Page 37 of Fundamentals of Being a Good Girl
“Absolutely not.”
“At least no one is forcing their pity on me there,” she says, acid in her gaze as she looks back up to me, and I recognize it for what it is. A defense mechanism, a reflexive clawing at some dignity.
Another tear slides down to my fingers, and I want to kill somebody. (Somebody named Gentry.)
Also, I think I’d like to give Maddie a stern talking-to. Preferably while she’s bent over a desk with her skirt above her hips. She is absolutely not allowed to put herself in danger, and she is not allowed to act like everything is fine when she’s living in her car. She’s not allowed to make everyone around her comfortable while she’s hanging on by a thread.
She’s worth more than that. She deserves more than that.
But I look at her, all tangled defiance and vulnerability and restlessness, and ask,bluntly, “Do you want Gentry to pity you?”
Shock blanches her expression. “Of course not! What the fuck, Bram.”
I let go of her chin so I can cradle her face in my hands. “Then why are you letting him have this much power over your life? Over your future? You refuse to let him turn you into a charity case, but you’d rather he leave you homeless, desperate, and struggling to do your job?”
Heat reddens her cheeks, and her eyes are sparking with indignant fury.
Good.Good.
“Where do you see yourself at the end of this term? At the end of next term? Where will you be in five years if it takes you one year—or two or three—just to get your feet underneath you? What if you could get started on the rest of your liferight now, and be building your future exactly the way you want it, and show the world exactly what you’re fucking capable of? All for the scant price of sleeping in an unused room, in a place that’s warm and safe and free of shopping carts? Don’t live here because you’re accepting my help, Maddie. Live here as a giantfuck youto Gentry and that campaign adviser and anyone else who made you feel like your time belonged to him. Live here so you can make everybody regret the fucking day they made Maddie Kowalczk feel small and alone.”
Her eyes are burning into mine, bright green, alive, the same color as the inside of my greenhouse on a hot summer’s day, and her lips are parted. She’s breathing fast and swallowing hard and her nipples are poking against her borrowed T-shirt so prominently that I can see them even in my peripheral vision.
So my brat gets off on spite and revenge. Good to know.
“Okay,” she whispers, nodding into my hands. “Okay.”
“You’ll live here?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll stop sleeping in cold parking lots?”
A nod. “Yes.”
“You’ll let me help you when you need it, so you can stop letting that asshole control your life?”
“Yes, Bram.” And then, “You’re swearing a lot right now. It’s very sexy.”
I give her abe serious, Ms. Kowalczklook.
She pouts.
“But I do think,” I say, and this part I say a little reluctantly, “that this means we shouldn’t... be... together. Again.”
“Why? It’s not against university policy and it’s only alittlebit against the agency’s policy.”
I drop my hands from her face and gently run them up and down her upper arms. She’s soft and warm and I want to hold her until the stars come out. I want to haul her over to my bed, tie her to it, and drag out promise after whimpered promise that she’ll be good for me, my good girl, after she’s done being so very filthy and bad.
But this is more important.
“It’s more than a little against the agency’s policy, and anyway, I want you to feel safe here. I don’t want you to feel like living here is contingent on sex. I don’t want you to think that I expect payment in kind.”
Her lips come together in a mulish shape. “I wouldn’t think that.”
“Still.”
“Why are you helping me?” she asks. “You don’t have any reason to.”
