Out of the Ashes (The Game 5)

“Hey, gorgeous.” I smiled.

He sent me a tired smirk on his way to Sloan. “Hey, kid. Sorry for sending y’all on a midnight adventure.”

“Don’t be—I’m highly invested now.” I scratched my nose.

Greer had a very pronounced accent, primarily New York but mixed with a little bit of South Carolina from his years at a Marine base there. It was a weirdly sexy cocktail that went well with the whole flannel, holey jeans, graying beard thing he had going on.

I went over to Lee and grabbed his hand as Greer sighed and placed a hand on Sloan’s back.

“You realize I’m done listenin’ to you, right?”

“What’re you talking about?” Sloan croaked.

“I’m talking about you pushing people away when they wanna help you,” Greer replied. A hint of irritation seeped through. “I ain’t doin’ it anymore, Sloan. You’re coming home with me, and tomorrow we’re picking up the kids.”

Fuck yeah, Greer was laying down the law. And there were kids involved!

I had to talk to Ivy. Last time we’d spoken, she’d told me about Greer and some younger dude—and by younger, I meant someone our age, Ivy’s and mine—and that she was “shipping” them. I still didn’t know who the hell she’d been referring to; that guy was new in our community, but she was wrong. I was shipping these two.

Sloan straightened up when he felt he wasn’t gonna puke again, and he emptied the Coke can, causing his eyes to well up from the carbonation.

“I can’t stay with you, Shep,” Sloan grumbled.

Shep?

“I beg to differ.” Greer gestured toward the truck. “Let’s get you outta hea’.”

“No.” Sloan growled in frustration and put some distance between them. “I’m goin’ home. I can walk.”

“You’re gonna walk to Ashton Heights?” Greer cocked a brow.

That was quite the walk from here.

Sloan made a face and glanced up, as if he didn’t really know where he was. “Where are we?”

“Crystal City,” I replied.

“Oh, right.” Sloan looked nauseated again.

“I’m guessing you’ve been at Carol’s,” Greer said.

There was a Carol. Who was Carol?

“Whatever—just drive me home.” Sloan clutched his stomach and staggered toward Greer’s truck. “Not goin’ to your fuckin’ whore ranch…”

I needed popcorn.

Greer sighed heavily and turned to Lee and me. “You’ve done more than enough—you can head on home. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“No problem at all, buddy,” Lee said.

“I’m not going anywhere.” I had to make that clear. “We’re staying until—”

“And you know that?” Sloan interrupted me and spun on Greer. “I’m sick of you not seein’ me. You bitch about bein’ lonely, but what am I? Shit under your shoe? A seat filler until you bring home the next bottom? Hell, I could be a bottom for you.”

“Oh my God,” I mouthed. I was so glad to be here in the middle of the night.

Greer’s forehead creased with evident confusion. “What did you just say?”

Sloan snorted and shook his head, then stalked back to the truck. “Never mind.”

I cleared my throat. “He said he could be a bottom for you.” And I said that shit loud and clear.

Lee shot me a look of warning. “Tate.”

“Don’t you ‘Tate’ me,” I argued and jutted my chin. “This is one of those things they would sweep under the rug—but I say fuck that.” I turned to Greer again. “Sloan can be a bottom for you, Sir. Discuss.”

“Yeah, we’re leaving.” Lee got a firm grip on my arm, and he’d used his Master voice, so I would be screwed if I argued further. “Greer, good luck with…that. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

But, ohhhh!

I smashed my lips together as Lee physically dragged me away from where everything was happening this glorious night.

“This is cruel,” I whispered accusingly. “I wanna help them get together.”

“No, you’re just a gossip,” Lee whispered back. “Fucking hell, sometimes you’re worse than Ivy.”

Whoa. I glared at him. A lot to unpack there! One, Ivy was by no means bad. And I wasn’t worse! We were simply invested in our friends’ lives and wanted what was best for them.

“You’re wrong,” I insisted.

“And you’re out of line,” he told me. “If you give me any more attitude on this, you can spend the rest of the night in the cage. Up to you.”

Fuuuck.

I hated the cage. It was a tiny crawlspace under our bed, complete with a thin, uncomfortable mattress, a battery-operated lamp, and bars.

I shut my mouth.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Tate Ridley

“That better not be Ivy you’re texting.”

I lifted my gaze from my phone and eyed Lee coming out from the bathroom. “It’s not about last night,” I said. “We’re just speculating about the boot camp event.”

Lee’s poker face was too good, so I didn’t even bother trying to read him for a reaction. Instead, I shoveled some more milk and cereal into my mouth and read Ivy’s response.

I think Cam’s right. Next Friday or Saturday. It’s the last weekend in October, and Colt’s training mission is over.