Emma slapped her hands against the counter and straightened. She would shower, dab some vitamin C and concealer under her eyes, and drive to the damn barbecue.
* * *
The acrid smell of disinfectant filled Tyler's nostrils as he stepped off the elevator. He walked to the nurse’s station and got directions to Troy’s room, then continued on down the hall. He hesitated before the door to Room 314, the beige paint peeling slightly at the edges, the small frosted window allowing only a ghostly glow to seep out. He took a deep breath and gently pushed it open.
The room flickered with light from the television set mounted on the opposite wall, playing a muted nature documentary. The sterile white walls were only interrupted by pastel paintings and the gleaming chrome and digital feeds on the equipment. The faint rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor sang a soft, haunting melody.
In the centre, Troy’s frail figure was swallowed by his bed. His father's once robust frame looked frail, and his usually tan, rugged skin now papery and sallow.
Tyler put a hand on the end of the bed to steady himself as the room spun around him.
Thirteen years ago.The walls then were a cheerful shade of blue, but the rooms were disturbingly similar. That time it had been his mother lying with her eyes closed, a halo of brunette curls framing her pale face.
The flurry of doctors and nurses had left, and the machines were quiet. He hadn’t been allowed in when he’d arrived, and then it’d been too late. He remembered sitting in the chair next to her and picking up her hand, already growing cold.
Tyler squeezed his eyes shut and waited for his head to clear.These machines were still beeping.
“Ty?” His father stirred, and Tyler straightened.
“Hey, Dad.” He forced his feet to move and rounded the bed, pulling the chair pressed against the wall to the side of the bed. Tyler reached out, taking his father's limp hand into his own.
Troy gave him a weak smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling with warmth. "How was Canmore?”
The wound he’d been working to patch all day split wide open. “The hotel was gorgeous. Emma and I were both floored.”
“Then why didn’t you stay?” Troy wheezed.
Tyler frowned. “We did, we—”
“I had a voicemail asking if I wanted to reschedule the couples massage.”
“You’re checking your voicemails?”
Troy grinned. “What else do I have to do in here?”
Tyler patted his dad’s hand and leaned back in his chair. “Where’s Gina?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
Tyler coughed a laugh and ran a hand over his face. “Well, it turns out I’m a lot like you.”
Troy didn’t answer, just watched him with watery eyes. A lump formed in Tyler’s throat, but the words he’d wanted to speak for over twenty-four hours now wouldn’t be held back any longer.
“Emma and I aren’t together. We met the way I told you and then found out we had a connection through my hockey team. I won’t go into details, but for various reasons, we pretended to be—”
“That’s bullshit.”
Tyler stiffened. “Yeah, I realize—”
“Bullshit that you two aren’t together! You’re telling me you came to work on property forweeksfor a ruse?” Troy shook his head. “I see the way you look at her.”
Something pinched under Tyler’s ribs, and he shifted in his chair. “It was stupid. She got attached, and I can’t give her what she wants.”
“What does she want?”
Tyler leaned forward and rested his elbows on the side of the bed, dropping his head into his hands. “Not a guy with a rotating door to his bedroom.”
Troy exhaled slowly. “You know doors can always be switched out.”
