Lilly
Dad’s arm hits me in the shoulder as he tries to pull free and I stumble sideways.
“I’m calling security,” the receptionist says.
“No,” I exclaim, shooting her a pleading look. I do not want Aiden to watch our dad be arrested. “I’ll get him out.”
“I’ve got this.” Boone Rivers brushes past me. “Steven… good to see you.”
Boone’s voice is pleasant, nonthreatening. He holds out his hand to my dad, who stares back at him through bleary eyes. He’s trashed and I’m not sure he knows the famous Pittsburgh Titans hockey player.
Then I see recognition dawn and a sloppy grin overtakes his face as he grabs Boone’s hand and pumps it. “How the hell are you, son? You here visiting my boy?”
My dad’s voice booms and I glance back at Aiden to see his head bowed so he doesn’t have to watch the spectacle.
“I am visiting Aiden,” Boone says, his tone reassuring and sympathetic. He puts a hand on my dad’s shoulder, not to strong-arm him, but he squeezes it as if he understands the gravity of Aiden’s disease and the weight it bears on all of us. “And right now, you’re a little too drunk to be here. You don’t want your son to see you like this, do you? He’s got enough on his plate to deal with so I’m asking you, don’t make this harder on him.”
Dad sways a little, looking thoroughly confused. He glances down the hall, squints at Aiden in his wheelchair and smiles again in a proud, goofy way. “That’s my boy there. So strong, isn’t he?”
“Very strong,” Boone agrees and then gently turns my dad toward the exit doors. “But you’re making this hard on him by showing up like this. Let’s get you home, sobered up and you can come back later.”
Miraculously, my dad lets Boone lead him out. I glance back at Aiden and hold a finger up to him that I need a minute. He nods and I rush out behind them.
Normally, when my dad gets this drunk, there’s no reasoning with him. He’s not a mean or abusive alcoholic, but he is illogical and it’s difficult to control him.
Boone continues to walk with my father, his arm now around his shoulders as Dad waxes poetic about Aiden. “He’ll beat this disease, mark my words. That boy is so strong. Just like his sister. I’ve got the two best kids in the world.”
“I can tell how proud you are,” Boone says softly as he traverses a short breezeway to the parking garage. I have no clue where Boone is taking him and I follow hesitantly.
“It’s so hard though,” my dad laments morosely. “I try my best. I really do.”
“Your best isn’t coming here to the hospital drunk though, is it?”
I’m surprised not only by Boone’s frank talk but by the fact he so effortlessly has my dad under control. Had it just been me dealing with him, security most likely would have had to get involved because I don’t have the patience for this. I get so angry when he’s like this and I’m so protective of Aiden.
My dad hangs his head low. “I know. I’m a terrible father. I can’t do anything right. I’m a complete embarrassment.”
He goes on and on as Boone continues up the garage’s first-level ramp before he stops at an iron-gray Porsche Cayenne. Boone squeezes my dad’s shoulder. “I’m going to take you home, okay?”
Looking uncertain, Dad finally nods at Boone in agreement and I just watch in stunned silence.
Boone unlocks the passenger door and holds it open. “In you go, Steven.”
My dad practically falls into the seat and has a hard time getting his legs in. He struggles with the seatbelt and Boone leans in to help him. My heart squeezes over his kindness.
Once he’s all buckled in, Boone closes the door gently. My dad immediately slumps against it, his eyes closing and head lolling as he passes out.
Boone turns to me and offers a tight smile as he pulls off his gloves and mask before easily ripping the paper gown off his body. He balls it all up tight and sticks it under his arm to hold before pulling his phone out of his pocket. “What’s your phone number?”
I’m so flummoxed, I rattle it off without thinking. Boone’s fingers move efficiently over the screen. “I’m sending you a text now so you have my number. Text me your address and I’ll get him home. I’ll call you after I get him settled in.”
“My phone is in my purse, which is on Aiden’s wheelchair,” I say, throwing my thumb over my shoulder toward the hospital.
Boone nods and flips to Google Maps. “What’s the address?” I tell him and he punches it in. He studies the map a moment before glancing up at me. “Go on in. Aiden will need you.”
“But… you can’t… I mean, this isn’t your problem. I should—”
“You need to go take care of your brother,” Boone says calmly, his hand cupping my elbow for a soft squeeze. “This isn’t my first rodeo with drunks so I’ll handle your dad, and you handle your brother.”
“I…” My words falter and I shake my head. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I like your brother a hell of a lot and because I used to have a dad just like this. I know what it’s like.”
“Oh.” I breathe out a pained sigh and blink to stop the tears. “But still—”
“Lilly,” Boone says, grabbing my attention. He squeezes my arm again. “Go to Aiden. I’ll call you as soon as I get your dad into your house.”
“Apartment,” I clarify in a whisper.
Boone smiles sympathetically at my discombobulation and turns me toward the hospital. “Go. Now.”
I start walking away from Boone… from my dad passed out in his car. I stop though, not seeming to understand what the hell is happening. I watch as Boone starts his Porsche and backs out of the space. Before he puts it in drive, he sees me standing there and points his finger and mouths “Go.”
I turn on my heel and run toward the hospital, eager to get back to Aiden and assure him everything’s okay.
Except nothing is okay about this.
Aiden is waiting for me where I left him, although a nurse is standing by his side. When she sees me, she gives me an understanding nod. Aiden must have told her what happened.
“Is Dad okay?” Aiden asks after the nurse walks away.
My hands shake as I grip the handles of his wheelchair and turn him toward the elevator. That ice cream curdles in my stomach. “Yeah. Boone’s going to take him home.”
“But what’s stopping Dad from coming right back here again?” Aiden asks.
I don’t know how to answer that. I’m not even sure how he got here in the first place. For all I know, he drove here drunk and his car is in the parking garage. I cringe thinking of the destruction he could have caused if he had driven intoxicated. Normally, he wouldn’t be so stupid and would take the bus, but he’s been spiraling the last few weeks while Aiden has struggled with recovering from the transplant. My father has never handled stress well and his comfort has always been at the bottom of a bottle.
We’re silent as we make our way back to Aiden’s room. I’ve spent so much time in the hospital with him over the years, I’m a pro at removing his infusion pump from the back of the wheelchair and reconnecting it to the bedside pole. I help Aiden remove the paper gown, mask and gloves so he can get into bed. I leave the wheelchair out in the hall, knowing someone will put it away.
Taking his hand, I squeeze. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just worried about Dad.”
“I know.” I have to stop myself from saying more. I want to say, I know, but Dad doesn’t deserve your worry. He shouldn’t even be putting this on your frail shoulders.
But I don’t because that’s akin to me telling Aiden to stop loving our father, and I can’t do that. Just like I can’t stop loving him. In fact, I love him even more because he’s weak and addicted and struggling. But I don’t want Aiden to have to carry this burden. I try to keep most of this away from him but today got out of hand.
I woke up this morning to find my father at our small kitchen table, passed out with an empty bottle of vodka before him. Dad normally spends part of the day at the hospital with Aiden while I manage the deli. I go visit after work and will stay as late as I can, often falling asleep in the chair beside Aiden’s bed and sliding quietly out in the wee hours.
This morning, Dad was in no condition to go anywhere. I barely got him out of his chair and then he stumbled down the short hall to his room where he flopped face forward onto the bed. He was mumbling about Aiden dying and I couldn’t bear to hear it, so I left him there to sleep it off.
I couldn’t leave Aiden alone. He’s been in the hospital for over five weeks so far and now we’re in a waiting game to see if the transplant will work. It’s important that one of us is there with him. I opened the deli, got things going and turned it over to Georgie who can be dependable on occasion. I don’t think he’ll burn the place down like Aiden predicted.
How was I to know my dad would not, in fact, pass out and sleep off his drunk but decide to go to the hospital? Once again, I cringe at just how disastrous all this could’ve been. He could’ve gotten into an accident, gotten arrested or made an even bigger scene than what he did. Thank God Boone was there. Disaster was averted thanks to him.
“He needs help,” Aiden says, drawing me out of my memories.
“I know,” I say with a sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’ll start searching some rehab places—”
“No, I mean Boone needs help,” Aiden interrupts.
I frown in confusion. “What?”
“He’s going to need help keeping Dad calm once they get home. He might be pliable now because he’s so trashed, but as he starts to sober up, he’ll try to come back here because he’ll feel so guilty. And you can’t expect Boone to babysit him.”
“Oh, shit,” I mutter, popping off the bed and looking for my purse. Aiden’s right and it’s sad that he knows so well how to anticipate our dad’s actions because we’ve lived through this all before. I bend over the bed and kiss his forehead through my paper mask. “I’ll go straighten everything out and come right back.”
“You don’t have to,” he says earnestly and I pull back to look him in the eye.
Such a mature, loving child stares back at me. My partner through thick and thin. I might take care of Aiden ninety percent of the time, but he has my back when needed.
“I’ll see you in a bit,” I repeat with a pointed look. “I’ll get Dad straightened out, check on Georgie, and then I’m coming back to kick your ass in Battleship. Want me to bring you anything?”
“Cheese popcorn,” he replies with a smile.
“Got it.” I bend over him once more to kiss his head. “I love you.”
“Love you too.”
♦
We’re fortunate that we only live about twenty minutes from the hospital. My commute from home to work is even quicker since our apartment sits above the deli. It’s a family business started by my parents and named Moni’s after my mother Monica. I was raised not only above the restaurant in our apartment but much of my life was spent downstairs hanging out at the lunch counter while my parents created thick sandwiches and laughed with their longtime customers. By the time I was ten, I was able to build the perfect Italian sub and could check out customers all by myself.
This was a good thing because when my mom passed away just two years later from an unknown heart defect, I was able to step in and help my dad keep the business running as well as look after Aiden, who was only two. It was just the three of us, reeling from loss, but we banded together and made it work.
Behind the deli is a back alley with three private parking spots. I pull into the one next to Boone’s Porsche, the relief sweeping through me to see my dad’s car there as well which means he didn’t drive to the hospital. I’m still not sure how I feel about letting a perfect stranger step into this mess to help us, but that ship has sailed.
I climb the steep flight of stairs to the landing outside the apartment door and step inside, setting my purse on the low half wall that blocks off the small dining area to the right. A long hall houses the three bedrooms straight ahead with the living room to the left and a kitchen just beyond the dining area.
I barely get a step forward before Boone exits my dad’s room, pulling the door shut behind him. He jolts slightly as he turns and sees me standing there.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“He’s sleeping and I expect he’ll be out awhile.”
I’m at a bit of a loss about what to say, but an apology seems in order. “I am so sorry you got sucked into this. I’m mortified—”
Boone holds up his hand as he walks my way. “Stop. You have nothing to apologize for. I truly didn’t mind helping.”
He halts a few feet from me, tucking his hands into his pockets.
“You said you’ve had experience with this before,” I prod.
A smile plays across his face—slightly bitter, a little sweet. “My dad’s an alcoholic. He’s been sober for fifteen years now but I was a little younger than Aiden when it was going on, so I kind of know what he’s feeling. I’ve also watched my mom and older siblings have to handle my dad when he was drunk, so I know how to deal.”
I nod in understanding. “I’m sorry you had to go through that but it was fortuitous for us today.”
Boone chuckles. “I’m just glad I was there.”
“Me too. Um… can I offer you something to drink or anything?”
“I’m good, but thank you. I need to get going.”
“Of course.” I grab the doorknob and open the door, moving to the side. “Again, thank you so much.”
As Boone moves onto the landing, he asks, “What’s the deal with the deli downstairs? Do you work there?”
“Our family owns it. It’s named after my mom. She passed away almost ten years ago.”
Sympathy pools in Boone’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. And I know I’m repeating myself but thank you again for your help with my dad. It was unbelievably kind.”
“It was nothing.” Boone waves and makes it halfway down the staircase before he turns to look back. “If you need anything, I hope you’ll call.”
My mouth drops open slightly. I don’t even know what that means. He’s a perfect stranger and I would never think to call on him for assistance. “That’s really nice, but—”
“You have my number,” Boone says, cutting in over me. “Use it. And maybe I’ll see you at the hospital sometime, okay?”
I wring my hands, thinking this might be one of the strangest days I’ve ever had. “Um… okay.”
“Okay,” he affirms with a smile, and for the first time, I let myself acknowledge how handsome he is. I take in his longish dark blond hair, his blue eyes that are about ten shades darker than mine but so expressive. His trim beard doesn’t hide his full lips or the bright smile he’s bestowed on me on more than one occasion. How had I not noticed that before? “It was nice meeting you, Lilly.”
“Same,” I manage to breathe out.
Not just handsome but a freaking famous professional hockey player.
Who just brought my drunk dad home.
I’m overwhelmed again by deep embarrassment and duck inside my apartment. My heart hammers as I lean against the door and try to figure out if my life can get any more complicated.