“You’re not moving out. I’ll have a spare key made for you, Indiana.” I close my bedroom door behind me, finally saying the line I rehearsed all night. She’s right, I don’t really want her here. But she is wrong about one thing—I’m not a monster. She’s clearly going through shit—shit I find myself having a weak spot for and I can’t toss her out on the street. I’m not that kind of guy as much as I’d love to be at this moment. A loud thud hits the back of my door. A shoe perhaps. “My name is not Indiana!”
