Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Cameron Jacobson

“Cameron?”

Holy crap. I shot right up in bed—had I overslept? I had to prepare Master’s breakfast! Oh my God, I couldn’t be late; he had meetings all day and— Fuck. I blinked drowsily and sucked in a breath as an annoying headache settled in. My head felt like it weighed a ton. I wasn’t in my bed—where the fuck was I? Pullout bed. I scrubbed quickly at my face and then glanced around. Couches, big-ass TV, and entertainment center with a bunch of gaming consoles.

I’m at Master Greer’s farm.

Nausea crept up my throat, and I was punched in the face by last night.

“I’m gonna call an ambulance,” Master Dean said.

He couldn’t die like this! Please! I hadn’t gotten a whole year with him! Fear shot through me in sharp currents every time Lucian flinched, looked to be struggling to breathe, and whenever he swayed in place, as if he was so dizzy he couldn’t even sit still. Okay, think, think, think. I’d read about this, about what to do, if he ever had a heart attack⁠—

I shook the memory and dragged my bleary gaze to the stairs, where I spotted Archie on the last step. Wearing a look of sympathy. Crap.

“I didn’t want to wake you, but you should get something to eat,” he said. “You can go back to bed as soon as I’ve gotten some food in your stomach.”

Ugh. I wasn’t hungry. At the same time, my stomach ached with a void that let me know I should listen to Archie.

I cleared the sleep out of my voice and pushed away the covers. “What time is it?”

“A little past noon.”

Oh fuck. Past noon. I almost lost my balance as I stepped into my sweats, and I pictured Master waking up to learn I had abandoned him in the middle of the night.

Lucian should be awake now. Maybe he was even home.

I would’ve checked my phone, but Master Greer had stolen it from me.

“I’ll take care of that, pet.” He’d just snatched it from me.

“But—!”

“No buts. You need to think about yourself. Plus, your Daddy said I could.”

He’d allowed me to send Master one text, then to let KC know, and that was that.

In retrospect, I wasn’t sure I should’ve sent that message to Master.

I righted my tee and then made a half-assed attempt at making the bed, but Archie told me we could do that later.

Was I sleeping here tonight again?

I swallowed my unease and nodded. Then I excused myself for a quick bathroom break, and I grabbed my toiletry kit. And, of course, fucking everything reminded me of Lucian, our lifestyle, our community. It even said freaking Mclean House on my toiletry case, which always prompted Noa to call me a traitor. He’d bought his own kit, only to order a patch that said House Mclean instead.

When I entered the bathroom, it was easy to tell this was the children’s area. Every toothbrush had a cartoon figure except one, similar story with the towels. Toothpaste splatters on the mirror, a laundry basket that… Well, it could look worse. Some underwear and socks littered the floor, but Archie ran a tight ship. With five kids in the house, I supposed one had to.

I sat down to relieve myself and avoided my reflection in the mirror. Instead, I took in the sight of no-tears shampoo, the toddler’s changing table, two big packs of pull-up diapers… We didn’t have a changing table at home, but Noa did love his no-tears shampoo, and KC was in charge of the diaper supply.

“It’s gonna be okay, Master,” I cried. “You have to be okay!”

I flinched at the memory of Master’s pained expression. I could still hear his labored breathing, bordering on hyperventilation, and I could see the fear in his eyes. And even then, he’d gritted out he was fine.

I clenched my jaw and flushed the toilet, then made quick work of washing my hands, splashing water on my face, and taming my hair.

If I heard one more fucking time that he was fine…

I left the bathroom and almost stumbled over a toy truck. One of the children had to be at home still. Kyla, probably. I knew she didn’t attend day care every day. But the others were undoubtedly in school by now. Or day care and kindergarten.

I wasn’t sure I could identify the kiddos by name, except for Kyla, the youngest. All I knew was that they ranged in age from one to eleven or something like that.

Trailing down the stairs, I was reminded by the presence of their million dogs too. They all waited for me in the hallway as I descended. I supposed they knew the upstairs area was off-limits to them…?

Two of the dogs were massive, but Corey had assured me that “Buddy and Beast are just oversized cuddle pups!”

They had an old Great Dane too. I patted him on the head, while avoiding stepping on the little Chihuahua, and veered right to go to the kitchen. Past the living room, where, sure enough, little Kyla was watching cartoons.

“Hi!” She waved at me with her sippy cup, causing some of the contents to splash over her. Which she just found funny.

“Good morning, Kyla.” I smiled tiredly and continued toward the kitchen.

“That’s why I only give her water,” Archie said with a wry grin.

I mustered a weak chuckle and slid onto one of the stools on the dining room’s side of the kitchen bar. “Anything I can do to help?”

He shook his head, busy with what looked like lunch. “Just sit there and take it easy.”

I loved their house. It was messy in a cozy way. The bar was the dumping site for a crate of vegetables and potatoes, one big bowl of eggs that I knew came from their own chicken coop, and two bread baskets. One stack of mail too, and two drawings from kids. I could barely see the fridge and freezer for all the children’s drawings there as well. Every time I visited, it made more and more sense for Archie to stay at home. It had to be a full-time job to keep this house standing.

“I’m surprised you slept through the morning hurricane of seeing the kids off to school,” he commented. “Not to mention that Master can’t spell indoor voice.”

I exhaled a laugh—perfect description of Master Greer. He was a loud one—and he loved meeting children at their level.

“When did everyone leave?” I wondered.

He gathered two handfuls of green bell peppers and checked the clock on his way over to the stove, where he tossed the vegetable into a large pot. Whatever it was, it smelled great.

“Master leaves shortly before six most mornings, and Sloan and the kids leave around seven,” he replied. “Corey went with Master today—he has a meeting with Lane in the city.”

Well, that explained it. I’d finished crying my eyes out at around four, so I’d been dead to the world.

“I don’t think I moved a single time once I fell asleep,” I admitted. “Your pullouts are weirdly comfortable.”

There was something about this house. While I preferred to pick up my farm eggs at the nearest farmer’s market, I couldn’t get enough of this sense of home. Partly because it reminded me of how I’d grown up—sans chickens and rescue dogs. But my mom was the one who made quilts and patchwork blankets of old T-shirts and sheets. She loved going to yard sales and picking up random mugs and knickknacks. All of which I could find here too. When everything was mismatched, it became a theme that just fit.

“I cannot tell you how many times I’ve fallen asleep up there,” Archie chuckled.

I’d probably do the same. I thought Noa was exhausting at times. Imagine having five of them.

I scratched the side of my head, missing him. Exhausting or not, he meant the world to me—his energy was a source of life—and…I had disappointed him last night.

I patted my pockets to find my phone—I wanted to text him—and shit, I didn’t fucking have it. Okay, that was going to be difficult. Had Master Greer hidden it somewhere, or would he be so sadistic that he took my phone with him to work? What if something happened?

Everything felt so wrong. I felt out of sorts, because I was so used to following my daily routines. Put on my collar, make breakfast for Master, help him get dressed, see the affection in his eyes, read the paper with him—although, that had become a weekend thing when he allowed himself a single day off work. Then when he was off to work, I handled KC’s and Noa’s mornings. Noa was all over the place, spilling milk and Cocoa Puffs on the counter, singing along to whatever the radio played, yelling out that he wanted something put on the grocery list, asking if anyone wanted to meet up for lunch, et cetera, et cetera. KC was calmer, though he certainly had his moments. If he was in an extra-good mood and he’d gotten his rest, he could be a brat like Noa. I’d once witnessed an actual cereal fight between the two, and I’d intervened right before they’d started slinging spoonfuls of milk at each other.

I let out a breath and rubbed my hands over my face.

That was my crazy family, and I missed them so much.

A few weeks ago, Noa had quit his job at Hollister, and on the same day, he’d gotten a part-time job at our local grocery store. “So that I can see you when you pick up groceries, and also, also, also, I get an extra discount!”

He worked mornings and some weekends because that suited him best. KC had told him he didn’t have to work, a conversation that’d gone over as well as one might expect if they knew Noa. He wasn’t counting dollars and cents, but he needed to feel useful; he wanted to pitch in, all while he made accommodations to be there for everyone. He wanted to be able to see me during the day, and he…loved to visit Master for lunch.

Fucking pizza and burgers.

At the end of the day, he either came home with KC or the two stayed at the condo in town.

I checked the clock too. It was around this time that KC usually texted me. We touched base near lunch to confirm the rest of the day’s plans, whether or not I was including him and Noa in my dinner planning, who was staying at the condo, if anyone had errands after work… And I tied myself to every item on the to-do list. It was my purpose, my choice, what made me happy, to ensure all the puzzle pieces fit together at the end of the day. All to please my Owner and the men I shared my life with.

So what the fuck happened when I couldn’t trust the sun my planet revolved around?

As much as it killed me to be away from Lucian, I was so goddamn angry with him.

How could I trust him?

He could literally be having a heart attack, and he would still sit there and tell me everything was fine.

“Dada!” Kyla hollered, shaking me from my internal war. She came barging into the kitchen and babbled rapidly about something only Archie understood.

He picked her up, positioning her on his hip, and went over to stir whatever was cooking in the pot. I was guessing soup.

“I know, darling. I know. It’s a travesty,” he was saying. “However, this is the rule. When you start yawning, I’m dropping you on the bed. Your nap time is sacred to me. Do you understand?”

Kyla continued babbling—and gesturing. She might not be biologically Master Greer’s, but man, she took after our loud New Yorker already. I’d seen him gesture like that.

“Do you understand a word she’s saying?” I asked, a little amused.

“Approximately two words out of a hundred,” Archie laughed softly. “Right now, I know she’s gearing up to fight nap time. Like she does every other day after her lunch. I sit her down in front of the TV to tire her out a bit, and then she will either fight me or just doze off.”

That wasn’t entirely unlike Noa after heavy play when KC ordered him to nap.

* * *

One day, Kyla would learn that you couldn’t send an exhausted army into battle. She put up a brave fight but dropped within five minutes, and by the time Archie came back from putting her down for her nap, lunch was ready.

I wasn’t allowed to do anything, something that made me feel restless. I just sat down at the dining room table and waited.

Master Greer had built this table. It was sturdy, like his presence. Solid, heavy, could take a beating. The dark wooden surface held traces of condensation rings, cuts, and possibly some kids’ outbursts with forks.

Archie set a bowl of soup in front of me, and a bread basket ended up in the middle. The soup smelled incredible—it had chicken and vegetables in it.

After a quick return to the kitchen, Archie was back with spoons and drinks.

He went all out like I enjoyed doing for my family. It was Macklin who’d once taught me that everything nonalcoholic should still look like something you could charge for. Lemonade should look like a cocktail, with crushed ice and a slice of fruit—whatever your Owner preferred.

Lucian liked cherries. And cranberry juice. Grapes too—he loved grapes. Sometimes, I froze them to act like ice cubes. He liked that.

I took a sip of the lemonade, and an exotic burst awoke all my senses. Lemon, lime, pineapple.

“Do you have a recipe for this?” I asked.

“The lemonade?” Archie sat down across from me. “No, you just throw all the fruit that’s about to expire into your blender, add water, a little bit of honey or agave syrup—and if you run a household of kids who make faces at pulp, pour it through a strainer before it goes into the pitcher.”

I managed to match his quick grin. A little bit of honey or agave syrup—I was gonna remember that. It sure beat a truckload of sugar. Master couldn’t have too much sugar anyway. Or red meat, or saturated fats, or…

Too much work.

I sighed internally and dropped my gaze to the food.

It didn’t fucking matter how many adjustments I made to Lucian’s diet, because what he ate wasn’t a major problem. Not that his takeout lunches with Noa did him any favors, but a burger was nothing compared to working overtime for twenty freaking years.

I had some wonderful friends in our community, and I’d learned a lot from them. Like Macklin and Tate—they’d told me a bunch about stress and burnout symptoms. How much of an impact stress had on one’s heart. But did it fucking matter? I could stand there in the kitchen all hours of the day and come up with healthier options, and then Lucian would go off to work, reassure me everything was fine, and then he’d keel over in between meetings, maybe pop a pill or two, and keep going.

That was the future I saw. His career meant so much to him, and it fucking broke me.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

I looked up from my food, and the sympathy—the knowing—in his eyes made me too tired to bullshit. It was why I’d asked to come here anyway. To talk to Archie. And I’d thought I was done; I’d cried on his shoulder till three in the morning, so he had all the details. He knew everything that’d happened and how shit had gone sideways. My fucking God, I’d rambled like Noa hopped up on sugar. When we had to remind him to breathe.

“I don’t know what to say, other than…” I cleared my throat and shifted in my seat. “I have to prepare myself for more of this—more of what happened last night—because I can’t see him slowing down.”

“And you can’t leave him,” he deduced.

I shook my head, queasy at the mere thought. “No—and…it’s more than him. It’s KC and Noa too. If we remove one of us, I think it’ll all fall apart.”

Archie let out a breath and nodded. “I feel the same about our dynamic. Which I never thought I would, to be honest. I was so certain all my happiness depended on Master, and—sure, yes, he’s the love of my life, but we’ve created something that requires all four of us.”

That was exactly how I felt. I was in love with both KC and Noa, and despite how those attachments flowed differently from the overwhelming, all-consuming need I had for Lucian, it could not be more genuine.

More and more lately, I’d found myself thinking about KC as my Daddy too, because he was such a big support. He listened, we commiserated together, he held me… He made me feel cherished and heard.

“Like I told you last night, that’s partly why I wanted to come here,” I said. “You get it.”

He offered me a brief smile and nodded at my soup. “Eat, please.”

Right.

I scooped up some soup and grabbed a piece of bread.

I was probably hungrier than I thought, considering how noisy my stomach was.

“Are you sure Master Lucian can’t be reasoned with?” he asked. “Based on my limited experience—from having heard him speak at a few demos—he seems to be very concerned with his property’s well-being. He should understand that in order for you to be okay, he must be okay too.”

“You’d think,” I replied around a mouthful of food. It was admittedly delicious. It reminded me of a recipe I’d gotten from Macklin. “Lucian’s problem—my problem—is that he considers himself indestructible.” Everything was always fine, fine, fine, fine, fine. I hated that word. “Also, fuck good intentions. He’s built up a wall of defense around those. Like, he’ll say he just wants to provide for us—he wants to secure our future, so we can live comfortably. Crap like that. But, news flash, a pile of cash can’t comfort me if he’s fucking dead.”

It was possible I was sitting on suppressed anger.

“Preaching to the choir, love,” Archie agreed. “Every now and then, I’ll remind Sloan when he’s taken on too many extra hours.”

I dipped my bread in the bowl. “How does he react to that?”

He snorted softly. “He can be dismissive at first, but when I threaten to sic Master on him, he backs down.”

I grinned. How effective.

“I don’t have the puppy-dog look that Corey has, so I have to resort to threats,” he chuckled.

“Whatever works.” I shrugged.

He nodded, then peered down and dug out his phone. “Excuse me—it’s Corey.”

I waved it off and got back to eating.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Archie answered. Within a second or two, the sympathy was back in his expression. But also a pinch of amusement. “That doesn’t sound good at all. Can you drive home earlier? Your car’s in town, isn’t it? Or do you want me to call Mr. West and see if you can rest up at their house until Master gets off work?”

Ugh, I wanted to check my phone. Maybe I wasn’t ready to talk to Master yet, but I was getting desperate for an update from KC and Noa.

On the other hand, could I ever be ready to accept Lucian’s path to have a heart attack before fifty? Spending forty-eight hours away from him wouldn’t do shit. There was no getting out of slave mode that fast. He was constantly on my mind, and I was essentially programmed to cater to his every desire at this point. It was how I wanted to be conditioned—it made me the happiest.

“I understand,” Archie said. “In that case, I think you should come home. I can prepare the couch and save a bowl of soup for you. And maybe a batch of garlic knots will help?”

This time, I heard Corey’s response.

“You’re the best! I love you!”

Archie chuckled. “I love you too. Drive safe.” He ended the call a moment later, and I looked to him in question. Was something wrong? “Corey’s not feeling well. He’s experiencing pain in, uh, his abdomflixiflux.”

I felt my eyebrows crawl up to my damn hairline. Abdomwhat?

Archie smirked wryly. “Yes, it’s a completely made-up body part. It just means he doesn’t wanna stay in town—he wants to come home and be fussed over.”

Oh God, I hoped Noa never learned that “term.”

“He had the worst case of abdomflixifluxitis the other week,” he went on. “It required two movie marathons, three cupcakes, and a bucket of fried chicken to cure him.”

“Jesus,” I laughed, unable to help it. That was too funny—and kinda fucking cute. I could totally see Noa abuse a made-up illness to get cuddles and ice cream.

Archie’s mirth faded as he read something on his phone, and then he pocketed it and faced me. “I received a text from Master. They’re taking Master Lucian’s name off the volunteer list for the Easter Egg Hunt.”

Shit. My amusement faded too, and I swallowed. Good for the Doms. I was sure Mistress Penelope had had her say as well. She and Master were like siblings sometimes.

“Is there no way to get KC to help?” he asked. “Judging by how he acted last night, he’s on your side.”

I half nodded and half shrugged. “It hasn’t really helped so far. KC tries, but…” Lucian couldn’t be made to do squat. He was so stubborn. “I’m gonna talk to him, though. Something needs to change, because…” Emotions welled up, along with a current of grief, at the thought of us having an expiration date. But that’s what we would have if nothing happened. I could only suffer in silence for so long before I gave myself an ulcer.

I was too weak to put my foot down. I was too weak to give an ultimatum.

At the same time, what we had now couldn’t last forever. Being upset and worried would eventually morph into resentment and a growing fear. My trust in my Owner would be shot. Everything would unravel.

My eyes burned with unshed tears, and I had to clear my throat. I set down my spoon too, no longer hungry. Or rather, I had zero fucking appetite.

“Um, do you mind if I go lie down for a bit?” I asked.

He probably knew I felt like crap. “Of course not. I’m gonna call Master and a couple friends to see if they have any updates.”

I nodded with a dip of my chin and pushed out my chair.

The second I went to grab my bowl, Archie just went, “Uh-uh. I’ll handle that.”

I huffed. “I’m not used to being waited upon, you know. Not like this.”

Lucian had other ways of showering me with affection that made me feel spoiled rotten—and now he was ruining that too. God-fucking-dammit! All the good was becoming tainted because he couldn’t fucking see that destroying himself was the worst thing he could do.

Fuck my life.

* * *

I scrunched my nose and frowned. Corey didn’t belong in this dream—and I knew it was a dream. Master’s arms around me felt like a ghost’s embrace. I saw it but felt nothing. His whispers got lost in the wind, kind of like his promises. He faded in a thick mist, all while Corey laughed goofily and stood off to the side.

“Choose us, Owner,” I pleaded with Lucian. “Please.”

Guilt draped its heavy blanket over me, and I flinched awake and blinked drowsily. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Was I being insensitive? Was I being unsupportive? He worked so hard for us, and maybe I just didn’t appreciate him enough.

Ugh, and I’d left him. I’d left him in the middle of the fucking night when he’d been in the hospital.

The sound of Corey’s laughter traveled up the stairs, offering a possible explanation as to why he’d invaded my useless dream begging.

I kicked off my covers and blew out a breath.

So far, I couldn’t hear any of the kids—wait, except for Kyla. She was up. But it wouldn’t be long before all the others were home.

I scrubbed my hands over my face and then stared up at the ceiling.

Noa had those glow-in-the-dark stickers attached to the ceiling of the bedroom he shared with KC too. Only difference was, Noa had opted for tiny lizards and spiders instead of stars.

“Because stars are boring!”

I missed him. I missed all of them.

Had I fucked up?

I dragged my ass out of bed and tidied up some before I trailed down the stairs.

The dogs rushed to greet me again.

“Oh! Who do you think that is?” Corey whispered excitedly.

“Bam-bam! Daddy?”

Corey snickered. “I don’t think it’s a stuffie, and I don’t think it’s Daddy. Guess again!”

“Agah!” Kyla laughed.

“Noooo, I think it’s Caaaam.”

Yeah, here came Caaaam.

I entered the living room and put on a polite smile. Corey and Kyla were buried in a blanket, sharing the main sofa, while Archie sat in one of the two cushy chairs.

“Hi!” Kyla waved, sporting a bed head I was sure matched my own.

“Hey, you.” Corey’s smile was a bit more careful.

“Hey to both of you—all three of you.” Great, now I couldn’t speak properly. “How are you? Did you cure your flixi flu?”

Archie cracked up.

Corey sucked his teeth and eyed Archie. “It’s a serious condition!”

“Of course it is, love.” Archie humored him and rose from his seat. Then he nodded for me to follow him to the kitchen. “Cam and I are gonna bake cookies. Any requests?”

At least I’d be put to use. I was definitely game.

“Macadamia, please!” Corey exclaimed. “Also, I think Sloan and Greer want oatmeal raisin!”

Yuck. I doubted that was true.

“Brat,” I said.

“Why, thank you.” He nodded in a little bow. Then he got serious. “Hey—are you okay?”

I shrugged. “Not really. Right now, I’m on the guilt train. I was angry before, not to mention miserable—well, I’m miserable now too. I’m just gonna shut up and bake cookies.”

Corey’s forehead wrinkled the more I rambled. “Why do you feel guilty?”

Kyla picked that moment to start climbing Corey, but his focus remained on me.

It was best to give him a quick response. “I don’t know—for leaving the way I did.”

Corey scrunched his nose. “If there’s one thing I know, it’s how not to leave a toxic situation when I should. You got out when you had to get out. I’m sure Master Lucian will see that, ’cause, unlike some assholes, he’s a good guy. Daddy says he’s just a workaholic who lost track of his priorities. We all do that from time to time.”

“Dada?!” Kyla practically shouted. “Dada, Daddy!”

Corey winced and chuckled. “Not now, goofball. Daddy’s at work—so’s mine, and I can say that because you’re too young to understand.” He smooched her nose. “And Dada’s gonna make us cookies!”

Daddy says he’s just a workaholic who lost track of his priorities. We all do that from time to time.

Man, I would’ve loved it if he were right.

* * *

Having a task helped, at least somewhat. Baking cookies was something I knew. I did it at home all the time. But it was a double-edged sword because it made me miss everyone at home to extreme degrees.

I was so used to being on top of the structure game. I knew my family members’ plans for the day. I helped them make things easier. That was my responsibility. And now, I didn’t know crap. I was so out of the loop, despite that it had only been a day.

Over the next few hours, I did my best to pour all my concentration into what I was doing, but as the kids came home one by one—first, the eldest two being dropped off by friends’ parents, then Sloan himself arrived with the youngest—I couldn’t shake the feeling of being in the wrong place. This wasn’t my home, not my family, not my people. Not my sense of normal.

“Daddy, I can’t reach the soap!”

“Dad! Can I stay at Ted’s this weekend?”

“Archie, what’s for dinner?”

We made four batches of different kinds of chocolate chip cookies while the house was in chaos. Corey and Sloan helped out with homework, plans were made for Jason’s next game, and he also had plans with a friend named Ted, little Emma-Jo wanted a sleepover somewhere else, and Loki came up with a song about apples.

“I loooooove apples sometiiiimes!”

“Oh my gosh, shut up, Loki! I’m trying to concentrate!”

Archie thrived in this mess.

I didn’t.

Corey goofed off with the kids.

I didn’t.

Sloan made rounds to catch up with every family member—and he included me. He was concerned. He looked like a rough-around-the-edges car mechanic, but he had the typical Daddy Dom senses that evidently tingled around me, and he was incredibly kind. He asked if there was anything he could do, he advised me to get some rest—he said I could use his and Corey’s bedroom so I could have privacy.

My answers came out dull and reeked of autopilot.

I wanted to go home. The noise was too much for me, and seeing their everyday routine play out—seeing how happy they were together—made me wanna bawl my eyes out. What the fuck was I still doing here?

I could understand my initial panic. I could understand how badly I’d needed to escape, regardless of how much guilt it brought me too, but I couldn’t understand why I was still here. I should’ve gone home earlier; I should’ve asked to call KC so he could pick me up. Or, hell, somehow find a cab that would drive me all the way to Mclean, no matter the cost.

When Archie went from filling cookie jars to preparing dinner, I caught a break. Corey and Sloan suggested a walk with all the kids and the dogs, and the silence that followed once they’d left was deafening. Cacophony and chaos, gone. Just like that.

I exhaled and leaned against the counter.

“Boy, did you need that.” Archie smirked knowingly and gave my shoulder a squeeze on his way to the fridge. “Have a seat on the couch, Cam. We’re having burgers for dinner, so there’s nothing you can do anyway.”

“What? I can set the table, I can help you with the vegetables, I can⁠—”

“Go have a bloody seat, that’s what you can do.” He got stern with me, and he pointed toward the living room. “Besides, Master will be home any moment, and I’m sure he’ll want to talk to you.”

Oh great.

“Actually,” he said abruptly. “We’re going to take Sloan’s advice. Come here.”

The guy literally nudged me out of the kitchen, then steered me through the living room, out into the hallway, and straight to where their bedrooms were. Two of them, one for Greer and Archie, one for Sloan and Corey—though, I knew they all shared the largest room often.

“In here.” He ushered me into Sloan and Corey’s bedroom. “You’re going to rest. I’ll bring you a soda and some cookies.”

“I’m not tired!” I protested.

“Sleepy, perhaps,” he corrected, “but you’re most certainly tired.”

I huffed as he left with a quick, “I’ll be right back.”

He could be bossy.

I sat down on the edge of the bed and glanced around me as I ran a hand through my hair. Last time I’d peeked in here, Sloan and Corey had recently made the room their home, so it’d been messier. There’d been a desk and moving boxes, all of which were gone now. The bed remained, with two nightstands, a small flat-screen attached on a mount in the corner of the wall, a rocking chair below it, and new wallpaper. I remembered Corey telling me once that he was sick of white and sterile because of what he was used to, and I was sure that’d dictated the remodel of this room. Rich, rustic colors in shades of red, blue, green, orange, and teal. Same mismatched theme as the rest of the house. And a bunch of pictures on the walls.

It made me wanna redesign the bedroom I shared with Lucian. Ours was a little too dark for my tastes, and I couldn’t fault him for how it looked. He and KC had bought a ridiculously expensive house from a time when wallpaper was white and baseboards, paneling, and crown molding ran in the darkest of browns.

Christ, how restless was I if I was planning bedroom makeovers in this relationship mayhem?

I guessed I was desperate.

If I couldn’t cling to my Owner, I wanted to cling to projects and responsibilities.

I needed to find my place in whatever chapter would begin when I went home tomorrow.

And it scared the crap out of me. As much as I itched to go home, I had no idea what life would look like from now on. Somehow, I had to accept and reconcile that my stability wouldn’t come from Lucian. How the hell would that work? How could I serve someone and not lean on them?

Tears filled my eyes as I saw a future that exhausted me. Would I always be afraid? Would I always worry? Would I grow closer to KC for his dominance? Did he want that?

Actually, that one was easy to answer because he’d never once made me feel like I was a side character in his relationship with Noa. If the three of us were together, usually when Master worked late, KC was my Dom too. He loved me, and he was protective.

“Fuck.” I sniffled as tears spilled over, and I wiped at my face.

I hated this so much. My brain refused to settle, and how could it? Everything was up in the air. And I wouldn’t get any damn answers for as long as I was here. Even less so when I didn’t have my phone⁠—

I straightened automatically when the front door opened, followed by a brief pause and then, “The fuck? I’m used to having a mob of kids and dogs greetin’ me by the door.”

Master Greer was home.

I heard Archie’s warm laugh from the other side of the house. “I’m so sorry, Owner. I’ll act as the stand-in mob in a few seconds! Sloan and Corey took the children and the dogs out for a walk.”

I sniffled again and wiped my cheeks in a lame attempt to compose myself.

“I’m used to having at least four dogs alert me to your arrival,” Archie added in a teasing tone. His voice was sounding closer. “Welcome home, Master. How was work?”

Master Greer hummed, and I heard them kiss.

And that went on for a while.

“Best part is comin’ home to you,” Master Greer murmured. “But it was good. I got a lot done. Unlike you, I gotta finish everythin’ on my list.”

Archie chuckled, out of breath. “You made that rule, Sir, not me.”

“And you know why,” Master Greer said firmly. “Speaking of, what do you have left on your list?”

Archie sighed. “Laundry. And it’s silly, because I totally had the time for it earlier today.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want my property stressed out.” It sounded like he was taking off his jacket or something; fabric rustled and boots clanked against the wrought iron of their shoe racks. “How’s Cam doin’?”

Oh, he was doing peachy. He was sitting in here, eavesdropping.

“He can probably hear us,” Archie answered. “I sent him in there to rest. His sub mind is spiraling, I think.”

I made a face.

I wasn’t spiraling.

“I’m not spiraling,” I said.

Footsteps came closer, and soon enough, both Master Greer and Archie stood in the doorway.

“Love, if you can’t sit still without practically begging for a chore, your mind’s hardly at ease,” Archie told me.

“I napped for two hours earlier!” I exclaimed.

Master Greer smirked faintly and came into the room. “Spiraling or restless or outta sorts—doesn’t matter what term you use, pet. It’d be weird if this situation didn’t unsettle you in some way.” He sat down next to me on the bed and gave my leg a squeeze. “I can tell you’ve been upset.”

Congratulations.

I sniffled and wiped what I hoped were the last remnants of my tears.

“I gotta take a shower. When I get back, we should talk,” he said.

I swallowed nervously, my stomach tightening. “Have you heard anything, Sir?”

He rose from the bed with a grunt and pushed down the suspenders of his utility pants. “I haven’t talked directly with Lucian yet, but we’re makin’ some changes around the community. Lucas and Pen are removing him from the DM schedule, and we took him off the volunteer list for the next three Games. If he won’t rest of his own accord, we’ll fuckin’ make him.”

Goddammit, I got all emotional again. My vision grew blurry, my breath hitched in my throat, and I had to cover my mouth with my hand. At the same time, my mind split in two. One, I was so fucking thankful for the Founders and all of Lucian’s friends. Two, what good would it do if the man himself didn’t freaking get it? We couldn’t fix his way of thinking. Master Greer and the others, sure, they could force Lucian to “sit one out,” and I could ensure he ate less salt and red meat. But then what?

“When I see you upset, I just wanna smack him upside the head.” Master Greer eased his fingers through my hair, then slipped his hand down to cup my cheek. “We’re gonna sort this out, Cam. Lucian’s one of the best people out there—he’s just lost his way. You hear me?”

I nodded jerkily, unable to speak, though I wasn’t sure what I’d say anyway. I didn’t know if I believed him.