If enforcers were the shifter version of cops, Justus was a felon, because unlike in the human justice system, in shifter society there was no pre-trial presumption of innocence. Especially considering that we all knew damn well that he’d doneit.
Justus Alexander was the last tom I should have been interested in. So naturally, I turned into a mumbling, sweaty puddle of drool every time he came around. Unfortunately—or fortunately?—I was stuck firmly in the friend zone. The totally platonic, “one of the guys” zone. The “watch old TV shows together without even brushing hands in the popcorn bowl” zone. It was like he couldn’t even tell I was agirl.
I shook that thought off as I stood, before Faythe could see it on my face. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just going to go tobed.”
She glanced at her phone with a frown. “Wait just a minute, please, Kaci. There’s one more thing.” But as polite as it sounded, her request was actually anorder.
I wandered toward the bassinet as she accepted the call from the council chairman. “Hi, Rick. What did theysay?”
Baby Ethan was out cold, and he was a surprisingly deep sleeper, for a two-month-old. I’d seen Karen Sanders—Faythe’s mother—push the vacuum cleaner right under his bed without disturbing him. But the minute the food gauge on his tiny belly tilted toward EMPTY, he would wake upscreaming.
“Dr. Carver gave you a clean postpartum bill of health,” Rick Wade said over the phone, and I heard him as if he were in the room with us, thanks to my shifter’s enhanced auditory senses. “So…oneweek.”
“Fromtoday?” Faythe sank onto one of the couches, seeming to deflate with thenews.
“Yes. I’m sorry, but they weren’t willing to put the trial off anylonger.”
“And I can’t ask them to without validating their belief that I can’t be a good mother and a good Alpha at the same time.” Faythe sighed. “Sexist bastards. If you asked for a delay in order to catch up on sleep with a newborn, they’d commend you for your commitment to yourfamily.”
Wade chuckled. “If I had a newborn, we’d be having a very different conversation. Can you make it in aweek?”
“Looks like I’ll have to. But I’m bringing the wholefamily.”
“Good. I’m looking forward to meeting the latest addition to the Sanders-Ramosclan.”
“Thanks, Rick. We’ll see you then.” Faythe hung up her phone and set it on the end table to herleft.
I gave baby Ethan’s head a pat—his mop of thick, dark hair reminded me of his namesake—then wandered back toward the couch. “So, the trial’s nextweek?”
“Looks like. And that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Faythe leaned forward, watching me carefully, which told me I wasn’t going to like whatever she was about to say. “We’d like you tocome.”
“To Montana?” The hairs on the back of my neck stoodup.
Justus’s trial would be held in the same remote cabin complex where Faythe, Marc, and Jace stood trial a lifetime ago. Twice, in Faythe’scase.
Okay, it had only been four and a half years before, but that was a lifetime ago for me, because that’s where they’d found me, in the woods, stuck in cat form after my first-ever shift. Alone andterrified.
And completelyferal.
If not for Faythe’s trial, I might have wandered out there for the rest of my life. I mightstillbe out there living like a cat, having completely forgotten that I’d ever been anythingelse.
Just the thought gave mechills.
“No, thanks,” I told her. “You don’t need me there.” And I couldn’t stand to see Justus ontrial.
“You could help with the kids. No one’s as good with little Greg as you are, and baby Ethan…” Faytheshrugged.
A low blow. She knew how much I loved those kids. But… “I can’t go back there, Faythe. Too much…happened.”
“I know. But maybe that’s why youshouldgo back. You know, exorcize those ghosts. Put the past behind you. Just tell me you’ll think aboutit.”
“I’ll think about it,” I told her. But that promise held about the same chance of coming true as my promises to Karen that I’d unload the dishwasher. “Can I go to bednow?”
“Yes. And try to sleep for both of us, if you don’t mind,” Faythe said with a glance at the bassinet, where baby Ethan was already starting to make fussy, hungrysounds.
“Night.” I picked up my blanket and headed into the laundry room to throw it in the washer, but I hesitated with my hand on the doorknob when I noticed light peeking from beneath thedoor.
Little Greg had a bad habit of curling up in the dryer when the clothes inside are warm. He liked to make a nest for himself to sleep in, like a little kitten in a box. It was the cutest thing in the world. And the most dangerous. I was kind of terrified that someone would decide the towels needed another cycle and turn the dryer on without noticinghim.
