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what’s the treatment plan?” my dad asked in that hearty, fake voice he used when someone had just said something awkward.
    â€œWe have a few options.” Ryder clicked his pen. “Usually, we’d go in and take the mass out, then repeat the MRI to see if there’s a need for radiation. But this tumor is in the rostral area of the brain, a place we don’t like to operate. I’d rather shrink it with radiation and then do another scan to see where we stand.” He was watching my father in an intense way that made me think they were peers, equals. Where was the boy who said he’d wear shorts to work and give his patients lollipops? Ever since I could remember, Ryder had wanted to be a pediatrician who made kids’ tummy aches feel better. Not a brain surgeon operating on adults who were probably going to die anyway. “If necessary, I’ll go in and remove what’s left of the tumor after radiation.”
    â€œBut normally you’d do surgery first,” I said. Normally.
    Ryder’s smile was somehow comforting and condescending all at once. “Yes, normally I’d operate right away. But normally a meningioma would be in the temporal lobe, away from all the important stuff. So I’d like to see if we can radiate the area daily for eight weeks and then repeat the scan. Meanwhile”—he shifted his gaze to my father—“I don’t want you driving or doing anything even remotely risky. Just lay low while we work on this thing.”
    If Will were here, it’d be so much easier, I realized. We’d get coffee somewhere, talk about what we were going to do. He’d kept us all together, a hinge of humor and invincibility that made sure we didn’t fall apart.
    â€œNo driving for eight weeks?” Jamie blinked quickly. She never cried, and I silently dared her to cry now, dared her to steal this moment. But she wrapped her fingers around my dad’s. “I’m supposed to leave for San Paulo in five days.”
    Is this why she’d wanted me to come home? To take care of my dad so she didn’t have to? “I’ve got it, Jamie,” I said coldly.
    â€œWell.” She used her hurt little girl voice. “I just mean…” She looked at Ryder. “Do you think I should go or…”
    â€œOf course you should go,” my dad said. “I’ve got Jensen here.” He squeezed my shoulder again.
    â€œBut Jensen can’t drive at night,” Jamie said. “She can’t see in the dark anymore.”
    â€œOh, right.” My father tousled my hair while I sat there wanting to punch her in the head. “Well, I have Luke and Sid and…” His voice trailed off.
    â€œWe’ll take care of him,” I said, sitting back against my dad. “Go.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Just go.”
    â€œJamie, if I were you,” Ryder said, setting the chart down, keeping eye contact with her, “I’d stick around. Nothing is ever sure in a case like this.” The room felt charged, tense. She took a package of tissues out of her pocketbook.
    â€œMy beautiful girls,” my dad said. “This is good news. I could have been given my walking papers today.” I listened for an edge of sarcasm in his voice, but he was smiling, really smiling. “I feel like skydiving!”
    Ryder cleared his throat. “Slow down, Sterling. Your prognosis is excellent. You’ll probably outlive us all. But I want you to rest. There’s no need to kill yourself jumping out of a perfectly good airplane.” He flipped through his calendar book. “I’ve already scheduled an appointment for you with the radiation oncologist. In the meantime, if the blood tests tell us anything different, I’ll let you know. Questions?”
    My mind was in a freeze. I had a feeling Ryder hadn’t told us the whole truth. I wanted him to guarantee that the tumor would