Page 54 of Can’t Kiss the Chef (Westvale University #2)

Byron

The first three days of my Christmas break were mostly spent at The Riley Center or at my dad’s bedside overthinking how I left things with Lola.

She says she understands why I’m distant.

She knows my short texts and two-worded responses aren’t because I don’t love her, instead it’s the best I can do.

Other than my teammates, when I’m at practice she is the only person I’m talking to. That doesn’t stop my constant worry about losing her or that I know that my incapability to open up about my emotions could be pushing her away.

The doctors say my dad only has a few days left. Each day he grows more withdrawn, spending more hours asleep than awake. The morphine drip makes sure he doesn’t feel the pain of his body shutting down, but it clouds his memory.

Luckily my father is staying at the condo otherwise I’m not sure I would have been able to convince my mom to go home and shower. Her experience in the medical field is both comforting her and making the slow death of her one true love harder.

I know why she always forgave him. Over the last few months I’ve learned that my dad has the biggest heart and has always tried to be better. He tells the corniest jokes that you can’t help but to laugh at. Mom says she loves that I got that part of his personality.

He has a giving heart and when he had nothing he still did whatever he could to help others. I’m just so mad that he couldn’t help himself until it was too late.

I’ve spent the last half hour scrolling through old text conversations I’ve had with Lola while sitting at my dad’s bedside. He’s been asleep for the last hour, but I can’t get myself to leave his side.

My head’s grown more clear as I’ve accepted my dad’s fate. It doesn’t stop the guilt from eating away at me as I look at my one-sided conversations with Lola.

“Byron.”

My dad stirs awake. His voice is weak, simply speaking is now taking more energy than it should.

I turn so I’m fully facing him. His body is frail. The loose skin under his eyes is dark, a stark contrast to his pale skin. His goofy smile and I can finally say I’m happy I share it with him, makes a welcome appearance.

“Yeah, Dad?”

“How’s my girl Lola going?”

“Good. She brought Mia home with her. She’s been happy to have a buddy with her.”

“That’s good.”

He takes a moment–he acts like it’s to gather his thoughts but I know it is to catch his breath– before switching the topic of conversation.

“When’s your next game?”

“We have practice tonight and a game tomorrow against Dalton’s team. Then a little break for Christmas. I’m happy I’ll have more time to be here with you.”

“Byron,” he says earnestly. “Please don’t rush here to be with me.”

“I–” He cuts me off with a soft voice that still sounds so unnatural compared to the booming voice I remember from my scattered memories of our time together.

“Accept the help.”

He turns so he’s laying on his side facing me.

“If you’re not okay, tell them. If they ask you if you need anything, know that you can rely on them.”

A cough escapes from his lungs as he strains to get enough oxygen. The way his eyes stay locked on mine tell me he has more to say. So I sit and wait patiently trying to avoid realizing how close the end is.

“If I can teach you anything, let it be that pushing people out only leads to regrets. I’m so lucky to have had this time with you and your mom but knowing I missed out on so much, hurts. Be better than me, Son. Don’t run because you think it’s easier, I promise you it’s not.”

He pats my hand that is resting by his. He looks relieved like he has been waiting to give me that advice. I don’t want to talk about my other relationships. Right now the only one that matters is the one I have with him.

“I love you, Dad. Don’t regret anything. We had this time together and I wasn’t even sure if we’d have that. I’m happy I got to ask you everything I wanted to.”

“Byron, sweety,” Mom’s voice comes from just outside the door to the bedroom.

“Why don’t we give your dad time to rest. You have to get ready for practice.” She wears a soft smile, but her voice is sad.

I wrap her in a hug and feel her head lift off my shoulder giving her a straight line view of the only man she’s ever loved. Her chest rises and I feel her slack against me. I don’t need her experience in the medical field to know what she is thinking. We don’t have much time left with him.

“Go sit with him. I’ll be back with dinner after practice.”

After practice I pick up Jasper’s to bring back to the condo. Mom and I eat as Dad sleeps. Mom said he spent most of the day sleeping after I left.

I choose to stay over and sleep on the couch, even with knowing how important tomorrow’s rivalry game is for our conference standings.

I’m woken up to soft sobs coming from down the hall.

My dad passes in the night.