Page 8 of Healing Conviction
She didn’t want to lie to Matt, but spilling secrets had never gotten her anywhere but hurt. Finessing the truth never hurt anyone else, though. Not really.
“He’s a good man who’s selfless to a fault. He deserved someone at his bedside while he was in a coma. That’s all.”
Matt’s lips pursed. “So, y’all never dated?” As soon as the question came out, his chin dipped down and he began to pile one crouton on top of another. “I’m sorry. That’s none of my business. We are… We aren’t even dating.”
The lilt at the end of his statement sounded like he wanted her to disagree. But she couldn’t. Leaning on Matt for comfort had been a selfish mistake she’d wished away every single day for the past two months. Telling a man that she’d basically used him as an emotional sponge was worse than letting him believe there was a chance.
Besides, who could say that it wouldn’t work out between the two of them? Maybe she needed to get out of her head and accept the sweet, constant love that Matt no doubt could provide her. If she couldn’t make her heart work for a guy like him, there was no hope for her to find it with anyone else. He would be the perfect boyfriend in every way… If she liked him.
“No, Matt. We never dated. I actually barely know the guy.” That truth burned from her chest up her throat. “He saved my life once, and I’m eternally grateful for that. Being by his bedside was the least I could do.”
Matt’s shoulders visibly relaxed and his dark-brown eyes twinkled with relief. “You’re such a good person, babe. I’m so lucky to have you in my life.” Seeming satisfied with her answer, he pointed his fork at her congealed mac n’ cheese. “You really gonna eat that? It’s so bad for you. I don’t understand why the hospital even sells it.”
“Yeah… I don’t think I will.” She pushed the bowl to the side. If he thought the hospital kind was unhealthy, he’d have a fit if he knew that she didn’t want the rest because nothing beat the tried-and-true, easy, fake cheesy box kind.
Deep down, she knew the nauseous feeling turning over in her stomach had less to do with the meal, and more to do with Matt’s security in their ‘whatever-the-heck-this-was-ship’.
Speaking of relationships.
Melly’s infatuated, googly eyes in the physical therapy room came to mind. Nora had seen them focused on Matt before but had never talked to either of them about it. His questions about how she felt for Drake were sparking the need to revive her underused matchmaking skills. She’d always been a sucker for happy endings, even if she couldn’t imagine one for herself.
“Hey, Matt,” she began, trying to shoot for nonchalant encouragement. “Have you ever thought about going on a date?” When his eyes brightened, she clarified. “W-with someone else, I mean.”
The excitement that had flashed across his face disappeared just as quickly, and he shifted in his seat. “Oh, um… I don’t know…”
“I mean, it’s totes okay if you have, ya know? I only wonder since, um, since we’re kind of seeing how things go.” He turned over one of his spinach leaves in his salad and studied it. The urge to bring back happy-go-lucky Matt made her babble. “I mean, you know, it’s like you said. We’re notdatingdating, so I guess I was curious as to whether you had anyone specific in mind? ‘Cause you’re a handsome looker, obvi, so I wouldn’t be surprised if there was someone who’d caught your interest or—”
“I really don’t wanna ruin anything we could have someday, babe.” He reached across the table for her hand and she fought the itch to snatch it away.
She nodded slowly with a pasted-on smile before picking at the label on her water bottle again. “That’s… nice, Matt. You’re a good egg.” The bright smile on his face blinded her, and another bout of disappointment and guilt swirled in her stomach. “Um, I’m sorry, but I’m not feeling too good. I think I should go.”
“Oh no, babe.” The genuine concern on his face leadened the mixture of emotions inside her. “You know, you’re in the right place to feel sick. I could go fetch a doctor for you.”
She huffed a laugh at his joke, appreciating the light banter as always. How in the world was she not totally head over heels for this guy? He was everything on paper, but her heart wasn’t getting the memo. But, even if she could be into him, did she want to be?
“Thanks, Matt. You’re sweet, but I think I’m gonna go home.”
She stood and picked up both of their containers so she could take them to the trash and recycling bins. “When you’re finished throwing those away, I’ll walk you out.”
A grimace threatened to twist her lips, but she flattened them into a stiff smile instead. “That would be nice, thanks.”
When she’d finished and met him at the cafeteria door, he rested his arm across her shoulders. The weight of his comfort made her stagger, but he didn’t seem to notice, and she didn’t want to remind him for the umpteenth time that she hated the gesture. There was no use in making the guy feel bad when he only wanted to make her feel better, but she hated how small it made her feel.
They walked out of the hospital toward her Chevy Spark with Matt jabbering about sports, and weather, and patients, and plants, and the gods knew what else. As they passed the physical therapy room, she forced her eyes to look straight ahead instead of checking inside for Drake.
He’d been in a coma for a whole year, but the big guy was already healthy enough to leave the hospital. She didn’t have a degree, but she didn’t need one to know his recovery was nothing short of miraculous. Matt had broken HIPAA law to tell her that from the moment Drake opened his mouth, he’d defied all medical logic.
The doctors hadjustsaid it didn’t look like Drake would even open his eyes again, let alone make conversation. The day Matt had told her had been when she’d slipped and let him comfort her more than she ever had before. It’d only been a kiss but apparently it had given Matt enough hope to think there was a future between them.
To Matt, their kiss had meant everything. To her, kisses were never more than a means to an end.
When she spied her periwinkle Chevy Spark in the parking lot, Nora checked back into the conversation in time to hear him snort.
“Your car’s color always cracks me up. Anyway, text me when you get home? And if you need chicken soup? Or a meds delivery? I hate to see my girl feeling crappy.”
‘My girl’? Ugh, this is getting so out of hand.
“Matt… listen, I think we should talk—”