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“Kira’s grades improved dramatically toward the end of the school year,” our current social worker, Stephanie Baumgartner, noted. “On the other hand, I’ll admit that her living situation is a trifle on the unconventional side....”
At this point, the middle-aged human glanced up from her paperwork and slid a glance toward the five of us flanking Kira in the front row. Yes, for those unaware of the existence of werewolves, a teenager living with her sister and four cute guys was likely a bit surprising. The judge, unfortunately, had more weighty reservations than that.
“Unconventional is one thing,” he interjected. “Undependable is another. I see here that you are Ms. Fairchild’s employer as well as her landlord,” he continued, spearing Gunner with a far less forgiving gaze than Stephanie had offered. “What’s to prevent you from firing your employee and evicting the child all in the same day?”
“Nothing,” Gunner started, pausing just long enough for my fingernails to dig painfully into my palms in reaction. Then my companion’s left hand was engulfing my right, his huge paw teasing my clenched fist apart even as he added another word to his answer: “Yet.”
The judge raised both brows, clearly unimpressed by Gunner’s theatricality. Before the official could voice further objections, though, Tank was standing. “Permission to approach the bench?”
At the judge’s impatient nod, our personal lawyer—and the worst toilet-seat offender—strode forward and slapped a heavy packet of papers down in front of the older human. “As you can see,” Tank continued, “Mr. Atwood is intent upon ensuring the well-being of the underage child regardless of the sister’s employment status.”
The judge hummed his interest, but unlike him I couldn’t see whatever made Kira cover her mouth in an attempt to stifle a giggle. My kid sister had apparently been in on this sneak attack from the beginning. I, on the other hand, was left leaning forward and vainly attempting to read the fine print from twenty feet away.
“This document is ten pages long,” the judge complained after a moment, flipping through legalese that I likely couldn’t have deciphered even if I’d been close enough to make out letters and numbers. “This should have been presented weeks ago so I could read it in my chambers.”
“Please allow me to sum up the matter, then, Your Honor,” Gunner interjected mildly without removing his hand from mine or approaching the bench the way his pack mate had. “It’s really quite simple. I’m promising to maintain monthly support for the child financially, physically, and emotionally until she turns eighteen, no matter what happens with Ms. Fairchild’s employment or our relationship.”
Despite myself, I retreated away from Gunner’s body as I parsed his offer, my fingers sliding out from beneath the heavy weight of his palm. I’d known the alpha had a soft spot for Kira from the first time he met her. But we were foxes and he was a werewolf. Offering me the bullshit job as his personal secretary seemed like a nice gesture while we were all stuck in limbo...but I didn’t really expect the alpha to continue involving himself in our lives after he inevitably made up with his brother and was allowed back into their clan home.
The judge, of course, knew nothing of this convoluted family drama. However, he joined me in sharing major reservations about a gesture that seemed too big and too bold. “You do realize that by presenting this contract during a custody hearing, you will be in violation of state law if you renege upon it?”
“I realize that,” Gunner answered, kindling a strange fire within my belly. “I have no plans to go back on my word.”
“Even though, in essence, you are promising to become this girl’s father,” the judge translated.
“No,” Gunner countered. “I’m angling for a slightly different role in her family. Big brother, to be precise.”
***
THEN THE ALPHA WEREWOLF turned to face me, the gesture drying my mouth so thoroughly I gaped like a fish rather than forcing out any words. Which was likely a good thing given that my instincts consisted of a strange mixture of fleeing...and melting into Gunner’s protective arms.
“Mai...” he started. But before I learned whether my companion intended to finally bring whatever had been simmering between us up to the surface, a voice I’d almost forgotten spoke up from the back of the room.
“This is all very sweet,” Kira’s original social worker stated wryly, “but it is clearly antithetical to the case at hand.”
Swiveling in my seat, I sighed at the abrupt appearance of Simon’s gloomy visage. The lanky human must have slipped in even later than I had, and unfortunately his professional opinion as a social worker was likely to hold more weight than a grand gesture on Gunner’s part. Especially with a judge who was now smiling despite the entirely out-of-line discussion taking place in his court of law.
“Because...?” the judge prodded.
“The point being—as always in these cases—the well-being of the child.” Simon glanced in my direction briefly, his grimace suggesting that he hadn’t forgotten the glimpse of paranormal happenings he’d been privy to three months earlier. The social worker had seen just enough to fuel wild guesses...but I could tell the conclusions he’d come to made him even less impressed by the idea of me raising an innocent child than he had been before.
Luckily, Simon wasn’t our social worker any longer. Because the move to Gunner’s mansion had changed the district overseeing our case...a point which Stephanie was quick to point out. “I’m the one making a recommendation on behalf of the state,” the middle-aged woman said loudly, half-rising as she turned her attention back and forth between Simon and the judge.
I held my breath, half expecting her to make another dig about a teenage girl living among so many unattached and unrelated male personages. But Gunner had worked his magic on Stephanie over the last few months just as thoroughly as he had tamed everyone else in his vicinity. There had been cookouts, thoughtful questions about her family, and in the end the alpha had ingratiated himself so thoroughly that the social worker had started inviting us into her home.
So I shouldn’t have been surprised when Stephanie barked back at Simon without hesitation, her tone as fierce as that of any territorial wolf. “I am entirely in favor of this adoption being carried out as requested. The Fairchild family deserves to remain intact.”
“Hmm,” the judge answered, not even glancing at Stephanie as he jerked his chin toward Simon, giving the latter an opening in which to elaborate.
And Simon didn’t fail him either. “After watching Kira live on pasta and peanut butter, start fights with little or no provocation, and get kicked out of two schools over the past six months,” Simon intoned gloomily, “I strongly believe the opposite. Kira would be better off living in a halfway house rather than remaining under her sister’s inappropriate care.”