling a text, and he ignored it. Brick and Rush kept calling, trying to convince him to change his mind. They were having a hard time coming to grips with this new Cedric who no longer partied them under the table. Cedric understood that sentiment. He had a fucking hard time coming to grips with the changes himself, yet if a guy wasn’t feeling it, he wasn’t feeling it.

The phone buzzed again. Annoyed, he picked it up and glanced at the screen. This insistent texter was interrupting the good part—the killer was about to be revealed—but Cedric forgot all about suspects and murders when he saw the name on the screen.

Bella.

Yes!

He pumped his fist in the air in triumph. He knew she couldn’t stay away for long. He’d given her space. In fact, he hadn’t heard a peep out of her since the text before the game. Now she’d contacted him.

A slow smile spread from one corner of his lips to the other. His heart rate sped up and his palms got sweaty. Oh, yeah, he had it bad.

He read the screen.
Can you come over?

I can come, all right
.

You’re an ass
.

Sure am.
He grinned.

Come over. Please
.

Hmmm, he frowned. Something was wrong. She certainly wasn’t asking him over for a booty call, but her motives didn’t matter as long as she needed him.

On my way.

A few minutes later he pulled into Coop’s driveway and parked at the side of the garage. He took the outside steps that led to the garage apartment two at a time. Pausing at the top, he waited to gather his composure. She couldn’t know how eager he was to see her. His desperation might scare her away.

He lifted his hand to knock on the door. “Hey, I’m—” he said as she flung open the door and threw herself in his arms with huge, gulping sobs.

Cedric held her tightly as scenarios fueled by his recent true-crime marathon ran through his brain. Had someone died? Been murdered? Had her attacker contacted her? His head almost imploded at the possibilities. He conceded he did have a bit of an overactive imagination. With the precarious state Bella had been in lately, her tears could be caused by something as simple as a torn fingernail.

He held her tightly to him, stroking her back and murmuring words of comfort. She clung to him as if he were her personal savior. Her tears wet his Tommy Bahama shirt, and her now-too-thin body was racked with sobs. Whatever was wrong, she certainly hadn’t called him over for any kind of physical entertainment. Despite his alarm at her obvious distress, his heart filled with hope. She’d called him in her hour of need, which meant something.

When her heart-wrenching sobs finally subsided and her body stopped shaking, he led her to the couch, noticing for the first time her studio was furnished with the furniture from his condo—the very furniture he loved and the very furniture she’d replaced with the pastel nightmare. Not that he cared right now.

Rumble lay in his dog bed several feet away and growled a greeting. Cedric flipped him off, and the dog growled louder.

Sitting Bella down on
his
leather couch, he faced her and held both of her hands. “What is it, sweetheart?”

She stared up at him, looking almost as pathetic as she had the night of the attack. Her tear-streaked face was devoid of makeup. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy.

“My mom.” She choked on the words, and a new bout of tears started. Her pulled her into his arms once again. Bella soaked his other shoulder—not that he was complaining. He’d gladly hold her under any circumstances. Cedric rubbed her back and waited patiently for the tears to subside once more. Sniffling, she raised her head.

“Your mom?” he asked gently. “Is she okay?”

Bella shook her head.

“Oh, honey, what’s wrong?”

“She’s dying.” Her words were a wail of pain and agony.

“What happened?” Cedric’s chest constricted. He’d only met Bella’s parents a few times. They were crappy parents but seemed to be okay people. Regardless, they were still her parents. Just like his parents were still his. He doubted he’d ever shed a tear over his father, but his mother merited a few.