Page 86 of Until Joy

Graham's house was empty when I arrived, which meant I had time to work off some nervous energy. I headed straight for the kitchen and started pulling out the pans, bowls and mixer that I’d brought with me from Jasper Creek. Baking always helped me think, and I had a feeling we were going to need comfort food tonight.

I mixed up a batch of my Aunt Pattie's double-chocolate brownies, the kind with chunks of dark chocolate and a hint of espresso. The familiar motions of measuring and mixing helped calm my racing thoughts, but they couldn't completely silence the voice in my head that whispered all the ways tonight could go wrong.

The brownies were just coming out of the oven when I heard the rumble of Harley pipes coming down the street. Through the kitchen window, I watched Graham climb off his bike, followed by Wes and Z. Two trucks and a Jeep pulled up as well.

Graham walked through the front door first, his eyes immediately finding mine. The tension in his shoulders eased when he saw me.

“Something smells incredible in here.”

“Stress brownies,” I admitted, gesturing to the cooling pans on the counter.

He crossed the kitchen in three long strides and pulled me into his arms. The solid warmth of his body against mine made some of the anxiety leak out of my system.

“How bad are you freaking out?” he murmured against my hair.

“Scale of one to ten? About a fifteen.”

He pulled back to look at my face. “They're your family, Joy. They love you.”

“I know. That's what makes this so hard.” I rested my forehead against his chest. “They're going to be so hurt that I kept this from them.”

“Then we'll deal with that when it happens.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Come say hello to everybody who’s going to help.”

“Joy, I’m stunned you haven’t forced Graham to buy furniture yet,” Wes teased as I walked into the barren living room.

The four other men chuckled.

“I’d heard stories, but I never believed it could be this bad,” Nico Mayson said. “How long have you lived here, Graham?”

I looked at July’s uncle, the senior police detective who was covered in tattoos, and forced back a giggle.

“He’s lived here for over a year.” Cobi shook his head in disgust. “All he has to sit in is a recliner?”

“Hey, it’s not that bad. He’s just choosy,” I defended Graham.

Jax stepped forward and smiled at me. “You’re too sweet for this lug. How are you doing?”

I felt myself blush. “I’m doing fine.”

“That’s good, sweetheart. Don’t worry about anything. We’ve got you covered.”

“And we’re going to keep Graham from getting his ass kicked through the computer screen,” Wes added dryly.

Graham shot him a look. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Hey, I've seen protective fathers and brothers in action,” Wes shrugged. “You're going to need all the help you can get.”

“Speaking of help,” Z said, looking around the living room. “Where exactly are we supposed to sit for this family meeting? On the floor?”

Graham's jaw tightened. “I'll grab the patio furniture.”

“This is ridiculous,” Jax muttered, following Graham outside. “You've been living here for over a year and you have one chair?”

“I had priorities,” Graham called back.

“Yeah, clearly none of them involved comfort,” Nico said.

Within ten minutes, they'd dragged in the outdoor table and chairs, arranging them in front of Graham's laptop. It looked ridiculous, but at least everyone would have a place to sit.