Page 22

Chapter 22

RYLAN

T he Vancouver rehab facility looks nothing like I expected. It's more like a fancy resort than a hospital. The buildings are all wood and stone in the Craftsman style, and they sit on a sprawling property overlooking the ocean in the suburb of West Vancouver, on the way up to Whistler. Walking paths wind throughcarefullymaintained gardens, and the sound of waves crashing onto the rocks below reaches us as get out of the rental car.

Jamie's mom was able to make a call and get Dad into this place in less than 24 hours. Alexandra Pirelli has been added to my very long list of people who will be receiving extravagant thank-you gifts from me.

Thinking about Jamie sends a rush of heat through my belly as the memory of last night's video call flashes into my mind. But I push it aside. I need to befullyhere for Dad right now.

We head toward the main building, Dad shuffling along beside me, looking smaller and older than normal. The tremor in his hands is worse than usual. I'm guessing it's nervousness as well as whatever symptoms he's experiencing from not having had a drink today. After drinking for twenty years, I doubt his withdrawal is going to be like sleeping off a hangover. But this place has medical staff to help manage the physical effects so he can start working on the emotional stuff.

"Your mother would be proud of you, you know."His voice is gruff but steady."Proud of both of us, maybe.Finallyfacing our demons."

The words hit me hard. A couple of months ago, I wouldn't have believed Dad was capable of that kind of self-awareness. A few months ago I was still pretending I could control everything in my life through sheer force of will. But that was before Jamie Pirelli crashed into my life and started knocking down all mycarefullyconstructed walls.

"Let's get you checked in,"I say, squeezing his shoulder as we walk through the automatic doors. The gesture feels foreign—we're not a touchy-feely family. But maybe that's something else that can change.

The admissions nurse greets us with practiced warmth and a genuine smile. She hands us a stack of forms, and Dad starts filling them out, his handwriting shaky but determined. I notice he doesn't try to hide his tremors. He's not making excuses anymore. I hope that's a good sign.

The intake counselor leads us down a sunlit hallway to what will be his room for the next ninety days. It's simple but comfortable, with a single bed, a desk, and an ensuite bathroom. Dad sets his duffle bag downcarefullylike he's afraid to disturb the quiet.

"You can help him unpack if you'd like,"the counselor says."Then we'll need to do some initial assessments."Her tone is kind but professional. No judgment, just facts. Jamie's mom sounded the same way when I talked with her about getting Dad in here.

We work in silence, folding his clothes and arranging his toiletries. The roomslowlytransforms from sterile to lived-in, although it still feels temporary. Like a kind of waystation between who Dad was and who he's trying to be.

"Ry."His voice catches as he pulls Nick's old junior team hoodie from his bag. The one Mom kept meaning to throw out when he first left for college, but never could. 'I've been wearing thislately. When things get... when I need...' He trails off.

My throat tightens."That's a good idea. Keep it close to you,"I manage."Whatever you need to get through this."

He nods,carefullylaying the hoodie on his pillow."You should get back to your team."His eyes are clear and focused for the first time in a long time. And there's something new in them when he looks at me. It feels like understanding. Or acceptance."Back to your friend, Jamie."

Heat floods my face, but I don't deny it."Yeah. I shouldprobablyget going."

"Tell him..."Dad clears his throat. 'Tell him thanks. For his mother's help. For... everything."

"I'll visit,"I say, surprised by how much I want to do it."And when you're allowed, I'll call you. A lot."

Dad nods, his shoulders relaxing a little."They said there's family therapy sessions… later on in the program. If you want…"He lets the invitation hang.

"Yeah."My voice comes out rough."Yeah, that sounds like a good idea."

The intake counselor comes back in, her clipboard in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. She hands it to Dad with an encouraging smile."Ready for those assessments, Mr. Collings?"

He squares his shoulders."As I'll ever be."He turns to me."You don't need to stay for this part, son."

Something in his tone reminds me of Mom. That gentle firmness she'd get when she knewexactlywhat we needed. "You're sure?'

"I'm sure."He attempts a smile. It's rusty but real."Besides, you've got a plane to catch. The team needs their captain."

I hesitate at the door, watching him settle into the chair across from the counselor. He looks smaller in the institutional lighting, but somehow stronger too. Like he'sfinallyready to face everything he's been drowning in whiskey for the past twenty years.

"I'm proud of you too, Dad,"I sayquietly. Then, before I can overthink it, I step forward and pull him into a hug. He stiffens for a moment. We haven't hugged each other like this since Mom's funeral, but when his arms come up around me, they're still strong, despite his shakes. We hold on to each other for a while, both of us pretending not to notice the other's damp eyes when we pull apart. And then I slip out before either of us can get more emotional.

Once I'm in my rental car, I pull out my phone. In the parking lot, I pull out my phone. Three texts from Jamie, each one making my heart beat faster. One from Louis asking for updates. And a missed call from Coach, confirming our practice time tomorrow, while also telling me to take as much time as I need to make sure my dad is okay.

Real life waiting to resume.

But for the first time in forever, I'm not dreading it. Not hiding from it. Dad's doing the work to make himself a better person. Maybe it's time I did too.