“But, Governor,” the reporter said, “we’ve heard several reports that it was Mayor Peters who wished to call out the State Guard within an hour of the police walkout, and that you, sir, and Commissioner Curtis vetoed the idea.”

“Your information is incorrect,” Coolidge said.

“But, Governor—”

“Your information is incorrect,” Coolidge repeated. “This press conference is completed.”

Thomas Coughlin held his son’s hand while he wept. Connor didn’t make a sound, but the tears slid freely from the thick white bandages covering his eyes and rolled off his chin to dampen the collar of his hospital gown.

His mother stared out the window of Mass General, trembling, her eyes dry.

Joe sat in a chair on the other side of the bed. He hadn’t spoken a word since they’d lifted Connor into the ambulance last night.

Thomas touched Connor’s cheek. “It’s okay,” he whispered.

“How’s it okay?” Connor said. “I’m blind.”

“I know, I know, son. But we’ll get through this.”

Connor turned his head away and tried to remove his hand, but Thomas held fast to it.

“Con’,” Thomas said, hearing the helplessness in his own voice, “it’s a terrible blow. Of that there can be little doubt. But don’t give in to the sin of despair, son. It’s the worst sin of all. God will help you through this. He just asks for strength.”

“Strength?” Connor coughed a wet laugh. “I’m blind.”

At the window, Ellen blessed herself.

“Blind,” Connor whispered.

Thomas could think of nothing to say. Maybe this, of all things, was the true price of family—being unable to stop the pains of those you loved. Unable to suck it out of the blood, the heart, the head. You held them and named them and fed them and made your plans for them, never fully realizing that the world was always out there, waiting to apply its teeth.

Danny walked into the room and froze.

Thomas hadn’t thought it through, but he realized immediately what Danny saw in their eyes: They blamed him.

Well, of course they did. Who else was to blame?

Even Joe, who’d idolized Danny for so long, stared up at him with confusion and spite.

Thomas kept it simple. “Your brother was blinded last night.” He raised Connor’s hand to his lips and kissed it. “In the riots.”

“Dan?” Connor said. “That you?”

“It’s me, Con’.”

“I’m blind, Dan.”

“I know.”

“I don’t blame you, Dan. I don’t.”

Danny lowered his head and his shoulders shook. Joe looked away.

“I don’t,” Connor said again.

Ellen left the window and crossed the room to Danny. She placed a hand on his shoulder. Danny raised his head. Ellen looked in his eyes as Danny dropped his hands by his side and turned up the palms.

Ellen slapped him in the face.

Danny’s face crumpled and Ellen slapped him again.

“Get out,” she whispered. “Get out, you…you Bolshevik.” She pointed at Connor. “You did that. You. Get out.”

Danny looked toward Joe, but Joe looked away.