She enters the kitchen just before midnight and jumps when she spots me sitting at the kitchen island, drinking a tea.
“Couldn’t sleep?” I ask, raising the tea to my lips.
Bella shakes her head and reaches into the cabinet for a mug.
“The kettle’s still hot,” I offer, watching as she moves around my kitchen with ease.
She already knows where everything is. She already knows what the hell she’s doing with Milly and Mason even though it took me months to adapt to their schedules, schoolwork, and extracurriculars after Layla passed.
As much as I didn’t want to admit that I needed help, Bella has already proved how valuable she is to my family in just over two weeks.
With a mug of tea in hand, she scoots onto a barstool. Her signature floral scent washes over me, making my stomach knot as desire I’ve tried to ignore rushes forward. My eyes flit over her frame, noting the slope of her neck, the beauty mark next to her elbow, the swell of her breasts. I blink and take another sip of tea.
Bella tempts me without even trying. Living with her for the past two weeks has been a delicious kind of torture, one I both crave and loathe. It’s why I’ve tried to keep busy and stay out of the house. I’ve taken on extra workouts, watched game reels at The Meadow, and even swung by Panda’s place to play freaking video games. Anything to avoid my house, my safe haven, Bella Andrews and her tantalizing scent and sweet voice.
We sit in silence for several seconds before I feel compelled to break it. “Your being here is strange. You’re letting me leave tomorrow morning with a clear head.”
She smiles softly, blowing on her tea. “Yeah, well, that’s the goal, right?”
I chuckle, nodding in agreement. I turn my body toward hers, my forearm brushing against her bare upper arm. Her inhale causes the knot in my stomach to pull taut. Even the slightest whisper of attraction between us blazes into a scream of want when we’re too close. Like we are now.
Does she feel it too? The tightness in the air, like a darkening summer sky, painted with thunderclouds, offering both a promise and a warning?
Bella smiles but shadows mar the delicate skin beneath her eyes. My awareness heightens as I realize how exhausted she is, my concern spiking. Is this too much for her? Are my expectations too high? Although I’ve been careful to keep my distance, it hasn’t escaped my notice that she goes to sleep late and wakes up early to run. Where does she find the energy to keep going? “Why can’t you sleep?”
She shrugs, glancing at me from the corner of her eye. It’s the most personal question I’ve asked her since she’s moved in and my curiosity, no, my concern, edges the needle from professional to…friendly.
“My mind races at night. Too many thoughts, too much quiet,” she offers and I nod, understanding exactly what she means.
It isn’t the first time I’ve wondered what the hell went down with her ex for her to be this beaten up several years after a divorce. She and her ex don’t share any children. They don’t seem to share a business or property or anything that would legally bind them together.
Did he hurt her? Did he scare her? Is she not over him?
The questions hover on the tip of my tongue and I take a large gulp of tea, burning the roof of my mouth. I hiss and Bella’s eyes dart to mine.
“You okay?”
I nod, swearing under my breath. “Does tea usually help?” I ask instead, playing it safe.
She chuckles and shakes her head. “No, but I’m a sucker for self-help rituals.”
I grin. “That psychology degree, huh?”
“Something like that,” she agrees. “What about you? Why can’t you sleep?”
“I can never sleep the night before the season starts. In the past, Layla would stay up with me and we’d watch The Mighty Ducks and eat caramel popcorn.” I angle my body toward hers. “I’m not ready to watch the movie or eat the popcorn but I still can’t sleep.”
“Tradition.”
“Exactly.”
“I liked The Mighty Ducks.”
I laugh and it releases some of the tension in my shoulders, increases the easygoing vibe between Bella and me. “It’s a classic but I can’t get either Milly or Mason into it.”
“Ahh, kids these days,” she jokes.
“They’re partial to DC superheroes and Super Monsters.”
“Wait ‘til Fortnite kicks in,” she warns and I groan.
“I don’t get this about kids today. I mean, I know mine are still on the young side but Evans, on my team, was telling me how his oldest would rather meet up with his friends through Fortnite than at the park. Or you know, at one of their houses.”
Bella laughs and shrugs. “It’s a different generation. A lot of in-person socializing has shifted to virtual. Look at online dating.”
I groan again. “Panda tried to make me a profile on some of those sites.”
This confession sparks her curiosity and her eyes twinkle. “Please tell me more.”
I swat at her and her laughter bubbles over. Instead of removing my hand, I let my fingers hover over her arm, gliding down her smooth skin. Her eyes track the movement and her expression grows serious. When my fingers reach the crook of her elbow, I squeeze once and force myself to remove my hand even though I remember, with perfect clarity, how her skin felt beneath my touch that night. Like silk. “He tried to make me into some hockey legend.”
“You are pretty legendary,” she murmurs, causing my chest to swell with pride instead of unease.
“Care to elaborate on that?” I flirt back but Bella shakes her head.
“No way. Did you get any matches?”
I shrug before nodding. “But it wasn’t anyone I was interested in.”
“Why not?” Her tone is conversational but her eyes spark with curiosity and something…more.
I roll my lips together, wondering how honest I should be. The air between us snaps again and I’m suddenly very aware of the darker blue, nearly navy, rings around her irises. Her chest rises a tiny bit faster, her lips part. Unable to look away, I admit, “I met a woman this summer and…I still can’t stop thinking about her.”
Bella draws in a shaky inhale, a flicker of hope in those eyes I want to drown in. Partly because I want her and partly because I hate myself for admitting it out loud.
“You said—” she starts but I cut her off.
“I know what I said.” I drop my head and rake a hand over my hair. “It’s only been two weeks and as much as I’m trying to keep my distance—”
“You’ve been doing that on purpose?”
I chuckle, tipping my chin in acknowledgement.
“James,” Bella whispers and my name on her lips in that tone… I look up. Her eyes are nearly midnight now, the navy ring expanding inward. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know what lines I shouldn’t cross and when to back up. You’re, well, you confuse me.”
My laughter is nervous this time. “I know. I confuse myself.”
The corner of Bella’s mouth tips up and she takes a sip of her tea, her eyes holding mine over the rim.
“I’m attracted to you, Bella, even though I don’t want to be. Not because I’m not interested or intrigued by you but because it would be…easier if I wasn’t,” I admit the full truth, laying it all out on the kitchen island. I’m in my mid-thirties, a widower, and a single dad. My days of playing guessing games with the opposite sex are long gone.
Bella’s hand settles on top of mine. “I’m attracted to you too. And I wish I wasn’t because the things I feel for you, things from that night, your mixed signals since I moved in, well, it’s a lot for me. And most days, I struggle to handle the bare minimum.”
I flip my palm over and clutch at her fingers. “I understand that. And if you want to talk—”
She shakes her head and I sigh.
“I’m breaking all my own rules. I know that. But, for honesty’s sake, I still think about that night too. I think about you. And I’m not sure what to do about it.”
“Do we have to do anything about it? Or could we just…”
“Take things one day at a time?” I offer.
She chuckles but nods. “Yeah. I need this job and—”
“And I need your help. I don’t want to jeopardize anything with you caring for the twins. They’ve bonded with you and you’re already important to them.”
“I’d never bail on Milly and Mason,” she declares, affronted that I’d suggest otherwise.
“So, can we be…friends?” I ask hopefully. “I don’t know if I can avoid my house for the entire season.”
This time Bella’s laughter is genuine. “I can do friendship. Just know that I’m also checking out your ass.”
I snicker, squeezing her fingers again. I feel better now that we’ve addressed the tension between us. Even though I’m not going to act on it, it’s a relief to know that the attraction is mutual. It’s nice to know she’s thinking about me too. “I’m checking out yours too. Especially when you wear those Lululemon leggings.”
Bella rolls her eyes but her cheeks are flushed, her expression happy. “All right then.”
“Okay,” I agree, feeling like a weight has lifted from around my shoulders. I like seeing Bella at ease and smiling. “So, you’ll have no problem in my absence?”
“None whatsoever,” she quips, but then her expression grows serious. “I know it’s hard for you to go tomorrow. The first time is always the hardest because this is new”—she gestures between us—“and you haven’t known me that long. But James, trust me when I tell you that I will care for Milly and Mason as if they are my own. I’ve been doing this for years and have many experiences and resources at my disposal. Don’t worry about us.”
I heave out a sigh. “I know. Logically I know all of that. This just feels…”
“Different.”
“Harder.”
“Yeah,” she breathes out, her eyes scanning my face. Two bottomless pools of blue fill with understanding and reassurances I desperately reach for.
“You’ll call me if you need anything.”
“You’ll be the first call after 911,” she says and I rear back, taking a full breath before I realize she’s messing with me.
Bella laughs, that deep, melodic sound and I swear, shaking my head at her before joining in.
“That was mean.” I point at her.
“That was necessary,” she counters, her eyes flashing with amusement. “Trust me. I got this, Jer.”
Huh? “Jer?” I question.
In an instant, the vibe in the room changes. All our playful banter and flirty joking disappears as an unsettling energy sweeps through the kitchen. Bella pales, looking visibly shaken. She works a swallow and sputters out, “JR.”
At the nickname, one only Layla and her family used, I tense up. “You said Jer,” I repeat, my tone harder than it was a moment ago. The easygoing vibe between us evaporates.
She shakes her head and slips off her barstool. Rounding to my side, she places a hand on my shoulder. It’s shaking. “I promise everything will be fine. I’ll keep you updated on the twins and you can call me as much as you want. It’s all going to be okay.”
“Okay,” I murmur, trying to read from her expression what the hell just happened. Why would she call me Jer?
She slips her hand from my shoulder, places her mug in the kitchen sink, and pads back toward her bedroom, muttering “good night” over her shoulder.
I watch her walk away, waiting to see if she’ll turn around, confide in me, give me more. She doesn’t.
It isn’t until I hear her bedroom door close that I realize she never answered my question. Is Jer her ex-husband?
I shake my head, knowing I shouldn’t get caught up in Bella’s personal drama. Not when I’m already overstepping. Not when my thoughts, my feelings, are already twisted up over her. Not when I have a game to think about and the twins to consider.
Instead, I stay up for another hour wondering all the ways Jer hurt Bella. All the scenarios that could have left her shaking and reeling the way she was when she slipped out of the kitchen.
I check Chicago’s center into the boards and gain possession of the puck, flipping it to Easton to move up the ice. As I resume my defensive position, a sense of calm washes over me.
This is where I’m meant to be. It feels better than I could have imagined to be back on the ice, surrounded by my team, plunged into a world I know and love.
East scores and we take the lead. I flip my chin at Yaeger who pumps his fist in the air. He’s starting for his first NHL game and I love seeing the uninhibited joy and pride that washes over his face.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last three years since Layla was first diagnosed, it’s to appreciate the small things. Simple joys are the most important ones. The moments I used to take for granted hit differently now.
I skate backwards and drop into position for the face-off. Then I tune out the noise in my head, push down the lingering hurt in my chest, and give this game, my team, all of my focus. We win 5-3 and it’s a natural high I cling to. In fact, I ride it until the following day, when I’m walking back into my house.
Milly and Mason rush to greet me, throwing their arms around my legs and clamoring for my attention. I drop my bag, wrap them up in a hug, breathe in the scent of home, mixed with something delicious wafting from the kitchen, and count my blessings.
For the past year, I’ve focused so much on what I lost. On what I’ll never have again. Instead, I need to be appreciative for what I do have, for all of the good in my life. My healthy children. An exciting career I love. The finances to acquire the support my family needs to thrive.
With Milly and Mason tucked into my sides, I step into the kitchen and stop short at the sight of Bella stirring a pot of sauce at the stove. Her hair is curled at the ends, hanging to the center of her back. She’s rocking tight, skinny jeans that hug her curves and highlight her lean legs. A spot of sauce stains her shirt but she doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe she just doesn’t care.
She looks up when I enter, her blue eyes sparkling, and grins. “Welcome home, hot shot. That was some game.”
I smile back and I’m surprised that it comes easily. Other than text messages that strictly discussed Milly and Mason, we haven’t spoken since she walked out of the kitchen the night before I flew out.
But whatever awkwardness existed then is gone. Instead, I revel in the brightness she exudes. I like seeing her here, in my kitchen. I like knowing she’s caring for my kids. I had no idea how much peace of mind her presence in my home would bring. It gives me the freedom to go all in on the game, to show up the way I used to for my team. It feels good to be back and I owe more of it than I realized to the unsung hero before me.
“Thanks, Bella. Did you guys watch?” I glance at Mason. Since it was the first game of the season, I gave my permission for the twins to stay up past their bedtime to tune in.
“Of course we watched, Dad.” He wraps his arms around my waist and squeezes. “Uncle East scored three goals!”
“He was so fast,” Milly agrees.
“Hey! Your dad stopped the puck a bunch of times too. Saved a tough shot on goal,” I remind them, knowing that my position as defenseman doesn’t hold the same appeal as a winger.
“You were great, Daddy,” Milly says in an appeasing tone that makes me chuckle.
I glance back to Bella, who is now straining a pot of spaghetti. Did she do this for me? A thrill shoots up my spine. “You didn’t have to cook. Justine usually leaves some meals to heat up.”
“She did,” Bella explains, ladling sauce on top of the spaghetti. “But we wanted to surprise you.”
“Wait ‘til you try this sauce!” Milly squeals, exchanging a look with Mason. “We got to add all the spices.”
“And the basil leaves,” Mason adds.
“We’re going to plant some in the garden,” Milly tells me, leading me to the set table.
“Where?” I ask, my eyes roving over the place settings. Folded napkins, the blue plates from Crate and Barrel that Layla bought on a whim because she liked the color, glasses filled with lemon water. Grated cheese. Red pepper flakes. Extra basil. A bowl piled with meatballs. I haven’t seen the table prepared like this in a long time and seeing it now fills me with a strange sense of nostalgia. Longing mixed with gratitude.
Wait. There are only three settings. I frown, turning and nearly colliding with Bella. My hands clasp her elbows to keep her steady.
She releases a nervous laugh and reaches around me to place the bowl with spaghetti in the center of the table. “Thanks, James. That was close.”
“You aren’t eating with us?” I ask, wondering if I pushed too hard the night before I left. But then, why would she cook us this meal? Her eyes meet mine and I don’t see hesitation in them, just…uncertainty.
She shakes her head and tips her head toward my seat. “Not tonight. You guys should have a family dinner. Enjoy being together.”
Her consideration of Milly and Mason, of their needs, is touching. But what about her? I touch her wrist and her eyes snap back to mine. Bottomless, blue and clear, they’re the kind of eyes a man could get lost in. It scares me that some days, I want to.
Her lips curl in a soft smile as she gazes at my kids. “Buon appetito!” She brings her fingers to her mouth and kisses them with a loud smack, the way the guy in our local pizzeria does.
Milly giggles and Mason emulates her.
I grin at the twins. It’s nice to see them relaxed and goofing off again. Since Bella moved in, some of the sorrow that’s hung over our home like a thundercloud has eased. Little rays of sunlight are peeking through now and this time, I don’t take them for granted.
“Sit and eat. Stay with us, Bella,” I say, pulling out a chair. “Please.”
She falters for a moment, surprise washing over her face.
“Told ya,” Mason announces, scurrying to the cabinet to pull out another plate.
Milly gets a fork and napkin.
“Are you sure?” Bella asks, lowering her voice.
I pat the seat of her chair, knowing that this invitation is deeper than common decency. I insist anyway. “Very.”
She nods, an unreadable expression on her face. But she sits on the chair and thanks the twins as they arrange her place setting.
I pile all the plates with spaghetti and meatballs, the scent of garlic and basil washing over me. Clearly, Bella is also one hell of a cook.
Milly raises her glass. “I have a toast,” she announces seriously.
I bite my lip to keep from laughing. Bella turns her attention to Milly, raising her glass.
“To Bella,” my daughter says formally, “Thanks for teaching us to make sauce.”
“And for cleaning our fish tank,” Mason adds.
I choke on my laughter but Bella beams. “Anytime, guys.”
“Cheers!” the twins say in unison.
We all clink glasses and dig into our meal.
“So, what happened while I was gone?” I ask, my fork hovering over the plate. Man, this spaghetti is delicious.
“We watched a new movie on Disney Plus,” Milly says, looking pointedly at her brother.
“It was superheroes!” Mason gushes, pumping a fist in the air.
“It was really good,” Bella says, a note of surprise in her tone.
“And Bella taught us how to play Rummikub,” Mason adds.
“We gambled!” Milly exclaims, her hands fluttering with excitement.
I snort back my laughter as Bella blushes. “With Oreos,” she explains.
“I won,” Mase declares as Milly sticks out her tongue.
“And we finished our books,” Milly tacks on.
“Matilda and How to Train Your Dragon?” Now it’s my turn to sound surprised because I didn’t expect them to finish their books for another week.
“Bella had us read for thirty minutes each night,” Mason explains.
“To make up for the cookie gambling.” Bella smirks and I smile.
“Sounds like you guys had a great few days,” I say, finally taking my bite of spaghetti. I chew it thoughtfully, a strange warmth spreading through my chest. The twins were really fine without me. More than that, they seemed to thrive during their first stay with Bella.
“It was a blast,” Mason says, confirming my thoughts.
I catch Bella’s eyes, enjoying the brightness that sparks in their depths. “Thank you,” I murmur so only she can hear.
She tilts her head in my direction, her expression softening. Then, she spears a second meatball and adds it to my plate.
In a way, this meal feels like a homecoming. Sitting around the table and listening to Milly and Mason fill me in on school, watching Bella add a second helping to Mason’s plate, laughing along with a silly story that happened on the playground, clarifies something important in my mind, shifting my perspective.
For months, I’ve been lost in a cloud of grief. Right now, I can see a hint of the blue sky again, flickers of better days on the horizon.
I catch Bella’s eye and smile. She grins back.
A pang hits me in the chest and while I should turn away, I don’t. Instead, I lean into it. Into this moment. Into my family’s new norm.