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I growl into the phone, “Give me the address.”

“Mr. Winters⁠—”

“If I have to come down there and have this conversation in person, I promise neither of us is going to enjoy it.”

There’s another long pause, and then he clears his throat. “Fine.” He rambles off the address, and I’m back in my truck, typing it into my phone. My jaw tightens when I see where the new apartment is.

I drive across town, getting angrier the closer I get. By the time I pull into the apartment complex, I’m about to lose my mind. The building is old. Half the parking lot lights are broken, and there’s a boarded window on the building beside hers. There is no way in hell Joy is staying here.

I park and get out. I jog to the apartment and knock on the door.

Nothing.

I knock again. “Joy?” I call out.

It’s silent on the other side.

I look through the window beside the door and can see her suitcase inside.

I knock on the window and watch inside, looking for any kind of movement, but there is none. “Fuck.”

I pace in front of the door. I’ll just stay here until she shows up.

A half hour goes by, and I’m still pacing when my phone rings.

I pick it up, hoping it’s Joy, but instantly deflate when I see Maverick’s name on the caller ID.

I answer. “I can’t talk right now.”

“Okay, real quick. I just wanted to thank you for telling Joy about the women’s shelter.”

I stop moving. “What?”

“She’s here decorating. She’s making the place look amazing. The women love her.”

“Is she there now?”

Maverick pauses. “Yeah.”

“I’m on my way.”

I hang up before he can say anything else.

Twenty minutes later, I’m pulling into the parking lot of the shelter. I barely get the truck in park before I’m out. I walk inside and immediately hear Christmas music.

I follow it down the hall and find Joy standing beside a Christmas tree with a box of ornaments at her feet.

For a second, I just stand here and watch her. Relief hits me so hard that I have to take a breath. Joy is okay. But just as quickly, the anger comes back.

“Joy.”

She turns. Her eyes widen slightly when she sees me. “Nick?”

I walk toward her. “I got your text.”

She turns back to the tree and hangs another ornament. “Yeah.” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I should have told you in person. After everything you did for me, you deserved more than a text.” She sighs softly. “Thank you again for everything you did for me,” she says softly. “Really. I appreciate it.”

I stare at the back of her head. “That’s it?”