Deklan

“What do you want to do? Go to school or something? There’s a community college not far from here.”

I sigh heavily.

“You remember I was home-schooled and mostly self-taught, right?”

“Yeah.”

“They weren’t just high school courses. I have degrees in English, communications, accounting, and philosophy. I know they’re all online degrees, and the universities aren’t accredited or anything, but I wasn’t in any kind of sports, didn’t have many friends, and didn’t really go out much. I had a lot of time on my hands.”

“That is a lot,” he says.

“Yes, it is.”

“So, you’re saying you don’t want to go to school.”

“I do not.” I run my hand a little further up his leg. “I need to get out more, Dek. Even when I was with my parents, I had more of a social life than I do now. I didn’t get out much, but I did get out and see people sometimes. I need to interact with other people.”

“What do you want to do, Kera?”

“I want to get a job.”

/> “You don’t need to get a job,” Deklan says. “I’ve got more money than I know what to do with, and you don’t seem to be much of a big spender.”

“I’m not. Money isn’t the issue. I want to get out and be with people. See people. Act like a normal human being.”

“What kind of job do you want?”

“The coffee shop is hiring.”

“You want to dole out overpriced coffee to a bunch of hipsters?”

“Not just coffee,” I say with a smile. “They have scones, too!”

Deklan looks at me out of the corner of his eye.

“I want to get out of this apartment for more than twenty minutes at a time.” I sigh and reach for his hand.

Deklan scowls, pulls his hand away, and pushes himself out of the chair. Without a word, he grabs the dishes from the kitchen island and rinses them in the sink.

My body sinks into the chair and my throat tightens. I was so hopeful, but now I can see he isn’t going to allow it, and I’m going to be stuck inside this apartment forever.

“I don’t like it,” he suddenly says. “I can’t pretend that I do.”

“I don’t think I’m cut out to be a housewife.”

“I’m getting that idea.” Deklan abandons the dishes and returns to me. He swivels me around on the barstool and wraps his arms around me, holding me against his chest. “I worry about you. At least here, I know you are reasonably safe. When you’re out and about, I can’t stop thinking of how vulnerable you are.”

I want to call him out on the man he has following me, but I think better of it. I don’t want him to know that I’ve noticed.

“I worry about you, too,” I tell him. “At least I don’t end up in the hospital.”

“You ended up in the hospital before you made it a full twenty-four hours here,” he says.

“Touché.” I smile grimly. “It’s not the same, though. Ever since you were stabbed, I think about Brian coming to the door and telling me something worse has happened.”

“I know how to take care of myself.”

“I know you do. Shit can still happen.” I look at him pointedly, but he can’t argue with me on that one and doesn’t try.