Grace (The Family Simon #5)- Juliana Stone Page 0,57
got to her feet.
“If your father was here, he’d knock some respect into you.”
Matt clenched his fists together and the look in his eye must have been deadly—she sank back onto the bed and reached for her beer. She finished the can of Bud and then tossed it into the bin beside the bed. It wasn’t the first.
Silence stretched between them, a long thin line that pulled at him something fierce. He had to unclench his fists because the muscles along his forearms began to ache. It went on for another minute or so and Matt took a step back.
“I’m not doing this.” He reached into his coat pocket and retrieved his keys. “I have no idea why you’re here. But you need to understand there is nothing you have to say to me that I’m remotely interested in listening to.”
She didn’t move and for a second he wondered if she’d heard him. Matt decided that he didn’t care about that either.
“I’m done.”
She glanced up, mouth narrowed into an unattractive thin line. The gloss was gone and her colorless mouth had a cruel bent. “Who’s the girl?”
“The girl is none of your business.”
Delilah’s eyebrows shot up and she got to her feet. “Since when do you get worked up over a piece of ass?” The rasp in her voice was more pronounced and the color was high on her cheeks.
Matt glared at her. “Women like you are nothing more than a piece of ass, and being nothing more than a piece of ass gives you no right to comment on Grace.”
Her face whitened at his insult and her chin trembled. “I can’t believe you just said that to me.”
He turned to the door and was reaching for the knob when she spoke again. “Your father is dying.”
Matt went still.
“Benjamin is dying. The doctors think if he lasts until Christmas, it will be a miracle.”
He opened the door.
“We need to talk about Justin.” Delilah grabbed his arm. “Matt.”
He went cold. And then hot. “Let go,” he snarled.
“Mattie.”
He yanked out of her grasp and slammed the door shut behind him. His only thought was to get home to Grace. To walk into his house and hold onto someone good and kind and compassionate. To breathe in the essence of a woman who wouldn’t do what he’d just done.
He was walking away. The reasons why didn’t matter. None of it mattered. Because he was no better than his father.
23
If Bud thought Grace Simon was crazy, he kept it to himself—and Lord knows he had every right to. He showed up with a smile, grabbed her bag and tossed it into the back of his van. He didn’t mention the fact that he’d dropped her off less than two hours earlier. Maybe he didn’t like to gossip. Maybe he wasn’t all that interested in the reasons why a person would decide to leave town and then come back without leaving.
Whatever it was, Grace was grateful that he made no mention of any of that and she settled in for the ride to Matt’s. They chatted about the things that interested Bud—the weather (cold as hell for this time of the year); the Buffalo Bills (an ongoing concern); the state of the economy (doing better in Bud’s opinion) and the fact that the Grill served the best damn chicken wings in all of Michigan.
Bud was horrified to learn Grace hadn’t had the pleasure as of yet, and she made a promise to him that she’d rectify her mistake the next time she was at the Grill.
“You do that,” Bud said with a grin as he pulled into Matt’s driveway. “Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.”
Grace slid from the van and walked around back to retrieve her luggage. She paid Bud, he thanked her profusely for the generous tip, and then waited until he left to turn back to the house. Matt’s truck was parked in its usual spot. So he was home.
Lights burned from the inside, the glow warm and inviting, yet it did nothing to make Grace feel any better. She had no idea what she was walking into. Would his mood be any better? Did he even care that she’d left? Was he mad that she’d left? She supposed mad was better than not giving a damn, but still…
“Only one way to find out,” she muttered.
Grace scooped up her bag and headed to the house. The door was unlocked and she let herself inside. It was silent.