Page 38 of The Dragon’s Good Girl

At home, I run myself a bath.

That feels stranger than buying the book.

I set the shampoo I bought last week on the edge of the tub, leave my phone in the bedroom, and climb into the water with my new book. The bath isn't as hot as the ones Soren runs for me, but I stay until the water begins to cool and I've read enough chapters that staying in feels mildly offensive.

Later, while I'm drying my hair, I catch sight of the new book on the bathroom counter and smile.

Soren would probably approve.

The strange thing is, I didn't think about that once while I was buying it.

Maybe that's the point. I'm starting to want things without waiting for someone else to tell me I can have them.

I'm still thinking about that when Bree calls the next evening.

Her name on my screen usually comes with a mental checklist. Money, car trouble, rent, some subscription she forgot to cancel, a problem with a friend that will somehow require my involvement. I'm already preparing myself for whichever version it is when I answer.

"Hey."

Something in her voice wipes the list from my head.

"Bree, what's wrong?"

She's quiet for long enough that I turn off the stove.

"I think I need actual help," she says eventually. "Not you fixing something. I mean… I think something's wrong, and I don't really know what to do."

"I think talking to someone would be a good idea, Bree."

"Can you sort it out for me?"

There it is.

I close my eyes for a moment. Saying no to Richard is one thing. Saying no to Bree when she sounds frightened is something else entirely.

"Okay, I'll help you."

Her breath comes out in a rush.

"But I'm not going to do it for you," I add. "We can look together and figure out who takes your insurance. I'll sit with you while you do it if you want me to. But you make the call and book the appointment."

Bree is quiet and every part of me wants to fill the silence. I want to soften what I said, offer to call if she gets nervous, tell her I'll handle it this once and we can work on the rest later.

But I don't.

Finally, she says, "Can you stay on the phone while I look?"

My throat tightens. "Of course I can."

So that's what we do.

Bree opens her laptop, and I stay with her while she searches. I answer when she asks what I think, but I don't take over. When she finds someone who looks promising, she writes the number down herself.

"Will you come with me if I get an appointment?"

The automatic yes is right there.

This time, I actually think about it before I answer.