Chapter 23
Thayne
You know when music isn’t really music to your ears?
When that’s practically all you’ve heard for the past couple of hundred miles.
Well, that and your little brother snoring whenever he lets himself drift off.
Bud is louder than the eighteen wheelers we cruise by.
And while flying was an option – perk of being on the same team with Peck who happens to have a family plane available in emergency sitches – this was quicker.
Less work.
More control.
Dubs has periodically called whenever the doctor or nurses arrive to keep us informed of every little thing they’re doing, which is also why I didn’t wanna fly.
I can’t handle not knowing what’s happening as it’s happening.
I can’t handle being this far away from everything.
From her.
How did she get this sick?
How sick is she really?
How long has this been going on?
Why hasn’t she told me?
Fuck, why does everyone wanna keep so many goddamn secrets all of a sudden?!
By the time we arrive in Grams’s room at Highland North Medical Center – the closest large hospital to Middlebrook – I’m running on playoff level of fumes.
Despite loading up on LMC coffee, my eyes are heavy.
My head is heavy.
And worst of all, so is my heart.
Hell, it’s the heaviest of them all.
Seeing the woman who helped raise me with tubes in her nose and cords taped to her arms damn near drops me into a butterfly, something that would hurt to the high heavens without my padding.
Regardless of the fact, we’ve had longer conversations with the cashiers at checkout counters than we have with one another lately, Gilly still swoops in for the assist.
Winds an arm around my frame.
Aids in easing me into the bedside chair that Dubs slips out of as Bronny leans over her sleeping frame. “Grams?” He gingerly places a hand on top of hers and cranes his face closer. “Grams?”
“Boy, livin’ with a dentist should make your breath better than this,” she grouses on a small adjustment of her frame.
“You’re awake,” escapes me in mostly air.
“Of course, I’m awake.” Both eyes lift to shoot me a sarcastic stare. “I jus’ keep pretendin’ to be asleep ‘cause I didn’t wanna talk to nobody.”
“Not even me?” Dubs playfully ponders.
“Especially not you,” she brushes off with a small handwave. “You ain’t ready to hear the truth.”
“I’m not?”
“No.”
“Well…” he curiously begins, “what is it?”
“Little Wessy, how are you still as bad at listenin’ now as you were when you were face high to the counter?”
Small sniggers swirl around the room, yet he pushes, “Tell me anyway.”
“It ain’t my place to tell you your truth, but it’s becomin’ my place to remind you to quit lyin’ to yourself especially about that girl you love more than my plants do the rain in the summer.”
His mouth drops open in pure shock.
Hey, she told him he wasn’t ready.
And she was right.
She usually is.
Is that why she didn’t tell us about whatever’s been going on with her?
‘Cause she didn’t think we were ready?
“Now, why don’t you take Bronny to go get somethin’ to eat in the cafeteria?” Arranging her head on the pillow is accompanied by a smile. “I know he’s starvin’.”
“I am,” my little brother pouts. “They starved me the whole way here.”
“Dem pants look a little on fire, bud,” I teasingly sigh.
“Plus, they’re fightin’ and-”
“We ain’t fightin’.”
“Right, ‘cause fightin’ means y’all would have to be talkin’,” Bronny meets Grams’s stare, “and. They. Ain’t. Talkin’.” His hand lifts to whisper behind it. “Eye roll emoji.”
Her forehead wrinkles in confusion. “Why don’t you jus’ roll your eyes?”
“That’s so cringe.”
“And why can’t you jus’ cringe?”
“That’s so basic.”
Exasperation stretches across her face prompting Gilly to suggest, “Why don’t you go have breakfast with Dubs and give him all the tea?”
“On the two of you?!” Bronny cockily begins backing out of the room. “Done. Son.”
“Not,” my head slowly shakes, “not what she meant, Bronskie.”
“You like being called Bronskie?” Dubs casually questions, ushering him out of the room.
“The boys on the team actually call me Groffs. And after I score? They chat G-A. G-A. Ya know. For Groffs attacks.”
“Yeah?” They begin to exit the large, suite-style room space. “You’re really into lacrosse, huh?”
“Yeah. It’s…pretty lit.”
“Indoor?”
“Til Feb, then we switch to outdoors.”
“Maybe we should paint your bucket? You want that?”
His answer isn’t heard due to the door shutting; although it doesn’t need to be.
I know he’d love having that.
Just like I know how he likes being on a team.
Having his own sport.
Something to call his own versus just living in my shadow.
Huh.
Kinda reminds me of the explanation I overheard Gilly giving to her brother.
Maybe that’s why he’s always been so drawn to her.
Why she has such an easy time understanding him.
Vibing.
Seeing sitches in ways I can’t.
That I don’t know how ‘cause despite always encouragin’ others to be themselves, I’ve never really dealt with not being able to be jus’ be.
“Manners, Thayne,” Grams swiftly scolds in my direction. “Act like you were raised wit’ some.”
It’s impossible to stop the corner of my lips from curling upward, “Grams meet Gilly. Gilly,” I gesture an open palm at the woman who looks far from healthy, “this is Grams.”
“Nice to finally meet you in person, sweetheart,” she warmly says to my girlfriend who maneuvers herself closer. “Lord knows this ain’t how I hoped it would be.”
Her fingers gently land on my grandmother’s hand at the same time she coos, “Nice to meet you too.”
“Why is this how she’s meetin’ you?” Leaning forward occurs in tandem with me folding my hands together. “Why didn’t you tell us somethin’ was wrong?”
“Why are you two fightin’?”
“Grams.”
“Thayniel.”
“Thayniel?!” gasps the beauty at her bedside. “Is your real name Thayniel?!”
“No,” she mischievously snickers, “it’s jus’ somethin’ his Gramps would say when he was in real big trouble.”
“Which I shouldn’t be.”
“You are.”
“Why?!”
“’Cause you’re deflectin’.”
“You’re deflectin’!”
“Don’t you raise your voice at me,” Grams hisses on a stern finger point. “I’ll rip these cords out and use ‘em to tan your hide right here, right now.”
“Could you jus’ tell me what’s goin’ on instead?” I exhaustedly exhale. “Please?”
“Alright,” she surrenders leading Gilly to scoot back to stand beside me. “But be warned. You ain’t gonna like it.”
“Of course, I ain’t gonna like it, Grams. You’re lyin’ in a hospital bed with tubes in your nose.”
“They jus’ fo’ show.”
“Grams.”
“Fine.” She pensively places one hand on her stomach and the other on top of it. “I was diagnosed with COPD.”
“COPD?”
“This lung disease thing that means I have trouble breathin’.”
Concern crinkles my face. “Wh-wh-when did that happen?”
“Earlier this year.”
“This year?!”
“What did I jus’ say about your volume?”
Swallowing down the urge to shout immediately grows in difficulty; however, having Gillybean’s hand supportively plant itself on my shoulder makes it a bit easier.
Like having a defenseman actually do his job near the crease.
Once my composure is at a more manageable level, I ask, “How much earlier this year?”
“Start of it.”
“And now we’re at the end of it, Grams.”
“I am well aware of how time works, Thayne.”
“Then please tell me why I’ve been unaware all year about this disease you’ve apparently had.”
“’Cause I didn’t want you to know.”
“What?! Why?!”
“”Cause I wanted you to live your life and not worry about what’s left of mine.”
“Grams.”
“Doc said it was stage two meanin’ I’d be dealin’ with some shortness of breath and bit of tiredness and maybe some liftin’ issues-”
“Your cough…” My eyebrows dart to the ceiling. “That steady cough you kept blamin’ on allergies? Was that part of this?”
“He might’ve mentioned that could happen.”
There’s no stopping my head from slowly shaking.
“The forgetfulness?” Gilly investigates. “Is that part of it?”
“That…was prolly on the list too.”
“Grams.”
“Anyway, I got the feelin’ pretty early on, it would be bes’ to start gettin’ everything in order for…
” rather than finish the statement she simply pauses.
Offers me a sympathetic smile I can’t stomach.
“I filed paperwork for my will. My finances. The ranch. What to do when we got to this stage. All that was left to sort out was Bronson, so when he went and got himself mixed up in trouble, it seemed like the right time to jus’… initiate that.”
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’…”