The Wolf King’s Possession

2.

She all but sprinted toward the break room.

“Lexi!” I tucked the charts beneath my arm and followed her. “Did you finish your med rounds? You signed off on the board but not on the charts.”

“Oh, crap! I must’ve forgot. Can you fill in the charts for me?”

I sighed. “Yeah, I can do that.”

What I’d actually have to do is go around and make sure the work had really been completed. One of the LPNs might know for sure. Barring that, I’d have to ask the patients themselves—and hope they remembered.

“You’re a lifesaver, Lissy,” Lexi gushed. “Do you think you can cover my shift on Monday, too? Now that I’m thinking about it, I might be too hungover to drag myself in.”

“Sorry, can’t. I’m already on the schedule.”

She pouted. “Boo. You’re literally no fun at all, you know that?”

“So I hear.”

It took me a full hour to figure out whether Lexi’s patients had gotten their meds. According to the LPNs, they had, and the patients all confirmed it.

She did the work. She just forgot to fill out the charts. I reminded myself of that over and over again as I input the information into each patient’s chart. It was a simple mistake. No one got hurt.

Still, someone could have. Giving a resident double doses of their medication could be just as bad as not giving them their meds. I was lucky my own grandmother was still as sprightly as ever. I did my best to give the residents at Evergreen Hills the quality of care they deserved, but after everything else that had been uncovered here lately, I was glad Nana still lived in the house out on Mayfield Drive, where I’d spent my teenage years.

All the same, I’d need to have a talk with Lexi on Monday. We were caring for people’s lives here. Being extra diligent about doing our paperwork was well worth the effort. We couldn’t afford another slip-up like this again.

When everything was finally taken care of, I drove home in my two-tone Kia. The body was the color of uncooked salmon, the top half a migraine-inducing neon pink.

Xander called it the Flamingo. He absolutely hated it, which only made me like it more. When I went to Burnett’s to buy it, he’d insisted on driving me, posing as my boyfriend so I didn’t get screwed out of my hard-earned cash.

I know how Ben Burnett runs his operation, he’d argued. He’ll nickel and dime any woman who sets foot on his lot without a man at her side.

True to his word, Xander had haggled the price down far lower than what I would have settled for if I’d been on my own. Even then, he hadn’t been happy.

The thing’s a liability, he’d grumbled. Color’s too flashy. That’ll only get you into trouble down the line.

I thought about calling Xander while I drove. I hadn’t spoken to him since Wednesday, and he was always kind enough to listen to me rant about work. But he was probably still at work. If he wasn’t at the firehouse, then he was dealing with his pack.

The Millers had ruled as alphas of the Evergreen wolves in an unbroken line since Xander’s many-times great-grandfather. When I moved back here just before freshman year of high school to live with Nana while Mom ran off with yet another millionaire boy-toy, Xander’s father had held the position. A few years ago, he stepped down so Xander could rule the pack.

It was a busy gig. For someone like Xander, who didn’t take any joy from holding power or being in the limelight, it was a thankless one as well. Every time I found myself at Evergreen Hills thinking, Gee, I wish someone else would actually do their job around here, I had to remind myself that I only had one hat to wear—Xander had more than I could count.

I’d bother him tomorrow, I decided. We were overdue for a movie night, and knowing him, he probably had some complaining of his own to do.

Instead, I took a quick detour. The Havishford house was only a few blocks out of my way. It was an old, stately two-story colonial, red brick with a balcony over the porch. When I stared at its dark green front door, I could imagine it swinging open for me, inviting me into the gorgeous foyer of a place I could finally call my home.

Mrs. Havishford, one of the residents at Evergreen Hills, still owned it, and I was still about ten thousand big ones away from a down payment. But Mrs. Havishford assured me that if I could put up the cash, she could keep her real estate agent at bay until I was ready to seal the deal.

I raised three babies in that home, she’d told me once. They all grew up, moved away, and forgot all about their old, cranky mother. That house needs a woman like you in it, Miss Felicity. You’ll fill it with babies of your own someday, and by God, they’d better be nicer to their mother than mine were to me.

I couldn’t promise her babies yet, of course, but with every double shift I worked, I inched a little closer to my goal.

This is what I’m busting my butt for, I reminded myself as the green door grew smaller and smaller in my rear-view mirror.

My current apartment was on the second floor of my complex—a building with cheap white siding and aged wooden stairs outside. I trudged inside in a state of near-exhaustion. It was all I could do to take a shower before I collapsed into bed.

As soon as my head hit the pillow, my phone buzzed.

Hey :), the message read. I’d kind of hoped it was from Xander, but no such luck. He didn’t do emojis, and the name attached to the message wasn’t his.

I forced myself to reply. Hey Mom. What’s up?

Messages from my mother were like letters from the IRS. Once a year, they might bring tidings of joy, but more often than not, they only spelled bad news.

I snuggled back down into my pillow, closing my eyes. I loved my mother, but I was way too tired to get into things with her right now. Hopefully, she was just sending me Minion memes or something—and not looking to complain about what she’d found going through her latest boyfriend’s emails again.

I nearly dozed off, but a few minutes later, I had my answer.