Some people needed the city.
He needed the sand. The water.
“A steady lay?”
He chuckled. “Don’t be a brat, Darcy. I don’t tell you how to live your romantic life. Stay out of mine.”
“I have one. You don’t.”
“Out.” He shook his head, even though she couldn’t see.
“Fine.” She paused. “Hey, Dax?”
“Yeah?”
“Is Dad going to get better?”
It hurt to hear the question, knowing how he had to answer. “He looks great. You just caught him in a bad moment, Darcy.” Dave Smith was dying. If not by Christmas, then the beginning of the year, according to the professionals in the white coats.
“Promise to call if anything changes.”
“Cross my heart.”
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