3. Matt
Chapter three
Matt
"Honey, I'm home," I call, walking into Korr’s house, without bothering to knock.
Is it stupid when he'd already like nothing more than an excuse to shoot me after the daily arguments we've had since we brought Lee back to his house? Probably. But after he refused to let me stay with her after her first night of screaming, I refuse to let him think he has any say over when I can see Annalise, simply because it’s his place.
"This isn’t your grandma's house with an open-door policy, Reyes," he barks, glancing at the clock with what I’m sure is another perfectly prepared lecture. “There’s no way you had time to get all the way out here since your last class ended. Your lunch period started five minutes ago!"
Yup. Right on schedule.
"Obviously it's lunch,” I sigh, lifting the bags in my hands. “That's why I brought food."
He finally notices the groceries and rolls his eyes. "What's with all the shit? I swear to the Gods, if you invited other people over—"
"This one,” I say, cutting him off before he can spiral, as I lift the first bag onto the counter, "is for you and me to eat. Last time I was here, you didn't have much in your fridge, so I didn’t think you would be catering our lunch."
Korr, predictably, doesn’t even laugh from where he’s leaning against the counter, arms crossed, and scowling like he shit his pants.
“This isn’t a date, Reyes.”
I shoot him a quick smile as I begin unpacking the containers. “Wow. Straight to labels already. You move fast, Captain.”
Korr’s jaw flexes. “Why the fuck were you going through my fridge, anyway? And what is in the other bag?”
"Snacks for Lee."
"Matt, she's still unconscious. She can't eat any of that," he says, as if I haven't counted every minute she's been in a coma..
Gods, I hate him.
"Really, Sir? I wasn't aware," I deadpan, every ounce of annoyance slipping through. “I need to hide them around the room for when she wakes up.”
I swear he can see the back of his head with how hard he rolls his eyes.
“I highly doubt she’s going to be up for a scavenger hunt when she wakes up, Reyes,” he bites back, equally annoyed. “You can put them on the counter, and if she wants them when she's not on the verge of death, she can get them from the kitchen...where food belongs."
My hand stills on the container lid. "If you even start to insinuate—”
“Then you’ll what?” he says, fist clenched, equally as eager as I am to work out the last week of arguments the old-fashioned way. “Need I remind you—I am the instructor here? This is my house. You either leave the food out here, or you leave with it.”
Why do the douchiest men always gravitate toward Lee?
“Yeah,” I force myself to reply evenly, “that doesn't work for me…Sir.”
“I don't actually give a fuck what works for you,” he shoots back. “You can leave now. Shut the door on your way out.”
Fuck. This.
“Cool,” I nod. “I’ll just grab Annalise, and we’ll be on our way.”
“Absolutely not!” he snarls, taking a step in my direction like he's going to stop me. “This has been worked out with Dean Stevens, and the plan doesn’t change because you want to play some stupid game.”
“Either I hide snacks here, or I take her with me back to my room and hide more there.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you care so little about her that you’d trap her in your room rather than let her be taken care of here?” he accuses, and it takes every ounce of my self-control not to deck him right here and now.
“She has medical needs now. She won’t be at full strength when she wakes up. And you still have classes to attend—unless you want to be thrown back in prison—so you won’t even be around to help her.”
My laugh comes out cold and bone-dry as I step toward him.
“Do you think I give a fuck about classes when the only person I’ve ever loved is fighting death every day?”
He flinches.
And just like that, I see the moment I’ve won, exactly as I planned.
“Exactly,” I press. “So let me leave the snacks. If she wakes up disoriented and you’re not right there, she needs to know she has access to food.”
He inhales slowly, recalculating.
“Is this about her dad?”
“Obviously. Add it to the list.”
“She can’t just have junk food in there. I’ll go shopping later.”
“It’s not only junk,” I mutter. “There are protein bars. Fresh nuts. And a jar of pickles in the bag—but those need to go in your fridge unless you want to give her a warm one like a psychopath.”
His face twists in disgust and I can’t help the real laugh that slips out. “I dare you to make that face when she wants her favorite food.”
“Pickles are her favorite? Seriously?” he asks skeptically.
“Okay, she can’t actually pick a favorite, but they are up there! I’m pretty sure she invented pickles on pizza.”
Some of the tension bleeds out of the room, and before I can stop myself, I slip into memory lane.
“When we were kids, she ate an entire jar in a sitting one time because she was too hungry to wait for my mom to take us to lunch. You should've heard her scream a few hours later when she went to the bathroom, and her poop was bright green. She thought she was dying!"
To my surprise, he actually laughs.
“Tell her I told you that story and I’ll kill you.”
“I didn’t hear anything,” he mutters, trying—and failing—to suppress his smile.
“Good. Now, can I please put these in her room?”
“How will she know where to look?”
“She won’t. That’s the point. The best snacks are always the hardest to find.”
He sighs, already losing ground. “Why not just leave them on the nightstand?”
“Because the Sheriff would've clocked them in two seconds, and she would have been punished. If he even suspected she was hiding food, he’d strip the room bare.” My anger spikes, but I force it down. “And it helped. Got her up and moving when she was hurt but needed circulation."
When he doesn't immediately say anything, I continue, "We’ve done this since the first time I found out her dad had been starving her for a week…not that she'd had much of an appetite after the beating she'd taken.”
Silence.
Then—
“Fine,” he grunts.
There it is! Right on cue.
I don’t bother hiding my grin as I grab the snack bag. “Don’t bother waiting for me to eat, Shnookums; I’ll dish up when I’m done,” I toss the heavy sack over my shoulder as I stride toward Annalise’s room.
“He thinks I’m a pain in the ass now,” I whisper, brushing a stray strand of hair from Lee's devastatingly emotionless face. “Just wait until you’re awake and he has to put up with you.”