“Me, either.”

“I’ve researched teenaged behavior in an effort to handle future situations, but there doesn’t seem to be any one school of thought. And many of the theories are contradictory.” She shook her head. “This is why I prefer hard sciences. I want a fact to be a fact. Unwavering. People aren’t like gravity.”

Destiny nodded, thinking that wasn’t an analogy she would have used, but it was actually true.

“Carter was thirteen when he came to live with us. He was so normal and centered in himself. I respected and admired that. He’s taught me a lot about people and life. Watching Ellie’s brain develop with each new experience has taught me even more about what it means to be human. What I can tell you is loving the child in your life is never wrong. That you’re going to make mistakes. You can’t help it. We’re human. But how you deal with the mistakes makes all the difference.”

“I’m getting that. I wasn’t there enough for Starr. I thought sending her back to boarding school was the right thing when it was really just the easiest thing for me.” Destiny hesitated, thinking of her conversation with Kipling. “I’m thinking of finding a family therapist.”

“We did that,” Felicia said.

“Really?”

Her friend shrugged. “Psychology is a discipline I’m ambivalent about. There are too many variables. But Gideon had been through so much, and I lacked experience in a traditional family unit, and Carter had lost his mother the year before. We needed help. Therapy brought us together. A caring but disinterested third party aided us in establishing house rules and processes that have helped us create a strong connection. I can give you her name, if you’d like.”

“I would like that. Thank you.”

Felicia smiled at her. “Starr is a very sweet girl. I think you’re going to find a closer relationship with her very fulfilling.”

“I do, too.”

Later, when Destiny had returned to her office, she found herself feeling lighter. As if the weight of all she carried had been lifted somehow. She supposed, in a way, it had been. Friends were helping her carry the burden. Friends who would offer advice and be there when she needed them.

Something she’d never had before. And by choice. How foolish, she thought. Look at all she’d been missing.

* * *

NICK PASSED KIPLING a bottle of water, then retreated behind the bar. Kipling looked around at the results of his handiwork and had to admit, he’d done a hell of a job. The Man Cave was everything he’d imagined. From the decor choices to the chalkboard menu, it was all male. While the ladies would always be welcome, this was a place where a guy could come with his buddies, get a beer and a burger and watch the game in peace.

He looked at the other men sitting around the table. He and his business partners had agreed on biweekly meetings for the first couple of months they were open. Then, once things were flowing smoothly, they would change to monthly meetings.

So far there hadn’t been anything unexpected to discuss. The crowd was steady, the complaints minimal. Nick did a good job managing everything. Kipling glanced at his watch and figured he could be out of here in an hour. Which worked out well for him because he wanted to go see Destiny.

Things with her and Starr seemed to have settled down. She’d found the name of a therapist she wanted to use, and the first appointments were made. Which meant she wouldn’t be as consumed with her sister. That fit in nicely with his plans. Because he still owed her an orgasm.

The problem was how to get there. Not the logistics of it. He was confident that when the time came, he could get her over the edge. His issue was more about how to get to that time, so to speak. It wasn’t as if he could simply make an appointment to drop by and do the deed.

Sam Ridge walked into The Man Cave and strolled over to the table. Everyone greeted him. He sat down, and Nick brought him a soda.

“You’re the last dog in,” Gideon told him. “Let’s get this meeting started.”

Kipling leaned back in his seat and waited for the accolades to pour in. The business ran smoothly, the nightly karaoke was a hit, and it had all been his idea. He’d seen a problem, and he’d fixed it. Some days it was good to be him.

“We have a problem,” Sam said.

Sam was a retired NFL kicker who worked at a local PR firm in town. He was the financial wizard of the group, so he oversaw the money part of the business.

“What’s that?” Ford Hendrix asked.

“Receipts are down.”

“Not possible,” Kipling said. “We’re busy every night.”

“Less busy than we were.” Sam flipped open his tablet and turned it to face the others at the large table. “We had a good opening week, but since then business is declining.”

“We’re not new anymore,” Kipling pointed out. “But I still see a crowd here.”

Josh Golden, a former champion cyclist and Tour de France winner, shook his head. “It’s not anything we’re doing wrong. It’s Jo.”

The other men nodded. Kipling frowned. “Who’s Jo?”

“Jo Trellis, you know, from Jo’s Bar,” Sam said.

“That woman bar? No way.” Kipling motioned to the room. “We have nothing in common. That place is geared to women. It’s why we all talked about opening The Man Cave. To have a place to go to watch sports. One where we didn’t have to deal with shopping and pink walls.”