Luckily, a nurse stepped through the curtain. “Mrs. Hannigan, are you ready to go home?”
“Yes,” Tabitha said with feeling, as if she’d been the one stitched and bandaged.
Lynn only smiled. “If you’re ready to sign me out, I just need to get dressed.”
The nurse looked at Tabitha. “Would you like to help her while I take care of the remaining paperwork and go over her instructions?”
“Sounds like a plan.” Stack maneuvered himself behind f’ing Phil, nudging him forward. “The ladies can stay here, and we guys can wait in the hall.”
Startled, Phil looked to his wife for assistance, but she’d already moved to the folded pile of her mother’s clothes.
Was Vanity the only one to see the concern on Lynn’s face? She didn’t know how she could help—but she knew how to hinder.
Hugging Stack’s arm, she smiled at him. “Since I’m not a relative, I’ll go with you guys.”
Undeterred, Stack shrugged. “Suit yourself.” Then he proceeded to prod Phil forward, and since Vanity had latched on to Stack’s arm, she had to take part in that.
They’d barely cleared the room before Stack gently shook her off, then locked a hand around the back of Phil’s neck. Without a word, he propelled his brother-in-law forward. Where they were going, Vanity didn’t know, but she hustled to keep up.
A few people gave them funny looks, maybe because Phil resisted—to no avail—or maybe because of the killing look on Stack’s face.
Trying to soften the impression, Vanity smiled at everyone.
At Stack’s silent instruction they entered an empty waiting room littered with half-empty foam cups of coffee. After shouldering the door shut, Stack released Phil.
He staggered forward but quickly turned as if he didn’t trust Stack at his back. One hand rubbing his neck, he frowned. “What the hell, man?”
Stack pointed. “I told you I didn’t want to see you.”
“I have a right to visit my wife.”
“And I have the right to beat the shit out of you.”
“Uh...” Looking left and right, Phil sought escape.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Stack told him.
“Jesus!” As if he couldn’t take it anymore, f’ing Phil shoved his fingers through his hair. “It’s been three months, man.”
“Shut up.”
“Three fucking months. And you didn’t even care about her! If you had, you would have—”
Before Vanity could get her mind around the fact that a woman had started the animosity, Stack grabbed Phil and slammed him into a wall.
“Whoa.” She slipped up to Stack’s side. “Okay, I get the idea that he probably deserves to be demolished.”
Phil looked at her like a lifeline. He opened his mouth, and Vanity said, “Seriously, you need to shut it before he kills you.”
Phil clamped his lips together.
Vanity watched him a moment more, decided he’d be quiet, and switched her attention to Stack.
He was smiling. At her.
Well...that was good. Unsettling, but good. “You’re okay now?”
“I was never not okay.” His gaze cut back to Phil. “But, no, I’m not done if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Oh.” Seeing that Stack did, indeed, have control of his temper, she stepped aside. “Carry on, then.”
Keeping Phil pinned to the wall, Stack dropped his head and laughed.
“Uh...” Phil tried to wiggle free but didn’t make any headway, especially when Stack tightened his hold.
Lifting his head again, Stack said to Vanity, “I don’t need your permission, darlin’.”
“Naturally not, since we’re only friends.”
His eyes narrowed but not with anger. Maybe with...heated insistence? “Friends with benefits,” he reminded her.
She put her hands on her hips. “Now did f’ing Phil need to know that?”
“F’ing Phil?” he asked.
Examining a nail, she explained, “Unlike you, I try not to curse unnecessarily.”
“When is it ever necessary?”
Jaw locking, she growled, “There are times.” Like right now, maybe. She tipped her head at Phil. “How long is this going to take?”
“Don’t suppose you’d step out and let me handle this privately?”
Wrinkling her nose, she said, “I’d rather not.”
He sighed. “Got yourself all curious now, don’t you?”