8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
S loan was having a no-good, very bad week.
Ever since the date gone wrong, he’d been off-kilter. Quieter and shorter with folks than normal, and he could guarantee everyone was aware of the shift.
He sat at his desk, his eyes glazing over at the figures on the screen. He’d pulled another extra long day because avoidance was his best friend, and hurling himself into work helped him in the lofty cause. At least it staved off the memories of Rick. Ever since Ezra had brought up his brother, it was like Sloan touched a cut he’d thought had healed but was still open.
A rap sounded at the office door.
Sloan glanced up. Meg stood in the doorway, wearing a white crop top with black yoga pants, and the concerned tilt of her brows spelled what she’d arrived to talk about.
“It’s pretty late, babe,” she said in her Dom tone he was too familiar with. Forget the All-Father. Meg was like the All-Domme of the café, making sure everyone was taken care of.
Sloan turned his attention to his computer again. He’d been mulling over one client for far too long. “Well, there’s a lot of work to do.”
Meg snorted. “There’s always work to do. It doesn’t mean you have to be sitting here and slaving away.”
Rachel Robinson had always been a smooth-sailing client. Sloan didn’t know why things had changed, but a lot of her reported income and expenses weren’t lining up, which sent red flags. One of the agreements with Meg was that he could do his accounting work here, on top of the books for Whipped. Their situation worked great for him, and the connections weren’t bad either. He’d been doing taxes for pro-Dommes and sex workers for years now, and he liked helping out his community.
Rachel was a Domme from a town over, one who occasionally showed up at the scene events, so he couldn’t figure out why she’d started sending odd reports.
“Meg, you heard anything from Rachel?” He ignored his boss’s attempt to pry him away from the computer. She slunk beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder as she peered at the screen.
“What’s going on with her?” she asked.
“So that’s a no. The last batch of income and expense reports she sent me were all over the place. It’s not like her. Five years of regularity and now this? Can you think of any reason something like that might happen? ”
“Not any good ones,” Meg said darkly. “I’ll reach out to her. Just a friendly professional check-in.”
That relaxed the knot inside him. “I’d appreciate that.”
“If I handle the issue, you have to call it a night now,” Meg said, her dark eyes gleaming. “Tristan and Noles are downstairs popping the game system on. Come join us.”
“What if I have a date tonight?” The moment the words slipped from his lips, discomfort rippled through his gut. As if the last one had gone swimmingly.
Meg studied him with refined focus. Fuck, he hadn’t hidden his reaction well enough.
“You wouldn’t be throwing that out if you did.” Meg crossed her arms. “So, down to the dungeon with you.” The firmness in her voice did him in. He was weak for a dominant, and Meg was one of the best.
“Fine.” Sloan sighed as he shut down his computer and pushed up from his seat. Between Nolan and Meg, an intervention loomed on the horizon, and the idea of bringing all that bullshit up made his neck prickle. However, he wasn’t doing so great locking it up tight either. “What are they putting on to play?”
Meg shrugged. “Fuck if I know. I’ll be working on a project.”
“Business related?”
“Do as I say, not as I do,” she said, her voice low and amused. Meg wasn’t as much a gamer, but most of her circle was, so she found other things to occupy herself. Sloan shook his head and tromped down the stairs to the dungeon. Despite the hum of nerves that had been ever-present since that date, comfort radiated through him. He had spent some of the best times in this dungeon, but it was also one of the safest places for him. And after everything he’d gone through with Rick, he clung to those .
He’d arrived at this place a shell of himself, and piece by piece, these people, this place, had slowly stitched him back together. Even if he’d never confided the whole truth, one that grew louder and louder with every passing day.
Noles and Tristan were leaning back on the main couch. Both of them had controllers in hand, which meant they’d figured out a game.
The familiar chiptune music gave it away.
“Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? You guys are going old school tonight.” He sank in the empty spot between them. If there was a chance to be sandwiched between bodies, he’d take it. Trusted touch soothed him in the best way, and he’d been ragged around the edges all week.
“Figured we needed a changeup from Mario Kart,” Nolan said. One of the bouts started, and while the guys launched into button-mashing, they both scooted to make room for him. Sloan settled in place and rested his head against Nolan. Meg sprawled out on the loveseat, her legs stretched out.
“I call dibs on fighting the winner.” Sloan soaked in the warmth from Nolan’s body. “Donatello’s my guy.”
Tristan sat forward a bit, his brows drawn together in concentration. Meg’s husband could’ve been a model, with his long, glossy strands pulled back into a bun and his finely formed features. He and Sloan had played together during scenes tandem, but since they were both subs, neither were topping the other.
“So,” Meg said. “Care to tell me why you’ve been suddenly pulling overtime the past week?”
Sloan sucked in a shaky breath. He didn’t miss the way Nolan perked up. Guaranteed, he’d been wanting to know why he’d gotten called for a pickup after that shit date. Except Noles was amazing about giving him space—almost too amazing, because Sloan would run with it and then never discuss it again.
Meg, on the other hand, was too direct for bullshit. He loved and hated her for it in the same breath.
She wouldn’t force him to talk and would give him the time to sort his thoughts, but she also got like a bulldog regarding the people she cared about. Those stares were intense and pointed. He swallowed hard, and the slightest prickle tingled at his eyes.
Fuck it.
“I went on a bad date last weekend,” he said, his voice quiet. The sound of the game grew louder than ever, since no one else was speaking up, giving him room to say what was buried deep inside. Where was Fin when he needed them? The throb inside him grew bigger and louder by the second, like a scream he’d been holding back for years.
“Do I need to bury someone?” Meg asked, her voice sharp.
“Not the guy,” he said. “He was hot, respectful, pretty damn amazing all around. But I found out at the start of the date that his brother is my ex-boyfriend.”
“Is that a wanting-to-avoid-the-mess issue?” Tristan asked. Somehow, the fact that he and Nolan kept their gazes locked on the screens with the game helped a bit. Better than Good ol’ Laser Eyes on the loveseat.
Time to rip the Band-Aid now rather than wait for later.
“A few years ago, right before I started working here, I dated a real piece of shit guy.” Fuck, that felt paltry in comparison to the abject fear that froze his limbs. That reigned through him at the mere thought of the dark looks that would cross Rick’s features. At the sickening tone of his voice that guaranteed Sloan would either be walking over eggshells or glass .
“Let’s just say, even though I was lucky to make it out in one piece, I still have the marks.” The words came out shaky. He rubbed his forearm, one of the spots that had ended up scarred. Sloan might not have collected big or glaring ones, but even the small reminders were enough to send him spiraling again. His whole body trembled at setting that truth he’d held back free.
Fuck. They’d never look at him the same. They’d see him as pathetic, as pathetic as he’d felt from falling for Rick in the first place.
He didn’t realize for a minute that the game got paused until he looked up at the screen.
“Can I give you a hug?” Noles asked, his arm poised to wrap around him.
His chest burned, and then his eyes kicked up too, glossing over. Goddamnit. He didn’t respond but careened into Nolan’s embrace. Nolan clutched him tight, dropping the controller onto the couch. That hug wasn’t just comfort. It was a bridge he’d been terrified to cross ever since he’d escaped, but the relief that crashed through him was so intense it stole his breath away. A second later, Tristan’s arms wrapped around him from behind. A few stray tears slipped down his cheeks, but he didn’t try to stop them. Noles had seen him worse the other day, and he wouldn’t judge.
He hadn’t gone into detail or scoured through all the ugly history, but thank fuck, his best friends had read between the lines. He didn’t need to tear open the old memories of returning home to Rick in a rage. The splintered dishes, the bruises that had littered his arms, his legs, his torso. How Rick’s voice echoed through the house in a way he couldn’t evade. Sloan had been living in the past enough ever since the date that he didn’t want to dig into it further.
“Hey, we’ve got you.” Nolan clutched him tight. Sloan sank into his embrace, in the feeling of safety. The crazy thing was, he knew they did. After what he’d gone through with Rick, he should’ve ended up jaded and untrusting…but instead, he’d ended up here. And the crew at Whipped had helped heal him, even without them knowing what he’d been through.
He remained in the comfort of Tristan’s arms. Tristan was plastered to his back, and the warmth of their bodies anchored Sloan into the moment. Even though he’d just opened up to his friends, having the truth out there wasn’t hitting him as hard as finding out Ezra was Rick’s brother.
A shadow drifted in front of him, and a moment later, he felt Meg’s presence there before her hand settled on his knee.
“If you need me to bury someone, all you need to do is say the name,” Meg said, her tone deathly serious.
“Murder isn’t necessary,” he murmured against Nole’s shirt. Though the idea of Rick being wiped off the face of the earth wouldn’t bring him to tears.
“Who said anything about murder?”
He looked up at Meg, whose dark eyes were mildly terrifying.
“I have ways of making people disappear. No murder required,” she said. A shiver ran down his spine. Even though Meg was like a sadistic momma bear with their lot, she was respected in the community, and no one dared fuck with her. Not only was she a brute force of nature, but she also had the resources and connections to handle anything.
“Don’t tempt me.” Sloan sagged against Nolan’s side. Tristan peeled himself off his back, and Sloan almost protested. If he could live in a puppy pile, he’d be happy.
“Do you need me to ban Ezra from events?” Meg asked, the direct focus still locked and loaded on him.
Sloan chewed his lower lip. Fuck. This was why he hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone. When the situation had remained in his head, it stayed black and white. The moment he started to talk about it, though…things didn’t feel as clear cut. Even though Sloan had been shit at catching Rick’s red flags back then, he’d learned the hard way. Ezra might’ve come across as a bad boy, but he hadn’t given off those same vibes.
If anything, he’d been the polar opposite of his brother. Kind, considerate, respectful.
Sloan had felt safe.
That shook him more than anything.
Was his judgment still compromised, or had he misjudged the whole situation?
“If he’s close with a monster like that, there’s no way he should be allowed to events,” Nolan said.
“I don’t know,” Sloan said. The words leaped to his lips, even though he didn’t like them. Speaking them out loud painted the date in a light he hadn’t been in the headspace to consider. “He’d referred to his brother as a shithead, and he hadn’t spoken about him real fondly.”
“So he may not have a good relationship with his brother either,” Tristan said, ever the voice of reason.
That was the exact question circling in Sloan’s subconscious all week, one he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge.
“It’s okay to have a knee-jerk reaction,” Meg said. Even though her words were quiet, they came out simmering, not soft. Nothing about Meg was soft. “Trauma’s a bitch.”
“That it fucking is.” He offered a shaky smile. His cheeks still felt tight from the tears that had escaped, and more threatened to emerge.
And maybe that had been what his reaction was. The idea, even the slightest hint Ezra might’ve had a positive relationship with his brother, had been enough for Sloan to bolt. As if he’d stepped into a trap and had to race out of there to survive .
Except that stood in sharp contrast to everything they’d talked about until then. To how Ezra had treated him.
What if Ezra was another one of Rick’s victims? Sloan’s stomach dropped. He’d feel like a monster if that were the case.
“Do you know how you want to handle this?” Meg asked, rock solid and steady.
He’d been avoiding that question all week. Because ideally, he wanted to run from the problem, not handle it, and that wasn’t practical. Not only because he’d dashed out on the guy mid-date, but also because Ezra had been a part of this scene for the past few months, and unless Meg had a genuine reason to bar him, he was free to continue to show up.
“I think I should start by checking the texts he sent me,” Sloan said. They’d been sitting in his inbox unread all week, weighing him down whenever he looked at his phone. And yeah, he could delete them, but a part of him hesitated.
Maybe because certain things didn’t add up in the narrative he’d concocted of Ezra and Rick being close.
Like the gentle kindnesses, the consideration, Ezra had offered.
Like the dark humor or the way he’d averted his gaze when talking about his past.
“That might be a good start.” Tristan carded his fingers through Sloan’s hair. “If it’s a bunch of rage texts, that’s a direct block, but if he’s able to shed light on anything…”
“Yeah.” Sloan heaved a sigh. “You’re right.” There had never been much reason to dredge up the past, at least not worth the pain it brought, but all the same, he was glad they knew now.
“Thanks for sharing with us.” Nolan gave Sloan’s nape a squeeze. The dominant gesture made his knees weaken, and it short-circuited his brain in a way he sorely needed. Sloan slumped against Nolan again, surrendering to the comfort his friends brought.
Meg patted his knee. “The interrogation’s over, babe. Let us know what you need. I only pushed because I could tell you were off.”
“Thanks,” he murmured, the words barely audible. When he met Meg’s gaze, she gave a sharp nod. She rose and returned to her spot on the loveseat with a mess load of papers and her laptop.
“Want to dive into a bout?” Nolan snagged the controller. “I can restart the game.”
Sloan shook his head. “Nah, I’m good watching right now.” He nuzzled into Nolan’s side. Nolan took the cue and wrapped his arm around Sloan’s shoulders.
Tristan spread his legs wider until theirs touched. Everyone knew what a touch slut Sloan was, and he was grateful for it tonight.
Nolan and Tristan unpaused the game, and the familiar chiptune music blared out again. Sloan got comfortable in his slouch, settling in the wake of what he’d shared. His nerves were still a little jittery, his body still wired, and the space to unwind and mellow out was what he’d needed.
Except one thing burrowed in his brain.
He drew his phone from his pocket. Tristan and Nolan kept their focus on the game, even though they were both no doubt aware of what he was doing. The fact that they gave him the space regardless, yeah, that meant everything.
He pulled up the text chain between him and Ezra to the unread ones that had followed their date.
Hey. If you don’t read this and never want to speak to me again, I understand. I don’t know what your connection to my brother was, but I can imagine it wasn’t good .
We can’t choose our blood, but he hasn’t been in my life for a reason. If you get this and still want to take a chance, I’d love to see you again. But I also respect your choice to keep your distance either way.
Sloan swallowed hard. Fuck. His chest tightened.
His gut had been right. Ezra was a standup guy.
He turned off the screen and slipped the phone into his pocket. As much as part of him wanted to reach out, he still needed to sort himself out. The mere mention of Rick had sent him vaulting back to a rough place, so he didn’t know what direction he wanted to take when it came to Ezra. Sure, he shouldn’t be blamed for his brother’s sins, but at the same point, Sloan had to protect himself.
He’d learned that the hard way.
Sloan snuggled in closer to Nolan, soaking in the warmth from his body, from the heavy arm slung around him. The chiptunes blared, and Sloan shut his eyes, letting the rest of the world drift away.
Tonight, he’d relax with his friends. Tomorrow, he’d figure out how to move forward.