Page 29 of Wildflowers

“Huh.”

He relaxes back and kicks off his boots. It takes a few goes, but he gets there in the end. There are bruises beneath his eyes. Like he’s in need of some sleep. “I mean, I could probably gradually talk you around to the cabin in the woods. But she’s going to need more. Kids her own age. Schooling of some sort. I don’t even know what else.”

“You could not talk me around,” I answer with mild outrage. “And you wonder why I don’t trust you.”

He snorts. “I don’t wonder why you don’t trust me. I know full and well why you don’t trust me.”

“The cabin was never happening.”

“It’s sure as hell not now.”

I shake my head. “Dean, there’s something I need to say, and I need you to listen very carefully, okay?”

He turns his head to the side so as to watch me in silence.

“This girl came to me. She trusted me. And if you try to cage one of us ever again, I will react accordingly,” I say. “She lives as happy, healthy, and as stable a life as we can possibly provide for her for as long as we’re able. Also…I need to learn how to shoot a gun.”

“You want me to teach you how to shoot a gun so you can shoot me, if necessary?”

“Yes.”

He raises his brows.

“The only acceptable answer to my request is yes. Because you want both me and her to be safe, and teaching me how to defend us makes sense. Especially since those creeps tried to grab me and kill you today.”

“I know,” he whispers back at me. “But I don’t have to like it, Astrid.”

My message has been delivered. I allow my attention to take a stroll around the store. “The glaze on those pottery mugs is gorgeous.”

Over on the bed, Sophie coughs in her sleep. Dean and I both frown at the sound. Only time will tell if she’s sick or not.

“I wonder if we’re going to die,” I say, just making conversation.

He checks his watch. “It’s been eight hours. One of us probably should have started showing symptoms by now if we were going to get it. But…”

“Yeah. I thought I’d be panicking more than this when faced with a possible death sentence.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know.” I ponder the question. “It seems so wild that we’ve made it this far. And this isn’t the first time we’ve been in danger, viral or otherwise. Also, I think I have survivor’s guilt. That we’re alive when everyone else died is so unfair.”

“Don’t say that. Nothing about the virus was fair,” he says. “Anyway…fair and unfair are from another world. They don’t matter anymore.”

“On the off chance we don’t die of the virus in the next few days, we have to figure out how to parent this small person.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“You know, you’re doing great with her so far,” I say. “I think patient, calm, and steady are exactly what she needs right now.”

He grunts.

“How do you feel about having kids?” I ask. “Just out of interest?”

He sighs. “You mean back before fate forced the choice on me?”

“Mm.”

“I don’t know…maybe. What about you?”

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