“What?” I’m confused. “Why? We aren’t Catholic.” Mom used to attend the Bayview United Baptist church, but Dad hasn’t gone since her death. He still gives a lot of money because good businessmen do that sort of shit. People down here are big on church, as if showing up in a pew on Sunday can wash away all the bad deeds you did during the week.

“I know but I thought it might help.”

Sawyer’s at the end of his rope if he’s going down to the chapel to list out his sins in hopes that some greater being is going to bring Seb back to us. I crouch down and put an arm across the back of his chair. “So you went to confession, told the man wearing a paper collar that you were into kinky shit, and he told you that’s why Seb is laid out in the hospital bed.”

Sawyer holds still and then nods slowly, his hands still covering his face.

“I don’t think God works that way. There are plenty of churchgoing people who die all the time.”

“I know.” He rubs his eyes with his palms, still shielding himself from my view. It’s obvious he’s upset about more than whatever that priest said to him.

“Hey.” I touch his shoulder, but he still doesn’t look up. “What’s going on?”

He mumbles something I can’t make out.

I lean in closer. “What?”

Sawyer finally raises his head. His eyes are flat, his tone even more so. “Lauren broke up with me—us,” he amends ruefully.

“Fuck.” But I’m not surprised. She hasn’t been here at all as far as I’ve seen. “Did she call you?”

He snorts. “Text. ‘I can’t see you anymore. This is too hard.’”

Class act, that girl. I was never crazy about her, but always treated her with respect for the twins’ sakes. Out loud, I say, “I’m sorry, man.”

“Yeah, well, at first, I was worried about how I was going to tell Seb, but now I don’t know if I’ll get a chance.”

“He’s going to wake up,” I say with more confidence than I feel. “And then the two of you will find an even hotter chick to flaunt in Lauren’s face and she’ll kick herself for being stupid enough to dump you guys. And you know what else? You leaving for five minutes to shower and eat isn’t going to be the difference between Seb waking up now and Seb waking up in a half hour. Besides, you know if the places were switched, you wouldn’t want him sitting here all day either.”

He searches my face as if I have some answer to the universe there. Whatever he sees must satisfy him because he gives a small nod and stands. He sways a little—unsteady like Bambi. I have a sudden flashback to when the twins were five and running down the beach, tripping every other yard because their feet were too big for their bodies. And you couldn’t offer them a hand because, even then, these two only wanted to rely on each other.

“Go on.” I give him a gentle but firm shove on the shoulder. “I got this. Let your older brother do something useful for once.”

“If he wakes up—”

“I’m going to smother him with the pillow. What the fuck? Of course I’m going to come get you.” I give him another push and then another until he’s moving of his own accord.

I wait until he disappears into the bathroom before taking a seat. Then I get up immediately. Sawyer’s sat so long in this one chair that the cushion is permanently indented to the shape of my brother’s ass. Shaking my head, I grab another chair and drag it next to Seb’s bed.

“You should wake up. You’re worrying your brother. He’s making himself sick sitting next to your bed all day.”

Seb remains motionless.

“Ah, hell, maybe it’s better where you are.” I run a hand through my hair and lean back. “You’re probably driving fast cars, sleeping with gorgeous girls, eating good food without anyone nagging you. Remember how we used to have fun as a family?”

There used to be picnics on the beach, trips on a moment’s notice, Mom coming home from Paris with her hands full of orange and black boxes. We’d have movie night in the media room with popcorn and homemade milkshakes. Mom did a lot of the cooking, so Sandy, our housekeeper, wasn’t around as much. I strain to reach those memories, but I can’t pull up any solid images—only fleeting feelings. These days the only time I can recreate that atmosphere is after a drink or five.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. I really need a drink. I glance at the clock. Sawyer’s been in the shower for five minutes. The water’s still running. Can I sneak out, find the gift shop, and get back before he notices?

I’m halfway out of my seat when the shower turns off. Fuck. I sit back down.

“Seb, as soon as Sawyer’s gone, I’m going to make a booze run. That way when you wake up, we’ll have something on hand to celebrate with.” I knock my fist against the bed, but Seb doesn’t move. I get up and grab my backpack. “I brought some porn for you today.” I pull out the flight catalog. “They put the AAV 510 into production. The twin engine goes a sweet 285 miles per hour and can travel 8500 nautical miles before refueling, which is enough to get from New York to Tokyo without the stop in Anchorage. The interior kits are Napa leather and mahogany—matte not gloss because that shit is out.”

Sawyer strolls out of the bathroom wearing a set of hospital scrubs and toweling his hair. “What the hell are you reading to him?”