Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
RONAN
As I watched Bean sniff around the backyard, I sighed. It was too hot to drink coffee on the patio anymore. The summer heat was just getting started. Last year, we’d left for the road by now. I sipped my coffee.
My phone buzzed in the pocket of my sweats.
After digging it out, I peered into the screen and smiled. “Hey, Evan. How are things in Vegas?” If they won tonight, I’d have him for a few days and I’d push out our studio time. I’d never done that before, but he was worth it.
“Ronan, you’ll never guess what happened.”
“Uh, the Coyotes made you a permanent part of the team?” I released a stuttered laugh and ambled to my couch. God, if only.
“Hell fucking yes!” He barked a laugh. “It finally happened, Ronan. I just got out of a meeting with our head coach and general manager.”
As I fell onto the sofa, my heart skipped a beat. “Are you serious? I was joking.” But he’d been talking about this since I’d met him.
“I’m serious.” His breath snagged. “Fuck, I haven’t told my parents yet. You’re the first person I called.”
“I am?” That said a lot. But after we confessed last week, it shouldn’t surprise me. We had something special. For the first time in my life, I was in love. I drank my coffee and tucked my legs to the side. “So, what does this mean for you?”
“It means, next season, the team will pay my full NHL salary, and I can buy the fucking Mercedes SUV I’ve always wanted. It means I can relax a little and we can spend time together this summer. Fuck, Ronan, it means when the Cup is over, we—”
“Can be together without worrying?” How would it be to have him with me on tour? Knowing he’d be waiting for me backstage and going to after-parties with him? God, it would be heaven. We wouldn’t be hiding out in my house anymore.
“Yes, exactly. Let’s just get through the next couple of weeks and I’ll pull some shit together,” he said.
“I’m looking forward to it. Let me know if I can help. Lily has also offered to meet with your team’s PR people and your agent. They should all work together.” As the doggy door at the patio clicked, I watched Bean bound into the house.
“I will. Shit, I have so many people to call. First, my dad, then my agent, and then…” He huffed. “I don’t know.”
“Take it easy and breathe, Evan. You still have a game to win tonight.” I patted the cushion beside me when Bean approached and looked up.
“I know. Fuck, I’m so happy.” He sucked in a breath. “I wish you were here, Ronan. God, I miss you so much. I—”
I waited for him to finish, petting Bean’s head after he jumped onto the couch. “You what?” Had someone walked into his space?
“N-nothing. I’ll, uh, see you when I get back,” he said.
“Okay.” What had he almost said? I pinched my lips. Maybe it wasn’t important.
“Hey, I’ve gotta go. I’ll speak with you soon.”
“Sure. Play well tonight.” I drank more coffee. I planned to work on tracks today and have Drew and Jax over. “Bye now. Miss you.”
“Bye, miss you too.” He ended the call.
I’d scheduled a jam session with Drew and Jax after the hockey game tonight, which was earlier, so it should end by eight. As I puttered in the studio, going over the tracks we’d recorded at my desk, my phone went off. Was it Evan again?
I picked it up without looking at the screen. “Hello?”
“Ronan? It’s your father.”
My pulse stuttered. He didn’t sound right. “Everything okay?”
“No, it’s not okay. Can I see you? I’m standing in your driveway.”
Shit. “Really? Uh, yeah, sure.” I saved my work and closed the recording app before leaving the studio and opening the front door.
Jeff stood in the entryway, the bags under his eyes a little more prominent and his polo shirt rumpled. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” As he stepped inside, he wrung his hands. “I’m sorry, Ronan, but I don’t know what to do.”
Bean sniffed at him and then trotted to his bed in the kitchen and lay down.
“Okay, about what?” With tension building in my gut, I shut the door and followed him into the main room. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good.
He stood in the middle of the room. “I’ve been fighting with my insurance company over the cancer treatment the doctor wants to use, and they’ve denied it. I thought you should know.”
My jaw dropped. “How could they do that?” The fucking medical insurance industry in this country was such a scam.
“It’s a new treatment, so they don’t have to cover it.” With his brows knitting, he dropped onto the couch. “Can I have something to drink?”
“Do you want some water?” I strode to the refrigerator and popped it open. How long had he stood in my driveway in the heat?
“How about some of that bourbon you like to drink?” He lifted his brows.
Bourbon? Okay…“Sure.” After closing the refrigerator, I ambled to the bar and poured two bourbons. If he were drinking, I might as well join him.
With a glance at Bean, resting peacefully in his bed, I brought the drinks into the main room. “Here you go.” I handed him one.
“Thanks.” He sipped it and set it on the side table next to him. “Since I can’t do the treatment, I guess I’ll go back to Seattle.”
I stared at him, a knot coiling in my stomach.
I didn’t care for this man, right? But he was my fucking father, the only parent I had left.
No, he wasn’t a parent. Hell, he confused me.
“If a doctor recommended it, how can the insurance not approve?” I didn’t know how this worked. I should have researched it.
He shrugged. “It’s expensive, and the insurance company will only pay for cheaper alternatives.” He hung his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
As the knot in my gut grew tighter, I said, “It matters. It’s your fucking life.” And I had money. Oh God, what was I thinking? He was my father, and I’d finally gotten to know him. He’d come back to me.
“No matter how you look at it, it’ll be a brief life either way.” He drank some bourbon.
“How much is it?” I clenched my jaw as an ache rose in my chest. Was I really thinking of paying for it?
“About ten-thousand dollars per treatment with all the testing and imaging included. I’d need one treatment a week.” He peeked at me.
Rocking once, I said, “How many treatments total?” If it were under one-hundred-grand, I could totally swing it. Hell, I had much more than that sitting in investments. I’d just have to sell some stock and—
“I don’t know, it could be four, it could be eight or more.” Sipping his bourbon, he peered at me. “It depends on how my body responds. But if the tumor shrinks, I might survive long enough for another medical intervention to extend or save my life.”
“I’ll pay for it.” Fucking hell, I had to, didn’t I? I’d given plenty of money to charities. How was this any different? I sipped my drink, letting the burn calm my insides.
Shaking his head, he held up his hand, his brows wrinkling. “No, I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You can, and you will.” I turned my drink in my lap. “I have the money. I might as well put it to good use.” I forced a grin at him. “When is the payment due? I’ll have to make some calls.”
“Since I’d be paying cash, I need to pay when I see the doc.” He gave me a careful grin. “I can’t believe you’d do this, Ronan.”
“Believe it.” He looked so frail. Shit, I almost wanted to hug him. As I shifted closer to him, I said, “When is the first appointment?”
“Next week. Wednesday. If you could, uh, just do a wire transfer into my account, then I’d have it.” He glanced toward the patio doors and returned. “Maybe you could give me a month’s worth to start, and then I won’t have to keep getting money from you.”
My brows shifted up. “You want me to give you forty thousand in a wire transfer by next week?” My gut protested, but I shut it down. He needed the fucking money. There was no other way around it.
“Yes, if that’s okay.” He arched a brow. “Maybe you need to think about this. You could get back to me tomorrow.”
“No, no, it’s okay. I’ll start making calls this afternoon.
” There was so much to do before the guys got here for our jam session, and it was Friday.
Completing this over the weekend might prove difficult.
Would there be time to watch the game? Dealing with banks was a pain in the ass, and it was hard as hell to talk to a human being most of the time.
He drank his bourbon down, hissed, and set the glass on the coffee table before rising.
“Okay.” He nodded once and took a deep inhale.
“I should probably go before I wear out my welcome.” He gave a short, shaky laugh and rubbed the back of his neck.
“I can text you my banking information when you’re ready. Whatever makes it easiest for you.”
He was leaving already? An ache rolled through my chest. We’d have other days to spend together. “Yeah, okay.” After setting my drink on the side table, I stood and walked with him to the front door.
As he reached it, he stopped, his hand hovering over the handle, and then he faced me. “Thank you, son.” With his voice roughening, he said, “This means more to me than you know.”
“You’re welcome, Dad.” My heart jolted. Why did that slip out? “I hope this treatment works and we can spend more time together.” As a lump climbed my throat, I hugged him.
As he returned the hug, he said, “Who knows? Maybe together we can beat this thing.” He released me and gave me a warm grin. “I’ll be in touch.” He opened the door and, with a quick wave, left.
“Bean, did you hear that?” I raked my trembling fingers through my hair. Who do I call first? My financial planner.
Bean trotted to me and sat at my feet, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth as he panted.
Funny, Bean always hid in his bed when Dad, fuck, Jeff was here. Oh well. I strode to my bourbon, picked it up and scrambled around the house to find my phone.