Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Ryker
My hand throbs in a way that feels personal.
Someone wrapped it in gauze at some point. I don’t remember agreeing to that, but it’s tight and already stained through in places, so I let it be.
Dorian’s hand is wrapped, too. Thicker bandage. Cleaner. He keeps flexing his fingers like he’s testing the limits of it, jaw tight but expression otherwise calm.
Jude is the loud one.
“Fuck,” Jude mutters, again, voice nasal and wrecked. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
His nose is very clearly broken. Not subtle. Not debatable. It’s swollen and crooked in a way that makes my own face ache in sympathy.
He presses the heel of his palm beneath it and hisses.
“You’re going to make it worse,” Dorian says mildly.
“It’s already worse,” Jude snaps. “My face fucking hurts. My nose was definitely my best feature, and that fucking twat just broke it.”
I snort despite myself, then regret it immediately when the movement tugs at my hand.
“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 and scarves, 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.
Mayor Brighton stands off to the side, hands tucked into his coat, looking like a man who never expected his evening to go this way but handled it anyway.
Jude moves first. “Where’s Maisie?”
Amber wipes her cheeks. “In the car. Rufus is with her. They’re both asleep.”
Jude collapses into his sister, hugging her carefully, broken nose and all. She clings back, shaking.
“I know I fucked up,” she says into his shoulder. “I know. But I’m trying. I really am.”
“I know,” Jude murmurs. “I know.”
Norah steps toward us, eyes wide. “Are you okay?”
Dorian nods. “We will be.”
I step closer too, my good hand finding her waist, soothing myself with the fact that she’s here. Safe.
Mayor Brighton clears his throat. “I hired these men to build a community hall,” he says mildly. “Not to end up bailing them out of jail.”
The cop snorts. “You’re free to go,” he repeats.
Dorian turns. “Where the hell is he?”
The cop sighs. “Luke was the one who called us. At the time, we didn’t know there was a restraining order in place. Once that came up, it changed things. He’ll be booked in the morning. Fined.”
Good.
Stella is talking quietly with the mayor, explaining something, gesturing with calm authority. I catch the words “restraining order,” and “safety,” and “plan.” It turns out she convinced Amber to file for one as soon as she arrived at her house, not buying my sister’s excuses for him.
She not only inadvertently saved her friend’s life, but she’s also the reason we’re not spending the night in a police station.
I pull Norah closer, my wrapped hand awkward but determined on her back. Dorian’s arm mirrors mine on her other side. She fits there like she always has.
“Let’s go home,” I say.
She nods, leaning into us without hesitation.