Chapter 17
Preston
These sliding glass doors had always given me a wave of unease. I never knew what I was walking into, but judging by the call from last night, it might be another bad day.
“Morning, Vera.” I nodded to the woman who resembled Reba McEntire with her pixie cut.
She smiled from behind the reception desk, with lipstick that coated her teeth rather than her lips. “Good morning, Preston. He’s out in the garden.”
I took a left, passing the common area. A few nurses gave me a warm greeting.
Some blushed, while the others shot me a sympathetic smile.
Silver Ridge was a place I’d become overly familiar with.
After Cecile died and Ray began to show signs of Alzheimer’s, we knew things were heading in this direction.
I had just come off my injury, making the hard decision to retire before accepting the coaching position at Canyon.
Ray had moved in with me for a short time, but my travel made it difficult to be here when he needed me.
With Olivia being up in Dallas and not being able to get away from her job, this was the next step.
We had discussed it when he was of sound mind, and we all agreed we wanted him to be taken care of in the same way he took care of us.
The morning breeze ruffled my hair as I walked along the stone path.
I could see the back of his head, which was covered by a Cougars ball cap.
I swore he never took it off. I rounded the path with a deep breath.
He was seated on a wooden bench with a pipe in his hand.
He wasn’t allowed to smoke, but he liked to hold it.
He said it helped him remember, and frankly, I suspected Vera was half in love with him, so she let him have it.
“’Bout time you showed up,” he grumbled.
I chuckled, relief washing over me that it seemed to be a good day as I took a seat next to the man who raised me.
Ray and Cecile Rusk were a godsend. Two people who had a heart big enough to open their home to kids like us when they couldn’t have any of their own.
Liv and I had been through three foster homes before we landed on their doorstop.
I was five and my sister just barely two years old when we entered the system.
Some things she was too young to remember, while other incidents have scarred her for life.
I tried to take care of her the best I could, but I never really felt like I could breathe until Ray and Cecile.
They were already in their early forties at the time, but they gave us a home, love, and a life we would have never been able to grasp otherwise.
I respected them. Loved them, and it nearly tore my fucking heart out when he muttered the next words.
“I planted those right there for Cecile. When she finishes up at the beauty parlor, I’m going to show her.” He pointed across to the rose bushes that were in full bloom.
My chest tightened, that familiar feeling squeezing my lungs. Cecile passed away five years ago. They were married for fifty-four years. Some days, he forgot and I’d learned that correcting him always ended up with confusion, followed by him reliving her death all over again.
So I cleared my throat and smiled. “She’ll love them.”
He placed the empty pipe between his lips. “You played well, son. Three touchdowns.” He chuckled. “I felt bad for that other QB. He didn’t have your arm.”
Sadly, I remembered the game he was referring to, which told me that he thought I was still playing college ball.
When I didn’t respond, he added, “You’re humble, Preston.” He reached over and patted my thigh. “She raised you that way.”
I leaned down, placing my elbows on my knees. I hated being the one to have these conversations with him, but Liv was too softhearted. She never could be stern with him.
“Pop, I got a call last night. You refused your meds.”
He shrugged. “Don’t want them.”
“But you need them to stay alive, old man.” I nudged him. “Who am I going to talk football with if you fall out on me?”
He lowered his pipe. “I don’t need that modern shit.”
I lifted my hand, hiding my grin at his use of foul language. Ray Rusk never cursed.
I draped an arm around his shoulder. “If you take that medicine, I might work out letting you attend the next game.”
He lifted an overgrown eyebrow. “Are you bribing me?”
“Possibly.”
He grinned, nearly losing his pipe. “I’ll think about it.”
My palm clasped against his plaid shirt as I let him tell me all the things he and Cecile had planned for the garden, along with how he planned for me to go pro one day.
I listened to every word before fishing my phone out and FaceTiming my sister.
When he finally grew tired and I walked him back inside, I watched him fall asleep, wrapped up in a quilt Cecile had made.
Before I left, I pressed a kiss to his head, turned off his lamp, then made my way to my truck.
It never got easier, but I wouldn’t trade my days with him for anything.