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)
Shelby Fox maintains a schedule for the group so someone is here to help on the days after Colby’s chemo when he’s the sickest. Beau, Ford, Dom and Ben hang out here on those days, usually with their wives. They spend time with the girls, playing, baking and cooking. They help Madison with laundry and cleaning. My girls have never had so many bedtime stories read to them. Elle Barrett is reading Harry Potter to Anastasia on the nights she’s here. Any animosity I used to feel toward her is long gone. She’s my family now.
More than anything, the group that helps us keeps the spirit in our home warm and supportive. We never feel alone. They fiercely guard our privacy. I’ll never be able to put into words how much it means.
“He okay?” Ford asks me in a low tone as we walk upstairs.
I sigh softly. “He’s weak and dehydrated. I told him he has to go back to the hospital for fluids if he won’t drink a little water. He can’t get up from the floor, though.”
Ford nods. “How about you? You doing okay?”
“Yeah, thanks for asking. I hate seeing him like this, but I try to think of it like the sicker he is, the better the chemo is working. It’s not even true, but it’s the mental game I play with myself, you know?”
“Yeah. I know you’re like me—I’d much rather be the one who was sick if it was a choice between me or Elle.”
My lips twitch in the tiniest of smiles because I have that thought many times every day when Colby is sick after chemo.
“I’d give anything to trade places with him,” I murmur.
“You’re exactly where you need to be.” Ford slows as we start to approach the end of the second floor where our bedroom is. “But take care of yourself, too. If you need a day with the girls or a day for just yourself, we’ve got you.”
“I know. Thanks.”
It’s good to know I could take a day for myself, but there’s no way I will. I sometimes take the girls out to do something fun for a few hours, but nothing more. I want to be with my husband.
Something this experience has shown me is that the Coyotes organization can run very well without me. I haven’t been to my office in more than four months, but I review reports and emails on my laptop before bed every night, and everything is smooth.
I’m not indispensable, even as the team owner. All my other businesses are doing as well as ever, too. It’s opened my eyes about where I spend my time and energy.
We have more money than we could ever want or need, and I don’t plan to ever go back to working in my office full time. I enjoy it, but it’s just work. It can’t love me back.
I’m Colby’s one and only wife. My daughters’ one and only mom. I want to spend more time with them and our extended Coyotes family, making memories.
When I walk into the bathroom, Ford right behind me, Colby is in the same position he was when I left him.
“Hey, man,” Ford says. “I heard you’re thirsty.”
“You got any Blantons?” Colby almost smiles as he jokes about his favorite bourbon.
“Fuck yeah, I do.” Ford bends down next to him. “I’ll bring over some Blantons and Tomahawk steaks when you’re up for it. We’ll play poker and I’ll clean you out like I did last time.”
Ford puts an arm around Colby’s back, hooking his hand beneath Colby’s arm so he can haul him up. The strain shows on his face and neck, but he doesn’t make a sound.
“Sorry,” Colby murmurs.
“You’re good,” Ford says.
Colby tries to set his feet on the floor, but he can’t seem to hold up his weight. A helpless moan comes out of him, hitting me like a punch in the gut. I scramble around, trying to get on his other side, but Ford shakes his head.
“I’ve got him.”
“Shit,” Colby mutters. “Puke.”
He barely gets the word out before he throws up all over himself, some of it splashing on Ford.
“So sorry,” Colby says weakly.
“Nah, man. Don’t apologize. It’s me. We’ve been through a lot of shit together. Remember when Sergei shit his pants on the bus?”
A weak, single note of laughter comes out of Colby’s mouth. Ford meets my gaze.
“I’m gonna move him onto the shower chair and we’ll get him undressed.”
He puts an arm behind Colby’s knees and scoops him up like he’s about to carry him over the threshold. Gently, he sets him in the shower chair that Colby has to use for showering these days.
Colby has so little strength that he can’t hold himself up, so I get in the shower and close the bar that surrounds his lower torso like the safety bar on a roller coaster.