Dad called justas Dom’s train was pulling into the station, saying that they were taking Roxy home, so he didn’t have to meet them at the hospital. The tiny fraction of relief that gave Dom didn’t do much to quiet the rest of the storm. He’d been running on red alert ever since the first call about Roxy. Lincoln had helped a little, but until he’d seen Trey’s name light up on his phone, Dom hadn’t realized that Trey’s voice was what he’d needed.
He had no idea how to thank Trey for their hour-long conversation. It had kept Dom from freaking out too badly, or from inventing too many scenarios in which he inflicted bodily harm on his sister’s attacker. Roxy might be physically okay, but mentally she had a challenge ahead of her.
Dom would help her in any way that he could. He owed her that much, at least, since she’d saved his life six years ago.
It seemed like a taxi took forever to show up, and then the ride home was endless. Dom couldn’t stop tapping his fingers against his leg, plucking music on strings that didn’t exist. The taxi finally pulled up in front of the Bounds house. Dom paid the driver and probably overtipped. He didn’t have any luggage,because he kept clean clothes and things at his parents’ house, so he charged up the stone path to the front porch.
Dad met him at the door, and Dom went in for a tight, full-bodied hug. He clung to his dad, who had always been his hero. His rock in the worst of times.
“She’s doing okay,” he said when they parted. “She’s actually whining about how much your mom is smothering her.”
Dom choked out a short bark of laughter. “Sounds like them. But Roxy’s really okay?”
“Our girl’s a fighter. Percell taught her well.”
Percell had always had a thing for fitness and self-defense, and he’d taught all of his sisters how to defend themselves. He’d even shown Dom a few maneuvers after he came out—just in case the bigots got it in their heads to try anything physical.
“Do they know?” Dom asked. “Percell and Taisha?”
“Called them both. Taisha will be here tomorrow. She’s taking a sick day. Percell promised to call Roxy in the morning.”
“Okay.” He hadn’t seen Taisha in a few months. It would be nice having her home for a while—even though the circumstances sucked. “How’s Starr taking all of this?”
“She had a minor episode at the hospital. Mostly she didn’t like that so many strangers were touching Roxy, but your mom made her understand. She installed her chair in Roxy’s room, and she declared she’s sitting until bedtime.”
Starr had a blue rocking chair that was her safe place—a spot she could sit in, rock, and allow her emotions to flow. Dominic didn’t understand the psychology behind it, but it helped center Starr.
“Want anything to drink?” Dad asked. “Traveling makes me thirsty.”
“I want to see Roxy.”
Dad waved his hand in the direction of the staircase, and Dom flew up them, two at a time. Roxy’s room was at the end ofthe hall, the door wide open. He could see Mom sitting on the edge of the bed, facing into the room. The steady creak of Starr’s rocker met his ears before he stepped inside and spotted her in the far left corner.
“What are you doing here?” Roxy gaped at him from her bed, propped up on pillows and tucked beneath the covers. Shadows stood out beneath her eyes, and the faintest ringlet of a bruise darkened her left wrist.
The sight of that bruise unleashed something furious deep in his chest. Hearing she was hurt was one thing. Seeing the physical evidence made him want blood.
“I came to see you, dork.” Dom circled the bed and sat on her other side. “Give me a hug?”
Her eyes watered, probably because he knew enough to ask permission first. She flung herself into his arms, holding tight around his middle. Dom circled her thin shoulders and squeezed, so thankful she hadn’t been hurt worse, but still hating that she’d been hurt at all. She didn’t cry, though, and that helped to keep Dom from falling apart.
He met his mom’s gaze over Roxy’s trembling shoulders. Her eyes were red and puffy but they also burned with love and determination.
“Dom shouldn’t be here,” Starr said. Her steady rocking never faltered. “He has a music gig. Four days long. He shouldn’t be here.”
“I took a special break to come see you guys,” Dom said. She didn’t look at him, but Starr rarely ever made eye contact. “I already got to play for the audience, so it’s okay for me to leave for a little while.”
“You didn’t tell me it was okay to leave.”
“I’m sorry, sis. I forgot. Forgive me?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.” Forgetting to explain something fully to Starr could end as simply as it just had, as long as a quick apology was offered, or in a more dramatic fashion if the forgetter tried to make it no big deal. Starr dealt in absolutes, not maybes.
Roxy kept clinging to him, and Dom caught his mom’s gaze. Rolled his eyes at Starr, then glanced down at Roxy.
Mom got it. “Starr, baby, let’s you and me go downstairs and have ice cream with Dad. Special treat.”
