remained standing. “Yes?”
“Considering Jaxen’s history, he’ll need someone to help keep him out of trouble.”
“I agree.” Wholeheartedly and without reservation.
“Notify me immediately if he inches one paw out of line.”
“Wait—” Tristan stepped forward. “You’re putting me in charge of Jaxen?”
“You’re the most logical choice.”
“Like hell I am.”
“You’re a sentinel and his blood-kin.” Gavin’s stony expression usually meant the matter was settled.
“If Jaxen screws up, it’s on him. I don’t want to be in the same position I was last time.”
Fifteen years ago, Jaxen’s fate with the Walker’s Run had rested on Tristan’s shoulders. The truth led to banishment, a lie to freedom.
Tristan had chosen the truth over family. Neither his father nor his aunt had forgiven him.
“I’m hoping your influence will keep him from backsliding.”
“You have no idea what you’re asking of me,” Tristan forced out.
“For god’s sake, Tristan. You’re both adults now. You need to let go of that grudge.”
A searing-white flash momentarily blanked Tristan’s vision. What he harbored was a hell of a lot more than a little grudge.
“Everyone makes mistakes, especially young people.” Gavin walked around the desk and laid a hand on Tristan’s shoulder. “Be the better man. Help Jaxen because it’s the right thing to do.”
“For whom?”
“For you and your family.”
Family?
Disgust slithered into the pit of Tristan’s stomach.
His family was the epitome of dysfunction. His parents could barely stand to be in the same room with each other and they had little or no regard for him—the product of an accidental mate-claiming. Ruby only barely tolerated him and Jaxen, whom Tristan had once hero-worshipped, had left him to die.
“I’m not asking you to police him.” Gavin leaned against his desk, his hands folded against the silver buckle on the belt fastened around the waist of his jeans. “Be his friend again. Let him know he can count on you.”
Good ole dependable Tristan.
How that character trait had come to him was beyond his understanding. No one else in his family had been plagued with it.
The alarm on his watch beeped. “Gotta go.”
Wearing an expression indicative of an Alpha who expects his orders to be carried out, Gavin tipped his head.
Tristan walked out of the office, quietly closing the door with a greater appreciation for the Alpha’s son’s door-slamming habit. Instead of externalizing his anger or frustration like Brice, Tristan always internalized. Mostly he tried to ignore those feelings. His family was too loose with their tempers. He hated their arguments and outright fights. As soon as he was old enough to live on his own, he’d moved out.
Over the years, he’d learned the only way to deal with his family was individually and briefly. Jaxen’s homecoming would definitely upset the rhythm Tristan had established.
Walking down the long corridor from Gavin’s office toward the lobby, Tristan’s steps grew heavier. His current schedule barely allowed time for sleep. How would he manage squeezing in “befriending” his long-lost cousin, whom Tristan would rather have stayed lost?
A wolfan could only handle so much and Tristan had been stretched beyond his maximum limits for far too long.
God, I need some fresh air.
His fingers closed around the cold brass handle to yank open the large, heavy wooden door to exit the resort. A newly familiar feminine scent rushed his senses.
“Hey, Tristan!”
He turned to his left.
“I’m officially a resort staff member now.” Penelope’s lightly tinted lips parted with a soft smile. “And Cassie arranged for me to stay in a cabin up the road. I’ll have plenty of room to paint.”
“That’s great, Nel.” He stepped into her, his hand resting against her hip as he moved them away from the entry doors opening toward them.
A genuine smile broadened his mouth. Genuine because he could feel it all the way to his gut, tingling with a warm, fuzzy, effervescent sensation that dispelled the heavy shroud that had cloaked him a few minutes ago.
“Umm.” Her voice was a mere puff of soft breath. Her curious gaze caressed every angle of his face, her pupils growing larger with every beat of his heart.
The wolf in him sighed. There was no other way to describe the rush of contentment that raced up his spine and down his chest, then settled in his groin.
Tristan had the sudden, uncharacteristic urge to spend the day with her, learning her laugh, her mannerisms, her likes and dislikes.
Damn! He’d been working too many long hours and sleeping too few for those unbalanced thoughts to surface.
“It was nice meeting you, Nel.”
He dashed outside, sucking in lungfuls of fresh air before her scent imprinted on and permanently rewired his brain.
“You’re not on duty today.” Carl Locke sucked his teeth, his hard gaze fastened on Tristan.
“There’s something I want to discuss with you.” Tense, Tristan sat in one of the two wooden chairs positioned in front of the sheriff’s paper-laden desk and waited.
Elected sheriff less than two years ago, Locke was a hard man to work for. Mostly because he held a grudge against the Co-op’s influence on the town. An outsider and new to the area, Locke viewed everything the Co-op did with suspicion. He felt the previous sheriff, who had known the truth about the Co-op, had been too lax in his duties. Gavin’s stubbornness and refusal to clue in the new sheriff to the Co-op’s purpose only compounded the problem.
Since Tristan was a member, Locke scrutinized his every action, his every decision, and the constant conflict had turned a job Tristan loved into a nauseating chore.
Last year, after a fiasco involving his friend Rafe Wyatt and Sheriff Locke, Tristan had quit the department. Gavin had been furious. Tristan’s position as a deputy afforded him some flexibility in running interference between the pack and human law enforcement. Gavin didn’t want to lose that advantage.
Locke, surprisingly, neither accepted nor rejected the resignation. Instead, he placed Tristan
