Bodychecking (7 page)

Bella stiffened and automatically touched her face. She’d piled on the makeup, hoping they wouldn’t notice. She wore makeup to take out the garbage so that alone wouldn’t be a red flag. Now all three were looking at her as if she were a new species of alien or something.

“I was sparring at the dojo, and my partner didn’t pull back as quickly as he should’ve.”

The sisters nodded in unison, accepting a perfectly plausible explanation as such accidents had happened before to their risk-taking sister.

Izzy started to say something and appeared to think better of it. Snapping her mouth shut, she glanced around the living room with a frown and shook her head. “Somehow I never thought country casual would be Cedric’s style, nor would he be so messy. He strikes me as a guy who’s anal about tidiness, no clutter, and ultra-modern with clean lines.”

“Uh, he is all that. I’ve, uh, been redecorating,” Bella admitted, “The mess is mine. I’ll clean up before he gets home.”

Despite her obvious distraction with the impending wedding, Izzy rubbed her chin and focused on her sister for a brief moment. “This is so not your style either. All this pastel. It’s more like Emma’s.”

“It looks great,” Emma defended Bella’s and her own tastes.

Izzy pointed at Emma while staring pointedly at Bella. “My point.”

Bella shrugged. Best not to piss Izzy off, considering the stress she was under. A bridezilla Izzy was a scary-ass thing. Yet, the twins didn’t seem to care if they treaded on volcanic ground, which was one more thing that’d changed in Bella’s world. All her life, she’d been the one with the guts to stand up to Izzy while marching to the beat of her own drum and doing her own thing. Now she was bowing down, and the twins were challenging their big sister.

“Does he know you redecorated?” Avery gaped open-mouthed at the pink and purple décor with abject horror in her eyes, not that she’d have a clue what constituted good design, especially if it wasn’t covered in horse hair.

Bella shrugged. “He didn’t tell me I couldn’t.”

“Redecorating by omission,” Avery quipped.

“It’s predominantly pastels,” Izzy noted, as if ready to gag.

“What’s wrong with that?” Compared to the coldness of Cedric’s modern décor, the country look seemed so soothing and homey in the pictures online—here, not so much, but Bella refused to admit to her mistake.

Izzy harrumphed. “You hate pastels. You like bright, bold colors. Nothing subtle.”

“I’m broadening my horizons.” Bella pulled a pizza out of the oven and poured Izzy a glass of wine to sooth the savage bride. Emma and Avery helped themselves to a glass, needing all the alcohol-fueled fortitude they could get. Starved, the sisters forgot about her decorating disaster and dug in.

Izzy finally stopped chewing, wiped her mouth with a napkin, and gave her one of those big-sister looks Bella knew all too well. She picked up a book on the counter. “
Cooking for Dummies
? What’s really going on, Bell?”

“Nothing,” Bella answered with mock innocence. “I’m just—just reevaluating my future.” She ended on a falsely bright note with a fake smile.

“By learning to cook?” Izzy’s eyebrows crept all the way to her hairline.

“Cedric likes home-cooked meals.” Another lie. She hadn’t a clue if he did or not.

“It’s about time you got serious with Cedric. You’ve been dancing around each other for too long.”

“So now we’re dancing with each other.” Bella smiled, hoping to lay her sisters’ unease to rest.

“I still think there’s more going on.” Izzy studied Bella so intently, Bella squirmed.

She should tell her sisters the truth, share her pain with them and lean on them for support, but they’d mother her with pity and sympathy. The horror of such a possibility was more than she could bear. Regardless, they knew something was wrong, as evidenced by the quick glances her way and the whispered conversation she interrupted when she came back from the bathroom. The guilty stares said it all. They were worried about her, and she didn’t blame them. If she’d been them, she’d be all over her, demanding to know what the fuck was wrong.

Thank God none of them were her, and they wouldn’t do that.

Not yet anyway. She suspected they’d discuss the situation in private and rally the troops. She’d be in deep shit when they mounted their coordinated attack.

Tonight she was safe. They were feeling their way around this new Bella. She’d been weird at her birthday party too so they probably assumed this behavior change had to do with her turning twenty-six, which gave her a little time to plan her own strategy.

You should tell them the truth,
an exasperated voice echoed inside her head.

Not yet. She couldn’t talk about the attack. She needed more time, and their focus needed to be solely on the wedding right now. She would not screw this up for Izzy. Bella might be selfish, but she could never be that selfish.

Her sisters stayed for a few hours, helping control-freak Izzy with last-minute wedding details. Bella was actually sorry when Emma rose and stretched and Avery and Izzy did the same. Bella didn’t want them to leave, but she’d stalled as long as she could.

Bella followed them to the door and locked it after them. She ran to the window to watch as they walked from the building into the rainy evening, loaded into Izzy’s huge SUV, and disappeared down the street. Movement on the deserted sidewalk caught her attention. She pressed her face against the window trying to see the dark figure on the street below, but the person pulled his hoodie low over his eyes and hurried down the street. He passed under a streetlight, giving Bella a better view of his build and size, even if his facial features weren’t visible.

The man wasn’t her attacker. He was too small, too thin. Instead of feeling relief, Bella shivered and hugged herself, trying to ward off the chill that overcame her body. She hated being paranoid. She was perfectly safe in Cedric’s building with a security guard at the door. She checked the locks again, called downstairs to security to let Ross, the night guard, know she wouldn’t be expecting any more guests and not to let anyone else upstairs.

Bella tuned to a smooth jazz station, left a few lights on, and crawled into the big, empty bed. She longed for Cedric’s warm body and gentle touch. He’d been so good to her, and she’d been a nutcase. He took it all in stride though she wasn’t sure how he’d take the personal touches she added to his formerly white and beige home.

She missed him
.

These road trips would be the death of her. Loneliness wrapped its cold arms around her and wouldn’t let go. She sighed and hugged his pillow to her. Breathing in his scent gave her a measure of comfort. He gave her comfort, made her feel valued, and Bella rarely felt valued.

She sighed. Not a fan of self-pity or weakness, she’d find a way to take control of her situation. Bella would take a small step forward to demonstrate her life might have gone off the rails, but she was putting it back on the tracks wheel by wheel.

The Sockeyes played in Vancouver on New Year’s Eve. Coop skated like a demon, shot the puck like a sharpshooter, and won the game for them in the last ten seconds. The team hopped on their charter plane and landed in Seattle before midnight. It’d been a long road trip, too long, and Cedric was on a roll—a bad roll. His play sucked to the point he should’ve been occupying a spot on the fourth line or riding the pine.

He’d spent too much time on this road trip worrying about Bella and not enough concentrating on his game. He’d hated leaving her forty-eight hours after the attack. Yet her texts and phone calls sounded normal. Regardless, this niggling feeling told him she wasn’t nearly as okay as she claimed. He didn’t have a fucking clue how long it took a person to recover from something like that, or if they ever did, but he was fairly certain she couldn’t be okay after only a few days. And as normal as she appeared to sound, he heard a hint of panic and fear in her voice every time they talked.

The bad stuff was part of any relationship, as much as the good stuff. If they survived this, they should be able to survive anything. Cedric didn’t regret Bella moving in. It’d be an adjustment. He’d never lived with a woman before, especially one dealing with serious trauma, and he felt ill-equipped to handle the situation. He’d do right by Bella and hope to God his best would be good enough.

He should talk to Coop or Ice. They’d both dealt with some pretty heavy pasts, while Cedric in comparison had it pretty easy. Maybe his parents had never shown any love or encouragement, but they’d never abused him either. They were guilty of neglect and indifference. The rare times they noticed they had a son, his father would heap on heavy doses of criticism. His mother chose guilt and manipulation as her parenting method of choice. Most of the time, they pretended he didn’t exist. In fact, he’d gotten into hockey through an uncle, and they’d gladly paid for it so they didn’t have to deal with a child who was obviously a major inconvenience.

Cedric avoided contact with both parents, which wasn’t difficult since they lived in Toronto, where his father ran a large corporation and greased the palms of politicians to get what he wanted. Neither of them put any pressure on Cedric to come home for the holidays. In fact, he rarely heard from them beyond the obligatory birthday calls.

When he’d first met Bella, he’d recognized a kindred spirit. He wasn’t sure how, but he had. They’d both been raised by neglectful parents and struggled with not being shown love as children. Cedric had avoided therapy, but any good shrink would claim that his partying and whoring around stemmed back to not feeling worthy of love.

What the fuck ever.

This self-examination shit was getting to be a habit, and one he’d avoided in the past. Avoidance didn’t seem to be working either for him anymore. His problems had moved into his head and made their fat asses comfortable as they proceeded to trash his orderly life. But he couldn’t help Bella if he didn’t face the tough stuff head on.

Bella. God, he’d missed her.

As soon as he got off the plane, he texted her, and she replied she was waiting up for him and had a surprise. Feeling anxious and worried, he drove home a little too quickly, not sure what he’d find when he walked in that door.

A few minutes later, Cedric unlocked his door and entered—what, he didn’t know. This could not be his condo.

Nothing prepared Cedric for the transformation his home had undergone in a few short days. Once a bastion of bachelorhood with everything spare, neat, and tidy—just like he liked it—this room was unrecognizable. Dropping his duffle bag on the floor, he reopened the front door and checked the number outside.

He was in the right condo, but it sure as hell didn’t look like it. Not one damn, fucking bit. Nor did it smell like it. Incredible aromas teased his nostrils, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten much before or after the game. His stomach growled in approval. His head reminded him not to get his hopes up. Bella cooked as much as Cedric’s mother—and, unfortunately, that meant never. Fuck only knew what her cooking tasted like.

Forgetting the aromas for a moment, he swung his gaze around his living room at a complete loss for words. His leather furniture had been replaced with light pink and lavender overstuffed sofas and chairs in a flower print. His chrome-and-glass table had been exchanged for a round oak table. One of his walls had been painted some weird shade of light green and his favorite recliner had been replaced by a rocking chair. His abstract paintings were now pastoral scenes. At least his big flat-screen still existed.

What the fuck?

He’d never be able to invite the boys over again.

Bella hurried down the hall, a nervous smile on her face. Instead of a hug, she hung back. “Welcome home.” She wrung her hands together. Her nervousness made him forget the state of his home.

“Uh, yeah, thanks. I see you’ve been—uh—busy.” He wanted to hug her, wrap her in his arms and erase the worry from her face. Yet something in her expression warned him to proceed with caution. He approached her carefully, glad to see she held her ground and didn’t shrink away from him.

“Do you like it?” She gazed up at him with an uncertain smile, which ripped his heart out. He couldn’t hurt her feelings.

“I
love
it.” He faked his enthusiasm, calling on every last bit of charm and acting talent he possessed. “It’s so, uh, homey.”

“You do?” Her face lit up, making him grin. She could paint his entire house pink if it made her smile like that. This was all good and proof she’d moved in for the long term, which had been what he’d wanted.

Bella needed to feel safe; if nesting in his house made her feel more secure, who was he to question her methods? So what if it made him a little uncomfortable to see his neat, predominantly beige house turned into a messy pastel haven with less-than-manly colors? So what if he had to live in girlie hell? It was a small price to pay.

“Is this the only room?” He bit his lower lip and silently prayed she hadn’t bought one of those stupid canopy beds for the master bedroom.

“Yes, but I’m working on the others.”

“That’s—that’s great.” He tried not to sound too relieved and quickly changed the subject. “What smells so good?”

“I’m making a pot roast. Let me check on it. I know how hungry you are after games.”

He hated this awkwardness between them. Before the attack, he’d have picked her up, swung her around, kissed the hell out of her, and carried her to the bedroom. Now he didn’t know how to react and neither did she. He moved forward and carefully put his arms around her in a quick hug. She stiffly hugged him back. Extracting herself from his hold, she hurried into the kitchen.

Damn
.

“I’ll put my stuff away.” Cedric grabbed his bag and paused long enough to appreciate her fine ass, visible even through the baggy sweats she wore. He licked his lips and bit back a sigh.

Bending down, he picked up a bra and one sock from the floor, carried them to the guest bathroom, and placed them in a wicker hamper. He made the mistake of glancing in his bedroom and wished he hadn’t. She’d taken over the master bedroom too. Instead of a perfectly made bed, the covers lay in a heap on top of the sheets. Pillows and discarded clothing littered the floor. He ventured into the master bath, fearing the worst.