Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The drive from the hospital to Joy's parents' house in Jasper Creek took forty-three minutes. I counted every single one of them. Joy sat beside me in my truck, her left arm in a sling to protect her shoulder. Every bump in the road made her wince, though she tried to hide it.
“I'm fine.” Her voice carried that stubborn tone I'd come to know well.
“You just got released after three days. You're not fine.”
She turned her head to look at me. “I've had worse.”
My hands tightened on the steering wheel. The memory of finding her in those woods, blood soaking through her shirt, still made my chest constrict. “Don't joke about that.”
“I'm not joking. I'm trying to keep you from hovering.”
I reached over and took her good hand. “Too bad. I'm hovering.”
She squeezed my fingers gently. “Your ribs must be killing you.”
“They're fine.” They hurt like hell, but she didn't need to worry about that. “Your mom's been cooking for two days straight. Pretty sure she's made enough food to feed half of Tennessee.”
“That's how she handles stress. When Randy broke his arm in eighth grade, she baked seventeen pies.”
“Seventeen?”
“We ate pie for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for a week. Dad finally had to stage an intervention.”
I turned onto the familiar street. Cars were everywhere—Randy's truck, Seth's Camaro, two sedans I didn't recognize.
“The whole family's here.” Joy's voice went small.
“Want to go to my place instead?”
She shook her head. “They need to see I'm okay.”
I parked and came around to help her out. She moved slowly, protecting her injured shoulder.
“Let me help.”
“I can manage.”
“Joy.”
“I need to walk in on my own two feet.”
I understood that. I wrapped my arm around her waist, supporting her without making it obvious.
The front door opened before we reached the porch. Sarah Magill stood there, tears already streaming down her face.
“My baby.”
“Mom, I'm okay.”
Sarah rushed forward, then stopped, hands fluttering. “I don't want to hurt you.”
“A gentle hug won't hurt.” I guided Joy up the steps.
Sarah carefully embraced her daughter, mindful of the sling.
The house smelled incredible—fried chicken, fresh bread, cinnamon.
The living room was packed. Randy jumped up from the couch.
Seth stood by the fireplace, arms crossed.
Emmie sat on an ottoman. Little Grandma occupied Sarah's chair, with Lettie and Great Aunt Pattie hovering in the kitchen doorway. Miss Laverne rose from the loveseat.
“Joy, honey. Sit before you fall down.” Miss Laverne's voice was gentle.
I lowered Joy carefully onto the couch. Randy knelt in front of her, taking her good hand.
“Hey, JoJo. Pushing yourself, as usual.”
“I have no idea what you're talking about.”
Seth moved closer, jaw tight. “You should still be in the hospital.”
“Like you would have stayed.” Emmie stood gracefully. “You'd have checked yourself out after one day.”
“That's different.”
“How?” Emmie challenged.
“Enough.” Little Grandma's voice cut through the room. “Our Joy is home. That's what matters.”
Seth wasn't done. He looked at me, something hard in his eyes. “You sure she should be here and not at the hospital?”
“Seth.” Cobb Magill's warning came from the doorway. I hadn't heard him come in.
“I'm just saying, Dad. She got shot three days ago.”
“And Graham's been by her side the whole time.” Randy stood, facing his brother. “Back off.”
The tension in the room ratcheted up. This was more like what I'd expected—not everyone instantly accepting everything.
“Boys.” Sarah's voice trembled. “Please. Not now.”
Joy tried to stand. “I'm fine. Everyone stop—”
She swayed. I caught her, easing her back down.
“See?” Seth pointed. “She can't even stand properly.”
“Because you're stressing her out.” My voice came out harder than intended.
Seth stepped forward. “You want to go?”
“Seriously?” I stood, ribs screaming. “You want to fight me in your parents' living room while Joy's recovering?”
“Stop it!” Joy's voice cracked. “Both of you, stop it right now.”
The room went silent.
“Seth, I know you're scared. I know you're angry. But Graham saved my life. He rode his bike with two broken ribs and a concussion to find me.” Her voice broke. “So please, please don't do this.”
Seth's shoulders dropped. He scrubbed his face with his hands. “Christ, JoJo. When Graham called and said that psycho had you...”
“I know.” Joy reached for her brother with her good hand. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I scared you.”
Seth carefully took her hand, then looked at me. “Thank you. For bringing her back.”
I nodded. An understanding passed between us—not perfect acceptance, but a start.
“Can we eat now?” Emmie's voice cut through the moment. “Because I'm starving and Aunt Sarah's food is getting cold.”
The tension broke. People moved toward the dining room. I helped Joy stand, moving slowly.
“That was interesting,” she murmured.
“Your brother's protective. I get it.”
“He's an ass sometimes.”
“If someone hurt you, I'd be worse.”
Sarah, Pattie, and Lettie had outdone themselves. The table groaned under platters of food. I watched Joy try to manage with one hand.
“Let me.” I took her plate, adding small portions.
“I can do it.”
“I know.”
Conversation flowed around us, carefully avoiding the last few days. Randy talked about a construction project. Seth complained about his boss. Normal family dinner conversation, except for the way everyone kept glancing at Joy's sling.
Halfway through the meal, Cobb cleared his throat. “Graham.”
Everyone went quiet.
“Sir?”
“My daughter says she's staying with you.”
It wasn't a question, but it felt like one. “Yes.”
His jaw worked. “I'm not thrilled about it.”
“Dad—” Joy started.
“Let me finish.” He held up his hand. “I'm not thrilled, but I saw how you were at the hospital. How you wouldn't leave her side.” He paused. “You'll take care of her?”
“Always.”
He nodded slowly. “Then I guess that's that.”
Sarah made a small sound—part sob, part laugh. “My baby's really grown up.”
“Mom, I'm twenty-four.”
“You'll always be my baby.”
“Speaking of babies,” Emmie grinned wickedly. “When do I get to be an aunt?”
Joy choked on her water. I pounded her back gently.
“Emmie!” Sarah scolded.
“What? I'm just asking what everyone's thinking.”
“No one's thinking that.” Seth growled.
“I am.” Little Grandma's eyes twinkled. “This family needs more babies.”
“Can we please talk about something else?” Joy's face was crimson.
“I have pie.” Sarah stood abruptly. “Four pies.”
The entire Magill family groaned in unison.
“Only four?” I asked.
“See?” Sarah pointed at me. “He appreciates my baking.”
“That's because he hasn't lived through a seventeen-pie week,” Randy muttered.
Twenty minutes later, we were finally at the door. Everyone had hugged Joy carefully, and Sarah had packed enough leftovers for a week.
Seth pulled me aside while Joy said goodbye to Emmie.
“You’ll take care of her?”
“With my life.”
He studied me for a long moment, then held out his hand. “Then we're good.”
Little Grandma was the last to say goodbye. She touched my face with her weathered hand.
“You're a good man, Graham Wallace.”
“I try to be.”
“No. You are. And now you're ours. That's both a blessing and a warning.” She smiled. “Magill women are worth it, but their families? We're a lot.”
“I can handle it.”
“I believe you can.”
I helped Joy into the truck. The porch was full of her family, watching us leave.
“That was intense,” Joy said as we pulled away.
“Seth still doesn't trust me.”
“He doesn't trust anyone with his little sister.” She took my hand. “But he'll come around.”
“What about your dad?”
“He's trying. It's hard for him, knowing I won't be under his roof.”
We drove in comfortable silence until Joy spoke again.
“Thank you. For understanding about the family drama.”
“Every family has it.”
“For being patient with Seth.”
“He loves you. I can't fault him for that.”
She squeezed my hand. “Take me home, Graham.”
“Your place or mine?”
“Yours. Ours.” She corrected herself softly. “Whatever you want to call it. Just... home.”
I brought her hand to my lips. “Home it is.”
We'd survived stalkers and surgeries, broken ribs and overprotective brothers. We could handle whatever came next.
Together.