Page 92 of Redline Baby

I close it.

"I'm not withdrawing from you." Something inside me goes very still. "The door stays open. I'll be right outside in the living room. I'm not angry with you after this. I'm not going cold. I'm not leaving you alone because I don't want you near me."

My eyes burn unexpectedly.

"Then why—"

"Because I want you to think."

Oh.

"You'll lie there. You'll feel the consequence you already received, and you'll think about what you knew, what you felt, and what you chose to do instead of communicating it."

This is worse than the spoon. Immediately.

"And if you need me, you can call for me."

I look at him.

"If you say Red, the punishment ends. I come in immediately. No argument."

My throat works around a swallow.

"Calling 'Daddy' is not automatically Red. You can ask me for something. I may say no if I think you're trying to negotiate your way out of bedtime."

That's outrageous.

"But Red means we're finished."

"Yes, Daddy."

"Understand the difference?"

"Yes."

"Good."

I look toward the bedroom. "I'm not tired."

"I know."

"It's barely dark."

"I know."

"I'm twenty-five."

"I am aware."

"Eight o'clock is a bedtime for people who are four."

"Twenty-eight minutes now."

I glare at him. His expression remains offensively calm.

He takes my phone from the armchair pocket where I left it and holds it up long enough for me to see before slipping it into his own pocket.

"Go shower. Put on pajamas. Eat something. Brush your teeth."