The Shepherd (The Game 6)

“Can you wait for me there?” I pressed. “I just left Mclean. I’ll be there in twenty-five minutes.”

“Fuck that,” he slurred. “I’ll sit down and wait for my Uber. Go home to your new man, Shep.”

The fucker hung up on me. And even now, he was trying to push me away? I clenched my jaw, so goddamn done with his resistance. It was ending tonight.

Before I reached the Beltway, I summoned all my energy to suppress my annoyance, and I regretfully called and woke up Kingsley. He and Tate lived just up the street from the bar Sloan had been kicked out of, and I wanted him to stay put till I got there. It was my only option. Kingsley said it was all good, not to worry about it; he’d go down there to keep Sloan company until I arrived.

Last but not least, I botched an apologetic voice-to-text message to Archie, explaining the situation. And I hoped Sloan was wrong. I hoped Archie had abandoned his kitchen adventure and gone to bed. Because this was fucking unbelievable. My quiet evening at home with my new boyfriend had morphed into a wild goose chase to ensure Corey and Sloan were all right.

CHAPTER 11

This corner of Arlington wasn’t nightclub central, so the only traffic I saw were cabs and late-night stragglers on their way home from the bars that’d closed. In other words, it wasn’t difficult to spot Sloan when I drove up a street and saw a man bent over, emptying his stomach into the gutters.

Both Kingsley and Tate were with him.

Christ. I’d thought it earlier, and I said it to myself now too—this had to stop. I was done letting him call the shots. I’d known Sloan for so long that I could take some liberties. I was bringing him home. He belonged there permanently, with me, with us, end of fucking story.

But I was still chickenshit enough not to think any further than that. No part of my mind dared consider a change in our friendship or relationship. It was the intimate hug all over again. I couldn’t take the initiative—because he was the one who’d been more direct and insistent when it came to boundaries and personal space. I’d just followed his lead.

Kingsley and Tate saw me before I pulled over to the curb, and Sloan bent over to hurl again. Then Tate said something to Sloan that made my buddy flip him off, so that had to be good. I was glad they were on friendly terms on the first night they’d ever met.

I got out of my truck as soon as I’d killed the engine, and I couldn’t stick to one of the many fucked-up emotions that simmered below the surface. Relief, wariness, a shit-ton of annoyance… Exhaustion won out. I was fucking tired.

“Hey, gorgeous.” Tate grinned at me.

That sparked some humor at least, and I smirked a little on my way to Sloan. “Hey, kid. Sorry for sending y’all on a midnight adventure.”

“Don’t be,” he replied quickly. “I’m highly invested now.”

I snorted, not surprised. He and Ivy were the gossip slingers in our community—and I meant that in a fairly affectionate way. Aside from being too nosy for their own good, they meant well and wanted what was best for their friends. They didn’t spread bullshit, just theories about people’s love lives.

Approaching Sloan, I saw he was clutching a Coke can in one hand, and he had a half-empty bottle of water next to his feet.

The beanie on the sidewalk looked like his too.

He groaned and retched once more.

I sighed and placed a hand on his back. “You realize I’m done listenin’ to you, right?”

He coughed and croaked. “What’re you talking about?”

Wasn’t it fucking obvious?

“I’m talking about you pushing people away when they wanna help you.” I could hear the impatience seeping through. I had to cool it. “I ain’t doin’ it anymore, Sloan. You’re coming home with me, and tomorrow we’re picking up the kids.”

He straightened up again, and he flicked me a drunk, guarded look before he chugged from his Coke.

I noticed he’d put some piercings back in. A handful in his ears, the barbell between his eyebrows.

He made a cute, rugged, hot drunk. Bloodshot eyes included.

He wiped his mouth and peered down at the ground. He was wearing his supposedly lucky All Stars. They were green and had passed their expiration date by a few years. But it had to be pure luck he hadn’t thrown up on them.

“I can’t stay with you, Shep,” he muttered hoarsely.

Nope, we weren’t doing this.

“I beg to differ.” I extended an arm and pointed to the truck. “Let’s get you outta hea’.”

“No,” he snapped. He nearly stumbled over the water bottle as he took a few steps away from me. “I’m goin’ home. I can walk.”