Page 106 of Sycamore Circle

Then, to her amazement, they weren’t alone. People shouted, entering the room like a swarm of bees. Joy tried to cry out, but it was hard. Anthony’s arms felt like a vice around her midsection.

“No,” Anthony shouted in her ear—just before someone pulled him away.

At last, she could breathe.

More voices surrounded her. It sounded like every one of them was calling out orders.

Except for one. “Easy, now.”

She knew that voice. She closed her eyes and leaned into it. Two hands lightly ran up and down her body, whether they were assessing damage or attempting to soothe, she didn’t know. All she was aware of was that they weren’t hurting her.

“I’ve got you,” the familiar voice whispered.

That familiar, so southern, so masculine, so everything voice was there. He was there.

“Bo.” Even with her weary ears, she could tell that her voice was faint.

“Yes, you brave, brave girl. It’s me. I’m here. I’m here and I’m not going to let you go.”

Joy opened her mouth. She knew she should tell him something. No, tell him that she loved him. But it hurt too much to talk.

He reached down and lightly pressed his lips to her temple. “I love you too.”

At last, she relaxed.

CHAPTER 38

Bo had never been the type of man to believe in platitudes. He’d liked hearing the truth, even when it was unvarnished and painful.

Sweet, meaningless phrases always reminded him of the nurse at the clinic that his momma had taken him, Carrie, Janie, and Eric to when they were growing up. That nurse always proclaimed that booster shots weren’t going to hurt when everyone knew that they would. She’d jab him with a needle, smile, and put some stupid cartoon Band-Aid on top. That’s when she’d say he wouldn’t be sore for too long.

But that had been a lie too. His arm had always been sore for days.

So that was his earliest memory of hearing people spout things that everyone knew weren’t true. It hadn’t been the only time he’d heard those things, however. Maybe he’d been gullible or just plain bad, but for a while, he’d even started to believe those obvious lies—lies like thinking no one would know when he’d done stupid stuff.

Or that grades didn’t really matter.

Or that avenging a gal was the right thing to do.

Or that being in prison for just a couple of years wasn’t going to be too bad.

Or when his momma had gathered them all together to say that their Daddy was going to be all right—but he’d died just a month later of throat cancer.

Bo swallowed the lump in his throat. He’d been upset about that one for years. Like it was his mother’s fault for wanting to believe that a miracle would happen when the love of her life was dying and she had four kids to support.

So yeah, he’d never been real good with words that felt like nothing more than useless phrases... until this moment.

Now, he was clinging to every single word of comfort he could get his hands on.

Which was why he kept telling himself the same three things over and over again.

Joy is safe. She isn’t going to die. I haven’t completely failed her.

Those same three sentiments had rung through his head as he’d watched the EMTs carefully load Joy into the ambulance.

And when the cops had shaken his hand and said that they would be in touch—and that they’d be praying for his girlfriend’s recovery.

He’d even spouted some new variations of platitudes out loud when he’d called Chloe and her grandmother to relay the news, and when Tony had called from his car on the way out of the airport.

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