The Shepherd (The Game 6)

I ended the call before Sloan could bitch at me.

I was in a good TGIF mood, and I was looking forward to the weekend. Just me, Sloan, and the kids. I had a munch on Sunday; that was it. I’d consider canceling the munch if I weren’t planning on speaking to a few buddies about inviting Sloan to become a member of our kink community.

To this day, I didn’t understand what was so great about his community. They met up infrequently for parties they hosted at various nightclubs, and that was that. The community I had started with seven others about eight years ago was tight-knit, invite-only, and we had our own property outside of DC. Our own kinky slice of heaven with playrooms, club area, guest rooms, pool, hot tubs—what’s not to love?

I’d told Sloan I would pay for his membership.

I knew money was tight for him. Single dad of four kids…?

I was working on it, though. More determined than ever, I was gonna make him see that he should move in with me. At my place, he could relax. The kids would have their own space; they wouldn’t have to share, plus I had a huge backyard—and front yard, for that matter.

It wouldn’t be difficult convincing the kids, including the two eldest, Jason and Jamie. Three years after their parents had split up—at long last—the children were still suffering. They deserved a fresh start away from everything. Away from every spot their folks had argued, which ruled out all of DC.

Once you got used to the bad tension between Mommy and Daddy at the grocery store, you didn’t like that store anymore.

The kids’ lives had become too infected, no matter how hard Sloan had fought for the opposite. And he fucking had. He’d done everything in his power to keep shit civil, to make sure the children didn’t see what was going on behind closed doors. But when only one parent gave a fuck, all that work was for nothing.

Fuck, I was getting heated again.

Needing to vent, I reached forward and scrolled to Peyton’s number and hit dial. Then I removed my empty coffee cup from the center console and flipped down the seat between the passenger’s side and mine.

“Big Daddy!”

I grinned. “Vegan. How’s my favorite sister-in-law?”

“You say that to both of us,” she laughed.

True, I did. Whereas Sloan had found his wife at the bottom of a swamp, two of my brothers had hit the jackpot with women who could do much better. And my brothers were good men.

“Is this a bad time?” I asked.

“Nope! Just got home from work. What’s up?”

No need to beat around the bush. “How shitty on a scale from one to Greer Really Cares would it be if I asked Sloan’s kids if they wanted to move in to my house?”

“Oh God,” she muttered. I winced and braced myself. “You’re not doing that, you big oaf.”

“Why?” I demanded, taking the next exit off the parkway. “Sloan won’t fucking listen to me. He thinks he can do it on his own.”

Yet, shit kept getting worse. He was averaging seventy hours a week as a tattoo artist and car mechanic, and he was still digging for change in the couch cushions by the end of the month. Four kids weren’t cheap, and he didn’t want them to miss out on after-school activities. Even though Carol, his ex-wife, had them every other week—for the time being—life in the city was outrageous. Plus the mental strain, constantly stretching himself too thin. Man, it made me furious. Because I’d been there from the beginning. They’d had a plan and everything.

“Isn’t Carol doing it on her own?” Peyton countered carefully.

“Well, she isn’t, is she? She’s hired a nanny and has two parents who help out.”

That was one of the things that pissed me off. Their plan had been for Carol to finish law school, and then it would be Sloan’s turn to get a higher education. But they’d started having problems early on, and he’d scrambled to become something quickly in order to contribute while Carol was expecting Jamie. Sloan had never gotten his chance.

“I understand this is frustrating for you, Greer, but you gotta dial back the bulldozer.”

I’d never liked my sister-in-law.

“Don’t go through the kids to get what you want,” she added in warning. “That’s a real crappy move.”

I bit at a cuticle on my thumb and made a turn at North Quebec Street.

“How big of a no-no is it?”

“The biggest,” she grated out. “Never, ever go behind the parents’ backs.”

Goddammit.

I knew she was right. I just didn’t like it.

“But you agree with me—they’d be happier in my house,” I said to make sure. “Keep in mind that the ex-wife is moving next month.”

Carol had accepted a one-year stint with a law firm in Chicago for a specific high-profile case. She could afford flying the kids out to see her a few weekends here and there, and they would spend some breaks with her too. But for the next year, Sloan would be mostly on his own.