“I will. Thanks, Adam. I’ll take whatever help I can get at this point. Mac and Evan don’t want to talk about it either, so they aren’t much help, and Dan is in pretty rough shape. The ribs are giving him a lot of grief. Janey is so pregnant and hormonal, your mom drives him crazy, and your dad can’t talk about any of it without weeping, which makes it harder on Grant.” She threw her hands into the air. “You might be exactly what we need.”

“I won’t leave until he’s better. I promise.”

She surprised him when she hugged him again. “Sorry to be so blunt about your family.”

Adam laughed and patted her back. “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know, and I’m happy to do what I can to help.”

“I have to go, but let me give you my cell number so we can keep in touch.”

They programmed numbers into each other’s phones and were swapping them back when Mac and Big Mac came into the restaurant, both of them grinning widely.

“What’s this we hear about a visitor?” Mac asked.

Their father made a beeline for Adam, enveloping him in a bear hug that brought tears to Adam’s eyes. His father had worn the same aftershave all of Adam’s life, and it was one of the many familiar scents of home.

“So nice to see you, son,” Big Mac said, stepping back to take a close look at Adam. “You look tired. Have you been sleeping?”

“Not so well in the last week.”

“Me either.”

Big Mac looked a little haggard around the edges, but with his usual aviator sunglasses in place over his eyes, Adam couldn’t gauge the true extent of his father’s exhaustion.

Mac playfully nudged their father out of the way so he could hug Adam. “Hey, little brother.” Mac messed up his hair the way he always did, and as usual, it aggravated Adam. “Good of you to come check on us.”

“I’ve got to run,” Stephanie said to them. “See you all later.”

“Bye, Steph.”

“Buy you some chowder, son?” Big Mac asked, gesturing to a free table.

“I won’t say no to that. I haven’t eaten in hours. The boat was kinda barfy today.”

“Imagine it would be with the wind whipping the way it is,” Big Mac said as he signaled to one of the young women behind the counter to bring them three bowls of chowder.

“Coming right up, Mr. McCarthy.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Big Mac removed his shades and propped them on the top of his wiry gray hair.

Adam bit back a gasp when he got a good look at his dad’s eyes, which were red and ravaged.