I can hear Sarah's sigh as soon as I enter the house.

“Oh, hey, you're home,” she says when she hears the door swing open. It's her day off, and she's been spending all day resting at home.

Even though most of her stuff is still at the clinic, Sarah's been spending more and more time here. It’s only been a couple nights since the storm, when we decided to give this relationship thing a go, but strangely, having her in my house feels natural, like this is exactly how it’s supposed to be.

Like now, when I reach the end of the hallway and find her curling up on the sofa with her phone in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. She looks like she belongs there with the rest of all my other possessions.

“Everything okay?” I give her a light peck on the cheek and take a seat on the couch beside her.

“Yeah. It’s just my mom. Somehow she found out I’ve been spending the night here, and she’s . . .” Sarah’s voice trails off. She lets out another tired sigh and holds up her phone. “Just see for yourself.”

I scoot closer and read the writing on the screen.

The texts go on with Donna nagging Sarah to dump me and Sarah ignoring her.

Although annoying, they look pretty harmless . . . until Donna starts making threats.

That’s as far as they’ve gotten. I’m happy to see Sarah defending me, but I’m worried that’s just going to make Donna even angrier.

Even though Donna’s been downright cruel to Sarah at times, and she’s had no problem making Sarah resent her on her own, I have no doubt she blames me for stealing her daughter away from her. Nothing’s ever her fault.

“Do you think she has any proof?” Sarah asks, worry etched into her beautiful features.

“Of what?”

“I don’t know. Does she have any dirt on you?”

“I doubt it. She’s seen me meet up and exchange stuff with my supplier, but as far as I know, she doesn’t have anything that would count as evidence—I’m pretty sure she’d have shown us if she did.”

Sarah seems unconvinced.

“She doesn’t want me locked up, Sarah. She just wants me to sell her some drugs or introduce her to someone who would.”

Her eyebrows remain knitted.

“Don’t worry about it. Leave her to me. I can deal with her.”

Previously, my forbidden attraction to Sarah was filling my brain to the brim and clouding my judgment. Now that I’m in the first happy, healthy relationship I’ve ever had, it’s easy for me to see what needs to be done.

“Are you sure?” Sarah asks.

“Yeah.”

Sarah takes another sip of her coffee and stares blankly at the blank TV screen. It’s starting to grow dark outside. The natural light streaming in through the blinds becomes weaker by the minute.

“I wonder if she’s ever going to leave me alone,” Sarah says. “You know she took over the clinic so she could be the landlord and keep her clutches around us—my dad, Peter, and now me?”

“Do you want to move to the city?” I ask.

Sarah turns to stare at me. Obviously, she didn’t expect that. “What?”

“Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it. And the more I think about it, the more sense it makes. You were doing well in the city, right?”

“I suppose . . .”

“You had a good job, and you had a better time managing your stress and anxiety. You said you stayed away from the online scene for years until you had to come back here.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know if I was stressed out because of Peter’s death or because I was here.”

“Do you remember how it started, your habit of using sex as a coping mechanism?” I ask. “It seems to me like you didn’t have this problem when you were living in San Francisco.”

“I . . .  Well, when I was a teenager, home was hell. My parents used to fight all the time. When they got divorced, I thought finally, we’d have some peace and quiet. But my mom always found a way to get to us.”

“She’s nothing if not determined,” I agree.

“I was an awkward kid, and I didn’t have many friends. I didn’t have many places I could escape to—except when I was spending time with my boyfriend at the time.”

“Martin?” I surprise myself with the chill in my voice.

I’m not usually a jealous lover. But then again, I’ve never wanted to own a woman as much as I want Sarah.

I’ve got her now, and it feels fucking great. But at the same time I’m also acutely aware of how much it would fucking suck to lose her after finding out what I’d be missing out on.

“Yeah. It felt like the only time I was free from my problems, like the only time I could stop thinking about what was going on at home,” she says.

Jealousy burns in my chest, thinking about her with someone else, even though it happened when she was a young girl and I wasn’t even in the picture.

Yeah, it doesn’t make any sense.

I try to change the subject. “Did Peter know you had trouble dealing with stuff?”

“Not really.” Sarah goes quiet as she ponders my question. “I mean, he was dealing with the same difficult stuff, too. And my dad was busy trying to stop my mom from completely destroying our finances.”

I nod.

“Do you really want to go back to the city?” Sarah asks.

“The city was too full of bad memories, but it’s been a long time, and I can handle living there now if that’s going to make you happier.”

Joy radiates from her baby blues as she gazes at me. She’s practically beaming.

“So you want to move to the city?” I ask.

“No. I’m just happy you’re willing to make the move for me.”

“Of course I am. I’ll go wherever you want to go.”

“I don’t know why you should feel guilty about what happened to your sister. Like you said, you can’t help someone who doesn’t want your help, right?” she asks.

“Well . . . I tried to stop her.” I take a deep breath. “But I was in prison when she started hanging out with my friends who were into some kinky shit.

“These friends, they were running a pretty successful BDSM club in the city. It was secretive and exclusive, and my sister wouldn’t have gotten into that scene had it not been for my friends.”

My body jerks in surprise when I feel Sarah’s hand on my arm.

“Sorry,” she says, withdrawing her hand. “I was just trying to help you feel better. It sounded like you were blaming yourself, and I don’t think it was your fault.”

“Thanks,” I say, even though I don’t fully believe what she’s saying. Guilt has taken root within me and become part of my being by now. “By the time I got out of prison, her addiction was already in full swing. She’d outgrown the club my friends owned, and she was doing riskier and riskier things. And then, before I could help her . . . she was gone.”

Grief and regret covers my insides, thick and black like tar.

“Hey . . .” Sarah says softly as she rubs my arm. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“It sure as hell felt like it was. I knew my parents weren’t paying attention to her. I knew I was the only family she really had, and I failed her.”

Sarah wraps her delicate arms around me. “It wasn’t your fault,” she repeats as she plants a light kiss on my head.

“I was the one who introduced her to the lifestyle, Sarah. I felt responsible. Hell, I still feel responsible.” My brain replays the fuzzy memories from all those years ago. After my sister’s death, I went on a binge at the club, buried myself in pussy and only emerged, days later, vowing to steer clear of the scene.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Sarah repeats for the third time.

I pull her into my arms. “Thank you for saying that.”

“I’m serious,” she says, her doe eyes widening with sincerity.

“I know.” I give her a smile. “Don’t worry about me. What about you? Don’t you want to go back to the city?”

Sarah shakes her head. “I don’t know. I want to keep the clinic running. But I have to admit, my mom’s driving me crazy.”

I chuckle. “Let me worry about her.”

“She’s my mom. She’s kind of my responsibility.”

“We’re a team now. Your problem is my problem. Don’t worry. I have a plan.” I grin as Sarah eyes me suspiciously.