“Make peace with yours, Xander.” His body tensed as I nodded, then turned around and headed back to my Jeep.

“You’re not going to tell me as some kind of punishment?” he called after me.

“It’s not my job to punish you, Xander. Not in anger. Not in jealousy. Not…ever. Read it. Don’t read it. That’s your choice, not mine.”

I already knew what it said.

…

A week later, Dad’s guardianship documents arrived at the mine. Xander signed everything over to me, so we just needed an appointment with the judge to make it official.

At the bottom of the stack was a signed do-not-resuscitate order.

Thirty minutes after telling Dad, who thanked me and promptly hung up, I pulled into my driveway, smiling at the fact that the lights were on, which meant Willow was already here.

“Honey, I’m home,” I called out as I walked in.

“In the library!” she answered.

I left the pizza I’d brought for dinner on the kitchen table and walked in to see her sketching at the easel. Her hands moved gracefully over Rose’s face, adding details as she tilted her head this way and that.

“How was your day?” she asked, setting the pencil down and walking over to loop her arms around my neck.

“I don’t have the Alzheimer’s gene.”

“Okay?” Her brows lowered in confusion.

“I had the test run because Dad’s is genetic. I don’t have it.” I wrapped my arms around her waist, still surprised all these months later that I got to do it.

“Oh, good.” She leaned up and kissed me. “That’s a load off.”

“Wait, you’ve thought about it?” I pulled back just enough to look in her eyes.

“I figured if you wanted to get tested, you would, and if you didn’t, that was okay, too.” She shrugged.

“And if I had it?” My heart clenched at the thought of not recognizing her one day.

“Then, we’d make the best of the years we had.”

I lifted her in my arms and walked to the armchair, adjusting her so she straddled my lap. “But now you have me for a lot of years.”

“Seems like it,” she noted with a grin, throwing my very words back at me. “Did I mention that Walt called about you taking your dad’s seat on the Historical Society council?” she asked with a scrunched nose.

“No.” I shook my head.

“No, I didn’t tell you, or no, you don’t want it?”

I groaned, letting my head fall back against the couch. “Can no just be the universal answer?”

“Not if you want to do some good.” She kissed my nose.

“You’re my good.” I settled my hands on her hips and tugged her closer.