“Your father needs around-the-clock care, Mr. Monk. He must stop drinking. His health is deteriorating far faster than it should.” Dr. Singh clearly thought Scottie didn’t understand the seriousness of the situation. She turned toward Silus, who’d just walked out of their dad’s hospital room, to bring him into the conversation. “You’ll both want to discuss how to proceed with his treatment.”

“Could you give us a moment?” Silus asked quietly—and more politely than Scottie could’ve managed.

Escaping the tense atmosphere by fleeing around the corner, Scottie paced the narrow hallway. His nose twitched at the strong odour of sanitizer. He hated hospitals, doctors, and his old man; it almost made him wish he hadn’t insisted on driving by himself without Gray.

“What are we going to do?” Silus joined him, taking a seat in one of the chairs lined up against the wall. “You know he’s going to want to go home.”

“Let him.”

“He’ll die, Scottie.”

“Let him,” Scottie repeated bitterly. He couldn’t help thinking it might be better for all of them if they left the old man to it. “The bastard never wants to listen to us anyway.”

“But….” Silus frowned in obvious disappointment at him. “He’s our father.”

“When did the fucker ever do anything paternal for either of us?” Scottie refused to turn the man into a saint because he was dying. “His only act as a parent was donating a bit of sperm and having no idea how condoms work.”

“We should be better men than he is.” Silus continued to glare stubbornly at him.

“Why?” Scottie had already gone far out of his way to help their father. He’d done his part. “He’s going to do whatever the hell he wants. How do you expect to talk him into doing what the doctor wants?”

Silus slumped further into the seat with a sigh. “Do you want to be him? Or do you want to be a better man? Seems to me that you don’t have to be just another Monk arsehole.”

Twerp has a point, even if he kicked me in the bollocks to make it.

Scottie dropped into the seat next to his brother. “Fuck. So, we find a long-term care facility that will take him. It’s still only one half of the problem. What’s to stop him from checking himself out as soon as our backs are turned?”

“He’ll be too sick to escape,” his brother pointed out with a wry, but slightly sad smile. “He’s dying, Scottie. It isn’t about him anymore—it’s about me. I don’t want to stand at his grave with regrets eating me alive. It’s not about him. It’s about us.”

Scottie swallowed down all the bitter words that his brother didn’t need to hear. They’d had this conversation a few times already, and he didn’t completely understand where Silus was coming from. He didn’t think he’d have even a bit of guilt over walking away from their father, but maybe being a big brother meant sacrificing his anger. “You go see the old arse. I’ll see if the doctor has any suggestions.”

Less chance of tempers flaring.

After an hour and a half, Scottie managed to coordinate moving his father from his temporary room at the hospital into a more suited facility. By the end of the week, they’d get him settled into the best one available. Expensive as shit as well. Thank fuck Remi showed me how to handle my money when I retired. Silus had offered to take on some of the expense, but the kid was in no place to do so.

“I’ve some money saved,” his brother insisted.

“Buy a better car with it.” Scottie threw an arm around his brother’s shoulders to lead him from the hospital. “Keep your money. How much can you actually have? I’ve seen your flat.”

“Arsehole,” Silus grumbled. He grinned sheepishly at Scottie after a few seconds. “Can you give me a lift home? My car broke down on the way here—barely made it to the hospital.”

Scottie laughed so hard that he had to bend over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath. He blocked Silus when he tried to punch him in the arm. “Hand over your keys. I’ll get it towed to my friend who runs a repair shop. They’ll fix it up for you without duct tape.”

“I can manage.”

He led his brother out to the car park toward his Jaguar, suddenly glad he’d chosen to drive it and not his repaired motorcycle. “Yeah, but I know how it is to barely manage to pay your bills. I’ll fix up the duct tape-mobile.”

“Still an arsehole.” Silus elbowed him in the side. He tossed his keys over to Scottie. “I’ll let you pay for the repairs, but only if you’re nicer to Zeb.”

Fuck.

“Wait? The fuck? I’m paying to fix your shitty car, and I have to be nice to your shitty date?” Scottie thought he was definitely getting the wrong end of the stick with this agreement. “Why couldn’t you have picked someone else to go out with?”

“His cock—”

“Stop.” Scottie decided he didn’t need to know anything about his little brother’s relationship. “I’ll try to be nicer if you never mention Zippie’s body parts to me again.”

“Since when are you a prude? Aren’t you the one who sent me graphic comics when Mum’s sex talk confused me?” Silus climbed into the passenger seat. “Swanky ride. You know, I’m proud of you for not leaving Dad to rot. I know I didn’t suffer the brunt of his drunken rages as a kid. Mum kept me away from him. You’ve every right to hate him.”

“Why don’t we grab an early breakfast before I drop you off? We wouldn’t want to skip breakfast since we’re growing boys.” Scottie glared when his brother poked his stomach. He didn’t want to talk about why Silus being proud of him had clogged his throat up for a minute. “Do you have classes today?”

“Nope.” Silus played around with the radio. “Zeb said he’d give me a lift tomorrow if my car is still broken down.”

“Wonderful.”

French fucker.

“He could join us for lunch,” Silus teased.

Scottie started the vehicle before smirking over at his brother. “Has your mum met Zippie yet? I bet she’d make the trip up to Cardiff to meet him.”

“Scottie.”

“I’d even pay for her trip.” Scottie had no doubts she’d be unimpressed with her baby boy dating a former rugby player who had a reputation for sleeping around. Wait, I started that rumour. Shit. “I’m sure she’d love to see you. And Zippie.”

“You’re an arse.” Silus flipped him off and reached into his pocket to retrieve his mobile. “I’m texting Zeb to say you invited him to lunch.”

Ahh fuck.