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)
I knit my brows together. “Keep working. I want us to keep living our regular lives.”
“There’s no way I’m going to work when you’re going through cancer treatment. We’re in this together, just like everything else.”
I nod, feeling profoundly grateful she’s my wife. The three best things that ever happened to me were Mila asking me to marry her so she wouldn’t get deported and the births of our daughters, Anastasia and Irina.
The girls are out with our nanny, Madison, now. The thought of trying to explain this news to them makes me physically ill. Anastasia is five; I think she’ll have some understanding of what it means that I’m sick. Irina is only three—she won’t get it.
It’s better that way, really. I’m supposed to be the one worrying about my kids, not the other way around. I just want to dig in and get my treatment started as soon as possible.
I thought hockey was my life until Mila and I got married. Now, my family is my life. I’ve retired and we finally have the time to travel for fun, spending weekends in, cooking and watching movies and taking vacations with my former teammates and their families.
I love my life, and I’m going to fight for it with everything I am.
CHAPTER SIX
Mila
“One sip, Colby. For me.”
My husband’s eyes focus on me, his cheek pressed to the cool tile on our bathroom floor. He mumbles a response.
“I’ll puke it up. Just go.”
Chemo is hell. He’s on his third round, and in the four months since his diagnosis, he’s lost thirty pounds and all his hair. The worst part of seeing him curled up on our bathroom floor is that he’s a fighter. He forces down protein shakes to keep his weight up and exercises even when he’s at his worst. So for him to not even think he can tolerate a single sip of water, he has to be more miserable than I can imagine.
I can’t let my love for him make me soft. When he was about to start chemo, he made me promise to stay tough and drag him through it if I had to. Just like he forces down the protein shakes, he needs me to care for his body even when his spirit is crushed.
“You can either take a small sip or I’ll call an ambulance to take you back to the hospital for hydration.”
His response is an aggravated exhale.
“Do you need Ford to help you up?” I ask.
“No.”
He groans and presses a palm to the floor, trying to push himself up. His arm shakes and he doesn’t move. I look away.
“Fuck,” he mutters.
I get up from the edge of the bathtub, where I’m sitting, and walk through our bedroom and out to the hallway. Once there, I take a steadying breath.
When Colby was diagnosed, I made a deal with myself. If the worst happens and I lose him, I’ll give myself some time to break. But until that very moment, I’m made of steel. I don’t cry and I don’t let my mind wander to the what-ifs.
It’s what we do. We fight until there’s no time left on the scoreboard. No matter the score, no matter the odds. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever experienced, but I have to be the rock--for Colby and our daughters.
Two years ago, we built our dream home outside of Denver. It has stunning mountain views and is filled with windows. Our builder and designer managed to make an eleven-thousand-square-foot home still feel cozy with lots of fireplaces and warm woods. This is the happy family home I never thought I’d have. I’m so damn grateful for it every single day.
When I reach the family room, I find Ford and Elle on the couch, Irina snuggled between them. The family room is open to the kitchen and I can see Anastasia in there helping our nanny, Madison, make dinner.
It hurts a little to see my older daughter giving Madison an adoring gaze, but I get it. These past four months, I’ve needed to be with Colby a lot. He wants the girls sheltered from seeing him during his worst chemo side effects. Madison was our part-time nanny when he was diagnosed. The girls love her, so we offered her a lot of money to move in with us and become our full-time nanny.
“We’re making chicken soup for Daddy,” Anastasia says proudly.
I smile. “That’s wonderful, love. Just what he needs.”
I glance at Ford and he nods slightly, knowing I need him without me having to say anything.
“I’ll be right back,” he says, getting up.
I lead the way back to the bedroom, relieved to have the help of someone Colby trusts.
Our Coyotes family has been our greatest source of support through Colby’s illness. As soon as Colby shared the news with his tight inner circle of former teammates who still live here, they and their families immediately jumped into action.