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“No, but…okay.”

Surprised, he glanced at him sideways. “You’re not mad?”

“Nah,” he replied calmly. “Just shocked and…”

Dax turned his face away and glanced out the window before continuing. “I don’t know if you realize this, Jack, but…I’m on your side.”

He blinked. “What?”

Dax sighed. “I’m only saying this because it seems like you didn’t know before, and you still don’t know now. You were just the half-brother. I’ve thought about it for a while, and I understand it better now.”

Jack swallowed and his eyes burned uncomfortably. “What do you understand better?”

Dax shrugged. “Why you felt it would be okay to leave. I think you thought we wouldn’t miss you, that we didn’t need you because no one ever missed you or needed you. Why would you think otherwise, when your father and then your mother threw you out of the house?”

Jack’s heart burned as he pulled into the parking lot that was his destination. He just sat there for a while, staring at the gray concrete block in front of them, thinking about Dax’s words.

“I’ve missed and neededyou,” he finally whispered.

“Ditto.”

And that said it all.

So, he pushed open the door, crossed the courtyard of the St. Clair Nursing Home,and walked in.

“Oh, hello, Mr. West. I wasn’t expecting you today,” the receptionist greeted him, astonished.

“I didn’t register, either,” he replied kindly. “May I still see him?”

“Yes, of course. He’s in the common room. You know the way, right?”

He nodded and led Dax down the sterile white hallway.

“Jack?” Dax said quietly. “Where are we?”

“In a nursing home.”

“I got that, thanks. But what are we doing here?”

Jack sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I wasn’t in New York over Christmas to sort out my old contract, Dax, I was there to…arrange for them to move my father to LA”

Dax stopped abruptly. “Your father? You don’t talk to your father.”

He raised the corner of his mouth cynically as he pulled Dax along. “There’s not much to talk about, Dax. He barely remembers me. He has advanced dementia. But he has no one but me, so I got him this place and…yes.”

“Your dad is here?” Dax asked incredulously.

He nodded.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I didn’t want to remind you of your own dad. Because I had to deal with it myself. Because I didn’t want pity or questions. Because I was afraid you would make me feel guilty if I told you…how much I still hate him even though he’s just a heap of misery. But I’m tired of keeping secrets.” He sighed heavily, narrowed his eyes, and paused in front of the open door to the common room. “Dax, do you remember that time I told you that you had to become indifferent to your dad? That only then could you be happy?”

“Yes. It was the best advice anyone has ever given me.”

He felt a tug at the corners of his mouth. “Well…I never became indifferent to mine,” he murmured and nodded to the right. “I was never good at following my own advice. He’s the one in the red armchair.”

Dax opened his mouth in shock. “That’syour dad?”