The Shepherd (The Game 6)

“Oh…is my Marine a busy guy?” he teased. He sat up straighter and twisted his body to see me better. “I have plans tomorrow, but then I’m free.”

I hummed and parted my lips when he held up a piece of a churro for me.

“By the way, what’s your rank or whatever it’s called?” he asked. “When you were in the service, I mean. I wanna call you that—oh! In my phone too. If you decide to give me your number—hint, hint—you’ll be major or corporal or general… Why are you laughing?”

I couldn’t help it. He was being too funny, not to mention sweeter than sugar.

“Major, corporal, or general,” I laughed. “That’s some spread. I was a sergeant.”

He smiled goofily. “Sergeant Greer? Hot.”

“Greer James Finlay,” I said. “Sergeant Finlay.”

He cocked his head, and the amusement faded from his eyes. “What?”

“What, what?” I chuckled, confused. “Wasn’t it clear that my first name’s Greer?”

“Yes, but…” He swallowed hard. “But you’re from New York.”

“Yeah?” I felt my forehead wrinkle as the confusion grew. “So?”

He rubbed his forehead and suddenly looked queasy. “This is just a weird coincidence.”

“What is?”

He snapped his gaze to mine. “You’ve never been to Chesapeake Bay, have you?”

I chuckled. What random question was that? “Every summer from birth till I was around fifteen or sixteen. Why?”

“Oh my God.” He shot up from the grass and nearly stumbled over my legs, and he put a few feet of distance between us. “This isn’t happening.”

“So this is where you’re hiding from me.”

Fuck.

I hung my head and fisted my hair.

“I take it you saw me in there?” His voice hadn’t changed. “I saw you too. You tend to stick out in a crowd.”

Get the fuck away from me.

Since the ground wasn’t gonna swallow me whole, I steeled myself and stood up again, and I came face-to-face with Archie for the first time in five years. But as memories demanded I hurl every curse in the book at him, another part of me froze up, and I just stared.

Even under the cover of darkness, with barely any light from the porch, he was too damn beautiful. And no level of darkness could conceal the vulnerability in his eyes. Maybe that was why I couldn’t say anything harsh.

I’d seen that vulnerability before, when he’d known that our evening together was about to come to a swift conclusion. There was no forgetting the cold that’d filled me when I’d understood what was going on.

“You look good, Greer,” he offered.

Christ. I folded my arms over my chest. “Why are you here?”

“Hold the fuck up, Archie. What’re you saying? You’re together?”

“I was going to break up with him! I am—I am ending things with him! I’m so sorry, Greer. I didn’t know—I swear to you I didn’t. He wanted to introduce me to his childhood friend Finlay. I didn’t know he called you by your last name. Finlay—that was all I knew. Finlay, the childhood friend from Chesapeake Bay who’d made him realize he was into guys.”

Archie took a step closer. “I’ve been looking for you. For the…past year.”

I narrowed my eyes. Did he think I was stupid? “Try again. Because this isn’t the place that pops up if you’re looking for me.”

“No,” he conceded. “I found the business you share with your brothers first. Then I found their Facebook accounts, your nieces and nephews on Instagram and Snapchat, your two sisters-in-law on Instagram and Pinterest…” He released a breath. “You learn a lot about a man through the social media eyes of his family members.”

Jesus. Stalker warning.

“An entire family on social media—except you,” he said. “Until I stumbled upon a comment section under one of your nephews’ accounts. Crew, I think his name was…? Someone named Finlay Ridge had wished him good luck, and there you were.”

I was, but I wasn’t. It was the name of my farm. I used the account for the food collective groups I was in. And, of course, to stay in touch with family and friends, but I hadn’t made a single post in public, nor had I uploaded any photos.

“From there, I went through all your friends…”

“I hear warning bells,” I replied dryly.

He nodded and looked down at the grass. “Can’t blame you. I got obsessed. I wanted to know everything about you.”

Fuck him. He couldn’t say that shit to me.

Could I even believe him? Five years ago, I’d discovered he was excellent at deception. He’d pleaded his case convincingly too. Painfully aware that the people around us were on that slanted lawn to watch a concert, we’d hashed it all out in hushed voices and angry whispers. On my end, at least. He’d been the one begging me to understand him.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Greer. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. Angelo and I have been on the verge of breaking up for months, and I was going to do it this weekend. Then he told me he was going to go out of town to meet an old friend, and at the last minute, he convinced me to tag along.”