Rushed(65)

“One of your rules?” I ask, and Tyler shakes his head. “What then?”

“An idle wish. We'll discuss it after the game, okay?”

I shake my head. “Tell you what. You throw another two touchdowns, and we can do the wedding anywhere you want. You don't, and we're doing it where I want.”

“Careful Tyler,” Francine jokes. “You might get married in the middle of Manitoba with snow up to your butts that way.”

“Then I guess I'll have to throw three, just to make sure I'm not joining the Polar Bear Club. We'll talk after the game.”

Three touchdowns is exactly what Tyler throws, and with the win, the Fighters secure second place in the Eastern Conference, giving us a home game in the first round of the playoffs with one game left up in Edmonton. With my permission Tyler attends the press conference after the game, answering questions about his deal, our engagement, and more. I'm surprised, in fact, when someone calls my name afterward, and I see that it's Trisha James, coming over with a digital recorder in hand. “Miss Gray, can I ask you a few questions?”

I look toward the front of the room, where Tyler's left to shower and get changed, and I nod. “A few. But I'm not used to this sort of thing, so I might not be able to help you out.”

“That won't be a problem,” Trisha says. “Just . . . where did you meet? I checked up on you guys after the television interview, and there's a rumor you two were childhood sweethearts?”

“Something like that,” I admit. “I bet Tyler can tell you the story better than I can for a sit-down if you want to book him.”

“And give him the appearance fee,” Trisha says with a laugh. “You sure you're not becoming his manager instead of his PA?”

“Well, girl power, you know,” I joke. “But no, he's the love of my life. I'm a lucky girl.”

“So are you two going to get married quickly, or wait a while?” Trisha asks. “I've got a friend who works the style and lifestyle desk who might want to know.”

I laugh and shake my head. “I have no clue. I've only been engaged a couple of hours, we'll have to discuss that sort of thing later.”

Trisha clicks off her voice recorder and tucks it into her bag. “And family?”

“We'll see there too,” I answer. “Sorry I couldn't be more help.”

She shakes her head and smiles wistfully. “You were great.”

She gives me a little handshake and leaves, and I head to the back where Tyler is showering. I want to go into the locker room, but that's a players only area, and so I wait in the hallway for him, but not long. Instead, he comes out, and takes my hand. “You know, you didn't have to be quite so impulsive,” I tease as we start to walk. “When I said let it all go . . . I didn't quite mean that.”

“I know,” Tyler says with a chuckle. “Just . . . from the time I first started playing football, I've always wanted to do something like that on the field. No better day than today.”

“Even with what we might find out Monday?” I ask, worried. “Tyler . . . I don't want to rain on our day, but if the tests come back . . .”

“Then we'll be married before the ink's even dry on the diagnosis,” Tyler says quietly. “I will treasure every day with you, and if you can't remember some day . . . I'll remember for the both of us.”

I nod and hug him from the side. “Then let's go home and make some memories.”





Chapter 23





Tyler





The University of Toronto Hospital is supposed to be the best in the city, and some people even say it's the best in Canada, but I'm still nervous as April and I go into the waiting room. Maybe the stories are bullshit, but I wasn't impressed by what I saw at the hospice in London, and I've heard too many stories about the problems of Canadian managed care.

Then again, this is all on the Fighters' supplementary insurance, and with that amount of coverage comes remarkable service. We're seen by the doctor quickly, a redheaded woman named Dr. Banks.

“Miss Gray, have a seat. I read your file, and looked over the DNA scan that the last doctors did four years ago.”

“What did you find?” April asks, and I take a seat on the stool that's against the wall. “Did they miss anything?”

“Not at all. In fact, the test was done by one of my mentors,” Dr. Banks says. “Still, I went line by line through the scan, and there's nothing there that says that you are genetically inclined toward early onset Alzheimer's.”

“Then what's with these mood swings? I'm bitchy half the time, crying another half, and just feeling off the rest of the time,” April protests, then takes a deep breath. “See what I mean?”

Dr. Banks taps at her clipboard, thinking. “Well, how about I run you through the cognitive tests, and we can take another blood sample? I won't get the genetic lab results back for a month or so, but the cognitive tests can at least give us a baseline.”

“Why a month?” I protest, suddenly upset. I've tried to be April's rock this whole time, but I can't hold back any more. I need to know as much as she does. “It can't be that hard, can it?”