“So,” I say, starting up a conversation. “Everyone knows you here, huh?”
“Pretty much,” he replies. “I’ve lived here my whole life.”
“Yeah, but they don’t just know you as Everett Kane, they call you Sheriff and all. How long have you been the sheriff?”
“Six or seven years, I guess,” he says.
I blink at him. He’s ruggedly handsome, but I can tell that he’s at least in his late twenties, so seven years ago he would have been just twenty-one. “You were that young when they made you sheriff?”
He glances at me for a second and then back at the road. “Yeah. It was—there were circumstances.”
This is where I should probably stop prying, but I can’t help but push for more information. “What kind of circumstances?”
His fingers go tight on the wheel for a second, but then he lets out a measured breath, relaxing. “My dad was the sheriff here before me, did you know that?”
“Yeah. Dolly said something about it. She said he was a bastard.”
Everett barks a laugh, but there’s not much humor in it. “Understatement, but yeah. He ran this place with an iron fist. He used his badge and the fact that he was an Alpha to do whatever he wanted to anyone he wanted and there wasn’t much anyone could do to stop him. He made examples of people he didn’t like, and that made it hard for anyone to want to do anything to get his attention. Someone crossed him, he’d have them behind bars for a week. New people with a look he didn’t like came to town, and he’d make shit so uncomfortable for them that they were practically running for the hills as soon as they could.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah. So a bunch of people finally got sick of it, and we ran him out of town. Most of his power came from the fact that people were scared of him. Too scared to fight back or speak up. But once people got pissed enough, he couldn’t keep his hold on them anymore.”
“And you helped?”
He nods. “Had to. I couldn’t watch him burn this place to the ground anymore.”
“I don’t blame you,” I say softly. “Must have been hard to watch, knowing that was your dad.”
There’s another ragged breath, but he keeps his gaze straight ahead. “I know what bad leadership looks like. I know what abuses of power look like. Sometimes I think the town elected me sheriff because they knew how disgusted I was with what my dad had become. They thought I’d be able to keep from going down that path.”
“They’re right, then,” I tell him. “You’re nothing like what your father seemed to be from what you’ve said.”
“I can’t be,” he says, and there’s a thread of emotion in the way he says it. Not quite desperation, but something fierce all the same. “Turning out like him would be my worst fucking nightmare. I’ll hold myself in check as hard as I can before I let that happen.”
“At least you know it’s wrong. I’m willing to bet your dad never stopped to wonder if what he was doing was fucked up. He never promised himself he wouldn’t be like that. You’re already better than he is.”
Everett looks at me again, but doesn’t say anything else.
I let it drop, and we make it back to the house in comfortable silence.
“I could go back to the bar,” I offer, already knowing it’s going to be shot down.
“No,” he says firmly. “You heard the doctor. You need to stay off your feet.”
“Okay, okay.”
He helps me inside, and Lincoln and Cash immediately come over. “What happened?” Cash asks, face creased with concern.
“I fell at the bar,” I admit. “It was very embarrassing. But it’s just a sprain.”
“We should do something about that step,” Cash is saying as Everett gets me settled on the couch. “Put a hand rail on it or something.”
“It’s fine,” I tell him. “I just wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking. It’s not a big deal.”
“What can I do?” Cash crouches down next to the couch so he’s on eye level with me. “Do you need anything?” Lincoln hovers behind him, quieter, but no less worried, judging from the look in his eyes.
“Could I get some ice? And something to elevate my ankle?”