Ryan tucked a firm hand under Percy’s elbow as they got out of the SUV.
“For the love of God, I’m not an invalid,” Percy groused.
“You literally just spent two days in the hospital. No arguing about taking a little help.”
With a huff, he shuffled his slow way toward the front porch, muttering about being forced to use a wheelchair at the hospital and how long discharge had taken.
“Yeah, well, that would’ve gone quicker without your entourage, but there is no turning away the Casserole Patrol,” Hannah told him.
“Truer words,” Percy intoned.
“I think Miss Betty’s got a crush on you,” Ryan teased.
Color leapt in the old man’s cheeks, a welcome reprieve from how he’d looked in the hospital lying against the harsh white sheets in the sterile room.
“It’s true,” Hannah put in, shouldering
