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“But—” she snaps, holding up a finger. “We need boundaries. I want your help, but you can’t really control every aspect of my life. I’d smother you in your sleep if you tried that.”
“That’s fair,” I reply, leaning against the opposite side of the doorframe with my arms crossed. “But you have to be open to this. I’m doing it for your own good.”
“I’m open to it,” she says with a shrug. “I am a strong, independent woman.”
“I know you are.”
“And even though I don’t need a Dom or a man, I’m not going to lie…I need help.”
“I want to help,” I reply gently.
“I still don’t understand why.” The corner of her mouth lifts in a smirk, creating dimples in her cheeks and making the splatter of freckles across her nose shine in the room’s overhead light.
Lifting my shoulders in a shrug, I say, “I don’t either. Maybe it’s just goodwill and benevolence.”
A loud cackle flies from her mouth. “Ha! More like a God complex and arrogance.”
I fight a smile as I nod. “Maybe.”
As she steps into the room, surveying the queen-size bed and letting her hand glide over the bedspread, she looks back at me with a warning. “Please don’t make me regret this, Dr. Goode.”
My eyes float downward to the way her ass fills those ripped denim shorts. Those filthy fantasies of mine from earlier harken back to my mind.
Stop it. I can’t be entertaining these thoughts if she’s going to stay here.
As I back out the room, I coldly reply, “Then, don’t disappoint me, Miss Green.”
Nine
Sadie
“You’re what?”
My mother is standing in the doorway of my bedroom, watching me as I toss my essential clothing into a box.
“I’m moving out,” I answer. “I found a place to rent, and it’s closer to work.”
“And you’ll have a roommate?” she asks, her voice rising in suspicion.
“Yeah. He’s my friend’s brother-in-law. He’s trustworthy. Don’t worry.”
As I glance over my shoulder at her, I notice the scrutinizing way she has her lips pursed and her brow tightened. She’s not so sure about this, but then again…I’m twenty-five. I’m far too old to be living at home as it is.
No, I don’t tell her the part about how this man I’m living with is also my English professor.
And no, I don’t tell her the part about how I’m also with child—and will remain with child. I figure one dose of big news a day is more than enough for my quaint suburban family’s life.
“If you’re sure…” she says uneasily.
When I hear footsteps down the hall, I tense, waiting for Jonah to appear next to my mother. Glancing over my shoulder, I watch as he stares with his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide.
“Where are you going?” he signs, the movement of his hands angry and urgent.
My shoulders sag as I turn toward him. With my mouth twisted in regret, I reply, both out loud and with sign language, “I’m renting a room in the city.”
“Why?” he asks. The look of betrayal on his face hurts. Part of me knows that Jonah is just being a sarcastic, overdramatic teenager. He thinks it’s fun to overreact to everything.
But part of me also knows that being so close as siblings has come from living together for so long, and moving out feels like leaving him behind.
