Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 93683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Incoherent sounds slip past my mouth, yet they don’t seem to deter her from speaking.
“Wasn’t entirely sure how you raisin’ him was gonna work out with you and hockey, but I had faith it’d get takin’ care of. I knew it would. And you know I always trust those feelin’s. And I was right. Everything got settled with a lil’ help from the right woman.” She lets her hazel gaze shift to Gilly. “My boys love you no matter what complainin’ they may do.”
Gilly’s frame slightly sags. “I love them too.”
“You are the blessin’ they both needed. And the blessin’ they both better be takin’ good care of.”
“They are,” whispers the woman now stroking my back. “Better than I deserve.”
“Ahhh, I doubt that,” Grams insists in a breathy manner that unfortunately leads to a round of violent coughing.
Instinct has me shooting to my feet, rushing to her side, searching for a way to help her sit up, help her catch air, possibly call in someone else to help, only she swats me away.
Points for me to sit back down.
Glares around her hacking when I don’t.
It takes longer than I’ve ever heard for the noise to cease and her breath to be caught, two facts that have me weakly asking, “What more can we do? Medically?” Folding my arms across the front of my gray Dalvegan sweatshirt barely helps me contain my concern. “Don’t matter the cost, Grams. I’ve got it. You’re worth it. You’re worth every penny I make and ever made. I don’t care if I gotta sell my house or my truck or-”
“Enough,” she hoarsely whispers, tiredness rightfully arriving. “There ain’t nothin’ to be done ‘cause I don’t want nothin’ to be done.”
“What?”
“Docs say I’m enterin’ the final stages and honestly?” Her entire body seems to sink into the mattress. “I’m tired, Thayne.”
Tears dart themselves up the back of my throat.
“I have lived a good life and a long life and I am…tired.”
“Grams…”
“It’s okay,” softly escapes in between slower blinks.
“It’s not okay,” I tearfully argue, Gilly’s arm winding around my frame once more. “I ain’t ready to say goodbye.”
“You ain’t ever gonna be ready for that, my sweet boy…” The firmness in her statement convinces the first tear to arrive in the rim of my eyes. “But let this remind you to put whatever you’re fightin’ about in perspective. See, truth be told, you’re playin’ on one clock and life’s playin’ on another.”
Ignoring the drop that falls is done with my mouth agape.
Her eyes momentarily lock onto Gillian, “So, say whatever it is you really need to say,” they shift to me, “and do that thing you know you really wanna do.” The sight of her closing eyes has us squeezing in closer together. “’Cause you never really know when you’re gonna be knock…knock…knockin’…”
Chapter 24
Gillian
I can’t believe this is happening.
I can’t believe we had no idea.
That we missed all the signs.
Then again…maybe we didn’t miss them so much as just accepted what we were told.
We had no reason not to.
We didn’t expect Grams to keep secrets.
Curve the truth.
Ironically enough, it’s not like I wasn’t doing the same with the person I love.
She didn’t want her boys to worry.
I didn’t want my brother to hate me.
And now he does.
Although, I’m not entirely sure if it’s because I kept a secret or because I finally put myself, my choices, before his.
Jukes sucks in a deep breath from his open mouth prior to lightly humming a tune, a familiar action that puts a soft smile on my face.
Yes.
The guy even makes music in his sleep.
Our first night together?
He was passed out cold, on key humming “Baby, I Need Your Loving”.
Our first sleepover at his place?
“Dream A Little Dream Of Me”.
Now?
“Hello, Goodbye”.
He literally, lives, breathes, and dreams music.
Music and hockey.
And coffee.
Something I could absolutely use a bit of right now.
Post carefully sliding off the couch in Grams’s hospital room, I adjust the dark, coffee bean themed throw blanket – that I gave him for road trips to remind him of home – that’s barely covering his chest and plant a gentle kiss in the middle of his forehead.
This is the longest he’s slept since we arrived yesterday.
I offered to let him go to Grams’s with Bronny and Dubs to get some actual rest in an actual bed for a few hours, but he refused.
He didn’t want to let her out of his sight, clearly worried that if he did, he would never see her again, despite the doctor explaining – more than once – that her death was highly unlikely to be that sudden.
Doctor Goodliffe, her pulmonologist, came by around lunch to discuss her diagnosis, what put her in the hospital, and what we could expect in the coming weeks with her now entering the end stage. While we would’ve all happily volunteered to give the apple with basic tasks such as getting dressed, helping her to the bathroom, making her something to eat – limited mobility already having begun – Grams pre-arranged for all those things with Yellow Heart Road, the hospice care company she contracted earlier in the year when her instincts told her to. Not only will there be around the clock care for those needs but the medical ones too.