It's A Wonderful Midlife Crisis (Good To The Last Death #1) - Robyn Peterman Page 0,31

that why they were so enthusiastic?

Only one way to find out.

“Okay, Sam, I’m going to hug you and then somehow I’ll understand what you’re trying to tell me about the lost glasses. Right?”

“Dausseeeeee, haaawug.”

“Here goes nothing,” I muttered as I wrapped my arms around what was left of Sam.

I kind of thought my arms might go right through him, but they didn’t. He was solid in my embrace—very frail, but solid. “It’s okay, Sam,” I whispered as his fragile body shook. “I’ve got you. Talk to me.”

My first mistake was hugging my friend. My second was asking him to talk to me.

At least I adored Sam. Dying while hugging a ghost was a weird way to go out. I hoped that one of my friends would take Donna in. I’d hate it if she had to go back to the shelter.

The cold. The cold went all the way to my bones and tore through my body like sharp, frozen daggers made of ice. Trying to catch my breath, I gasped for air and screamed.

The only sound that left my lips came from so far away I could barely hear it.

My head pounded violently and every single cell in my body screamed for oxygen. I tried to pull away from Sam but we were locked together in a deadly embrace.

I thought Sam was my friend. I was wrong. Had the past few weeks been a psycho build-up to my own death? Would I end up in my house haunting whoever bought it?

“I can’t breathe,” I called out into the darkness that clouded my vision. “Heavy. Too heavy on my chest. I can’t breathe.”

Sam’s arms—or I think it was Sam’s arms—tightened around me and something gently rubbed my head.

My mind went numb and I couldn’t feel my limbs anymore. I vaguely wondered if they had fallen off. Would I be able to find another whack job like me who would glue me back together?

Forgive me whoever might be listening. Please. Forgive me.

My skin felt like ice. When did it get so cold? It was only October. If I could find Gram’s afghan I would be okay.

Oh my God. Gram will be so upset that I died. It’s not the natural order. She already lost her daughter. She couldn’t lose her granddaughter too.

Yes. Yes, she could.

“Daisy?” a male voice said softly. “Stay with me. Don’t walk into the light and never walk into the darkness. Promise me.”

“Who’s talking to me?” I asked, surprised my voice worked. Was it God? Did he really exist? He had a very nice voice—kind of like I’d imagined it should be. I supposed it could be Satan—if he was real—but I didn’t think the devil would sound as fatherly as the person speaking to me.

That is, if I wasn’t imagining it…

“It’s Sam.”

“Shit. Sam, I thought you just murdered me or that you might be God. Am I dead?”

“No, my sweet young lady. You are very much alive.”

“Can you explain to me what the hell just happened?” I asked, still unable to see anything but darkness.

Sam didn’t answer for a moment. “I can’t because I don’t know.”

“Will I be able to leave this place?” I asked, terrified that he wouldn’t know the answer to that either.

“I was told that you will be able to go back.”

“By who?” I demanded, peering into the darkness to try to see Sam.

Nothing. I could see nothing.

“I don’t know,” he told me.

“Umm… that’s not very encouraging, Sam,” I snapped. “Where are you? I can’t see a damned thing.”

“Close your eyes, Daisy,” Sam said soothingly as I felt a gentle hand cup my face lovingly. “My voice won’t last much longer. I’ll show you in a picture what I need from you.”

“Will it hurt?” I asked. I was kind of done feeling like I was dying.

Sam’s chuckle was exactly as I would have imagined it—patient, kind and warm. “No, Daisy. It will not hurt. After we’re done, open your eyes. Remember, do not walk into the light or the darkness. Promise me.”

“I promise,” I said, closing my eyes and waiting for the next round of oxygen deprivation.

Pictures raced across my vision so quickly I couldn’t make them out. It was like an old static-filled black-and-white TV screen was inside my head. Catching glimpses of a smiling man and woman, I relaxed. The pictures began to come into clearer focus.

The man had to be a younger Sam. He was quite dapper, and in most of the images that whizzed by he was laughing and smiling. The