Page 82 of Possessive Ink

“Lemon and I are heading to her place to start packing her stuff so she can move in here. Are you okay with that?”

“Of course. She’s my sister now.”

“Here you go, Princess,” I say, handing her purse to her as I climb into the driver’s seat.

“Thanks,” she says, opening it and searching the contents until she finds her cell phone. “Oh god,” she says beneath her breath when the screen comes to life.

“Everything okay?”

“Avery sent me a text.”

“Saying?” I question.

“Reminding me of the rules we agreed to, only she decided to add ten new ones.”

“Like what?” I question, half amused, half furious that Lemon has been dealing with her roommate’s level of crazy for almost two years.

“No visitors to the apartment at any time without prior arrangement. No overnight guests ever. No members of the opposite sex in bedrooms. No use of illegal substances. No prescription drugs without prior notification. Quiet hours between nine a.m. and nine p.m. Silence from nine p.m. to nine a.m.”

As she reads, I get angrier and angrier. Who the fuck does this woman think she is? “So she basically wants you to make zero noise at all, at any point?” I snarl.

Sighing, like she just doesn’t have the will to fight anymore, Lemon nods. “Basically. You know, for a while I was really worried about her. Clearly, she’s struggling. I tried to help. I tried to talk to her.”

“I’m guessing that didn’t go well?”

“She told me that pushing my own issues onto other people was offensive, and that I was out of line for trying to involve myself in her personal life. The next day a new set of rules appeared, stating that unless requested, unsolicited medical advice was strictly forbidden.”

“Jesus, Princess, I’m so sorry you’ve been living like this for so long.”

“I’m used to it. I sneak in, I sneak out, and mainly I just try to avoid her and any conflict as much as possible.”

Lemon starts to tense the moment I slow the car to a stop on the street outside her building. By the time we’ve ridden the elevator to her floor, she’s as stiff as a board, her usually relaxed and bubbly aura shrunk to a tiny, fearful husk of her normal self.

Unable to stop myself, I turn her to face me and palm her cheeks. “Breathe.”

She sucks in a tiny, barely audible breath.

“Again. Breathe. In and out, in and out. You need to relax, or you’re going to pass out,” I coax.

“She’s going to lose her mind if you come in there with me.”

“You let me deal with her. She can lose her mind all she wants, because I honestly think that the best thing for her might be to call the cops. She’s clearly in some kind of mental health crisis, and if they see her, they’ll probably end up taking her in for assessment.”

“Is it bad that even though moving in with you after three days is insane, I still want to do it because I’m not sure I can spend another night here?” she whispers.

“Not crazy at all, Princess,” I assure her. Honestly, her crazy roommate is doing me a favor, because if Lemon was happy living with Avery, I doubt I’d be able to convince her to move in with me as easily. “Now give me your key and stay behind me. If she’s here, I’d rather she go at me than you. But be warned, if she starts to get physical, I won’t hesitate to call the cops myself.”

“Okay,” she says, so meek and beat down that I’m tempted to provoke Avery just so I have an excuse to call the sheriff’s department and have them come and deal with her.

After she hands me her keys, I unlock the door and peer into the apartment. The place is quiet and seems empty, but given the rules about neither girl using the living space, Avery could be in her room. Holding the door open, I gesture for Lemon to go in and follow behind her, scanning the space as I wait for the roommate to pop out and start yelling.

With the boxes beneath my arm, I guide Lemon toward her bedroom and open the door for her. “I don’t think she’s home, Princess,” I say, trying to reassure her.

Nodding, Lemon steps into her room, then quickly shuts the door behind me the moment I’m fully inside. Without asking, I can already tell this is how she’s used to being here—scared of her shadow and intentionally suppressing herself in an effort not to provoke Avery.

Putting the boxes on the bed, I take the roll of tape from her hand and start taping the bottom of one of the boxes. Once it’s done, I hand it to her. “Here, baby. Start packing. I should have brought a couple of big suitcases for your clothes, but I didn’t think. Once we’ve filled all these boxes, we can run them home and come back with the suitcases.”

“Okay,” she easily agrees, carrying the box to the far side of the small room and starting to fill it with things.