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I fished my phone from my pocket. Eric and the dogs moved to the kitchen with Lincoln and me close behind.

I held up my finger and paused in the doorway. Eric opened the refrigerator and grabbed the dog food as if this were our apartment.

“Hello.” I pressed the phone to my ear.

Muffy barked, and I turned my back to the ensuing chaos.

“Ms. Logan?”

“This is she.”

“This is Mrs. Shepherd with adult protective services.”

I twirled a piece of my hair. Every once in a while they called to schedule a home visit, and I was grateful they did, even though it was so I could continue to receive money from the state to care for my brother.

“What can I do for you?” I’d never spoken with her before. Had Mrs. Thompson retired?

“I’m at your apartment for the yearly home visit. Will you be back soon? I'd like to meet with you.”

They’d rarely dropped in unannounced, particularly after the first few years Eric had been in my custody. But this woman was clearly newly assigned to our case. And I completely understood the need for drop-in visits. How else could they get the real picture of what was going on in a home?

“It will be a few hours,” I said, a little panicked. We had to accommodate them. They held so much power. But we also had dog food to make. “I know you need to do a home visit, but would it be possible for us to meet in the middle somewhere for the interview?”

“That would be fine,” she said tightly. “Where would you like to meet?”

I rattled off the address to the commercial kitchen. Maybe I should’ve just agreed to come home. Why hadn’t I done that? I knew better than to make them jump through hoops.

“I can be there in forty-five minutes," Mrs. Shepherd said before I had a chance to offer to come to her.

“Sounds great," I said with false cheer. “See you then.”

I ended the call and swallowed the lump in my throat as nerves took over. What if I’d done something unacceptable? What if she thought I wasn't doing a good job with Eric?

A strong hand clamped on my shoulder. “Everything okay?”

I drew in a steadying breath. “That was adult protective services. Eric and I need to go meet them.”

His brow creased. “Is this late notice customary?”

“Sometimes. This is someone new. I told her we could meet at the kitchen.”

He swiped his keys off the console table. “Want me to drive?”

I stopped mid-grab of my purse. “Did you just ask?” I touched his forehead, pretending to check for fever. “Who are you and what have you done with Mr. Pushy?”

“I thought I was Mr. Scowl? Or was it Mr. Stoic?” He let out a low whistle as he picked up Muffy and Millie’s leashes. “Do you have any kennels in the van?”

“No.”

He offered me the leashes. “Can you take them? Teague gave me a couple of collapsible kennels.”

Eric followed the dogs who raced to the foyer. “Where are we going?”

“To the kitchen.” I tried to infuse enthusiasm in my voice but wasn’t sure how it came out.

“Are we going to eat first?”

Muffy and Millie swirled toward him, though they were careful not to knock him down.

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