Though I’m on the computer for the rest of the weekend, Addison doesn’t sign on again. I end up writing like a madman, cutting the number of words I need to write by half. For once, the deadline seems almost doable. But I haven’t told that to Anna. I haven’t told Emil, my editor, or anyone else. They don’t give a shit about me; they just want to make money. In fact, from Anna’s dismissive tone during our last phone conversation, I could tell she’d already moved on to the next big thing. No, I dream of dropping the manuscript on the desk of that big NYC publisher and telling them to go fuck themselves.

The only person I really want to tell, the person I know will be proud of me? Addison.

When she arrives that afternoon, she’s late. She has dark rings around her eyes, and no make-up. Her hair is messed and she’s wearing leggings and a shapeless sweater, like she rolled out of bed. She seems to be staring at the ground as I lecture, half-asleep, and she barely takes any notes. When class ends, I call her over and hand her the recommendation.

“Thank you,” she says, taking it. “I—“

“Why do you need it, Addison? I thought you said your application was already submitted?”

“Yeah, well.” She lets out a nervous giggle and looks away. Finally, she wipes at one of her eyes and stuffs the recommendation into her bag. “You never can have too many recommendations.”

“Are you okay, Addison?” she asks.

She nods, looking anything but, which makes me think she must’ve heard the news I got this morning. Yes, this morning, I’d gotten a call that we’re all meeting at Dean Armstrong’s office, where I’m sure they’ll try to hand me my ass. I need to prepare, which wouldn’t be a problem if I didn’t have the Monday deadline for my novel looming over me.

“You probably already know that I got a call from the dean,” I tell her. “Your mother didn’t forget. The meeting is this Friday.”

“Really?” It’s news to her. Her worried expression gets even deeper. So this isn’t what was bothering her before. She lets out a long, deep sigh. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Hill. Maybe you were right. Maybe you should’ve just let her get her way.”

What? That doesn’t sound like her. “No. You were right. She doesn’t deserve to win this.”

Her eyes trail to her sneakers. “But she always wins. Somehow.”

I knew it was something with her mother, who seems to be at the core of all her problems. And though she wouldn’t let me intrude, I know she wants to, needs to get away. I haven’t seen bruises on her body in the past three weeks, but I find myself looking for them now. “Look,” I start, thinking of how to phrase it so she won’t shut me down, which I know she’s going to do. “If you’re in trouble—“

“I’m not,” she mutters bluntly. “I told you, I’m a McBride. I’ve got to go.”

She turns on her heel and stalks out the door even before I can say another word.

When I sit myself down in front of the computer that evening to write my next chapter, I find myself going to the module to see if she’s online. She’s not.

I have the strong coffee. I have a nice, rainy night. I have the notes to guide me in my next scene. I have soft classical music playing in the background.

But I don’t have her. And it’s not just the sex that inspires me. From her, I want something else. Something I’ve never wanted from another woman in my life. Her smile, her gentle encouragement, her presence.

Fuck it, forget her, I tell myself, again and again until I’m begging myself to listen.

She doesn’t want me interfering in the rest of her life, trying to play hero. She wants me for the sexual education, and that’s it. Besides, in another few months, she’ll be states away, in med school. And who knows, after Friday, I might not even have a job. I need to concentrate on my manuscript, my future.

But damned if every time I try to, she intrudes.

Hungry. I’m probably just hungry. I find a Chinese take-out menu and order some Chicken and Broccoli, then decide I need something stronger than coffee and pour myself a Guinness.

But it doesn’t help.

Finally, I tear off my glasses, toss them on the desk, and yawn. As I do, I hear a slight rapping on the door. I don’t get many visitors, especially at nine in the evening, so I assume Choi’s having an on-night and my dinner’s being delivered at lightning-quick speed.

When I answer the door, I’m surprised to see Addison standing there. She looks like she walked here in the rain, her hair wet and stringy and clinging to her pale face. She’s not wearing a coat, despite the icy weather, and her shirt is nearly see-through, clinging to her tits, outlining the nipples. My first instinct is a purely primal, lustful one—to grab her and get those wet things off her, but then she looks up, and I see the blood trickling from her nose, down to her chin. There’s a red welt on her cheek, too.

“What the fuck.” I take her by the wrist and lead her into my living room.

“I’m sorry,” she says, her lower lip trembling. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Addison, of course you’re welcome here. I told you.” I reach for a paper towel from the kitchen, kneel in front of her and bring it to her nose. “Your mother did this. You can’t keep denying it.”

“I made a huge mistake,” she says, voice trembling. “I forgot to make sure I had the right number of recommendations for med school, and my application was incomplete. I called them today and they told me I could still send it in, but that admission decisions were already made for this year. My mother must have been checking my phone calls, because she found out. And she . . .”

“She hits you.” I finish.

She nods, fresh tears pouring down her cheeks. “I kept thinking just a few more months. All I had to do was get through graduation, and then I could be on my own and do what I wanted. But I found out that she’s been looking at apartments for herself in Boston. She’s going to move there to be near me while I go to medical school. And once I graduate, she’ll probably make me live with her again. I’ll never get away from her.”

She’s babbling now. I draw her into a hug, and her skin is like ice, her body heaving and trembling against mine.

“And I realized something on the way over here, Cain,” she breathes into my shirt as I stroke her hair. “I don’t want to be a doctor. Not at all. Not even a little bit. It’s all her.”

I have to laugh at that. “No kidding.”

She pulls away and looks at me. “You knew?”

“I had an idea.” I inspect her face. The blood from her nose has stopped, but the welt on her cheek is bright raspberry, blotched with purple. “Let me get my keys. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

She shakes her head furiously. “What? No! It’s nothing really. Just a bloody nose.”

I give her a thorough inspection. Nothing else appears to be ailing her, but I still think we should go to the hospital. If nothing else, we might be able to report her mother’s abuse. Because this can’t continue. “You need to leave there. Right now. If you stay, one day, it’ll be a hell of a lot worse than a bloody nose.”

“I have nowhere to go,” she says, and I realize it’s more tears spilling over her cheeks than rainwater.

“Stay here,” I tell her. “With me.”

And when it’s out, I’m surprised at how much I want it. I’ve lived alone all my adult life, but right now, the thought of sharing my apartment with her doesn’t feel like a sacrifice. It feels right, like fate, every single thing on this earth guiding me to this very decision.

So I’m disappointed when she says, “I can’t.”

The disappointment quickly transforms to anger. Everything Addison’s done with me was for the purpose of getting free of her mother. But she’s still under her mom’s thumb, too afraid to make the move that will finally get her safe. “Eventually, she’ll kill you.”

“No.” She says it automatically, but I can see her resolve crumble before my eyes. “Maybe,” she admits. “But I have no money. What am I supposed to do?”

I push her drying hair out of my face. “Stay with me.”

She shakes her head. “What, so I can be your charity case?”

“Addison—“ I start.

She cuts me off. “That’s the only way me staying here won’t result in you losing your job.”

I ponder that, trying to make sense of it. “It doesn’t matter why you’re here. You’re an adult. And fuck my job. You need a place to stay, and I have one.”

She snorts. “That’s more commitment than you’re used to, Dr. Hill,” she says, bitterness in her tone.

“What?”

“Meaning that sooner or later you’ll get sick of me. You’ll want me out, and I’ll have to go crawling back to her.”

“I won’t get sick of you, Addison. You can stay as long as you want.”

“Or until your book is finished, you mean.”

That bitter tone is enough to wound me. How did I become the bad guy, here? Something inside me bubbles up, feeling like rage. I’ve never begged a woman in my life, but I’m feeling so out of control right now that I might. Squeezing my head between my hands, I say, “I want you. Not for your body. Not for the sex. Certainly not for the conversation, because I have to say, Addison, what you’re saying is making no sense.”

Again, she shakes her head, then immediately jumps to standing. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have come here. She knows where I am. When she finds I’m here, you really will get fired.”

I grab her arm before she can reach the front door, whirling her around to face me. “I don’t give a shit, Addison. Do you understand that? Let them fire me. I want you safe.”

She opens her mouth, but just then, there’s another rap on the door. The Chinese food. “Stay,” I tell her, my grip hard on her shoulders, as if I can root her to this spot. “As my student. As my lover. It doesn’t matter what they do to us. Just stay so I know you’re safe right now.”

I stare at her, breathing hard, for an eternity, but she doesn’t speak.

Finally, I pull away from her and retreat to the kitchen, where I’d left the money to pay for my dinner. I pick up the twenty dollar bill and race back to the foyer in mere seconds. But when I get there, the front door is open, and a man in a baseball cap is standing there with the paper bag of food.

Addison is gone.