When Elvis left the hospital and got in his car, Winona's parting words echoed in his mind. He let out a dry, amused laugh.
She called him a good man—did she really think he was this patient and considerate with everyone?
"How naïve," he muttered.
…
On the drive home, the Goodwin family sat in heavy silence.
"Mom, Ty, do you really think Winona's going to press charges against me?" Celia's voice was trembling, her face twisted with distress. "Has she lost her mind?"
"Honestly, she's being way too dramatic. It was just a little scuffle—does she really have to blow it out of proportion?" Simone sighed, her voice tight with frustration. "And to say all that in front of strangers, giving Ty no chance to save face."
Tyson's expression, already dark, grew even stormier at his mother's words. The car felt stifling and hot. He rolled down the window and let the night air wash over him, cooling his simmering frustration.
"Ty, what's gotten into Nona?" Simone pressed, worry lining her face. "She's changed so much… She used to have eyes for no one but you. Now she's so distant. And who is this Mr. Rogers she knows?"
"I have no idea," Tyson replied, his tone clipped and cold.
"Ty, don't tell me you're jealous. Is this really the time for that?" Celia's voice broke as she began to cry. "If Winona sues me, what am I supposed to do?"
Irritation flashed in Tyson's eyes. "It's just a minor injury. At worst, you'll spend a few days in holding."
But as Celia's sobs filled the car, his resolve softened.
"Don't worry. I'll figure something out."


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