My dad kept his word. My car was towed first thing this morning, and my credit cards were all cut off. My only peace of mind is that my tuition for this semester has already been paid, and hopefully, I’ll be able to get a loan to pay for my last semester.

I’m looking up financial aid information on my laptop, which technically belongs to my dad, and I wonder if he will come to Western to collect my clothes, too.

Brady comes into his room. I see the guilt in his eyes. He blames himself for what went down.

“Baby, don’t worry about this now. I’ll help you figure it out,” he says as he closes the laptop.

“Okay,” I agree. I curl back up into a ball on the bed.

“Stay with me, Sadie?” he requests.

I sit up, confused from his words. “I am staying with you,” I respond.

“No, move in here with me. I’ll take care of you,” he kindly offers.

“No, Brady, but thank you. You and the guys have your place. I still have the dorm until Christmas break.”

“I want you here…with me. I want to wake up with you every morning and kiss you good night before I fall asleep,” he says, leaning closer and feathering kisses on my neck.

“I can’t ask you to do that, Brady.” I move my hands to the back of his head, holding his lips to my neck.

“Please, Sadie. Just think about it?” He moves his lips behind my ear.

“Okay…I’ll think about it,” I finally concede.

It takes everything inside me not to agree to move in with him. It would be an easy fix.

---

Brady is lightly snoring next to me while all the things I have to do consume my mind—get a job, get a loan, and find a place to live. Unfortunately, the list goes on and on, and suddenly, I’m so overwhelmed that I can’t sleep. On the verge of tears and afraid I’ll wake up Brady, I sneak out of bed, tiptoe out of the room, and begin making my way downstairs.

The door to my right catches my eye, and I walk over, slowly turning the knob. Maybe it’s a blessing that it’s locked. Questions overtake my brain. Was Brady telling me the truth about it just being storage stuff? Before we can continue moving forward, he has to trust me with his secrets. I recall the exchange he had with Jessa when he told her to take care of his house before we left for Niagara Falls.

Curiosity rears up at me, and I travel down the hall to the other bedrooms. With the boys out of town, I peruse their rooms. Rob’s room is a disaster with clothes strewed on top of a chair and guitar picks in every nook and cranny. Dex is fairly neat although his bed isn’t made, and there’s an inch of dust on every piece of furniture. Trey’s room is in the best shape. His bed is made, but there are numerous water and beer bottles on his dresser and nightstand.

I venture down the hallway, and after checking to make sure that Brady is still snoring, I decide to make my way downstairs.

I never noticed all the nice older furniture before. The house isn’t filled with mismatched items from thrift stores or garage sales. Even the carpet is void of stains. Deciding to get a bottle of water, I dig my phone out of my purse and take a seat on one of the couches in the living room.

Scrolling through my phone, I see the missed calls from my mom and grandma. It’s hard on me, knowing that I’m hurting them. My mom sent me a few texts. She tells me not to worry about my dad, that it will work out and I won’t be cut off. I guess this was before he took my car this morning. I don’t bother to listen to the voice mails.

They fail to understand that, after Theo’s death, those things aren’t important to me anymore. I don’t want a slew of houses with large walk-in closets. I want to love my children and know their likes and dislikes. I want to be the one who tucks them in at night and wishes them good morning with kisses and hugs. The day I buried Theo, I promised myself that I would live for happiness and love, not money and prestige.

I flip through the pictures on my phone. The urge today is greater than previous days. I need to see his face. My lips curl up as soon as I see that smirk of a smile. I snapped the picture a few days before the incident when he was sprawled out on my bed, complaining about some course. I wish I could remember the conversation, but I was too preoccupied with what I was going to wear to that formal. The feeling of failing him overpowers me, and one tear drops down from my eye, resting on the edge of my nose. Then, another one falls.

Soon, my face is drenched with wetness as I stare at the same emerald eyes that greet me every day in the mirror. I can almost feel his arms around my shoulders, telling me he’s with me. That he will always be here for me. Even now, I feel him watching over me, protecting me.

---

I wake up in Brady’s bed. I assume he found me downstairs and brought me up to his room. I grab one of his sweatshirts and make my way to the kitchen where I hear music. Brady is sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper and tapping his fingers on the table to the beat of the music.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he says, smiling, when his eyes find me in the doorway.

“Thanks for bringing me upstairs,” I reply, sitting across from him.

“I prefer you in bed with me.” He grins. “Coffee?”

“I can get it.” I stand up and walk toward the counter.

But Brady cuts me off, chuckling to himself, “Really, babe, let me get it.” He turns around, holding my cup. “Here you go.”

“Thank you,” I say as I rise to my tiptoes to give him a kiss.

“Always,” he responds. He walks back over to his seat. “So, we have about four hours before the roommates start coming back. What do you want to do?”

“Hmm…” I put my finger up to my lips, jokingly contemplating how we will spend our last bit of alone time.

“Me, too. Come on over here,” he instructs.

I walk over and straddle him on the kitchen chair. We haven’t had sex since before we left for my parents’. I appreciate Brady giving me the space after we got back, but there’s nothing I want more than to be with him.

“Lose the shirt,” I command.

Brady’s eyes sparkle as he hurriedly takes his shirt off and tosses it to the floor.

“What next?” he asks eagerly, clearly enjoying my assertiveness.

“Take my shirt off.”

He happily takes the hem of my shirt and tears it over my head.

“No bra.” He smiles widely. “Could this morning get any better?” he comments. “Next, baby?”

“Please touch me,” I beg as I lean down to kiss him.

His hands go right to my breasts, kneading and pushing them, as I moan into his mouth.

“Do you want me to suck them?” he asks.

I nod my head, and he ducks his head down, wrapping his mouth around one of my nipples, sucking it into his mouth.

“God, Brady, more. I need more,” I pant.

“Like?” he questions, taking a break from my breasts. He peeks up at me through his eyelashes.

“I need you…inside me,” I confess.

“What do you need inside you, baby?” he asks with his hands already on their way up my thighs, venturing to the inside of my boxers.

“Your…” I trail off, too embarrassed to finish.

“Say it, baby, and it’s yours.” Brady’s fingers slip through my shorts and then graze over my clit before he inserts one finger inside me. When I still don’t answer, he inserts a second one, making me buck against his hand.

“Your cock…I need your cock in me,” I breathlessly answer him.

A smile consumes his face.

“It’s ready. Come and get it,” he instructs, leaning back in the chair.

I pull down his pajama pants and expose his erect hardness while he slides my boxers to the side.

When I climb on top of him, letting him fill me, I gasp from the pleasure. “Shit, you feel good.”

Brady pushes me back a little while I move up and down over him. He plays with my breasts, thumbing my already taut nipples. Moving his hands to my face, he inserts a finger in my mouth, and I automatically suck it in response.

“Fuck me, Brady!” I scream.

He brings his hips up to meet mine. As I go down, he comes up. We are in perfect harmony with each other. I can’t hold the ecstasy back anymore. It’s right on the edge, teeter-tottering back and forth.

“I love…fucking you, baby,” he says through erratic breathing.

With that, I fall into rapture and grip his shoulders while he slows his movements into gentle circles, enabling me to enjoy the thrilling waves of pleasure.

“Now, it’s your turn. I want to see you come,” I whisper to him.

He starts going faster again, guiding my hips up and down, harder and harder, before he stills inside me, and his head falls on my shoulder.

“Shit, that was hot, baby.” Brady hugs me to him, kissing my neck.

“I’d say it was,” a deep voice calls out in the doorway.

I freeze while Brady pulls me closer to him, trying to shield me from Rob.

“Get the fuck out, Robbie!” Brady yells as he throws a spoon at him.

“I’m going,” he says, backing away from the door. “I think I have to get Jessa or solve this problem on my own,” he mumbles to himself, walking upstairs.

I anxiously get up and throw my shirt over my head before tossing Brady his. I imagine my face is beet red from the heat I feel across my cheeks.

“Just think, if you move in, I could always kick him out.” Brady shelters me into his chest.

“How could you kick him out?” I ask. I believe I already know the answer, but I want Brady to tell me.

“Shit…” he says, shaking his head, obviously upset with himself. “Sit down, Sadie,” he requests.

I take the chair across from him, and Brady brings my coffee to me. He quietly sits there for a few moments, and I grab his hand, squeezing it so that his eyes meet mine.

Stuttering at first, he eventually begins to explain that this is his house, the house he grew up in. His dad left to live somewhere else and handed him the house, free and clear, no mortgage. He only charges the guys the bare minimum to pay for utilities and a cleaning lady. Mystery solved.

When I ask him why he kept it from me, he admits that he was worried I wouldn’t like him for him but rather what he owned, which crushes my heart a little. Jessa knows because Rob told her, and Brady wishes it hadn’t been like that, but he didn’t know what to do. As much as it hurts, thinking that Brady thought I could have been a materialistic bitch, at the same time, I understand why he was scared. A few years ago, that was exactly what I was.

After he reveals the truth regarding the house, Brady’s more upbeat, as though a burden has been lifted off his shoulders.

Unfortunately, it brings about a whole new set of questions swirling in my head. I need to know more about Brady’s parents. Brady says his dad is around, but I never see him, and Brady never talks about him. From what I understood from the conversation he had with my dad, Brady’s dad retired last year after being the Dean of Contemporary Music. I desperately want to Google him, but I’m torn between waiting for Brady to tell me or trying to find out on my own. I’m afraid, if I cross a line, I’ll lose Brady forever because whatever he’s keeping from me, he’s also protecting his secret.