Page 121 of Until Joy

“Both brake lines were severed with a sharp blade. This wasn't an accident,” a voice said. It took me a moment to recognize who it was. Harlan. Harmony’s husband. He did a lot of the complicated repairs at the shop.

“Motherfucker,” Seth's voice carried clearly through the partially open door. “This bastard tried to kill him.”

“And nearly succeeded,” Randy added. “If Graham hadn't been as experienced a driver as he is, if he hadn't known how to handle a vehicle at that speed…”

My stomach clenched. I kept my eyes closed, my breathing even, pretending to be asleep in case they peeked into the room.

“So, what's our next move?” Wes asked.

“We find this piece of shit and end him,” Z said flatly.

“The police are involved now,” Jax reminded them. “Attempted murder changes everything.”

“Good,” Seth said. “Maybe now they'll take this seriously.”

“Nico and Cobi were always taking this seriously,” Wes admonished.

“Gentlemen, I need you to leave this area,” a woman said. “You’re blocking our hallway.”

Their voices faded as they moved farther down the hall, leaving me alone with the crushing weight of my guilt. Graham had nearly died because of me. Because some twisted individual wanted me isolated and alone, willing to kill anyone who stood in his way.

I opened my eyes to find Graham watching me, his hazel gaze the most alert since he’d arrived.

“How long have you been awake?” I asked.

“Long enough to know you heard them talking.” His good hand reached out toward me, and I took it. “And long enough to see that look on your face.”

“What look?”

“The one that says you're blaming yourself for something that's not your fault.”

I couldn't meet his eyes. “If…”

“Stop.” His voice was firm despite its hoarseness. “This is not on you, Joy. This is on whatever sick fuck is stalking you.”

“But if you had died⁠—”

“I didn't die. I'm right here.” He squeezed my hand. “And I'm not going anywhere.”

The simple words broke through the wall I'd been starting to build around my heart. I leaned forward, careful not to jostle his injured ribs, and pressed my forehead against his good shoulder.

“I was so scared,” I whispered.

“I know, baby. I know.”

We stayed like that for long minutes, drawing comfort from each other's presence. Finally, I pulled back and wiped my eyes.

“I should go get us something to eat. See if I can find you something better than whatever they're planning to serve you here this time.”

Graham's smile was tired but genuine. “Hospital food isn't that bad.”

“Liar.”

I kissed his forehead gently and headed for the door. “I'll be back in a few minutes.”

The waiting room was empty except for a few scattered magazines and the lingering scent of disinfectant. I settled into one of the uncomfortable chairs and pulled out my phone, steeling myself for what I knew would be a long wait. I’d been ignoring everybody until I could get myself under control.

Thirty-seven missed calls.