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looked away as he clenched his jaw. He tried to hide it, but pure pain reflected in his eyes. Mac wanted to help, wanted to comfort, wanted to touch those curls himself, but now wasn’t the time.
    “I hope he’s better soon. I’ll be in touch.” He handed the keys to Tommy, and they got out of the car.
    Tommy pocketed them, none the wiser to Mac’s theft.
    ***
    Tommy glanced down at the clock on his cell phone as he sprinted up the stairs to the third floor ICU. He didn’t have time to wait for the slow and overcrowded elevators this morning.
    As he approached his brother’s hospital room, the doctor he wanted to speak to stepped out. Relief washed over him. He hadn’t missed him. “Dr. Phillips, please tell me you have some good news for me this morning.”
    Dr. Phillips looked up at Tommy, and his expression quickly fell into derision. Something about this guy made Tommy feel like he was personally responsible for cutting into the doctor’s golf tee times. Tommy wouldn’t give a flying fuck except he needed this doctor to keep Ryder alive. He had to suck it up when it came to the doc’s bad attitude.
    “What did the tests this morning show?” Tommy asked.
    “That your brother appears to be one of the lucky ones despite his stupid actions. According to the EEG, his brain is showing more activity, and it looks like he’s coming out of the coma.”
    “Oh, thank God. So, that means he’ll recover, right?”
    The doctor gave a deep, long-suffering sigh, and Tommy clenched his jaw. He’d really like to lay this guy low, but he wouldn’t. He would stay polite if it killed him.
    “His long-term prognosis is hard to determine at this point, but after his previous brain damage, it would be prudent for you to be prepared that he may not ever fully recover from this.”
    Tommy’s stomach sank to his feet. While he’d had a feeling that was the case after the diagnosis two—or was it three—days ago, hearing the truth took his breath away. Spots encroached on his vision.
    “Regardless,” the doctor continued, “your brother is going to need long term care in a treatment facility, for his physical and mental recovery as well as his drug rehabilitation. You need to be prepared for that. The nurses at the front desk will have a list of appropriate facilities in the area. We’ll need to know where you want to send him for the next step.”
    Tommy gritted his teeth. He still refused to believe his brother had become a drug addict, and he hadn’t seen the signs. Yes, he’d been busy the last couple of months, but wouldn’t he have noticed that? But if this wasn’t a case of accidental overdose, that meant Ryder had deliberately tried to kill himself. Was that any better? It was all bad, no matter how Tommy looked at it.
    And now Ryder needed long-term medical care. Would his federal insurance cover it? That had to be expensive. Crap. After the high school football accident, Ryder had lousy insurance, which probably wouldn’t pay for a decent facility. Could he figure out a way to pay the difference for a better place? Would it make a difference anymore?
    He ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, thank you, doctor. Can I go in and see him now?”
    Dr. Phillips gave a distracted wave. “What? Oh yes, that’s fine.” He’d already moved on mentally to the next patient.
    No one here cared about Ryder besides him. To them, he was just another druggie who wasted his life and their resources. But Tommy wanted to rail at them for the unfairness of that judgment, and all that had befallen Ryder during his very short life. He’d managed to hold it together after being partially paralyzed during his final high school football game, but at twenty-five, he was already too young and beaten down by life to deal with the guilt of their mother dying. Cancer had killed her, not Ryder.
    He’d become depressed. Tommy should have seen the signs of Ryder’s downward spiral, but he’d been dealing with his own grief and