I took my cell phone from the back pocket of my jeans and scrolled through to my voicemail. Then I tapped the saved message and hit speakerphone, putting it between us as it played.

“Camden. It’s your father. I don’t even know where you are anymore. This isn’t easy for me to say, but you need to come back. Alexander is overwhelmed. He takes on so much for me, for the town… You know him. I’m losing myself more every day, and it’s dragging him down. Your brother needs you. He’s so good but so stubborn. He sees the world in black and white, no grays. Not like you do. I want a DNR, Camden. Alexander thinks that means I’m ready to die, and that’s not what this is about. I’ll keep living as long as God wants, but if He calls me home to your mother, to Sullivan, then I don’t want to be held here by extraordinary measures. I deserve to make that choice. You’re the only one Alexander will listen to and—”

The voicemail ended.

Xander blinked and picked up my phone, no doubt looking for the second part of the message.

“That’s all there is,” I told him as he handed it back to me.

“He can’t…” Xander hesitated, shaking his head. “He has no clue what he’s asking for. He’s probably not even lucid in that message.” He dug back into his eggs.

“He’s asking for a DNR. Does he have one?” I asked, leaning forward.

“Hell no, he doesn’t,” Xander snapped. “You think I want to bury our father? He’s fifty-eight years old.”

Shit. This was going to be way harder than I’d originally thought.

“Has he mentioned it to you?”

“Sure.” He waved a fork. “In passing a few times, but it’s always been while he’s depressed, and I’m not helping our father kill himself.” He jabbed the fork in my direction.

“That’s not what he’s asking for.” I kept my voice as level as possible, watching the color rise in his cheeks.

“It’s close enough.”

“Even if it were, he’s the one asking for it. It’s his life. His body. His decision. The fact that you have his medical power of attorney means you’re the only one who can legally do it for him.” How could Xander go against what Dad clearly wanted?

“Right. I do. And I say no, Camden. He’s not getting a DNR.”

“How is that your choice to make?” An edge crept into my tone.