“Fuck.” I scrubbed my palm across my temple. “Jordan is a hard ass.”
Lucian growled.
Yesterday was the scheduled time for him to come check up on me. Fucking shit. I met Lucian’s eyes, ignoring his irritation. I messed with my broken cell, but the screen kept glitching. It was done.
“Lucian, can I borrow your phone? I have to call my parole officer.” The words coming out of my mouth felt off. My embarrassment obvious. At my question, he clenched his teeth with an audible click. He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled it out.
“Oh, and um, can my parole officer come here for my check-up?”
Lucian grunted, and I plucked the phone from his hand. I left them talking and shuffled away so he wouldn’t overhear me apologizing.
I’d have to find a way to get away from Lucian when he came because he wouldn’t be happy with any tests Jordan would have to put me through.
I reached the kitchen as he answered.
I had no choice but to tell him I’d gotten engaged, which was the reason for my change in address. The words spilled out of my mouth like I had no damn filter. The whole parole situationmade me nervous. It was immediate proof of my past, even though I’d done nothing to merit the hand I’d been dealt.
I sat next to a quiet,sulking Lucian on the couch, trying to ignore the nerves. Jordan was on his way here, and I was on edge. I’d made sure to shower and comb my hair into a tight bun. The entire time I flitted around, Lucian sat on the edge of his bed, watching me.
I tried not to pay him much attention. Especially because every time I did, he began to talk. I’d cut him off each time and made it clear I wasn’t up to conversation right now. The only thing I kept drilling into him was that he had to behave. I didn’t need more scrutiny than what I was already under.
I checked the time and got to my feet. Jordan would be punctual. When I reached the hall, the crunch of pebbles under tires reached my ears.
A few moments later, a knock thudded on the door.
I burst forward. With my hand on the knob, I smoothed my other sweaty palm on my jeans and opened it to an unfamiliar man.
He was lean and short, closer to my age than the older Jordan. His thumbs were hooked into his vest. I scanned the parole vehicle in the drive, expecting to see him.
“You’re not Jordan.”
“Luna.” He lowered his head. The earthy shifter scent reached me. “Alpha.” He looked over my shoulder. Lucian hovered a few feet behind me. I scowled and turned my attention back to the shifter.
“What’s going on?” Or more accurately. “What did you do?” I whirled on Lucian.
His lips thinned, and he approached with halting steps caused by the single crutch; the cast thumped across the wood floor as he came down the hall.
The man on the porch cleared his throat.
“I’ve been reassigned,” he said to me, his eyes settling around my nose. “I’ll sign off on your case each visit, so there’s nothing to worry about.” I eyed the name tag: V. Spaws.
“Oh,” was all that I could come up with.
Spaws inclined his head and stepped off the porch to return to his car. I could only stare. Lucian shuffled closer and reached over my head to shut the door.
He curled his arm around my waist and guided me back to the living room. I was so shocked that I followed him. He dropped onto the couch, and I thumped down next to him.
He remained silent while my brain whirred. This was all Lucian’s doing. The angry part of me wanted to snarl at him for putting his nose in my business, but the other part of me, the logical one, knew it was better this way.
“You could have told me,” I mumbled.
“I tried.”
Touché.
Tension leaked out of my body.
“I reached out to a lawyer to get your record expunged.” I perked up, whipping my head toward him. It hadn’t even occurred to me to try. “We can’t strong-arm our way out of it, but he’s looking into our options moving forward.”
