"Eat?"
Clara's eyebrows lifted slightly as if she wasn't sure she'd heard correctly.
"Yeah," I said, letting my head fall back against the chair and exhaling slowly. The backrest creaked in protest. "Shannon's mother invited me to eat with them."
The room Molly had given us was still half-shadowed despite the daylight sneaking past the curtains. Dust motes drifted lazily through the thin beams of light that cut across the floor. Clara lay propped up on the hotel bed, her body angled slightly to favor her injured shoulder, bandages stark white against her skin. Her hair fanned messily over the pillow, and the lines of pain around her mouth were still there, but softer now that the painkillers had done some work.
"Why are you upset about that?" Clara asked, a small laugh edging into her voice. "Most people would be happy for a hot meal and some company."
"Because," I said, "I was kind of hoping to eat in peace without having to talk too much."
