Jim wasn’t going to allow that. His mother would keep her poisonous claws away from Chloe, or else. “You’re not welcome here.”

“James—”

“No. We’re done. Once and for all, done. I want a divorce.”

She blinked in shock. “Excuse me?”

“I am not your lawyer or your husband. I’m your son, and you’ve done nothing but abuse that relationship since the moment you and Dad decided it was over. I’m sick of hearing you bitch, Mother. Get out of my business, get out of my practice and stay out of my life.”

He turned on his heel and marched to his office, too upset to deal with any of the patients waiting to see him. How dare she come in here and threaten his mate over something he had no control over?

He carefully shut the door, unwilling even in his anger to upset his patients. He leaned back against the door and blew out a cleansing breath, trying to get his rage under control.

The last thing he wanted was to hear a knock at his door, but Chloe’s scent was on the other side. “Yes, Chloe?”

“Um, Van Gogh has a big boo-boo on his bum-bum.”

Trust his mate to get him to laugh. He opened the door to find her holding a folder to her chest, her eyes wide and bright as she looked up at him anxiously. “A what now?”

Her shoulders shook. “A boo-boo on his bum-bum.”

“Your words or his mommy’s?”

“His mommy’s.” Chloe followed him to the exam room, glancing around anxiously. “Your mother?”

“Gone, I hope.” He wasn’t certain if forgiving her would even be worth it at this point. She’d been a good mother once, but his father’s philandering had soured her. “I’m sorry. We’ll need to warn Gabe about her threats.”

“Mm-hm.” She opened the door into the exam room with a cheery smile. “I brought Dr. Woods, Mrs. Manly.” Chloe winced. “I mean, Mrs. Stanley.”

Mrs. Stanley shot Jim an uncertain look. “Hello, Dr. Woods.”

He smiled reassuringly at Mrs. Stanley. “Okay, Chloe, show me what you saw.”

Chloe snapped on fresh gloves and showed him the wound, her hands shaking. Her left hand lay across the dog’s back, holding Van Gogh steady. The big retriever merely panted, its eyes curious as Chloe probed the wound with her shaking right hand.

“It seems shallow enough. A few stitches and it should be fine.” It was a clean cut, not a bite wound. “How did he get this cut, Mrs. Stanley?”

“Long story short, my boys were playing ninjas with my kitchen knives and the dog got excited.”

Jim looked up at her. “Are they all right?”

She smiled sweetly. “Eventually they’ll be able to sit down again, but otherwise they’re fine.” She sighed wearily. “I swear, it’s like trying to raise wolf pups.”

Jim coughed. “I can imagine.”

“Foam swords?” Chloe’s words were carefully measured as she put together the suture kit Jim needed.

“What?” Mrs. Stanley looked at Chloe in confusion.

“Buy them foam swords.” Chloe began cleaning Van Gogh’s wound in preparation for the stitches. “They can’t hurt each other, or Van Gogh, with those.”

Mrs. Stanley’s brows rose. “Not a bad idea. If they’re going to ninja each other, at least they won’t get too damaged that way.” She shook her head as Jim started stitching up her dog. “I’m just glad no one was badly injured.”

“Who’s watching them now?” Jim began carefully closing the cut, enjoying the way Chloe quietly crooned to Van Gogh the whole time.

“Their father. And man, is he good with guilt. By the time I had Van Gogh loaded in the car they were in tears and begging us to make sure Van Gogh lived.” She shook her head again. “You think you’ve made your home safe, put things where the kids can’t get to them, but it’s amazing how resourceful they can be when they really want something.”

“What did they do?”

“They pushed chairs over to the cabinet where I’d hidden the knives, grabbed what they wanted, and before I could stop them they’d already hurt Van Gogh.” She shuddered. “I’m just glad it wasn’t worse than it was.”

“You’ll need to make sure the knives are locked away.” Jim finished up, cleaning up the suture tray before taking off his gloves.

“And the cheese graters.” When Jim looked at her, Mrs. Stanley rolled her eyes. “Please don’t ask. That was not a fun emergency room trip.”

“What gave them the idea to be ninjas?” Jim patted Van Gogh on the head and helped him get down on the floor. The dog would be fine. It was his mommy who was having a meltdown.

“Something about teenage turtles who just happen to be ninjas.” Mrs. Stanley took hold of Van Gogh’s leash and snapped it onto the dog’s collar. “Thanks, Dr. Woods. Thank you, Chloe.”

“You’re welcome.” Chloe smiled at Mrs. Stanley. “And good luck with your mutant turtle wannabes.”

“Ugh. Thanks. I’ll need it.” She shook both Jim and Chloe’s hands and left the exam room.

“Wow.” Chloe started cleaning the exam table. “Think she’ll be all right?”

“Yeah. Her kids are a handful, but they’re bright. She’ll figure it out.” He kissed the back of her head. “Just like ours will be.”

“Scary thought.”

“But true.” Jim held open the exam room door for her. “How’s your leg?”

“Weak, but it doesn’t hurt.” She kissed his chin. “Thank you for the cane, by the way.”

“You’re welcome, little vixen.” He would do just about anything to make her life easier.

“Now get back to work, Doc.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He watched her limp away, smiling like a big old sap. Between Chloe and Spencer, he had all the family he needed.

Chapter Eighteen

“So.” Barney leaned back, tilting the dining room chair onto two legs. How it held the huge Grizzly Chloe would never know. His cowboy hat shadowed his eyes, and the corners of his mouth were turned down in a barely visible scowl. “Who the fuck is the other white shifter?”

They’d finally managed to arrange a time when all of the Hunters were free to discuss Chloe’s dream walk. Chloe had gotten some chili and biscuits started, and they were just waiting for everything to finish cooking. In the meantime, they had already begun talking about the dream she’d had with Fox and Lion. Spencer had given up his makeshift bedroom for this meeting, keeping George occupied while Chloe and Jim moved the furniture around. They’d put Spencer’s bedroom back together after everyone left for the evening.