Chapter 93

"Claire, you're awake."

The door swung open without warning. My heart lurched — a sudden, inexplicable guilt, like I'd been caught doing something I shouldn't.

I'd just swallowed a spoonful of soup when the starttle knocked my breath loose. It went down wrong, and I dissolved into a fit of coughing I couldn't stop.

Matthew's brow furrowed. He reached over and patted my back in slow, steady strokes, then pulled a tissue from the box and handed it to me. "You okay?"

I shook my head, willing the coughing to stop. When I finally looked up, I walked straight into Joanna's smirk.

She was beaming at us, her eyes dancing with something teasing. "Did I come at a bad time? Was I interrupting Claire and Mr. Griffin's little feeding session?"

---

My face went hot. I shot her a look and gritted my teeth. "What do you want, Joanna? Is there an actual reason you're here?"

She seemed to remember herself, turning quickly toward the door. "Oh — Dad sent me. Mom's awake. She's asking for Mr. Griffin. Wants to thank him in person."

My chest tightened for reasons I couldn't explain. I threw back the covers and swung my legs over the side of the bed. "I'm coming with you."

Matthew crouched down and fished my shoes out from under the bed. Joanna, of course, couldn't let it go.

"Claire, relax. Mom may come across as serious, but she's not like that. Mr. Griffin's done so much for us — she's not going to give him a hard time."

I lifted my chin. "Who said anything about being worried about Matthew? I just haven't seen Mom in a while. Can't I miss her?"

Joanna just smiled, letting me have it.

---

On the walk to her room, I realized I was more nervous than Matthew.

I watched him stroll alongside me, completely at ease, and lowered my voice. "Don't be nervous. Mom looks intimidating, but she's really easy to talk to. And Dad's the gentlest person alive — he's not going to make things weird for you."

Matthew raised an eyebrow, a quiet amusement settling into the lines of his face. He leaned in close to my ear. "Funny," he murmured. "You seem a lot more nervous than I am."

I pressed my lips together. He wasn't wrong. I was a mess — and I couldn't even explain why.

He gave me a look, brows lifting in mock innocence. "You worried your mom won't like me? Didn't know you cared that much."

Heat crawled up the back of my neck. I took a deliberate step away from him and kept my voice steady. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm just a naturally considerate person."

I didn't wait for his response. I jogged ahead to catch up with Joanna.

---

A few days of rest had done Melissa good. Some color had come back into her face.

When we pushed open the door, Clayton was sitting on the edge of her bed, spoon-feeding her soup.

Joanna took one look and turned to me, pressing a hand to her chest in mock despair. "I'm the only single person in this entire family. One room, someone's feeding soup. The other room, someone's feeding soup. Everywhere I go, I'm the third wheel."

Clayton laughed and set down the bowl, rising to his feet. His gaze settled warmly on Matthew. "You must be Mr. Griffin. Good to meet you."

Matthew's expression was easy, a quiet smile in his eyes. He extended his hand. "Mr. Guise. Please, call me Matthew — Mr. Griffin sounds way too formal."

Clayton smiled. "I owe you one for looking after them. Seriously."

Matthew shook his head, the corners of his mouth curving with polished, genuine warmth. "Mr. Guise, Claire and I are friends. I was happy to be there."

The two of them fell into easy conversation, and I realized I'd been completely sidelined.

I watched Matthew — relaxed, unhurried, not a trace of discomfort — and felt something loosen in my chest.

I'd underestimated him. A man like Matthew had met a thousand people. Of course he wasn't going to be rattled by Mom and Dad.

Reassured, I turned and made my way to Melissa's side. "Mom. How are you feeling?"

She looked me over first — a slow, head-to-toe assessment — before her expression shifted to something close to fury. "Michael is despicable. He just stood by and let Amanda do this to you."

I surprised even myself with how unbothered I felt. I touched the bruised side of my face lightly. "Honestly? I'm not in a rush for it to heal. The hearing's coming up. The worse I look, the stronger my case. I doubt the judge is going to rule in his favor when he sees this."

Melissa's eyes sharpened. "The hearing — when?"

She hadn't registered how close it was until just now.

"The court already sent notice," I said.

Clayton straightened immediately. "Then I'm going with you."

I thought it over and shook my head. "It's okay, Dad. Joanna can come with me. You should stay here with Mom."

I kept the real reason to myself. Clayton was too kind, too even-tempered — dealing with people like Michael's family would only wear him down. And besides, I was the one who'd walked into that mess. I didn't want my parents cleaning it up.

Right on cue, Joanna jumped in. "Yes, exactly, Dad. Let me handle it. You stay with Mom. I promise I won't let anyone give Claire a hard time."

Clayton looked like he wanted to argue, but Melissa caught his arm.

"Let them," she said quietly. "They're grown. They know what they're doing. We'd only get in the way."

Joanna, who could never resist an opportunity, immediately wrapped both arms around Melissa's and leaned in with her most theatrical pout. "Get in the way? Mom, you're selling yourself way short. Claire and I just didn't want Michael to take one look at you and decide it's not worth showing up to court."

Melissa burst out laughing despite herself. She reached over and flicked Joanna lightly on the nose. "You. Always saying exactly what people want to hear."

"I mean every word! Everyone knows not to mess with you!"

Melissa narrowed her eyes. "Smartass."

Joanna's antics did their job — the tension in the room dissolved, replaced by something easy and warm.

I was still smiling when I turned and found Matthew standing just behind me. He was watching Melissa and Joanna with an expression I didn't quite recognize.

Something in it made me pause.

If I had to name it, I would have said it looked almost like longing.

He must have felt my eyes on him, because he glanced down at me a moment later. His expression had already settled back into something unreadable.

I told myself I'd probably imagined it, and gave him a small smile.

---

After a while, I said my goodbyes to Melissa and made my way back to my own room. Matthew followed.

The evening was getting late. I looked at him and said, "You've spent the last two days either keeping me company or sitting in this hospital. You must have a mountain of work piling up. Go take care of it — I'll be fine on my own."

"What, you trying to get rid of me?" He tilted his head, watching me with those dark, searching eyes.

"No," I said quickly. "I just — you've been running back and forth. You should rest."

Matthew pulled a chair over and settled in beside me. "I'm fine. I already slept this afternoon. Besides —"

He paused. His gaze held mine, steady and unhurried.

He reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair away from my ear. His voice dropped low. "I like being here with you."

That's a line, I thought. That's definitely a line.

Heat rushed up to my ears. I turned over, pulled the blanket up over my head, and said, muffled, "Do whatever you want. If you're staying, set up that cot yourself. I'm going to sleep."

Matthew didn't push it. He unfolded the cot, then crossed the room and turned off the lights.

The ward went quiet and dark. I shifted onto my side and found myself looking at him — stretched out on that narrow little cot, his long frame spilling awkwardly over the edges.

A beat of silence passed.

"That can't be comfortable," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.