Scrambling to her feet, she turned to find Matthew watching her, a smile on his face. She didn't think, just acted, jumped at him, and kissed his cheek. “Thank you so much.”
His arms came around her and he hugged her gently, for a moment she thought he had breathed in her scent much like she just had with the flowers, but she was sure she had to be wrong. He might be being nice to her, might enjoy making her smile, but there was no way a man like him could want anything with a woman like her.
And did she even want him to?
Being attracted to him was one thing, but wanting more was foolishness. She was in no position right now to be starting anything with anyone.
Still, she held onto him extra tight for a moment longer than necessary.
* * * * *
1:37 P.M.
“Why did you want to come back here?” Matthew asked, unable to completely hide a shudder as they walked back into the basement’s hidden room at Mable White’s house. Yesterday afternoon her body had been discovered buried in a shallow grave in her own backyard. Preliminary autopsy indicated the woman had been strangled, and Matthew felt a whole new level of rage to this Emmanuel for what he had done to the elderly woman, Grace, and all the other victims.
“I don’t know exactly,” Rylla said, walking around the room.
Matthew watched his partner, if he didn't, he was going to focus too much on the torture chamber, and images of Grace, trapped in here and fighting for her life, would smother him. He had no idea how the woman had managed to survive, how she managed to wake up every day and keep fighting. Giving up would have been the easier option, a way out of the hell Emmanuel had trapped her in, but she hadn't done that.
It would have been so easy for Grace to just stop living. Even now that she was free it would be so easy for her to give in and let the darkness consume her. Nobody would blame her for falling apart, for being depressed, terrified, and unable to function.
But that wasn’t Grace.
Nope, his curly girl held it together like a champ.
He wasn’t kidding himself. Matthew knew that Grace was likely depressed and terrified, possibly on the way to suffering post-traumatic stress disorder and would definitely fall apart at some point. But he also knew that she was strong. Stronger than he could ever hope to be. She had a wonderful support system of extended family there for her, she had a psychiatrist for a brother, cops for family. She had people who would fight alongside her.
She had him.
Matthew didn't know what had led him to the hospital this morning, he just knew he wanted to see Grace. Wanted to try to take her mind off everything, even if just for a moment. The pancakes seemed like a good idea, after all, who didn't like pancakes, and since he knew she’d been trapped inside for so many years taking her outdoors seemed natural. Her brothers wanted to wrap her up in cotton wool and lock her away, he knew it was because they wanted to protect her and he couldn’t fault them for it, but he knew it wasn’t what she needed.
What she needed was to find her wings again.
Watching her touch the trees, and smell the flowers, stare in wonder at a butterfly, laugh as the breeze tousled her hair, tip her face back to absorb the sunshine, he knew he was right. She needed to be free, needed to remember what it was like to live, she needed people to believe in her so when the dark days came for her, she could fight through them just as she’d fought through everything else.
And he’d be there by her side as she did it.
He was getting way too attached. Sure, they had the connection of her family and him having mutual friends, but there was no reason why he should be taking any special interest in her. He certainly didn't feel anything for the other woman found in Emmanuel’s house. Barbara Lack was just another victim to him. He felt the same drive to close her case, and give her closure that he always felt, but that was it.
Nothing like what he felt with Grace.
This wasn’t him. He didn't let people get close. Ask anyone who knew him, and they’d say he was a charming, laid-back guy. He worked, went to the gym, played basketball, he was the guy you called if you wanted to hang out, have some fun, but weren’t in the mood to go drinking. He didn't drink because knew what happened when people lost control of their faculties. No one knew about his past, no one got close, he dated until the woman started developing genuine feelings then cut her loose. He liked his freedom, liked not being tied down, liked not having to risk getting hurt.
Grace made him want to throw all that away.
It made no sense, he didn't understand why he felt this way. It was probably the safer option to cut off contact, allow Rylla to lead any interviews they needed, and lay off the visits to the hospital.
It was the right thing to do.
He just didn't think he could do it.
“Matthew?”
“Sorry,” he said, forcing himself to focus. What Grace needed most was to know her tormentor was no longer out there. “What did you say?”
“What do you think of this?” Rylla pointed to a wooden contraption that he couldn’t even begin to figure out what its purpose was. Grace hadn't gone through all the tests she had been forced to do to stay alive, they hadn't thought it was necessary. If at some point they needed to know everything he’d made her do, they would get her to detail them all. Not something he looked forward to.
“I don’t know what it’s supposed to be,” he said.