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Gabi fought to settle her nerves as she stalked up to the butter-yellow clinic. She could do this. She could make Agedale safe again. Make Joy safe again.
She didn’t want to think about the alternative.
TWENTY-FIVE
JOY
Joy had barely processed her relief at seeing Gabi, storming through the cold, yellow corridor, her long black hair flying behind her and her coat flapping open—she was like an angel burning with glorious fury—before Joy’s face was against Gabi’s shoulder and Gabi’s arms were crushing her close.
“I thought you’d been hurt,” Gabi cried, drawing back to touch Joy’s face.
Joy could do nothing but look at her, caught off guard, stunned by Gabi’s hands as they moved to Joy’s elbows, as if unwilling to let her go. Her eyes roved over Joy’s body, as if unable to believe she was okay.
Joy’s face burned hot, the end of her nose tingling, warning tears were close.
“I’m alright,” she rasped after a too-long moment of silence. “I’m not hurt.”
A nurse had patched up her arm in what felt like seconds while Joy stared at the healers working on Neil, and it had stopped throbbing ages ago.
“But Neil, my neighbour, is really hurt. I found him bleeding, and there was so much blood, Gabi, it was everywhere.”
“Shh,” Gabi soothed, stroking her back. “You’re okay.”
“I think—I think the killer shoved me. No, I knowsomeoneshoved me and I think it was the killer. It’s too big a coincidence for it be anyone else and—”
“Joy,” Gabi said calmly, ducking her head to trap Joy’s stare. “It’s alright. Take a deep breath.”
Joy struggled at first, but after the fourth attempt, she filled her lungs with a trickle of oxygen.
“There was so much blood,” she breathed again, stuck on that fact, unable to move past it. She shook, a primal shudder. “It’s all over me,” she hissed. “It’s all—it’s everywhere. I—I tried to clean it but—”
Her words, her panic, her disgust … all of it paused when Gabi left a kiss on Joy’s temple.
To someone else, Gabi said, “I’ll be with you in two minutes.”
To Joy she murmured, “Come on, sweetheart,” and guided her down the hallway to the ladies’ toilet.
Joy didn’t understand why until Gabi started removing her clothes. She checked to make sure no scandalised women were going to come out of the stalls, relieved when they were all empty.
“None of your clothes will fit me,” Joy rasped, still feeling the blood on her hands even if her fingers themselves were numb.
She knew, on any other day, the sight of Gabriella Pride stripping would make her face blush and her body pulse with heat, but now she only watched, feeling … emptied.
“Thiswill,” Gabi said, removing the black vest she wore under her smart shirt and coat. “It has some stretch. Take your top off.”
Joy didn’t argue, and found Gabi was right—her vest was stretchy enough to fit Joy’s curves. She swallowed, gratitude and confusion and shaky fear rattling around inside her body.
Gabi put her white shirt back on, but she buttoned her heavy wool coat aroundJoyinstead. It came halfway down Joy’s calves and was long in the sleeves, but she instantly felt better to be out of her bloody shirt. She’d worn black trousers today—her single attempt to look professional, not that her boss cared—so if any blood had spilled onto them, it wasn’t visible. And she couldn’t feel any wetness in the fabric.
Relief slowly loosened the fist gripping her lungs. She lifted her head when the comforting weight of Gabi’s hands settled on her shoulders, before sliding up her neck to frame her face.
“Coffee, tea, or soup?” Gabi asked, her steady brown eyes trying to convince Joy everything would be okay.
“I don’t need anything,” Joy replied in a scratchy voice. She’d already been given clothes and more physical contact than she’d dreamed of in a year.
Gabi tucked a messy lock of pink hair behind Joy’s ear. “Coffee, tea, or soup?”
Joy surrendered. “Tea.”
