Two Minutes Dead, One-Eyed Barnaby Alive: When Family Love Becomes a Bill

out at the lake, the thin ice at the edges glittering like glass.

“I’ll come,” I said.

Darla’s shoulders relaxed, relief flooding her features.

“But not as the wallet,” I added. “As her father. That’s it.”

Darla’s relief froze.

She opened her mouth to argue.

Barnaby barked once—sharp, final—like a gavel.

Darla flinched.

I couldn’t help it.

I smiled a little.continue reading …