Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101163 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101163 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
As soon as we finish our cones, I stand from the table and put my hand on Aiden’s shoulder. “I got to get going, buddy.”
Lilly stands too, holding her hand out for our wadded-up napkins. I hand mine over without a thought and she pulls Aiden’s from his hand as he asks, “Can you come back tomorrow?”
“Aiden,” Lilly exclaims, looking over her shoulder as she walks to a nearby garbage can. “I’m sure Boone has more important things to do.”
I ignore his sister. “Got an away game tomorrow. I’ll come see you possibly on Tuesday, but definitely by Wednesday. Miriam is probably getting discharged by the end of the week and I have something for her.”
Miriam is a four-year-old girl with brain cancer. She had what her parents say is a successful surgery and she’ll be continuing with chemotherapy and radiation after her release. At four, she’s not overly impressed with the fact that I’m a hockey player, but she did like the stuffed animal I gave her on my first visit. It’s probably her parents who appreciate my visits more than anything since they can take a break from worrying about her and have some adult conversation.
My eyes cut to Lilly and she doesn’t seem perturbed but she does worry at her bottom lip. I peg her as the type who doesn’t like relying on anyone but she’s also not going to stand in the way of Aiden having visitors if it makes him happy.
“I really like coming here,” I assure her.
Her smile is relieved and appears genuine. She nods as she takes hold of Aiden’s wheelchair and grudgingly admits, “He loves when you visit and talks about you all the time. I appreciate it so much.”
We head out of the café and I let them precede me through the door to the lobby. I’ll be turning left, out to the parking garage. They’ll be turning right toward the patient elevators.
I hold my fist out to Aiden for a bump but startle when I hear a man call out, “Lilly! Aiden!”
We all turn toward the lobby doors and I see Aiden’s dad standing there. He’s swaying, a dopey smile on his face. “My children,” he yells. “My babies.”
“Oh God,” Lilly moans, and I see her staring at her dad in horror for only a split second before she kicks into action. “Stay with Aiden,” she commands as she rushes across the lobby toward her father.
Several people gawk and the receptionist stands hesitantly from her desk, phone in her hand as if she’s going to call security. Lilly holds her hand out to the woman as she rushes by. “I’ve got this. I’ll get him to leave.”
I glance down at Aiden quietly sitting in his wheelchair. Wetness glistens in his eyes and I can tell he’s pained by this situation as his dad is obviously very drunk. I can also tell this isn’t a surprise to him, but it is to me as I’ve seen him around and he’s never been this way before.
Lilly takes her dad’s arm and talks in a low voice, trying to get him back out the door. He jerks away from her. “I’m not leaving,” he bellows. “My kid has cancer and by God, I’m going to spend time with him.”
“Dad,” I hear Lilly’s plaintive cry as she makes another grab at his arm.
I don’t know just how inebriated Steven Hoffman is but as he tries to wrench free of his daughter’s grasp, he inadvertently knocks her to the side and she stumbles.
“Help her,” Aiden says, and I bolt into action.
CHAPTER 2
Lilly
Dad’s arm hits me in the shoulder as he tries to pull free and I stumble sideways.
“I’m calling security,” the receptionist says.
“No,” I exclaim, shooting her a pleading look. I do not want Aiden to watch our dad be arrested. “I’ll get him out.”
“I’ve got this.” Boone Rivers brushes past me. “Steven… good to see you.”
Boone’s voice is pleasant, nonthreatening. He holds out his hand to my dad, who stares back at him through bleary eyes. He’s trashed and I’m not sure he knows the famous Pittsburgh Titans hockey player.
Then I see recognition dawn and a sloppy grin overtakes his face as he grabs Boone’s hand and pumps it. “How the hell are you, son? You here visiting my boy?”
My dad’s voice booms and I glance back at Aiden to see his head bowed so he doesn’t have to watch the spectacle.
“I am visiting Aiden,” Boone says, his tone reassuring and sympathetic. He puts a hand on my dad’s shoulder, not to strong-arm him, but he squeezes it as if he understands the gravity of Aiden’s disease and the weight it bears on all of us. “And right now, you’re a little too drunk to be here. You don’t want your son to see you like this, do you? He’s got enough on his plate to deal with so I’m asking you, don’t make this harder on him.”