Noelle.

The nurse smiled like the worst part was over.

“Discharge papers in five. Vitals look good. You’re lucky he was listed.”

She pulled the curtain the rest of the way and left.

The click of the door lock came two seconds later.

Grant didn’t sit. He stood at the foot of the bed in the same clothes he’d worn when they brought me in—dark shirt, sleeves rolled, the watch that had paid the bill still on his wrist. My stepfather. The name on every form. The card the billing office had already run.

“They think I did it because I’m family,” he said.

My mouth was dry. The IV...