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“Sloan?” I called.
“Let me get that for you, Master.” Archie took my jacket from me. “Can I make you a cup of coffee? There’s plenty of snacks and mixers too, and Sloan bought bourbon, gin, and vodka.”
“Coffee sounds great, love.” I walked over to the steep stairs and took them two at a time, just till I could see the loft. “Sloan, wake up.”
If we were going to have Kyla here at some point, we’d need to make something of the loft. Right now, I had a giant mattress and a dresser. Piles of books, notwithstanding.
“What time is it?” Sloan grumbled.
“I don’t know—three thirty, maybe. You okay?”
He rolled onto his back and stretched out. “Yeah, bit of headache. I’ll be fine.” He yawned and dragged himself up, his feet hitting the floor with a thump. He smiled sleepily at me, and it was impossible not to smile back. Fucking hell, he was gorgeous. “I’ve been meaning to tell you all day. Your approach with Jason this morning, I—thank you. He was so relieved that you didn’t seem to understand.”
I took another step on the stairs so I could plant my forearms on the landing. “No problem. I take it you’ve already had the wet-dream talk with him.”
He inclined his head and rubbed his neck, and he winced when something popped. Hell, even I heard it.
It made me grin.
“He’s touchy about it, of course. Doesn’t even want Carol to know.”
Eh. Everyone in this cabin could relate. It was a sensitive age. “Understandable,” I replied. “Come downstairs. We have to talk about Corey.”
“All right.” He left the bed and righted his clothes.
He followed me down and excused himself to go to the bathroom real quick, and it allowed me to rejoin Archie in the kitchenette. My mind was so fixated on Corey that I’d forgotten to steal me a proper hello.
“Come here. You look better with my arms around you,” I said.
He flashed me a quick grin and abandoned the coffeemaker for my embrace.
“I feel better with them around me too.” He peered up at me.
“Good.” I kissed him softly a few times and indulged in just watching him. His eyes—they were so goddamn beautiful. And those unforgettable dimples.
“It’s mad how fast you recenter me,” he murmured. “Sometimes I don’t even notice how chaotic my mind is, and then you squeeze me tightly, and the chaos quiets down.”
I knew the feeling.
“You have the same effect on me.” I captured his lips with mine once more and hugged him tightly.
Sloan reemerged seconds later with an old-man grunt. “That has to be the smallest bathroom ever built. I’m surprised you fit in there, Shep.”
I threw him a smirk over my shoulder. “Everything fits with a little help from violence and Vaseline, baby. You should know that by now.”
Archie shook with silent laughter in my arms while Sloan snorted and walked over to us.
“Call me baby again.”
I smiled. “Baby.”
He sighed contentedly and leaned in for a kiss.
I was happy to comply. “I heard the interview went well.” I spoke against his lips and shifted my attention—and arms—to him as Archie said he’d pour the coffee.
“Yeah, they were happy with my résumé.” Sloan pecked me a couple times before dragging me to the couch. “It’s a full-time gig, though. And I’ll accept if they offer it to me, but I’ll have to take a break from the ink.”
“You okay with that?” I didn’t know what he preferred, working with cars or a tattoo gun.
“Definitely.” He nodded firmly and sat down. “The guys seem nice, and the drive there would take ten minutes. Oh, and it’s close to Jason and Jamie’s new school.”
That filled me with warmth. The idea of having them all nearby; Winchester was ten minutes away. It was nothing. DC was an hour and a fucking half. And I’d been driving there like I was just running to the store for milk.
“Okay—Corey,” Archie said, bringing over a tray with coffee and, of course, something else too. Finger food he sure as hell hadn’t prepared right now. Tiny sandwiches, the spicy sausage we’d had for dinner the other day—now served with toothpicks and cheese—and cookies. “You need energy, Master. You haven’t had dinner, have you?” He sat down on a rickety chair on the other side of the coffee table.
I shook my head and reached for a bite-size sandwich. “This is perfect.” I’d had a big lunch and wasn’t too hungry yet. “All right.” I spoke with my mouth full because Ma raised a classy fucker. “I won’t beat around the bush.”
I told them exactly what Reese—with help from Shay—had divulged, and that time was of the essence since it was likely that Marcus was going to try to get Corey to move with him to Denver.
Our hands were kinda tied because of the time frame we had to work with. We had a handful of educated guesses and red flags to go by; nothing was certain except for the validity of our worry. We didn’t know how much we’d been projecting stereotypes and personal preferences onto our observations. We didn’t know the extent of the alleged abuse—how long it’d been happening, how deep it went into Corey’s behavior, or how far his consent reached. Or how informed aforementioned consent was.
