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“Baby, nothing would make me happier, but are you sure?”

I nod. “Yes, I’m completely sure.” I’m honestly tired of something that happened when I was a little girl continuing to hold me back from living my life.

“Okay. I’m going to leave you to your family.” Silas looks toward the house. “Your brother is watching us through the window.

I can only shake my head, because clearly I shouldn’t be surprised. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yep, we’ll go over rules, and my expectations.” He kisses my forehead. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

He kisses me one more time before giving a chin lift to my brother, who is now standing on the porch. Geez, he’s so fucking nosy.

Instead of walking toward my brother, I head around to the back entrance. When I open the door, my brother is standing there. “What was that about?”

“Don’t worry about it.” I walk right past him and downstairs. Of course he follows me down the stairs. I toss my bag on my bed, and turn around to face Keith. “It’s nothing, seriously.”

“Okay,” he says slowly, albeit reluctantly.

“I wanted to let you know that I’m going to—um…I’m staying at Silas’s place this week. It’s not really your business, Nosy. It won’t get in the way of me taking care of the girls.”

“I know I’m just your brother, but I always felt like you were my kid too. I know I helped Dad keep you in that protective bubble and I see now that it was wrong, but you have to believe we did it with the best intentions.” He turns his back to me, and then back around. “You’re an adult, and you shouldn’t feel like you have to tell us what you’re doing.”

I walk toward him, and wrap my arms around his waist. “It’s okay. I know you guys have only meant well. Have I ever had a hard time telling you when to back off?”

“Nope, and you still like riding our asses.” He closes his eyes. “That sounded so wrong.”

“Sicko, now get the fuck out of here. Tell Beth I’ll be up later to discuss details.” He ruffles my hair. Keith glances at my neck and then back up at my face, examining me closely before turning and going upstairs.

My hand flies to my throat, and I realize that I’m still wearing the collar. Oh God, does Keith know what it means? I didn’t even notice that it was still there. I hold onto it and close my eyes, remembering how it felt when Silas put it on me.

I get together clothes for the next week, and anything else I need. Tomorrow is family dinner at my parents’ house, and I plan on telling them that I’m staying with Silas. I’m not telling them why, of course, but at least so they know where I’ll be. Keith’s right; I shouldn’t have to answer to my whereabouts.

I hate to even think it, but I’m wondering if it isn’t a good idea for me to find my own place. I’ve got enough money to do it, but the thought of living on my own scares me. Not because of what happened, but because I’ve never done anything on my own.

After dinner I lie in bed, watching MasterChef on Hulu. My fingers play with my collar as I watch the contestants cook their signature dishes. My phone rings, and I see it’s Silas.

“Hey.” I don’t know why I whisper it softly. “How are you doing?”

I snuggle further down into my pillows. “Good, just watching MasterChef. I talked to my sister-in-law about me not being home all week, and assured her that it wouldn’t affect me watching the kids. Of course she said she didn’t care if it did. She’s just in her own happy bubble, and she wants everyone else in one too.” I know what he’s really asking. “I’m fine, seriously. I’m embarrassed about it, and can’t believe I agreed to stay with you this week. I honestly can’t believe you still want me.”

“I wish I was there right now, but I want you to listen to me. You revealed something very personal and very traumatic, and then we fooled around. I’m no psychologist, but my guess is bringing that stuff up only brought it to the forefront of your mind. This is just a setback. It’s not a big deal…really. Don’t you ever be embarrassed.” He says it with so much conviction that I have no choice but to believe him.

“Okay. I won’t, but seriously though—you’re a good-looking guy. You shouldn’t have a hard time at all finding someone to be with.” The thought of him being with someone else makes my stomach hurt.

“If I wanted someone else, I wouldn’t be on the phone with you right now. Now let’s talk about this coming week.” He doesn’t give me any time at all to dwell on my embarrassment before he gets down to business. “Monday night we’ll keep things very casual, but we’re going to go over soft and hard limits. I’ll go over some basics with you, but nothing too crazy. Sound good?”

“Yes.” My voice sounds shaky.

“Don’t be nervous. Remember, you’re going to ultimately have all the power by using your safe word. I know this all seems so clinical and not fun per se, but some of this stuff is important before anything else happens. Get a good night’s sleep tonight. Have fun with your family tomorrow, then after that, you’re all mine.”

He disconnects before I can even say anything else, but why does the thought of being “all his” make me tingle? I feel like I’m the damaged heroine of my own romance novel.

An idea hits me, and I fly up out of bed, grab my MacBook, and pull up the writing app that I’ve played around a little bit with. I don’t think and just start typing. My fingers fly across the keyboard as the story plays out in my head.

The desire to go to the bathroom hits me, causing me to pause. I save my work before quickly running into the bathroom. After I finish, I wash my hands and then my face, leaning close to the mirror and happy to see that the bruising is gone. I give a little fist pump because now I don’t have to wear fucking makeup.

Thank God for a patient sister-in-law who did the cover-up job every day for me. I grab a bottle of water out of my fridge and go back to my table, and start typing again. When my brain seems to shut off, I save it and then close the lid. “I did it. I started my book.”

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