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I can’t help but laugh, shaking my head at my little brother’s one-track mind. Even with a bullet wound, he’s still thinking about getting laid. “You’re unbelievable.”

“What? The doctor said I need help.” Seb waggles his eyebrows at Dr. Martinez, who’s trying and failing to maintain his professional demeanor. “Maybe Olivia would volunteer for the job.”

“Keep dreaming, baby brother.” The familiar rhythm of our banter eases some of the weight from my shoulders. “The only nurse you’re getting is Eli, and I promise he won’t look nearly as good in a uniform.”

Seb’s face contorts in horror. “Fuck that. I’d rather bleed out.”

“I heard that,” Eli calls from the hallway, making us all chuckle.

Dr. Martinez packs up his supplies, fighting a smile. “I’ll leave you two to sort out the nursing situation. Just remember—no strenuous activity.”

“Does that include—” Seb starts to ask, but I cut him off.

“Yes, it includes that too.”

Seb flops back against his pillows with an exaggerated groan. “This is worse than being shot.” His dramatic pout reminds me of when we were kids, and he’d get in trouble for his latest scheme. Some things never change.

For a moment, watching my brother’s theatrical suffering, I forget about the threats hanging over us. Right now, it’s just me and Seb, the same as it’s always been.

“You know,” Seb says, his voice still a little grainy from so much sleep, “you don’t have to hover. I’m not going anywhere.”

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Can’t a guy just want to spend time with his little brother?”

“Sure, but usually that involves less medical equipment and more whiskey.” He shifts, wincing. “Remember that time in New York when we stole Nicolo’s best bottle?”

A laugh escapes me. “You mean whenyoustole it, and I had to save your ass from his guards?”

“Details.” Seb waves his good hand. “Still the best damn whiskey I’ve ever tasted.”

“That’s because you drank it while running for your life.”

We share a look, and suddenly we’re both laughing. It feels good. For a second, we’re just two brothers sharing a memory, not men caught in a dangerous game of power and survival.

“Hey.” Seb’s voice grows serious. “About what happened at the warehouse—”

“Don’t.” The word comes out sharper than I intend.

“No, listen.” He meets my eyes. “You can’t blame yourself. I made my choice to be there, just like I’ve made every choice to stand by you since we were kids. That’s what brothers do.”

His words hit me hard. “I’m supposed to protect you, Seb. I’m your big brother.”

“And you have. More times than I can count.” His voice softens. “But sometimes you need to let others protect you.”

I lean back in my chair, studying my brother’s face. Even pale and tired, he still manages to crack jokes and put me in my place. I may take on the responsibility of taking care of everyone important to me, but he’s not wrong. If Eve hadn’t stepped up and taken care of me that night, I probably would have sunk deeper into despair. One slight change in timing, one bullet an inch to the left, and I might be planning a funeral instead of listening to Seb make inappropriate nurse jokes.

“You’re brooding again,” Seb says, interrupting my dark thoughts. “I can hear the gears grinding from here.”

“Just thinking.”

“Yeah? About what? Eve?” He waggles his eyebrows.

I shake my head, a smile tugging at my lips despite myself. “About how I’m going to keep your reckless ass alive long enough for you to actually grow up and act like an adult.”

“Hey, I’m an adult. I’m forty-five years old, man.”

I raise a brow in question. “Most immature forty-five-year-old I know.”

The levity fades from his face. “I’m going to be fine, brother. You heard the doc.”