“What about my sister?” she asks. “Zinnia. Can I get her back?”
Marcus glances at Jax. “I’m working on it. The foster certification process takes time, but we’re expediting everything we can.”
“How much more time?” she asks desperately.
“A few weeks. Maybe a month.”
Her face falls. “That’s so long.”
“I know. But it’s the best we can do within the system. We’re going to do everything right, and they won’t be able to say no. And soon enough, this time will be behind you.”
She nods, understanding.
By the time we leave Marcus’s office, Tiger is shaking. Exhausted. Wrung out.
All three of us move into protective mode immediately.
Jax guides her to the car with his hand on her lower back. Zephyr opens the door for her. I climb in next to her.
“Come to my place tonight,” I say.
She looks at me. “What?”
“Come to my place. Just for the night.”
Jax and Zephyr exchange looks from the front seat. They don’t approve, but I don’t care.
“Okay,” she says.
“Tiger—” Jax starts.
“I want to,” she interrupts. “Is that okay? Do I need to ask permission now?”
Zephyr stares forward.
Jax doesn’t answer. He just clenches his jaw and keeps driving.
At the house, Tiger packs a bag, grabs her medicine, and hops into my truck. Jax and Zephyr don’t look happy about this.
Too bad.
I drive to my place and pull into the garage of my much nicer, much emptier house.
“Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to cook.”
“You cook?”
“You sound surprised.”
I make chicken piccata. Actual real food with actual real ingredients.
She watches from the kitchen island. “You’re full of surprises.”
“You have no idea.”
We eat on the back patio. She’s wrapped in one of my hoodies. The night is cool but clear.
“Tell me about your family,” she says.
