For a moment, she only looked at him blankly. Then her face cleared, and her eyes widened with horror. "His scars. Oh, shit, Matthew, I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking. I mean, when I talk to him in The Fix, he's so cool and funny. It didn't even occur to me."
Matthew exhaled noisily, then nodded. How could he stay annoyed with a woman like his sister? Someone who understood why Griff would be self-conscious about his scars, but at the same time really didn't get it at all.
Matthew got it, though. He knew what it was like to have the other kids stare and snicker. Not for his looks--at least, not once he was in high school and started working out--but because of his reading and his grades and his damn stutter. The stutter was long gone, but he was still a slow reader. Still couldn't force himself though the must-read classic novels. And news magazines made his brain come close to exploding.
Math he got. Numbers settled their little asses into their lines and columns and did what they were told. But words...
Well, words could lead him down all sorts of paths, and those paths inevitably ended up twisted around in his mind. And when he was young and had to stand in front of the class, turning beet-red as he tried to wrap his mind and his tongue around the words and the thoughts...
Yeah, he understood why Griffin was self-conscious. Matthew might not have massive burn scars covering half his body, but he knew what it was like to have an unwelcome spotlight shine on you.
"I really am sorry," Selma said, as the silence lingered.
"It'll be okay. But you know, there was a reason I locked the door to the training room." Matthew had a few clients who came in the evenings for personal training appointments, and since the main part of the gym was available 24/7 to any of his gold-level members, Matthew had set up a private training facility in a back room with its own coded entrance.
"I just assumed that you were training."
He almost pointed out that he didn't want to be interrupted while training any more than his clients did, but there came a point with his sister when it was best to just back away slowly. "It'll be fine. Griffin's cool. He knows you didn't mean to embarrass him."
"Do you need to go clear the air with him now?"
Matthew shook his head. "Nah. Chances are he left through the locker room." He sat down on the padded bench that Griff had vacated. "It's past nine, anyway. Why aren't you with Easton? Everything okay?"
"Are you kidding? Everything's perfect. I'm dying for a juice," she added, crossing to the refrigerator in the corner. "I told him I needed to see you. By the way, he said you should come over for dinner soon."
"Sounds like a plan."
There'd been a moment when Matthew had feared that he'd have to beat the living shit out of the lawyer, but Easton had rallied and done himself proud. As far as Matthew could tell, Easton and Selma were about as happy as a couple could get, and Matthew was thrilled that not only was his sister madly in love, but she'd also calmed her wild child ways. At least in public. But so long as Easton could handle her, that was hardly Matthew's concern.
He was, however, a tiny bit jealous, an emotion that was all the more potent since he'd never expected her to settle down--at least not anytime soon. Staying in one place--with one person--had always made her antsy, a fact she'd always blamed on their screwed up childhood. Being abandoned in a mall as a pre-teen by your mother would do that to a person, she'd always said.
To him, though it had done the opposite. He craved stability. A home. A family.
He wanted what his parents had--his real parents, not the biological father who'd disappeared or the biological mother who'd left them to fend for themselves in the alcove between Sears and a cookie stand.
For his entire adult life, Matthew had craved a home and a family. And now he was the one living his work, and his ever-wandering sister was the one who'd settled down.
Maybe he shouldn't complain. After all, he had a thriving business and a fat bank account, and that wasn't half-bad for a high school dropout.
But he wanted more. He just wasn't sure how to get it.
"You have that look," she said, returning and handing him a can of coconut water. "Are you still annoyed with me for interrupting?"
"No. It's fine. I was just thinking."
"Yeah? Well, if you're in the mood to think, I'll give you something to noodle over."
"So we're getting down to it?" he asked. "What you needed to see me about?"
"Pretty much," she said, then settled cross-legged on the floor and looked up to where he was still seated on the bench. "I want you to do a favor for Hannah."
"Hannah?"
She exhaled noisily, buzzing her lips. "Come on, Matthew. You know Hannah. The lawyer. She's even worked out here a couple of times with--oh, with the girl we met at The Fix who's dating Nolan Wood. That drive-time radio guy."
"Shelby," Matthew said. "And of course I know Hannah. I was just surprised that you want me to do a favor for her."
Which was a total lie. He wasn't surprised about the favor. He wasn't even thinking about the favor. All he was thinking of was Hannah. Her bright smile and musical laugh. Those wild blond curls and her slim, strong build. She'd come in a couple of times with Shelby to workout, and watching her do squats in those tight black leggings and the pink workout bra had almost been the death of him.