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.
“Because Dad made it my choice the minute he signed that damned power of attorney.” The fork hit his plate. “Look, I’m genuinely glad you’re home. I’ve missed you, and we need you. But I’ll be damned if you tell me to kill our father a week after you pull into town because you have a voicemail. You don’t even know if he was lucid when he left it.”
“That’s not what I said.” Black and white, the lines were drawn, just like Dad had noted.
“It sure sounds like it.” His jaw muscle flexed.
A decade in the army had taught me when to retreat and regroup. This was definitely that moment. “I just want to honor Dad’s wishes,” I said softly. “Let’s drop it.”
“And I’m just trying to show him that his good days are worth living for. He’s only been diagnosed for two years, and the days he’s lucid enough to realize what’s going on are devastating for him. He’s still dealing. We both are.”
And I wasn’t? Maybe I’d lost the right when I brought our little brother home in a box.
I started eating to keep my mouth busy, and Xander followed suit.
A few minutes later, Willow walked in. She shed her coat, tossing it to her sister behind the bar, and I stopped chewing. Stopped breathing. Stopped thinking.
Her long-sleeve pink shirt hugged every damn curve she had up top, while her jeans did the job on her bottom a little too well. Her hair fell down her back in soft waves, every color from mahogany to amber catching the light as she moved.
Okay, maybe I was losing my mind, noticing her damned hair. But my hands itched to bury my fingers in it, to wrap it around my palms and tug her closer.
And that smile…
I jerked my gaze back to my plate. Do not think about her like that. If I could have flipped myself the bird, I would have. Telling myself not to picture her under me was one thing, and getting my mind to cooperate was quite another.
It was Willow, for God’s sake. The same Willow who’d grown up underfoot. The one who’d spent her summers swimming in the hot springs between our houses. The one who’d held ice to my battered twelve-year-old face after I’d won the first fight I’d ever gotten into. The fight she’d tried to stop, putting herself between me and Scott Malone, who’d been picking on her like the spoiled asshat he was. The same Willow who’d let me sleep on her floor a year later, the night Mom died, linking her fingers with mine when she’d heard me crying.
The same Willow who fell for my little brother the summer she’d turned seventeen.
That one fact eclipsed every other detail— She was Sullivan’s.
“So are you thinking about coming to the Historical Society meeting? We could sure use your opinions and expertise,” Xander said, breaking the silence.
“When have I ever had any expertise you could find helpful?” I countered.
“You’re a civil engineer, right?”
“So my degree says.” The degree that had taken me eight years to complete, between deployments and ops that gave me a shit ton of real-world experience.
“Then you’re pretty much the most useful guy in Alba.” He tipped his beer to me like some kind of salute. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but we have a few buildings that aren’t exactly up to code.” He paused. “You know, because they were built in the 1880s?”
Willow took a seat at the bar, and Oscar Hudgens noticed, leaning so far back on his stool that I thought gravity might help me out.
“Cam?” Xander called.
“Yeah.” I whipped my attention back to my brother. “I’ll be there.”
“Good. Oh, look, Jonathan Young just sat down.” He nodded toward another table. “Give me a second, would you? I need his help with a council vote.”
I nodded. Or something. Alexander disappeared as Oscar stumbled off his barstool, headed toward Willow.
My feet took me across the bar before my head could object.
“Hey, Charity, any chance I can grab the bill before my perfect older brother tries to pay it?” I asked, leaning over the vacant stool next to Willow.
“Cam! I thought that was you! Sure thing—just give me a second to get Jenny.” Charity offered me a bright smile.
“Thanks.”
She went to find our waitress, and I turned to Willow, who was already watching me.
I held her silent, questioning gaze as the track changed on the jukebox.
“Willow Bradley,” Oscar slurred. “You sure are looking— Whoa. Cam?” Oscar’s words slurred together.
I pivoted, a wave of pity washing over me. He looked like crap.
“You’re home.” He swayed toward me.
“Apparently.”
“Good.” He swung, throwing his weight behind the punch that came surprisingly quick for someone as drunk as he was.
I could have stopped it.
Instead, I let his fist connect.
Chapter Six
Willow
My heart lurched as Oscar swung.
Cam’s head snapped to the side.
That dull thud of fist meeting face was a sound I’d never wanted to hear again. Ironically, I’d only ever heard it in Camden Daniels’s presence.
But usually Cam was the one delivering the hits, not taking them.
“I’ve been waiting six years to do that,” Oscar shouted, jabbing his finger in Cam’s direction and swaying.
“And I probably deserved it,” Cam admitted as he straightened his posture. “But it’s the only one you get.” He didn’t swipe at his cheek to see if there was blood. He simply stepped to his side, blocking me from Oscar.