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)
“He had another bone marrow biopsy day before yesterday and he continues to get blood transfusions every other day.”
“Why can’t he leave the hospital?”
“The way Lilly explains it, he’s still at high risk for infection so he has to be there to get all the prophylactic care, constant blood work and weekly biopsies. But at least he’s continuing to improve.”
“It sounds like everything is on the upswing,” she replies softly. “And I think it’s taken the pressure off Lilly that Steven’s going to stay a few weeks inpatient.”
“Agreed.” And it gives me more time with her, which is a selfish fucking thought but so be it.
Claire goes over their flight arrival times. I’ll be at a skate, but we plan to get together for lunch tomorrow and I’ll hang out with the family after the game. I got them a suite in the same hotel as the team.
“Okay, I’ll let you eat your dinner,” Claire says before mischievously adding, “Tell Lilly I said hello.”
“No way.” I laugh as I reach into the mini fridge for water. “I’m not passing messages to the girl I’ve only been on a single date with—”
“But it was like the most romantic date any man could ever conjure—”
“—from my sister who is nosy and dramatic. That’s only coming after you two meet.”
“Aha!” she exclaims. “Even you understand that this is something special and that she will meet your family at some point.”
Yeah… I’m already looking that far ahead. “Y’all are coming in for the second round of the playoffs, so I’ll introduce you then. Assuming we make it there, of course.”
“You’ll be there because you’re going to kick Buffalo’s ass tomorrow night and then in game four, and then we’ll get to meet Lilly during round two and tell her lots of embarrassing stories about you.”
I close my eyes, envisioning Lilly and my family, sitting around a table eating and talking. I imagine my parents coming up to visit Aiden at the hospital. I know my mom—she’ll have gifts for him. I know Claire would want one-on-one time with Lilly and she’d take her out for coffee or lunch. I can see my entire family pouring into Moni’s Deli for sandwiches.
I shake my head, opening my eyes. Fuck… how do I have it so bad for someone I just met?
That deeper part of me that causes my heart to beat faster around Lilly tells me it’s because we’ve been through a lot more together—serious, deep stuff—than most people face in a lifetime.
“I love you,” I say to Claire, signaling the end of the call and her teasing. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Text me when you get in.”
“Love you too, brat.”
♦
It’s almost eight p.m. and I’m waiting on Lilly to call me. We’re operating on her schedule because she was far busier than I was today. After talking to Claire and eating my sub, I played my guitar, choosing “Hey There, Delilah” because it reminds me of me and Lilly. I then picked up my iPad and sketched while watching ESPN.
I’ve always had inherent artistic ability. If I were to choose a career beyond hockey, it would be graphic design. While I’m pretty good at sketching with charcoals and pastels, for the last few years I’ve been using a painting and drawing app that lets me take my art with me on the road. I can simulate a pencil drawing or an oil-painted landscape. I’ve taken courses over the years and I imagine I’ll attempt a degree after I retire from hockey. While my goal is to have enough money I won’t have to work after my sporting career ends, I know I’ll want to work.
Concentrating on creation from memory, I attempt a digital charcoal sketch of Aiden the first time I met him in the hospital. He’d been through grueling chemo in an attempt to eradicate the leukemia. He was completely bald and his face was bloated from steroids. A far cry from how he looks these days, and it’s a stretch of my imagination to try to capture his face from the recesses of my mind.
I’m just adding some shadowing under his jaw when my phone rings. I glance at it on the table beside my bed.
Lilly on FaceTime.
It’s a brilliant piece of technology I take for granted, but getting to see her face in addition to her voice is a bonus.
“Sorry it took so long to call,” she says when we connect. She’s walking through her apartment—from the small kitchen into the living room. “I just got home and grabbed a bite to eat first.”
“What did you have?” I push my iPad and pencil to the side and lean back against the headboard of my bed, crossing my legs at the ankle.
“Charles has taken to making me up a meal so all I have to do is swing through the deli kitchen and grab it after the hospital. Tonight it was a chicken salad wrap with fresh dill.”