Chapter 7:

Hostile Invitations

Isabella stepped outside and stared up into the bright white Florida sky. Being so far down south in the United States, snow in Florida wasn't a regular occurrence. This particular winter was a strange exception. Every day blanketed the Florida streets with an inch or two of snow. It wasn't an unwelcome sight to those who wanted to enjoy a "White Christmas". Since the arrival of the white stuff, it felt like the entire town had been stricken with the Christmas spirit.

Two days ago, Isabella had called her mother, Jane Evans. She explained Ruby and John's situations to her mother and asked if it would be all right if she brought them to Christmas dinner. Her mother, the spitting image of Isabella, agreed with her oldest daughter that nobody should be left alone at the holiday season. Isabella was thankful that her parents were so open and inviting. As excited as she was to have such a big group at her parent's house, there was a nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her John would make an issue out of it.

She walked to her car and slipped inside. It was a tense drive to John's house, with her mind and her stomach in overdrive. The butterflies fluttered wildly in her gut, making her feel lightheaded and sick. Ruby was more than happy to accept the invitation. Isabella had thought about bringing Ruby with her to talk to John, but Ruby had been stuck on the phone with her mother when Isabella left, pantomiming hanging herself with an invisible noose. It took everything within Isabella to not laugh out loud at Ruby's antics. Ruby had a low threshold of patience for her irresponsible mother, who was calling her daughter from Las Vegas to gush about her dream wedding.

Isabella wasn't surprised to find that John's house was totally dark when she parked in his driveway, between two of his classic muscle cars. They were covered in snow. Isabella climbed out of the car, staring at John's front door as she slammed the car door behind her. Jamming her hands into her pockets, she moved carefully to the front steps. She stomped up the three steps and walked over to the doorknob, surprised to find the door unlocked and the house dark.

She knocked on the door loudly, the banging making an echo down the main hallway. "John?" she called out into the empty house. There was no response. "John, it's Bella!"

She waited. There was no response. Isabella ignored the paranoia that made her nerves vibrate. A pang of dread stabbed her in the gut, but she brushed it off as an overactive imagination. She stepped over the threshold softly, expecting John to come barreling out of the kitchen to shout at her for walking into his home without an express invitation. As sympathetic as Isabella was to John's situation, she was fully aware that John was unpredictable, bipolar and oftentimes terrifying to be around.

"Hello?" she called out again, her tone sheepish. She closed the door softly behind her. Venturing into the kitchen, Isabella was surprised to find that it was still spotless from her night of cleaning. Taking a scrap of paper from on top of the microwave, she wrote her parent's address on the paper and stuck it to the refrigerator with a big black WWE magnet.

Isabella thought about leaving right then and there, but she decided quickly that she wanted to make sure John was okay. She wanted peace of mind before she got back into her car and ventured home. Stepping through the arch that led into the living room, she was greeted by a brisk chill that was uncharacteristic for Florida. She instantly crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes fell on the open sliding glass door.

Pushing the worst-case scenario thoughts out of her head, thoughts that ranged from him face-down in the pool or tangled up in the pool cover, Isabella stepped outside, onto the back deck. There, she found John sprawled out in a lawn chair. Part of him was covered in snow. Beside him, a spilled bottle of Jack Daniels stained the snow an amber color. Isabella bit the inside of her cheek and shook her head, trying to keep the tears behind her eyes. She wondered how long he had been outside, drinking himself into a stupor. Frostbite was her first concern, since he wasn't dressed to be outside in winter conditions. From what she could see, besides the obvious problems, he was okay.

Isabella approached him with great trepidation, crouching down beside him. The smell of alcohol was overwhelming and pungent in her nostrils. Reaching out, she grabbed his shoulder gently and began to shake. "John...John, wake up." No response. She sighed, her shoulders curving. "John, please wake up. I can't carry you..." she pleaded, concern etched in her voice. Moving carefully, Isabella pressed her ear to his chest, relieved when she heard a slow, even heartbeat.

She began to brush the snow off him. John began to stir, a groan escaping his lips. He felt the hands on his chest and he became startled. Disoriented, he flailed, catching Isabella in the head with a flying hand. Startled, she stumbled back with a cry, slipping and falling. She let out another cry as the icy wetness of the snow soaked the seat of her pants. Instead of sympathy or concern, Isabella's eyes looked into the seething bearded face of John Cena.

"I didn't realize you were into the whole B&E scene, Bella," he told her angrily, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Your front door was unlocked. That's hardly breaking and entering," she pointed out. She got up, dusting whatever snow was on her off her clothing. "I came to talk to you and I couldn't find you. I didn't want to leave until I knew for sure you were okay..."

"Well, you know now. Go. Save your pity for the weak," he shot back at her with a sneer. It was on the tip of Isabella's tongue to tell him that she was staring at a very weak human being, but she knew better than to make the situation worse. She wasn't there to antagonize him, no matter how infuriating he could get. John shook his head. "I'm serious, Bella - you can't just show up whenever you feel like."

He looked down at the bottle. Intense feelings of shame, anger and regret began to rise and fall within him like tidal waves. Angry, he kicked the bottle. Isabella flinched as it flew by her, flying through the air and landing on the pool cover. It missed her by inches. She stared at him with sad eyes. He snorted. "You need to leave. I got shit to do." Isabella shook her head. John stared at her, gobsmacked. "Don't push me, Bella. Leave. I will call the cops."

"You're drunk," she told him bluntly. "I can't let you go out. If you need something, if you need more to drink, let me take you. I'll go get it for you. Just please don't go out there and drive in the state that you're in, John. If you don't care about yourself, then think about the other people you'll be sharing the road with. You don't get to decide their lives aren't important, John. That's not fair."

"Don't talk to me about what's fair!" he roared, making her flinch. She took a step back, knowing he was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. He turned his back to her. "Why should I give two shits about anybody out there? It's not like the care one iota about me. It's not like anyone ever gave a rat's ass about her! Don't talk to me about fairness."

"I'm not going to argue this with you," she told him firmly. She was still irate because the butt of her pants was wet. She shook her head. "I know you're still hurting, John. But life is valuable and life goes on. Life is beautiful and life is precious." He snorted. She shook her head. "John, I didn't come here to fight with you, okay? I came to invite you to Christmas dinner with my family. If you aren't doing anything. I'd hate to see you alone on Christmas..."

"I've never wanted and never needed your goddamn charity, Bella. Just get the fuck out," he growled. She didn't move right away. Wheeling around, he stormed over to her and grabbed her roughly by the arm. She looked up at him with wide, panicked eyes, but he didn't care. "I mean it, Bella - if you don't leave, I will have the cops come here and arrest you for trespassing."

"Okay, okay, fine!" Bella told him, raising her hands in mock surrender. "I'm going. But my parent's address is on the fridge if you change your mind..."

"Bella, leave!" John bellowed at her.

"I'm gone. Just don't do anything stupid!" she said to him, turning on her heels and walking back into the house. She could feel the heat of his glare on her back, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, making her posture much more rigid. Even though it felt wrong for her to leave him, Isabella walked out the front door, praying under her breath that he didn't do something that would get somebody else killed. She rushed down the front steps and approached her car. Turning, she stared at the house. There was an ominous chill in her bones that she couldn't get rid of. She didn't want to leave him, but she knew that he was unpredictable and bipolar enough to actually have her arrested. She still wasn't sure just how far she could push him.

Turning, she kicked a ball of ice, watching it fly several feet before landing and collapsing into a pile. She wanted to scream. Never in her entire life had she met a man as frustrating and as infuriating as John Cena.