We shut down the house for the night. We battle Honeycrisp when we find her in the middle of the bed like she’s the queen of the whole damn place. I brush my teeth and wrap my hair before I get comfortable and forget to do it. Silas sets his alarm. I check my work email and when I feel my mood starting to shift, I tell myself the emails that pose questions about a case that I am not being paid to consult on can wait for the morning. We climb into bed with my laptop. I make myself comfortable between Silas’s legs. He wraps his arms around my waist. He rests his chin on my shoulder.

“You ready?” I ask him.

“I’ve watched plenty of porn before,” he says.

“Yeah, but you’ve never seen yourself like this.” I turn my head and kiss him on the cheek. “It can be a bit addicting. You’ll be wanting to make one of these at least twice a week.”

“Local farmer arrested in a small town sex tape ring,” he says.

“Pretty much,” I laugh. “Here we go.” I press play. I've seen myself on a recording before, but this is something else. Or rather it's something else with Silas.

This almost giddiness hits me as I watch myself drag my nails down his chest. And I feel little bit of regret. My pleasure will always be central, but I should spend more time just looking at him. I feel… lucky to be with someone so fine, so well put together. It's a treat for all the senses, I think to myself and then I actually have to stop myself from giggling like a fool. Usually I’d cover my unease with off-color comments and jokes, but Silas is dead silent. I keep my mouth shut and decide to let him enjoy this.

“Can you turn it up?” he says. I turn it up a little louder. I try to focus on the screen, but as the seconds tick by and Silas’s dick becomes harder and harder against my back, I can only think about what I want to do to him next. I lace my fingers with his over my stomach and wait.

“Why did you keep your clothes on?” he asks. I’m sucking my fingers on the screen.

“I don’t know, actually. Just a habit. I think it’s sexy, not showing all of your skin. Do you hate that too?”

“No, I was just wondering. It is sexy, but you’re sexy naked too. I think you’re sexy all the time.”

“Such a charmer.”

“I mean it.”

“I know you do.” I reach forward and pause the video. I turn a bit and face him. “You want to jerk off to this or do you want to fuck me? I can feel you getting hard back there.”

“I want to finish watching this and then I want to fuck you,” he says in his straightforward way.

“Okay.” I turn back around and hit play again. When I settle back, Silas holds me tighter. As the video goes on and as things get more intense between us, I feel his lips start grazing my neck. I usually don’t allow this. I usually don’t let men get this handsy, but I can’t deny how much I enjoy being in his arms. And I can’t think about the moment when I know I’m going to have to give this up.

I watch him fuck me on my computer screen. I close my eyes every so often, just for a moment, and take in the way his erection feels against my back, the way his lips feel against my skin, the way our fingers feel intertwined. When the video ends, I hear and feel Silas let out a deep breath.

I reach over him and grab a condom off the nightstand. I hand it to him, then I get off the bed and take off all of my clothes. “I can’t unwrap my hair, but is this better,” I tease.

He tilts his head to the side. “The whole thing could be improved by some nipple tassels, but I’ll take it.”

“Shut up,” I say as I climb on the bed. I roll onto my back and let my thighs fall open. “Come here.”

He leans down and kisses me as he slides his cock into place.

* * *

There’s a vague memory of Silas saying something about coffee and lunch. I think he kisses me, but that might have been a part of the dream I’m having where we’re having sex against a wall in a haunted house. We’re hiding from Scott and their mother, who was just trying to feed us butter cookies she’d made with a recipe she’d gotten from Martha Stewart’s Cooking School, but I was convinced they were poisoned. I keep trying to tell Silas that his mom is going to kill us both, but he keeps finding dark corners for us to fool around in.

He’s trying to slip his hand under my skirt, but he can’t find the bottom of the fabric. And then my phone starts ringing. It appears in my hand and I try to answer the call, but I can’t get the screen to respond to my fingers. I keep pressing and swiping. I’m getting frustrated, then the ringing stops. Doesn’t stop me from jabbing at the screen. It starts ringing again. I look up and try to tell Silas that my phone won’t work. He’s gone though and Brooklyn is standing there leaning against the other wall talking to this boy who lived in our building when we were in elementary school. My phone keeps ringing.

My eyes open too fast, in a way that makes my heart feel like it’s going to snap. I stumble out of bed and grab my phone off the dresser. My office number is flashing across the screen.

“Hello,” I say. I don’t even try to sound like I wasn’t just sleeping.

“Hi, Miss Lewis. It’s Caroline. Mr. Murrell wanted me to find out if you’ll be in today.”

“Is he in the office yet?” I ask. I turn back to the bed and find Honeycrisp and Morty looking at me from the floor.

“No. There’s a call with Mr. Fullerton at ten a.m. and he wanted to make sure you’d be on it.”

“Do me a favor? I’ll send something nice and official, but if you see Mr. Murrell before I get to speak with him, please tell him I’ll be working outside of the office for the rest of the week. I’ll be back in next Monday.”

She hesitates a moment before she answers. “Sure, I will absolutely let him know, but you’ll be on the ten a.m. call?”

I close my eyes and try not to cuss the poor girl out. “Yes.”

“Okay, thank you. I will let him know.”

I end the call, then give myself a few moments to try to get my brain back together, but the universe isn’t having it. My phone rings again. It’s Scott. My stomach lurches as I stare at his name, but I know I have to answer. I have to tell him. Maybe it’s better that Silas isn’t here. Scott can be pissed at me for a while and maybe when he cools off, he and Silas can talk. Maybe. Probably not. Still, I have to tell him what’s happening between me and his brother. I slide to answer.

“Hey!” I say. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

“Yeah, hey.” He sounds pissed. “I have some bad news.” A horn blares. “Fuck—sorry I’m on my way into the office.”

“It’s okay. What’s the bad news?”

“I just got off the phone with Tillery—”

“He didn’t find anything.”

“Yeah, that would be great. No, it’s a little worse than that. He found Kelsey. She’s definitely alive, but Dorrit sent someone to scare the shit out of her right after you guys lost. That’s why she quit. She’s back living in Vermont with her mom. Dorrit definitely got to her.”

“Okay. Okay,” I say, trying to take that information in. It’s too much to process at once. “So they threatened her, wait eight some odd months and then send someone to kill me.”

“Tillery didn’t say for sure, but think I know why. The fines.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” I yell so loud I scare both the dogs. I hear a weak bark from Joe in the hallway. I rub my forehead and sit down on the bed. “So this motherfucker is legally fined for breaking federal regulations and he gives Kelsey a little fright and then sends a guy to kill me? His piece of shit kid makes four times what they had to pay in instagram ads in like an hour. And like half that money went to bee conservation.”

“Hey, I’m with you. It’s a pretty fucking extreme overreaction. That’s not the bad part.”

“Fucking hell. What? Just tell me.”

“One of Dorrit’s security people caught on to Tillery snooping and they threatened his family. So Tillery talked.”

“What do you mean he talked?” I’m pretty sure I’m going to vomit.

“He told them he was looking into Dorrit for you.”

Yeah, definitely going to vomit.

“But this is good,” Scott says.

“Please tell me what’s good about it.”

“Well now we have proof Dorrit was involved.”

“Or do we just have proof that I think that Dorrit was involved? And even if Tillery has proof that Dorrit sent that guy to take me out, will Tillery testify to that?”

“No. He won’t. They spooked him pretty good. But, this doesn’t need to go that far.”

“Oh? It hasn’t gone far enough already?”

“You know that’s not what I’m saying. We talk to Dorrit. We tell him message received loud and clear. He’s pissed. We get it, but now he needs to back off.”

“Yeah. I’m sure that’ll work.”

“It will if we give him what he wants.”

“Scott. Stop being a lawyer for five minutes and tell me what I give a man who tries to kill me for some shit he and his shitty kid did?”

“I’ll figure something out. Just hang tight,” Scott says like he’s got everything in hand when really I’m in just as much danger as ever.

“Hey, man. Hanging tight is all I’ve been doing.”

“Just fucking relax, alright,” he snaps.

I close my eyes and press my tongue to the roof of my mouth. I remember that trick Claudia’s old therapist shared with her. I start counting to ten. I get to six when Scott realizes I’m not responding.

“Hey. I’m sorry. Alright? I know it’s not the same thing, but this shit has me stressed out too. I am worried about you.”

“Yeah, but do me a favor and don’t tell me to relax. You may be stressed, but you don’t have a little hit out on you. Okay? And it sounds like Tillery left out the little part where you hired him. You may be stressed, but the target is on my back.”

“I’m sorry. For real. What did you want to talk to me about? Were you trying to get more information about Tillery or was it something else? Si was texting me yesterday like you fell down a well and he and the five Lassies couldn’t get you out.”

I pull the sheet over me and let out another sigh. As much as I’d love to get into it with Scott about Silas, I don’t have the energy. And for some reason, my life being threatened should take priority over trying to mend their twenty years of sibling beef.

“I don’t know what Silas was texting you about,” I say. “He probably wanted to know how much longer I was going to be invading his space.”

“Man, fuck him. That’s a five bedroom house. Plus I replaced the pull-out in the living room a few years ago. Shit, you could squat in my bedroom for at least a year and he wouldn’t notice. There might be squatters in there now. Where are you sleeping anyway?”

“He gave me his bed. He’s been sleeping on the couch.”

“Surprised he’s not sleeping up in the barns, he loves that place so fucking much. You meet his horse yet?”

“Uh, no. I’ve been working the whole time I’ve been here. I just met Ginny and Maya. And your cousin? Mason?” I leave out the part where I FaceTimed with his parents. And the part where Silas and I are sharing a bed and bodily fluids. I cannot have this conversation with Scott right now.

“Listen, I have to go,” I say. “Murrell is freaking out about this call we have at ten and I already have a bunch of emails I have to get to.”

“See? Fuck Dorrit. Can’t keep a bad bitch like you down.”

“Yeah, well maybe he’ll send someone with an actual weapon next time. Two between the eyes usually does the trick.”

“Hey, there won’t be a next time. For real. I’m serious. Just let me and Tillery see what we can pull together. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Scott.”

“Yeah.”

Why are you doing this? I almost ask, but I know what my mother would say. Just accept the gift. No matter how much they’ve botched this, Scotty and Tillery are trying to help me. Take the kindness. Except this time it’s different. This time I know things, I’ve done things, and I know I’m not the only one in this situation who can’t tell the whole truth.

“I’m outside the office. What’s up?” he says.

“Nothing. Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“And after this, stop using Tillery. He sounds like a shitty. P.I..”

“Fuck, who are you telling? I’ll hit you up later.” He ends the call. I sit on the bed for a long time, letting the AC blow on my bare back. Long enough for Honeycrisp to come over to see what the fuck is wrong with me. She sits down beside my foot and puts her head on my knee. It’s probably the most adorable thing that’s ever happened to me, and when I scratch the top of her head, I can just hear what she’s thinking. What’s wrong with you, girl? What’s all the yelling about? Why are you sitting in this cold ass room butt ass naked? And really, the question I’ve been meaning to ask myself the last few days.

Why are you letting Scott handle this?

Yes, I needed help last week. I was hurt, I was in shock, I was traumatized. I still am, but not to a crippling degree. And what’s more, I’m fine enough, healed up enough with my slightly achy wrist, and my ankle, and my barely tender ribs to fuck the daylights out of a strapping, age appropriate farmer. I took the time I needed, got the distance I needed, and the help, now it’s time to get back to life and handle this shit on my own. Dorrit might have it out for me, but fuck him. I’m sick of hiding and letting men who are clearly terrible at their jobs create even bigger problems in my name.

I throw on some clothes and then grab my laptop and head to the kitchen, Honeycrisp at my heels and Joe slowly pulling up the rear. While I wait for my coffee to brew, I text Brooklyn.

She answers immediately.

Reading her text suddenly makes me feel like I’m back to my old self. Yes, Dorrit tried to take me out. It’s beyond fucked up, but you know what? I won. I fought. I saved myself. Even if my time here is limited, and even though I know that fear is a perfectly reasonable reaction, I don’t deserve to be afraid anymore, especially of self-entitled pieces of shit like David Dorrit Jr.. I dig through my email and I find the address I’ve been looking for, cc’d deep from months and months ago. I put YOU HAVE MY ATTENTION in the subject line and then I keep the email itself short and sweet.

DEAR, MR. DORRIT,

SORRY THINGS DIDN’T WORK OUT AS YOU INTENDED.

WHAT IS IT I CAN DO FOR YOU?

* * *

Silas catches me at a real bad time. I’m pretty amped up. I open our group chat just in time to see that Brooklyn’s messaged the girls and told them we’re starting a brown girls vigilante group to protect ourselves against overinflated white men in positions of power—then she goes into court. After I explain what exactly she’s talking about, Noa, Claudia and Rayna declare that they absolutely have my back. I know I was trying to protect them from what Dorrit might have thrown at me next, but I forgot that in addition to Scott, I have a whole crew of bad bitches who would do anything for me. That simple fact makes me want to go home even more now, but I want to see if Dorrit responds.

By the time Silas comes rolling through the front door, shouting about how he’s brought me food, I’m ankle deep in work emails, trying undo some more crap that Murrell has thrown at me. When Silas comes into the kitchen, I’m so pissed I don’t even look up from my computer.

He leans down and kisses my forehead. “Brought you a burger and side salad and some fries, just in case you want both.”

“Thank you,” I grumble. He grabs what turns out to be a Coke from the fridge, then sits down beside me at the table.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

I carefully close my laptop and look at him. “Well, the P.I. who was looking into David Dorrit for me blew his cover and threw me under the bus so Dorrit might try to extra kill me now. Also, the partner I am growing to hate the absolute most decided that since I had to step away from the office due to minor things like my personal safety, he should tell the client that he wasn’t sure I was handling things properly. Because telling someone that your own associates don’t know how to do their jobs is somehow good business.”

“Not that I can help, but is there anything I can do?”

“No. And there’s nothing I even need to do. I have everything under control. I already told them I’d be back on Monday. Murrell’s just being a controlling prick.”

“I got you a ripe peach,” he says as he hands me a peach the size of a softball. “Just rinse it.” I examine the giant piece of fruit before I look up into his dark eyes. I lean over and kiss him on the lips. He looks dry, but I can taste a hint of sweat. It’s lunchtime and he’s already put in a long day.

“Thank you,” I say and then I remember. “Scott said you have a horse?”

“Sanny? She died three years ago.”

“Uh…”

“You talked to him?” he asks. I can’t really read his tone.

“Not about us. I was too pissed about the Tillery thing and he was rushing to work.”

“Okay. Well enough about Scott. I know you're busy, but I’d like to ask your permission to pull gender rank tonight.”

“You wanna what?” I laugh.

“I want to take you on a typical date that does nothing to challenge gender norms and then seduce you without so many rules or training tips or whatever you like to call them.”

“First of all, you taking me on a date fits in just fine for the type of gender equality I’m looking for. You’re saying you wanna take me on a date and you don't want me to dominate you afterward? But what if the date is so bad I don't want to have sex with you at all after?” I tease.

He stares blankly at me and after a few moments I realize I might have broken his brain. I stand and take a seat in his lap. His hands cautiously go to my waist.

“See, that's patriarchal. You just think because you wine and dine me, I'm gonna want to give it up to you after.”

“I want to have sex with you all the time. I hadn’t thought about any heavy meaning behind it.”

“I'm just fucking with you. This was good. You told me what you wanted. And I’m considering. Hmmmm…” I tap my chin and pretend I’m considering his proposal like I hadn’t already decided I was going to let him beat the breaks off this pussy the second he handed me that peach.

“Okay. I would love to go on a date with you. I'll need a break from this bullshit anyway. And yes, afterward, I am giving you the reins. Show me what kind of sexual god you can be.”

“Great.” He starts to stand and moves me off his lap. “Be ready at seven. Wear your rain boots. The ground’s still wet where we’re going.” He kisses me quickly, then backs out the door.

I catch the door and call after him.“Where we going?”

“I can’t tell you. It’s a surprise. Let me surprise you,” he yells over his shoulder. I watch him as he almost trips over Morty, who’s decided to tag along with him back up to the farm. In another life, I’d totally marry Silas McInroy.