Page 27 of The Dragon’s Good Girl

Her stare gets worse. "What?"

"You're talking about him like you're filling out a customer satisfaction survey."

I look down at my wine. She's right, but I'm not going to give her the satisfaction of saying so.

The problem is that I don't know how to explain Saturday without making it sound either clinical or completely unhinged. There doesn't seem to be a sensible way to tell your best friend that a dragon ran you a bath, washed your hair, gave you an orgasm, made you cry, fed you fruit, and somehow got you to agree to a bedtime.

Tess waits.

"He bathed me."

Her eyebrows lift.

"He had the bath ready before I got there," I continue, because now that I've started, I'm going to make this as humiliating as possible. "And then he washed my hair. I cried, which was obviously mortifying, except he didn't make it mortifying. He didn't start asking me what was wrong or make me explain myself. He just kept washing my hair like it was completely normal."

Tess has gone very still.

"And then he gave me a mind-blowing orgasm." I take a drink of wine. "Afterward, he wrapped me in blankets, fed me fruit, and somehow got me to agree to a bedtime. Also, he purred."

Tess's eyebrows climb.

"His whole chest vibrated. I could feel it under my palm." I stare into my wine, trying to find a way to explain the rest without sounding completely unhinged. "And I felt safe, Tess. Like, ridiculously safe. I'd known him for an hour, I was naked in a house full of monsters, and somehow I felt safer there than I have in…" I trail off because I don't know how to finish that sentence. "Anyway. He gave me three rules, and I've followed every single one of them. I've eaten breakfast every morning. Sitting down for the first time like, ever."

For once, Tess doesn't make a joke. She watches me for a moment, then reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. "Good."

Her eyes are a little bright, which immediately makes mine threaten to do the same, so I look down at the sticky table between us and give myself a second.

"Okay," I say once I trust my voice again. "Your turn. Tell me about the guy from the gym."

Tess lets me change the subject. She always knows when I've reached the point where pushing will make me shut down completely, and within a minute she's telling me about a man with excellent shoulders and absolutely no understanding of how texting works.

Thursday evening, my mother calls while I'm making dinner, and I nearly answer out of habit.

My hand is already reaching for the phone when I stop. I know what she wants before I pick up because we've had some version of the same conversation three times this month. The pharmacy hasn't called. Dr. Dickson's office is impossible to get through to. Could I please sort it out because they listen to me and she doesn't understand why they make everything so difficult?

Except I already sorted it out.

I called the doctor's office last week, spoke to the pharmacy afterward, and confirmed the refill had been approved. Mom knows that. I told her twice.

The phone keeps ringing on the counter.

She's my mother. Answering a phone call isn't some outrageous demand, and I could probably deal with whatever she needs in half an hour.

I'll call the pharmacy again. If they don't pick up, I'll sit on hold. Then I'll call Mom back and reassure her that everything is fine, and somewhere along the way she'll ask whether I've spoken to Bree lately. By the time I hang up, dinner will be cold and I'll be annoyed with myself for being annoyed with her.

The phone stops ringing and the guilt hits almost immediately.

I pick it up, stare at her name in my recent calls, and come within a second of calling her back before I put it down again.

Then I finish making dinner.

I eat chicken and rice at the table while the voicemail notification sits at the top of my screen. I manage not to listen to it until I've finished eating, although I couldn't tell you much about what the food tasted like.

The message is exactly what I expected. The pharmacy, Dr. Dickson's office, and then, right at the end, a reminder that Bree hasn't called her in three days and could I please check that everything is okay.

I close my eyes.

Of course.