Page 58 of A Forever Home at Honey Bee Croft

Moments later, I jumped as a piece of heavy material – a coat perhaps? – was placed over my heaving shoulders.

‘Can you stand up?’

I looked up into Poppy’s concerned eyes. Where had she sprung from? Had she heard all of that?

‘I can help you,’ she said, her voice gentle.

‘I need to…’

I sniffed and tried to get control of my tears as I leaned forward to pick up the glass, but I was shaking really badly now.

‘You’ve cut yourself,’ she said. ‘We need to get that seen to.’

‘The glass.’

‘Leave it. I’ll let one of the bar staff know in a bit, but I need you to come with me so I can get your hand cleaned up and see whether it needs stitches.’

She helped ease me to my feet and pressed a tissue onto my palm. ‘Hold this but don’t press too hard in case there’s some glass in the cut. You don’t want to push it in any deeper.’

Placing her arm round my waist, she led me back inside and all I could think was thank goodness it had been Poppy who’d seen that and not Imogen because that had to be the worst thing I’d ever experienced. Why did my brother hate me so much? Why had he wanted to hurt me with his words like that? And had he meant to hurt me physically too? Because, if he had, I wasn’t sure how we’d recover.

21

POPPY

I felt Joel trembling as I led him along the corridor to my bedroom. There were so many things I wanted to say to him to try to take the pain away, but I remained silent. I knew nothing about Joel’s brother or their relationship so it wasn’t right for me to speak when I could imagine his mind was working overtime trying to process what had just happened. How must it feel to have your brother declare out loudI hate youwith so much venom injected into those three words? How must it feel to have him hurl a glass bottle at you, wondering if he’d been aiming at you?

I wished I hadn’t witnessed it, but if I hadn’t been there Joel would have been all alone and nobody should be on their own after something like that. The moment I heard voices, I’d pressed my back against my chair and willed them to have a quick conversation and leave. By the time it was obvious it was an argument – every word coming to me loud and clear – it was too late to alert them to my presence. I thought one of the voices sounded like Joel’s and, when his brother – Chez, was it? – quoted from his speech, I knew it was definitely him. Noticing a gap between two planters, I’d peered through it and saw thatChez was much younger than Joel – a fifteen-year age gap at a guess – which could explain the parenting comments. Imogen had said Joel’s parents lived in Portugal so perhaps Joel had needed to step into a parental role in their absence. From what I’d seen and heard, Chez needed it. What he’d said to Joel had been cruel and hurtful, each word shocking me. The way Joel had managed to keep his voice so calm and reassuring when those words must have wounded, then not responding to his brother’s attempts at a physical fight, filled me with admiration for him and endeared him to me even more.

We reached my bedroom and Joel leaned against the wall as I removed the key from my clutch bag and unlocked the door. He looked at me questioningly as though only just registering where we were.

‘I’ve got a first-aid kit in my room.’

He raised his eyebrows with an unspokenwhy?

‘My mum was a nurse, and she always had one with her and now I never travel without one in case of emergencies. Habit.’

He looked down at his hand where blood had seeped through the tissue.

‘We’d best get that seen to.’ I pushed open the door and flicked on the light, relieved that I was a tidy person and the clothes I’d discarded earlier were neatly folded on a chair rather than strewn across the bed.

I took my first-aid kit into the bathroom and Joel sat on the edge of the bath as I held his left hand under cold running water. The amount of blood was deceptive as the cut wasn’t actually very deep, but it was long, crossing his whole palm. There was no glass in it so I gently dried it and, when the bleeding stopped, wrapped it in a sterile dressing as the area was too big for a plaster.

The whole time I worked, I could feel him watching me. With the combination of his eyes on me and the feel of his skinbeneath my fingers, it was my turn to shake. I’d forgotten what it was like to be this close to a man, my heartbeat quickening, feelings of desire pulsing through me.

I stepped back and gave him a gentle smile. ‘That should heal pretty quickly but do keep the dressing clean.’

‘Are you a nurse too?’ he asked, his voice husky.

‘An accountant so I’m more used to fixing balance sheets than people.’

‘You have a gentle touch. Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’

Tears were still glistening in his dark brown eyes, making him look so vulnerable. I glanced down at his mouth and longed to kiss him to take the pain away.

‘Can I get you anything else? A cup of tea?’

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