Jamie still couldn’t get used to the look or feel of the rehab center. In theory, he understood that people in treatment weren’t being punished. The people in this facility, in particular, hadn’t been sentenced to rehab. They were there by their own choice, and that was the only way to convince them to actually rehabilitate.

Jamie understood that, but he still couldn’t quite grasp the concept. When he looked around and saw the facility, and he compared the luxury around him to his own admittedly upscale building, he wanted to throw up.

He’d expected mildly yellow walls. Most of the exterior walls here were treated glass, so patients could see the outside world without turning the place into a greenhouse. The place was full of plants, and the walls were soothing colors.

There was no “hospital smell,” no scents of bodily fluids. It almost felt like an office building, or maybe a hotel.

Ryan snorted beside Jamie. If Jamie was disturbed by the opulence of the surroundings, how much worse must it be for Ryan? Jamie lived in some pretty swanky digs.

Ryan’s home now was modest by Roscoe standards, but a year ago it had been a concrete box with a mattress and an exposed toilet. How could he stand to see Tommy, who was the reason Ryan had suffered like that in the first place, living in such a place?

Ryan must have been reading Jamie’s mind, because he offered a wry grin. “‘Least I don’t have to go through detox,” he said. “Trust me, that sucks.”

Jamie frowned. He hadn’t thought about detox. He didn’t want to admit it, either. “I thought you didn’t get hooked on anything.”

“I didn’t.” Ryan glanced around. He didn’t let his eyes rest on any one person — he rarely did, not after getting out of prison. Here, it would just be rude. Jamie could count five different celebrities and three politicians just among the patients walking through the reception area to get to where they were going.

In prison, it would have been seen as a challenge, or a threat.

“But when you’re inside,” Ryan went on, “the guards don’t care what you’re on. You don’t get special treatment because you’re puking, hallucinating, and have cold sweats, you know? It’s brutal. One of my cell mates died from it.”

“Jesus.” Jamie cringed and looked away. He couldn’t imagine going through that, either as the person suffering, or the person trying to nurse him through it. Getting sick after an all-night bender was bad enough.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Ryan continued, shifting his weight a little. “This place is top of the pops. Court-ordered rehab is nothing like this. But for those who can afford it, there’s no reason it shouldn’t be as comfortable as possible. If it helps them to get on their feet, I’m all for it.”

Jamie glanced through the huge plate-glass windows out at the pool, where several patients were learning to swim for the first time. Would Ryan feel the same way if he hadn’t met and married Anthony? Jamie had his doubts, but he kept his mouth shut about it. Anthony had been the best thing in the world for Ryan, and he didn’t need to know any more than that.

The whole facility had been designed like a wheel, with the reception area in the center. Tommy finally approached from the northwest residential wing. He looked good.

Every time Jamie came here, Tommy looked better and better. He’d entered the facility six months ago, when a bed finally opened up in the long-term rehabilitation program. By that point, even though he was trying to quit on his own, his skin had taken on a seemingly permanent yellow tinge and the doctors were worried about his liver.

Now his skin looked almost normal, and he walked more or less upright without slouching or shuffling. His eyes still had a yellow cast to them, but that would clear up with time.

They both hugged Tommy, with Ryan’s hug lasting a little bit longer. “How are you guys?” Tommy asked. He guided them into a visiting area up one of the spokes, where they could get a good view of the activity in the pool. “How’s the baby?”

He pulled his chair a little closer to Ryan’s. Tommy and Ryan had always been close. Jamie had wondered if that would last after Tommy went into recovery, but it seemed like their relationship could withstand the changes sobriety brought with it.

Recovery was the only thing Ryan had ever asked of Tommy, after all.

Ryan grinned and pulled out his phone. He was so proud of Marissa, always showing pictures to anyone who asked. Jamie fought down another wave of jealousy.

He wanted to be the proud papa, busting out the phone to bore people with pictures of a baby who couldn’t really focus her eyes yet. And sure, he was only 25. Maybe, in another life, he wouldn’t have anything to worry about.

As it was, he couldn’t even take his shirt off in front of someone unless they had a medical degree and plastic gloves. A baby was pretty much out of the question. He’d be grateful for his role as the uncle and spoil little Marissa rotten.

Tommy dutifully praised Marissa’s brilliance, sweetness, and beauty. They talked about little things for a few minutes, like the shop, and some of the vocational training Tommy was getting in rehab.

Tommy was making good progress in therapy, he told them. He was learning some good coping mechanisms for when things got to be too much for him, whether grief or guilt. “It’s incredible how bad my mechanisms are — were,” he corrected himself.

“And you don’t think about those things until they come back to bite you in the ass, you know? But it’s an issue. And until I get them under control, I’m always going to have trouble keeping my cravings in line.”

“Well, the good news is you know what the problem is and you know how to solve it.” Jamie managed to smile. What did he know about it, anyway? He hid his dirt away under cloth and lies. “It’ll take time to make yourself actually do it, but at least you know, right?”

“Exactly. And I’ll get there, one day at a time. Right?” Tommy gave them half a smile. “Sometimes it’s more frustrating than others, but it’s worth it. And, you know, I might’ve met someone.”

Jamie and Ryan exchanged glances. Ryan was not about to be the one to rain on Tommy’s parade. He never had been, which was part of how he’d wound up in prison and Tommy had wound up in rehab.

Jamie would be the bad guy. He’d say what needed to be said. “Um, I’m glad you’re meeting people and getting out there and all that, but are you sure that’s the best idea? I mean, two addicts…”

“People with addiction,” Ryan corrected absently, scratching at the stubble on his chin.

“People with addiction,” Jamie amended with a roll of his eyes. “It sounds great on paper, and while things are going well you can support one another. Except if things go south, right? Then it gets harder, because you’ll pull each other right off the wagon.”

Tommy just leaned back in his cushy, stylish chair and laughed. “I didn’t say they were a patient.” He smiled a sly, secretive little smile.

Jamie wanted to know more, but Tommy changed the subject. That only made sense. If his new person wasn’t a patient, they were probably someone who wasn’t supposed to be getting involved with a patient.

The conversation turned to some of the other things Tommy was doing. They talked about how his doctor had him working out more, and how he was finally learning to cook after all this time. “I really messed up my life with all the booze and drugs, and getting my physical health back is going to take a long time.

“It’s going to be on me to make that work. So, I’m learning what I need to know to make those choices for when I get out, so I’m not wasting this opportunity like I have so many others.”

Ryan squeezed Tommy’s hand and smiled, and Jamie looked away. Ryan might be on board with forgiving, but Jamie still went back and forth — probably because he had less to forgive, and more to be ashamed of, than Ryan did.

Jamie and Ryan stuck around a little while, and then they both had to get back to work. Ryan couldn’t take too much time away from the shop, and Jamie had an appointment in the afternoon he wasn’t willing to skip. They hopped into Jamie’s Audi and headed back into town.

A storm looked like it was rolling in from the southwest, but Jamie didn’t pay it much mind. The mountains usually deflected most of the weather around here. That was why they called it a desert.

They drove for a few minutes, and then Ryan turned to look right at Jamie. “So. What’s been going on with you?”

“Nothing’s going on with me.” Jamie huffed out a little laugh. “Nothing’s ever going on with me, bro. It’s always the same. Work all day, party all night, lather, rinse, repeat.”

“Now I know that’s horseshit.” Ryan grinned and looked back out the windshield. “When I left, you were a skinny little kid. When I came back, you were a grown-ass man throwing all-night ragers.

“See? Things change. So, I’ve got to know. What’s going on with you?”

Jamie clenched his jaw, but then he relaxed it. Ryan hadn’t exactly had a choice about leaving. He’d confessed to a crime someone else had done, but his parents could have prevented everything that happened after that if they had decided to do so. They hadn’t.

“You’ve already confessed your deepest and darkest secrets to me,” he said, suspecting Ryan hadn’t, “so I guess I owe you.”

“Exactly!” Ryan said, slapping his hand on his knee in big-brother triumph. “It’s a quid pro quo thing.”

“Don’t …. don’t go Hannibal Lecter on me, okay?” Jamie made a face. “It’s just creepy.” He took a deep breath, tightened his grip on the steering wheel, and came clean. “I’ve got a situation.”

“Isn’t that the guy on that show with the dipshits in New Jersey?”

Jamie laughed. “It’s also a problem,” he said, grinning. Ryan had always been his favorite. Maybe part of the reason Jamie had trouble forgiving Tommy was because Ryan had always been so wrapped up in helping Tommy, and Jamie had been jealous.

“There’s a guy. I’m kind of into him. And I really, really shouldn’t be. I mean, for one thing, he’s gone out of his way to hurt the family in the past.”

Ryan’s face darkened. “Hurt the family how?”

“Business.” Jamie swallowed. Ryan would figure it out. He’d figure it all out.

Sure enough, Ryan said, “It’s that Patrick kid, isn’t it? Morgan Patrick? The one who got mugged?”

Jamie sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, it is. But his dad was the one behind all of the business stuff, not him. Sure, he threw himself into it, but only because that was his job. He’s not working for his dad anymore.”

He looked over at Ryan with a silent plea. He needed Ryan’s support, or anyone’s support, really. He couldn’t do it alone.

Ryan pressed his lips together, and then he shrugged. “If you think he’s over it, and if you really trust that he’s not working for his dad anymore, then fuck the family. Do what you want. Look at me. I didn’t even go into the family business. I started my own business, I married someone Mom would never have approved of in a trillion years, and I’m the happiest guy who’s ever walked the earth. Seriously. Do what’s right for you, little bro.”

Jamie relaxed and smiled. He’d known he could count on Ryan. Of course, if anyone could be counted on to say “fuck the family,” it was Ryan.

“How do you know he’s not still working for his dad, though?” Ryan tilted his head to the side as the first drops of rain started to fall. “I mean, I trust your judgement, I do, but those Patricks are a slippery bunch. I remember that from before.”

Jamie acknowledged this with a nod of his head. Roman’s business practices were often just this side of legal. “They are. They’re a proud bunch, too. But Morgan admitted his dad kicked him out when he found out Morgan’s gay.”

Ryan screwed up his face. He looked like he’d bitten into a spoiled hamburger. “Seriously? Man, fuck that guy. If he ever brings his car in, I’m putting a dead fish in his AC unit. So, what’s Morgan doing with himself?”

“I don’t know. I can’t figure it out. He’s being evasive about it, but I don’t know if he’d tell me. You know, if he was having trouble. The fact that he was out on the street so late, late enough to get mugged, and in that neighborhood too, tells me he’s got some pretty big problems.”

“Yeah, you’re not kidding. Keep an eye on him, and I’ll see what I can find out. Does this mean I can’t kick his ass from before?” Ryan pretended to pout.

Jamie playfully punched Ryan’s shoulder and laughed. “Yeah. I’d take it as a personal favor if you held off on kicking the ass of the guy I’d like to be dating, thanks.”

“Fine, fine. I see how it is. Spoil all my fun.” Ryan gave a dramatic sigh as Jamie pulled up in front of the garage. “I’ll see you soon, little bro. Let me know if you or he need anything.”

“I will.” He waved and drove away, blessing his big brother’s discretion.

The winds had picked up as they’d gotten back into town, and the skies had gotten dark enough to trigger the streetlights, even though it was barely noon. The rain had intensified, too, which meant traffic had slowed to a near standstill.

Jamie growled. He didn’t want to take the time to stop off and get the keys to the mountain house, but somehow, kicking the door down seemed bad for business. It seemed doubly bad for business when he considered the fact that the house was a family heirloom or whatever.

He finally pulled into the parking lot at the office half an hour later. Was it really necessary for it to take half an hour to get from the garage to the office? Sure, it was Nevada, and rain wasn’t a common occurrence here. That didn’t mean that people’s brains had to crumble into dust.

Were they made of sugar? The roads weren’t bad, not yet. They would be bad, especially unpaved roads up on the mountain, if Jamie couldn’t get up there before they went to crap.

He raced inside to grab the keys, but ran into Amanda on the way. She frowned at him and put her hand on the keys to the house. “Jamie, wait a minute, where are you going?”

Jamie pulled out his phone so he could text Morgan an apology for being late. “I’m going up to the mountain house. There’s a second viewing. I put it on my calendar.”

She shook her head, just a little, and looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “Yeah, I saw that on your calendar. It conflicted with a conference call - the one with HQ that you have every Monday, remember?”

Shit. He hadn’t remembered the conference call. How he’d forgotten about it he didn’t know, since it was a regular feature of his week.

He’d smooth it all over with Lincoln later. It wasn’t like Lincoln cared about the real estate arm, anyway. It pretty much ran itself; that was why they’d stuck Jamie out here and made him do things like viewings, even though they knew he had as much interest in real estate development as he did in toenail fungus.

“I’ll skip the call. Can’t miss a second viewing. I mean those are big, right? It’s like a second job interview.”

Amanda frowned at him. “I’ve already sent out an agent, Jamie. Robbie can do the viewing. He’s one of our best closers. He’ll be fine. To be honest, I have no idea why you were going to do the viewing, anyway. You’re not in sales, you’re in management, and you already had something on the schedule.” She spoke slowly and reasonably to him, but her message was clear.

Jamie’s heart seized in his chest. Amanda couldn’t know, and she wouldn’t get it. He was dying to check on Morgan, after Phil’s report and Ryan’s encouragement. . The last time he’d panicked like this — well, he’d been on fire. He needed to focus, to get out of this somehow.

“Look, Amanda, I get that. I’m in management, and Robbie’s great at what he does. Really, he is. We should give him a raise. But let’s be real here. This is my job. I mean, the folks On High assigned this one to me, right?”

Amanda gave him a concerned look. “They wanted you to evaluate the place, sure. They didn’t assign you to sell it. They wouldn’t. That’s not your strong suit.”

Jamie would have been affronted if he gave a crap about the business at this moment. His phone was alerting him that his text hadn’t been delivered, and now he was worried.

“All the more reason why I should work on it.” He gave her a bright smile and reminded himself that he was the boss here, not Amanda. He snaked his hand underneath hers to grab the keys and ran back out into the storm.

He paused, just as he got his keys into the ignition, to resend the text to Morgan. He was on his way, come hell or high water.