And these new expectations Rachel had conjured of a cozy, safe haven and a loving home’s embrace? The way he was unable to sleep until he knew she was home safe and sound? They stunk. Were dangerous. He’d ridden that train a million times before. Every time his mom showed up at the ranch, sometimes on her own, sometimes with a new guy in tow. She’d coo over Mick, how big he had gotten, wrapping him in her perfumed arms, kissing and hugging him with tears in her eyes. She made all kinds of promises. Talking about how she was saving up, and one day she was going to take him home with her. A real home and he’d have his own bedroom, a bike, and maybe she’d even be able to get a place with a backyard and a swing tied to the branch of an old oak tree. Yeah. She spun pretty pictures, his mom. Carrying them out? Not so much. He fell for it, over and over, and then one day he just knew it was never going to happen. The next time she came to visit, he didn’t bother coming out of his room to say hello. Mick heard her arrive, greeting all the girls. She had her party voice on because she had a new boyfriend in tow. Mick had seen them pull into the parking lot and get out of the car. “Where’s Mick?” his mom had said. “Where’s my darling boy?” He waited until they entered the front door, and then he climbed out his bedroom window and started running. Missed dinner. Didn’t matter. Every once in a while, she’d stepped out into the parking lot, shielding her eyes from the sun, hollering his name, but he didn’t come. No point. Couldn’t stomach playing the game, hearing the lies, pretending he believed her. He stayed on his rock, hidden from the ranch by a creosote bush that smelled like rain. The moon came out, the stars, too. Finally she and her “friend” left. He had waited for another half hour in case it was a trick. But it wasn’t. She was gone. And when he stopped crying, he wiped his face, returned to the ranch, climbed through his window, and crawled into bed.

No. Mick knew not to believe in fairy tales. Not anymore. They needed to be stamped out before they could take root and do permanent harm.

He needed to let Rachel go.

He would.

Just not yet.

The elevator binged for the fifth floor, and the stainless-steel elevator doors slid open. A woman with a cane slowly shuffled out. Mick stepped around her, glanced at the hospital map in his hand, then turned right.

When he inquired at the nurse’s station at the end of the hall, a young nurse with a ponytail slipped out from behind the desk and led Mick to Lois’s room.