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)
“Jesus… how old were you?”
“Fifteen when he was diagnosed. Eighteen when he became cancer-free.”
“Did your dad ever get sober?”
“After Aiden went into remission and things were looking brighter, he slowed way down. It was sort of back to the level he was at right after Mom died. A few drinks at night, but it was every night.”
“And it got worse when Aiden’s cancer returned?” I guess.
Her voice lowers an octave. “It’s not every night he binges but it is becoming more frequent.”
I rub my hand over the back of my neck as I consider the circumstances. “Look, Lilly… please tell me to back off if you want me to, but I’d like to help. I know we just met but I’ve got a serious soft spot for your brother and honestly, I’ve got one for you too because I’ve been through this.”
“It’s just a little weird to me that you want to help,” she admits with a nervous laugh.
It makes me smile. “Why?”
“Um… because you’re a famous hockey player who I’m sure has way more important things to do with his time.”
“I don’t think there’s anything more important than helping someone.” That’s the truth and it’s the way my parents raised me and my siblings. “My offer is sincere and I hope you take it.”
“I’m not good at asking for help. I’ve just been handling things on my own for so long that I think that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”
“Well, I’m giving you permission to ask and I’m commanding you to not feel bad when help is given, okay?”
Another long moment of silence and I know she’s struggling. But then she whispers the one word I need: “Okay.”
“Okay, then,” I exclaim, relief that she’s on board. “I talked to a friend today—actually, she’s the fiancée of a teammate. She’s an alcoholic who’s been sober for a while. She’s going to check into some resources for your dad. I can either pass them directly on to your dad or give them to you to talk over with him.”
“What do you think is best?” she asks hesitantly.
“I think both. Let him hear it from both of us. But if he agrees to treatment, I’m more than happy to help with getting him where he needs to go. You’ve got enough on your plate with the deli and Aiden.”
“Um…”
“Get out of your head,” I order sternly. “Stop worrying about me helping out.”
Another small laugh—and it’s good to hear. “Okay, fine. I accept.”
“I’ve got an away game tomorrow in Detroit but will be back the following day. I plan on dropping by the hospital to see Aiden. Once I get information from Harlow, we can talk about the best way to present it to your dad.”
“Okay.” She pauses, takes in a breath and I can hear her let it out slowly. “I don’t even know how to thank you for this.”
“No thanks needed.”
“It will still be given in copious amounts,” she quips.
I can’t help but laugh. “Fair enough. And Lilly?”
“Yes?”
“Go home and get some sleep. You put in more than enough hours for your family today.”
She hands my same words back. “Fair enough. Good night, Boone.”
“Good night, Lilly.”
After we hang up, I tap my phone on my thigh, leaning my head back to stare at my ceiling. This feels right… helping this family. I’d like the stress off Lilly’s shoulders, and I don’t want Aiden to have to worry about his father. I’d like to see Steven get healthy so he can support his two amazing children.
I’d really like to see Lilly smile. Her laugh was music to my ears. Tinkling and soft, it made me think of a spring breeze.
I snort to myself but with no embarrassment that I’m waxing poetic about Lilly. She’s a fascinating woman. Strong yet vulnerable. If I’m honest, she’s also really pretty. Those light blue eyes and full lips made me double-take. And she’s got curves for days.
Not that I’m looking to start anything with her. It’s just… she’s gorgeous, sweet and intriguing, and it won’t be a hardship getting better acquainted.
CHAPTER 4
Lilly
While Georgie works on replenishing the display cases of meats, cheeses, pasta salads and fruit, I efficiently clean the dining area. Spraying cleanser, I wipe down the tables and chairs with one cloth and dry them with another. Any crumbs tossed to the floor will get picked up when I sweep and mop. Charles is in the back scrubbing the kitchen, and that’s how we end the lunch rush. We have about two hours before business will pick up again, although admittedly, our evening patrons are usually here for takeout rather than dine-in.
I get everything cleaned except for one lone area at the counter where Stu works on the crossword puzzle while eating his lunch special of chicken salad on rye with home-fried kettle chips. He lives just down the block and eats here religiously on Tuesdays and Thursdays, preferring to wait for the main rush to finish.