“I don’t like this,” Cynthia murmured, tightening her grip on Mike’s arm as she helped him into his coat. “There are too many people outside.”

Mike sighed, leaning against her slightly. “I’ll be fine. It’s just the press.”

“It’s never just the press,” she snapped, voice low but sharp. “They want to tear you apart. And after what you’ve just been through—”

“Cyn,” he interrupted gently, “I’m not made of glass.”

She turned to face him, her eyes blazing. “No, but your reputation is. And I know what those people are like. They’ll twist everything. You step out of this hospital, and suddenly, it’s all theories and headlines and lies.”...