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.
Calming her temperament when confusion or delirium sets in.
Tending to her decrease in waste output – along with the discomfort that will cause.
Aiding her in receiving oxygen.
Making her comfortable when she can’t or won’t take it.
From what Doctor Goodliffe described and the hospice lead, Sadie Cruz, things are going to get ugly and uncomfortable and emotional and our main job is to grieve.
To let grieving happen.
To give it room to flow.
The pain.
The anger.
The bargaining.
The depression.
Asking a man whose whole life is about making the save to not make one or even try to, is like asking a dentist to not brush their teeth.
Ridiculous.
However, counselors came by and will periodically be coming by when we get Grams home, to give that assist.
Make us as comfortable as Yellow Heart Road is to make her.
Dubs swore he’d be over whenever and however often, his bucket projects could and would wait. Promised he’d come by to be there when we needed a break. If we needed one.
Bronny cycled through blaming himself for leaving her instead of being around to provide in someway, and swearing she was gonna bounce back because she always did from bullshit.
His demeanor is what prompted Thayne to stay even tempered and warm hearted in spite of the fact I could physically feel his soul aching through his stare.
He couldn’t let his baby brother see him hurting.
He wanted to be strong for Bronskie, which meant I needed to be strong for Thayne.
Eventually, Grams got tired again, so they got him fed and off to his old bed with Dubs volunteering to stick around to bring him back whenever.
I spent that same amount of time contacting his school, arranging for his assignments, putting in his bereavement leave – something I’m glad they have at his private academy – and mostly ignoring all other calls, including the ones from my own parents.
I didn’t have the mental capacity for whatever lecture I’m sure they wanted to deliver.
I’m pretty positive I still don’t have it now even after the three hours of sleep I somehow managed to score on that not made for two adult sized people sofa.
I swear, the prop furniture on my telenovelas is probably more comfortable than that.
Grabbing my workbag is followed by trying to tip toe out of the room only to be caught by the sweet, sassy old woman, I would have a hard time believing was sick if I hadn’t been permitted to see her charts.
Quietly, I announce, “Gonna go downstairs and try to get some work done.”
“At four in the mornin’?”
“Rather do it while they sleep, so they can have me when they need me awake.”
She flashes me a soft smile. “You’re a good-hearted woman, Gillian. Don’t let my boys take that for granted.”
“They don’t.”
“Good. We raised ‘em better than that.”
“You raised them really well.”
“And you’ll finish even better with Bronson than I did with Thayne.”
Awe unconsciously melts my entire frame at the same time I creep closer. “You really think so?”
“Oh, Gillybee, I know so.” The corners of her lips curl completely upwards. “You’re the mom I could never be and the one he always hoped to have.”
Tears threaten to come to my eyes in spite of me directing them not to.
“Jus’ don’t lose you, tryin’ to raise him, alright?
” The tiniest twitch of my brow causes her to lightly chortle.
“I know ‘em both. Thayne makes people feel good in they own skin ‘cause he’s never been uncomfortable in his. He thinks hockey is his gift when it’s really jus’ his talent.
Havin’ an ability to make everyone around you feel like it’s okay to be themselves is his true God given blessin’ that the world needs.
” She lifts a pointed finger and gives me a small wag.
“That you need.” As soon as it falls back to her bed, she adds, “Don’t give that up jus’ ‘cause you’re raisin’ a kid without a safety net now.
Let him see the real person you are, not the perfect one you think you might gotta be ‘cause that’s what he really needs.
Someone who makes him feel like he can be him,” her head tips towards my sleeping boyfriend, “and someone who shows him that he can.”
A small wink is all that precedes her shutting her eyes, prompting me to resume my exit.
Downstairs in the empty, outdoor courtyard, I set myself up at one of the heated, covered patio tables and promptly get to work with sounds of the spy drama Nikita keeping me company on my phone.
I focus most of my efforts on sending emails to my team at Victory Teeth regarding my prolonged absence and how to go about rescheduling.
Throughout the process, my brother repeatedly attempts to make contact that I ignore with a simple swipe.
He’s been calling since yesterday.
Texting.
Both, of course, are being ignored considering we have slightly more pressing matters than his hurt feelings about choosing to leave with my boyfriend instead of continuing to childishly fight with him.
Hennington has also called; however, she left a voicemail, I’ll check later.
You know.
When I’m not up to my molars in micromanaging duties due to having to disappear for an undisclosed amount of time.
I don’t care how long I need to here.
I will be.
The practice can continue to function.
I’m sure the others won’t mind a few more dollars in their accounts.
Family comes first.
It’s something Thayne and I agree on.
Thoughts of him and his needs prompt me to do a little research on the nearest rinks and renting out ice time and closest areas to buy new gear.
He’s eventually going to need the outlet.
I wanna be prepared to help provide it.
That’s what a Slayer does.
That’s what makes us more than just stick riders.
Vibrations against the table, pull my attention over to see another text from my brother.
M: PLEASE PICK UP THE PHONE.
I prepare to swipe it away when a second pops up.
M: I KNOW YOU’RE AWAKE.
Of course he knows.
Because he knows me.
Like I know him.
And that’s why he’s relentlessly messaging.
I would do the same if the situation was reversed except, I wouldn’t have made him choose between me and Mari.
I’ve never done that.
I would never do that.
Why did he have to try to do it to me?
M: JUST. PICK. UP.
M: PLEASE GILLY.
This time when the option to video chat appears on my computer screen, I pause the show on my phone, reluctantly hit answer, and flop my sweatshirt covered frame backwards into the chair.
“What, M? I’m really, realllyyyyy not in the headspace for a lecture or a woe as me speech or the blame game or whatever it is you’re dying to say. ”
He simply flops his face into his open palm and meekly asks, “You okay?”
Not seeing an inkling of anything other than pure, unfiltered concern successfully causes my shoulders to slump.
My heart to plummet to my stomach.
My head to slowly shake as tears struggle to not swell in my eyes.
He flashes me a sympathetic grin before investigating, “How many times have you guys met?”
“This was our first face to face, but we’ve been chatting over video since Bronny first arrived this summer.”
“She likes you, aye?”
“I’m super likeable.”
“So, she loves you.”
“Like a rookie does his first skate.”
“It’d be weird if she didn’t.”
“How weird?”
“Like a Veteran falling to the ECHL.”
“That never happens.”
“That rarely happens.”
“It’s impossible.”
“Improbable,” he corrects prior to grinning, “like not adoring you, Gilly.”
New tears threaten to arrive in my gaze yet successfully overwhelm my voice, “I don’t know how they’re gonna survive without her…”