Today was the first time since that night when I thought of him as the boy I used to love.

By the time I walk out to my car in the parking lot of the penitentiary, I want nothing more than to go home, eat one of Margie’s delicious dinners, and crawl into bed. Ooh, and maybe take a hot bath. When Josh was little, taking a bath was impossible because I couldn’t leave him alone for that long and there was no backup parent to watch him. But now that he’s more independent, I’ve become addicted.

When I’m six feet away from my car, a large hand closes around my arm. I instantly go on high alert, whipping myself around to confront whoever grabbed me. But when I turn, I come face-to-face with Officer Marcus Hunt.

Outside of the prison walls, he looks even more imposing. He towers over me, his lips curled into a perpetual sneer, and his biceps are about the same circumference as my thighs. He doesn’t have any weapons on him at the moment, but he doesn’t need them. He could crush me with one hand.

And we’re the only two people in the parking lot.

“Brooke,” he says. “I need to talk to you.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” I hiss at him.

“Don’t be like that…”

My purse is flung over my shoulder. I’ve got a bottle of pepper spray in there, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to get to it with him restraining me. “You need to let go of me.”

“Brooke…”

“Let go of me or I’ll scream!”

Hunt’s eyes widen as he finally gets it in his head that he needs to let go of me. He releases my arm and holds his hands up in the air. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just want to talk.”

He didn’t mean to scare me? Does he have a clue how scary he is? I can’t imagine what it’s like for Shane to deal with this guy every single day of his life.

“Please, Brooke.” He takes a step back, his hands still in the air. “I just need to talk to you.”

I don’t want to talk to Hunt. I want to go home, have dinner and possibly a bubble bath. But I need to work with this guy—I can’t be his enemy. And I’m admittedly curious about what he has to say.

“Fine,” I say. “What is it?”

“Brooke.” His forehead crinkles. “Look, I’m sorry about what happened with Nelson today. It wasn’t like I meant to hurt him.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I didn’t.” He shakes his shaved head. “But you know what, even if I did, he deserves it. Do you have any idea what that guy did to land himself in here?”