Chapter 117: The Fearless Blaine Jackson

"Lucas, Blaine just gave me a ride here after hearing how urgently I needed to get to the hospital," Claire explained quickly, hoping to clear up any potential misunderstanding. 

Unfortunately, it was already too late. Lucas's sharp features darkened instantly, his chiseled jaw tightening as his gaze settled icily on Blaine. His expression could rival the bleakness of a winter storm. 

"And why, exactly, was it *him* who brought you here?" Lucas's voice carried a sharp edge, the kind that could cut through steel. The thought of Claire spending any time alone with Blaine was enough to set his temper alight. 

Claire hesitated, fumbling for words. "Uh, well, Sarah wanted to meet Blaine—she's a big fan of his work. I went with her because she thought he could help her with her art career. We didn't even know he was the famous Blaine Jackson at first, and—" 

"And where's Sarah now? Why didn't she come with you?" Lucas cut her off, his eyes narrowing. 

"She left earlier," Claire murmured, her gaze dropping to the floor. 

"If she left earlier, why didn't you leave with her?" Lucas pressed, his suspicion growing by the second. 

"I—" Claire started, but before she could finish, Blaine, always the provocateur, jumped in. 

"Lucas, are you jealous?" Blaine's voice was a smooth blend of amusement and challenge. He casually draped an arm over Claire's shoulder as if to emphasize his point. "Don't worry, I'll look out for her." 

The action was the last straw. Lucas's patience snapped like a fraying wire. He swatted Blaine's hand off Claire's shoulder as though it were a venomous snake. 

"You!" Lucas growled, glaring at Blaine with a fire that could scorch the sun. He turned on Claire next, his frustration bubbling over. "And you—how can you let him touch you like that without saying a word? Don't you care at all about how it looks?" 

"Relax," Blaine said with a lazy smirk, unbothered by Lucas's rage. "You're overreacting. I was just being friendly." 

"Friendly?" Lucas spat the word like it tasted bitter. "Do you have *any* idea who she is? Claire's my wife, and you think it's appropriate to put your hands on her?" 

"Lucas, stop!" Claire interjected, stepping between the two men. "You've got it all wrong. Blaine didn't mean anything by it. He's just being... well, himself. And besides, I'm grateful he brought me here safely." 

Grateful? Lucas's blood boiled at the word. Claire might as well have driven a dagger into his pride. 

"Blaine, why does the air in this hospital smell so strange?" Blaine mused suddenly, taking a theatrical sniff of the air. His expression turned mock-serious as he tilted his head. "Oh, I know. It's the scent of... vinegar. This place must use vinegar to disinfect, because the air is so *unbelievably* sour." 

Claire blinked, confused. "Vinegar? Why would they use vinegar?" 

"Think about it, Claire." Blaine winked. "Say it out loud: C-U." 

"C-U?" Claire sounded it out slowly, her brows furrowing. "Oh! You mean—'cuh,' like 'jealous?'" 

Blaine burst into laughter, the sound rich and unapologetic. Claire, still oblivious, tilted her head. "What's so funny?" 

Lucas, however, had no patience for Blaine's antics. His face darkened further, and his glare could have frozen an entire lake. 

"What's funny?" Blaine echoed between chuckles, leaning slightly on Claire's shoulder for balance. "Oh, nothing, nothing at all. I just think this hospital has a unique cleaning regimen." 

Lucas's hands balled into fists at his sides, and he took a threatening step forward. Blaine, unfazed, offered an innocent shrug. 

"Sorry, man," Blaine said nonchalantly, not bothering to move away from Claire. "Didn't mean to borrow your wife's shoulder. I'll give it back now." 

The casual remark was like gasoline on a fire. Lucas looked moments away from lunging, but before he could act, a weak voice interrupted the standoff. 

"Lucas... I'm in pain." 

All three heads turned toward Blaire Zeller, who lay on the hospital bed, her pale face twisted in discomfort. Her timing couldn't have been more calculated. 

Lucas hesitated, caught between his simmering anger and concern for his sister. 

"Blaire, what's wrong?" Claire asked, rushing over to her bedside. Her genuine worry shone through as she looked Blaire over. 

"My whole body hurts," Blaire murmured, her tone pitiful. Her gaze flicked briefly to Lucas, as if gauging his reaction. "And my back aches from lying here so long. I was hoping Lucas could help me sit up for a bit." 

"I'll help you," Claire offered immediately, moving closer. 

"No!" Blaire snapped, though she quickly softened her tone. "I mean, it's fine. Lucas knows how to handle me better." 

Blaine, who had been watching silently, raised a brow at Blaire's tone. Something about her demeanor struck him as off. He leaned against the wall, observing closely. 

Interesting, he thought. This wasn't just sibling affection. The look in Blaire's eyes when she glanced at Claire spoke of something darker, something almost territorial. 

Sibling affection? Blaine smirked to himself. Not quite. This was something else entirely.