Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 56134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
“Don’t you ever call me an old lady again,” my mom scolds. “I don’t want to hear those words out of your mouth if I live to be one hundred.”
I put an arm around my mom and help her into a recliner, then go over and hug Aunt Jo.
“I missed you guys,” I say.
Aunt Jo balks. “You probably miss your fancy life back in Chicago. You’ve got women all over the place trying to get your attention, boy. We see it in those articles online.”
“Can’t believe everything you read online Aunt Jo. My two favorite women are right here.”
She waves a hand dismissively, but the corners of her lips curl up in a smile. “Thanks for coming Erik.”
“Are you hungry?” my mom asks, trying to stand up on her good foot. “Elsie Carver brought over a casserole; I can heat some up for you.”
“Mom, no. Don’t get up.”
“I’m not having anyone wait on me hand and foot,” she says, giving me a look. “I’ll need some help, but I want to do what I can.”
She’s always been stubborn. But I’m not the high school kid who used to butt heads with her over how late I could stay out. This time, I’m the one telling her what’s best for her instead of the other way around.
“Sit down, Mom,” I insist. “And if you need to get up, make sure you use the crutches.”
“I can just hop on one foot.”
“Yeah, until you lose your balance and break something else when you fall.”
“Don’t sass me, Erik.”
I mentally count to ten. She’s so damn exasperating.
“Mom, the crutches.” They’re leaning against the couch, and I pick them up and set them in front of her.
“I don’t like them. They make my armpits hurt.”
“Want me to see about getting you a wheelchair?”
She recoils. “No, I do not.”
“They make little scooters with a seat that you can put your knee on and use your good foot to walk with. Maybe we can try that.”
Mom’s eyes get huge and her brows shoot up. “That’s a damn fool idea. I’m not rolling around on a scooter.”
“Better get used to these, then.”
She lets me help her get the crutches positioned, and then she slowly makes her way into Aunt Jo’s kitchen.
While she warms up the casserole, I catch her up on what I’ve done in the week since our season ended, which isn’t much.
“Are you still dating that British woman with the hair hanging in her eyes?” she asks as I finish my second plate of food.
I shake my head. “We were never really dating, we were just talking at a fundraiser and a photographer took our picture and it was reported that we were dating.”
“Good. She’s too thin, that’s not healthy. And why would anyone want hair in their eyes all the time? You need a woman with good sense.”
Mom comments on every gossip article and photo she sees online about my love life, but she won’t say a word about Allie. She knows how much our breakup hurt me, and she’s not one to poke at old wounds. So while part of me is dying to know how Allie is, I’m also relieved to know she won’t mention her.
“I need to use the bathroom,” Aunt Jo calls from the living room.
Mom meets my eyes in a silent apology. She was planning to do all this stuff for my aunt herself. I just smile, letting her know it’s all good, and take my dishes over to the sink.
“On my way, Aunt Jo.”
Between getting her in and out of the bathroom and helping her change into pajamas, it takes me about twenty minutes for her to settle into bed. My mom’s already in the guest room by then, where she’s been staying while caring for Aunt Jo, her crutches leaning against the nightstand.
“I’ll crash on Aunt Jo’s couch tonight,” I tell her. “Can I have the spare key? Is it still under that rock out front?”
“I think so.”
“Okay, get some sleep.” I walk over and hug her. “Do you need anything before I go over to Cade’s to see him for an hour or so?”
“I think I just need a good night of rest.” She looks up at me and smiles. “Thanks for coming, son.”
“Of course, Mom.” I look over at the nightstand to make sure her phone is there. “I’ll just be a couple miles away, so call me if you need anything, okay?”
“I will.”
When I make it to the doorway, I look back at her. She looks like she’s already asleep. Despite the whirlwind trip here, I’m happy that this is where I am right now and that I can help my mom when she needs me.
If she and Aunt Jo had gotten injured during hockey season, I couldn’t have come. And while I could—and would—have hired nursing care for them, I’m glad I get to be the one to care for them. I owe these two women a lot. They’re my family.