As Xavier and James headed out, Matt caught the subtle way Xavier’s hand brushed against Ryan’s shoulder—so quick it could have been accidental. From the pink tinge creeping up Ryan’s neck, it definitely wasn’t. Matt’s jaw clenched reflexively—old protective instincts died hard. But watching Ryan try to hide his flustered reaction, Matt had to admit that maybe he needed to reevaluate his stance on Xavier. His baby brother wasn’t so much a baby anymore, and that blush… well, that was something he’d never seen from Ryan before.
Catherine, who’d been watching the entire exchange with the shrewd observation skills only a mother could possess, had that look in her eyes that usually preceded a lengthy discussion about her sons’ love lives.
“Mom,” Matt interrupted, recognizing the beginning of one of her favorite lectures. “Maybe we could focus on lunch before it gets cold?”
“Speaking of progress,” Jeremy cut in, distributing containers of food, “when are they springing you?”
“Tomorrow,” Matt said firmly.
“Three days minimum,” the doctor corrected from where he was updating the chart, apparently immune to the Caine family chaos.
Andy moved to perch on the edge of Matt’s bed, careful of the IV lines. His hand found Matt’s, warm and solid and real. “Three days,” he agreed, his tone brooking no argument.
Matt looked at him—at the shadows under his eyes from keeping vigil, at the worry still lingering beneath his smile, at the love written so clearly across his face—and felt his resistance crumble.
“Fine,” Matt conceded, squeezing Andy’s hand. “Three days.”
“Whipped,” Ryan coughed into his hand.
“Says the disaster who can’t dress himself,” Jeremy shot back, eyeing Ryan’s disheveled state. “Meanwhile, our brother gets kidnapped, breaks out fighting, and still manages to look presentable.”
“I was in a hurry!” Ryan defended.
“Children.” Mr. Caine’s voice held years of practice at wrangling wayward sons.
The room settled into a comfortable chaos of passing containers and trading barbs. Catherine continued to fuss over both Andy and Matt, while Richard watched with quiet satisfaction.
Andy stayed close, absently tracing patterns on Matt’s palm. When he caught Matt watching him, his smile was soft and private, just for them.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Andy murmured.
“Make me.”
His kiss tasted like promises and tomorrow, gentle enough to make Catherine sigh happily and Ryan fake gag.
Three days in the hospital suddenly didn’t seem so bad to Matt at all.
The Caine family mansion sprawled across three acres of prime Las Vegas real estate like a modernist’s fever dream—all clean lines, floor-to-ceiling windows, and enough marble to make an Italian quarry jealous. Matt had always thought the place was ridiculously oversized for just his parents, but tonight, with what felt like half of Vegas’ elite crammed into the main living area, he had to admit the space made sense.
The “welcome home from not dying” party, as Ryan had so eloquently dubbed it, was in full swing. Laughter and conversation bounced off the thirty-foot ceilings, mixing with the soft jazz playing through the state-of-the-art sound system. The scent of gourmet catering wafted from the kitchen, where his mother had probably terrorized the chef into preparing every single one of Matt’s favorite dishes.
Andy sat perched on the arm of Matt’s chair, close enough that Matt could smell his cologne and feel the warmth radiating from his body. He was wearing one of the new suits Matt had insisted on buying him—charcoal gray which made his eyes sparkle and his skin glow. The sight made Matt’s mouth water more than any of the elaborate appetizers being passed around.
“Stop staring at me like that,” Andy murmured, though the pink tinge to his cheeks suggested he didn’t mind at all.
“Make me,” Matt replied, earning himself an eye roll that didn’t quite hide Andy’s smile.
Across the vast living room, Daniel’s kids were treating the space like their personal playground, with eight-year-old Ella leading her younger brother Logan on what appeared to be a very serious mission between the guests’ legs. Daniel’s wife Sophie watched them with the resigned expression of a woman who had long ago accepted that her children had inherited the Caine energy levels.
“I caught Ella trying to negotiate a higher allowance with the security team earlier,” Daniel said, dropping into the seat next to Matt. “She’s definitely got the family business sense.”
“Did she succeed?” Matt asked, already knowing the answer.
“Got them to agree to a twenty percent increase for additional responsibilities, which apparently include reporting suspicious activities like her uncle Ryan sneaking cookies before dinner.”
“That’s my girl.” Matt grinned. “Though I’m not sure if I should be proud or terrified.”
“Both,” Daniel and Andy said in unison.
