I glance over at Shane, who is sitting on my examining table, his head hanging down, his wrists and his ankles bound together. I have felt twinges of fear around some of the inmates, but I don’t feel it right now. Despite what I know he’s capable of.

“I’ll be fine,” I say, hoping I don’t regret my words.

Hunt keeps his hand on the door, still preventing me from closing it. Our eyes lock, and for a moment, I’m sure he’s going to push his way in. But then releases his hold on the door. “I’ll be right outside,” he tells me. “You have any problems, you give me a yell.”

“I’ll be fine,” I say again. But I don’t close the door completely. I keep it cracked just the slightest bit.

Now Shane and I are alone in the examining room. It’s the first time we’ve been alone together since he… well, we don’t need to relive that night. He looks different from the way he did when he was seventeen. Different and the same. His hair is much shorter, clipped barely an inch from his skull, and there’s a hardness to his face that wasn’t there before.

I hate that he’s still every bit as handsome as he was back then.

I hate even more how much he looks like my son.

For a moment, the two of us just stare at each other. Glaring, more like—his eyes are dripping with venom. I don’t know what he’s so upset about. I should be the angry one—if it were up to him, I would be dead. I suppose he’s mad that I told the truth in that courtroom.

“Hello,” I say in the flattest, most emotionless voice I can muster.

Shane doesn’t lift his eyes. “Hi.”

I square my shoulders. This was what I had been dreading when I took this job in the first place. And now here I am, and I just have to deal with it. I’ll get his injury taken care of like a professional, and I’ll send him on his way.

“How are you?” I say.

At my question, he whips his head up and stares at me. “Well, Brooke, I’m spending my life in prison for something I didn’t do, so how the hell do you think I am? I’m not great.”

I return his seething gaze. “I meant your head.”

“Oh.” He lifts a shackled hand to touch the bandage on his forehead. “That’s not great either.”