My secretary, Tonya, had a new baby girl. Ms. Woaweesa had gotten a couple of new cats. And just last month, the two of us stood up for Coach Murdock and young Rob Hill’s secret wedding. They would have to keep their marriage under wraps for another couple of years until Rob finished college and Brick was no longer his coach. After that, they could live openly as man and boy. It warmed my heart to see them almost as happy as Austin and me.

It started off as a normal Tuesday night in June. I came home to find a dinner of tortilla soup, beans, and corn waiting on me. Of course, Austin usually avoided the beans and corn—for obvious reasons. I fucked the boy in the shower after dinner, and then we cuddled up on the couch and streamed the first two parts of a mini-series called: Keegan Kennedy’s The Harbinger, starring: Elijah Wood, Naomi Watts, Gabourey Sidibe, Colton Haynes, Julianne Hough, and Meryl Streep as Beulah. Then we crawled into bed where Austin spent an hour sitting on my face before I had him so wet that he slid down on my big cock. We were dead asleep when the landline rang from the nightstand.

I looked over at the clock to see that it was 2:30 in the morning. Phone calls coming in this late at night were never good news.

I grabbed the phone. “Someone better be dead or in some damn coma if you’re calling this late!” I blasted.

“Yes, uh,” the older woman’s voice seemed taken aback. “I’m calling for Austin Smith.”

“The boy goes by Austin Ford now – I’m his husband,” I said gruffly.

“Hank, who is it?” Austin asked groggily, sitting up in bed.

I had a bad feeling about this, so I didn’t answer him. The lady on the phone had gone silent.

“You can talk to me – what’s your business with Austin?!”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “But this is Nurse Fogarty calling from Des Moines Methodist.” I looked briefly into Austin’s wide eyes. “His mother, Angie Smith, is here in critical condition.”

“Oh,” I said. I put my hand over the phone. “It’s your momma. She’s in the hospital over in Des Moines.”

Frowning, the boy shrugged. “Not our problem.”

“How bad off is she?” I asked the nurse.

“Sir, between us, she ain’t got much longer for this world. If your… husband,” she paused, “wants to see his mother again, I strongly recommend that you get down here as soon as possible.”

“Thanks,” I said, hanging up. “I’ll let him know.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Austin scowled. “Is she drying out or did she have too much sex down at the truck stop and damage her vagina?”

I didn’t begrudge the boy his bitter words—Angie deserved everything he was saying, but this was different.

“Austin,” I said, taking a deep breath, “your momma is dying. We gotta get to Des Moines…”

I drove down Interstate 80 with the flashers on, and we made the nearly two-hour drive in an hour’s time.