Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 24377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Ford is still supporting him beneath his arms. Our eyes lock.
“How do we get him undressed?” I ask.
“I can still get his shirt off.”
“Sorry, guys,” Colby says softly.
“We’re good, don’t apologize.” Ford looks at me. “Get the water and I’ll get him to drink some. Then grab scissors and a trash bag.”
I nod, grateful for his calm, levelheaded demeanor. It’s hard for me to think of anything but how much it kills me to see my husband covered in his own vomit, unable to stand on his own.
The cycle of chemo he’s on is powerful. The doctors told us it would be the most brutal yet.
I bring Ford Colby’s glass of water with a curved stainless straw in it. He takes it.
“Alright, man. Drink some and get that shitty taste out of your mouth.”
I’ve never been more grateful to another person. I have to leave the room so neither of them sees the tears in my eyes. Ford has a way about him that I’ve always admired. It’s why he made such a great team captain. He makes the people around him feel comfortable and respected.
Five minutes later, I come back into the room with the supplies. Ford has already taken off his own shirt and Colby’s. I cut off everything he’s wearing beneath the waist and scoop the clothes into the garbage back, adding his socks, too.
Colby can’t see Ford’s grim expression at the sight of his visible ribs and collarbone, but I can. It’s a special kind of hell seeing a war raged on the body of someone you love.
“He’s kept the water down,” Ford says, his expression neutral again. “You keep that up and we’ll be bringing you chocolate shakes soon.”
Ford slides his pants off, only his boxers left. He locks eyes with me.
“No reason for us to both get wet. I’ve got this. Go hang out with the girls.”
I give him an appreciative smile. “Thanks, but I want to stay.”
“Okay, get a clean towel and clothes for him and I’ll get him cleaned up.”
I nod, hearing the flow of the water as I leave the room. This is something I truly couldn’t do without help. We’d have to hire home health nurses if Colby’s former teammates weren’t willing to do it. At first, Colby hated his friends seeing him looking like he does, but he’s used to it now.
When I return to the bathroom with two towels and clean clothes from our closet for both Colby and Ford, Ford is just finishing up using the detachable showerhead to rinse Colby off.
Together, we dry him off and get him dressed. With Ford’s supporting most of his weight, Colby’s able to slowly walk into our bedroom. Once he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, I move his legs into it and Ford helps him get into a comfortable position.
“Thank you,” Colby says, giving Ford a solemn look.
“We’re brothers, man. You’ll be doing this for me someday.”
Colby can barely keep his eyes open. I pass him a pill and bring the glass of water up to his mouth, angling the straw so he can reach it.
“Two swallows,” I say.
“Role reversal,” he mumbles, his lips quirking in a small smile. “You usually swallow.”
“He’s still got the jokes,” Ford says with a grin. “I assume you’ll be here all week?”
“Don’t have much choice.” Colby’s amused expression slowly slides away and he closes his eyes.
Ford and I quietly leave the bedroom. I gently pull the door closed.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For...”
I look away, tears flooding my eyes again. Ford opens his arms and I accept his hug, letting a few tears flow.
“We’ve got you,” he says softly. “Not just Colby, you and the girls, too. This is what family does.”
I nod against his chest, hoping that someday, in some way, I can return all the love and support they’ve given us.
CHAPTER SEVEN
TWO YEARS LATER
Dom
Colby: All clear. Dinner at our house Friday night to celebrate.
I breathe a sigh of relief and type out a quick response to the group chat I have with my teammates. Tess gives me an impatient glare.
“Am I interrupting urgent transactions for your fictional football team?”
I grin at her, feeling lighter than I did this morning. “Colby’s brain scan was all clear.”
“Oh, thank God. That’s got to be a huge weight off his shoulders.”
I nod, putting my phone back in my pocket. “Dinner at the Harrison Palace Friday night.”
“Hm. We’re supposed to be in Chicago then to go over designs for the Wacker reno.”
“Might have to Wacker off on that.”
My wife rolls her eyes. “That one was weak. You know, you don’t have to make a masturbation joke every single time we discuss that property. Choose your moments.”
“It’s impossible to say the word Wacker and not think of whacking off.”
“For forty-year-old teenage boys, you mean?” She arches a brow.