“Well, I guess you’re pretty enough,” he commented and stood.

“Dad, you can’t call her pretty.” I cringed in Nikki’s direction. “Sorry.”

“No worries. I’ve been called worse.” She shrugged it off.

“Why not? Look at her. Red hair, nice skin. I like pretty girls. We’ll get along just fine if you don’t talk through the show.” Xander moved his walker, and Dad stepped into it, leaning heavily for support.

Nikki smiled and took Dad to the living room as Xander and I carried the remaining dishes to the kitchen.

“So you’ll take his keys to save his life, but you’re going to take me to court for a DNR so he can end it,” Xander accused as I washed what was in the sink.

“Not the same thing,” I argued, loading the dishes into the dishwasher.

“Really. Because if you think he’s lucid enough to say he wants a DNR, then he should be lucid enough to drive, right?”

I shut the dishwasher and turned to face my brother.

“What? No answers to that?” He shoved his arms through his suit coat and stared me down with an open disdain he’d hidden from our father.

“You still don’t see?” I asked quietly. “After everything in the hospital, when he woke up screaming because he didn’t know where he was or why there was a tube down his throat. You think he wants to live like that? Tied down with restraints while his own sons hold him prisoner?”

“Twelve days!” Xander snapped. “It was twelve days in the hospital, and now he’s home. And half the time, he’ll be Dad. So yeah, I’m willing to take those shitty days so we can have the few good ones that we do. Because I love him and I will keep him on this earth as long as I can.”

“You’ll take the shitty days?” I shook my head. “You didn’t take the shitty days, Xander. He did. You watched. At some point you’re going to see that this has never been about what you want—what I want. It’s about what he wants.”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, all the time using our family mine to try and sway public opinion to your side, try to convince everyone that you’re some kind of reformed hero. That’s all about Dad. Sure. I’m telling you, brother, they’ll be grateful for the income, but it won’t work to get the people or the judge on your side. I know Alba a little better than you do.”

He couldn’t have hit the mark any closer yet been further off. I didn’t give a fuck if Alba saw me as their tourism savior. I cared that they trusted me enough to give Dad what he wanted.