“You are one wily, crafty son of a gun, you know that! You’re trying to sweet-talk me, and I’m not buying it. You are going with me, and you are not coming back here. I have big plans for you. And the first thing is a shopping trip, after which we’re going to stop at a florist, buy them out, go to the cemetery, and have a talk with Mom before I take you to your new digs.”

“What are my other options?”

In spite of himself, Cosmo laughed out loud. “You don’t have any options. When was the last time you ate a good meal?”

The old man shrugged. “At my age, food isn’t all that important. If you were so worried about my meal planning, why didn’t you bring me food? Aha, see, I got you there.” He cackled.

“I did bring you food, but you wouldn’t let me in. You had the deadbolts on all the doors. I left the food outside the door. Don’t go trying to throw this back on me. You screwed up royally, Dad, not me. Mom would definitely not approve. Most definitely not.”

“And you’re a smart-ass too,” the old man said, finally giving in. “Cossy?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you really mean it when you said I wasn’t going to be coming back here ever again? Or were you just funning with me?”

“I’ll bring you back anytime you want, but not to stay. This place—and Pop, I love it as much as you do—it’s the past. Neither one of us can function here. Like I said, Mom wouldn’t want us to do that. This big old house, with all its warts, is now just a memory for us. I need you to tell me you understand before we walk out that door.”

The old man took his time responding. Cosmo was about ready to put his fist through the wall just as his father responded. “I understand, Cossy. I really do.”

“Okay, then. Let’s do what we have to do and hit up Longhorns for the biggest rib eye they can conjure up. You think you can handle a pitcher of beer with that rib eye?”

“Do dogs have fleas?” Henry Cricket said, laughing. The sound brought pure joy to his son’s heart.

Chapter 1

Ten years later

It was a room.

But it wasn’t just any room. This room had no windows. Aside from a closet built into the wall and a small lavatory off to the side, it was just a square box of a room.

What made this particular room different was the single hospital bed and the machines that beeped and pinged constantly along with the sound of a wheezing ventilator.

And, of course, the second difference was the VIP patient hooked up to the ventilator and the machines that beeped and pinged every second of the day.

The third difference, if you were counting, was the woman dressed in a blue paper gown who sat at the side of the hospital bed holding the patient’s hand. She’d barely moved, eaten, or slept in the ninety-six hours she’d been in the box of a room.