“You want me to take a look at it?” Dorian asks, already shifting closer.
Jude squints at him. “You’d better not do anything dramatic.”
“I’m not going to reset it in a police station,” Dorian says dryly. “Relax.”
I step in because I’ve seen enough broken noses in my life to know how this goes. “Sit still,” I tell Jude. “He’s right. It’s busted. We just need to make sure nothing’s collapsing where it shouldn’t.”
“Oh, are you a doctor now?” Jude asks.
“Nope. Just had a violent father. Now sit still and let me see what I can do for you.”
Jude glares but stays put, breathing through his mouth. Dorian angles his head, fingers careful as he checks alignment, pressure light but precise.
Jude swears when Dorian touches the bridge.
“Sorry,” Dorian says.
I adjust the angle of Jude’s head, eyeing the swelling. “It’s clean,” I say. “You’ll be fine. Ugly for a while, but fine.”
Jude exhales shakily. “Thanks.”
“Man. I’m glad all I broke was a couple of bones and not my fucking nose. I don’t know how I would sit through a meeting with corporate with a swollen face,” Dorian says, flexing his fingers and wincing at the pain.
We both turn to Dorian then, like the thought has finally caught up.
“You didn’t have to get involved,” Jude says quietly.
Dorian lifts his gaze, meeting it without hesitation. “You said we were friends, didn’t you?”
That shuts Jude up.
I roll my eyes because emotion makes me itchy. “Look at you,” I say to Dorian, forcing the tone lighter. “All posh coats andscarves, throwing punches like you’ve been waiting your whole life for it.”
He laughs, real and unguarded. “You keep forgetting I was born and raised in Fox Hollow. I only became posh after I grew up.”
That gets Jude laughing too, which immediately turns into another curse as his nose protests the movement.
“I still can’t believe that bastard had the audacity to come after Amber,” Jude says, voice thick. “After everything.”
The door opens before anyone can answer.
Same cop. Same bored expression. He looks at us like he expected to find us exactly like this. Battered. Sitting. Waiting.
“You’re free to go,” he says.
It takes a second to land.
“What?” Jude says flatly.
He jerks his head toward the exit. “Paperwork’s done. Someone posted bail.”
We stand up slowly, every movement reminding me exactly how much damage we did to ourselves and to someone else. The air outside hits cold and clean, snow still falling light and quiet.
Norah is the first thing I see.
She’s standing with Amber and Stella near the curb, coat pulled tight, hair loose and wild from stress and cold. Her eyes fly to us immediately, scanning like she’s counting injuries.
Relief crashes through her face so hard it almost knocks me back.
