Not that I could fault him. Standing in an old house that used to belong to a racist bitch, with creepy-as-shit décor, I felt the same.

At home ’cause of Mac.

Not a hypocrite, I didn’t give him shit about his sappy phrasing.

But I did give him shit. “Nah. She said something about going on a date.”

A loud thunk sounded as Glitch lifted his head and accidentally slammed into Mac’s desk. It’d give him a matching lump to go with his fresh shiner. He didn’t even seem to notice as he moved from under the desk to look where I sat on the ugly couch. “A date? With who? What motherfucker has a death wish?”

I gave a half-shrug. “I only heard part of it.”

“Okay, good.” His anger deflated a little as he took a dip in denial. “Maybe she asked what today’s date is. Or said she wants to eat dates. Or… something.”

Muttering to himself, he went back to working under the desk. When he was done, he used his tablet to run some tests before jotting a note down.

“Mac’s computer is fine.” There was a sneer to the word ’cause Glitch was a tech snob. The fuckin’ nerd. “It’s not a great model, but it’s new. Hardly anything on it, so it’s running as well as it ever will. Her router and modem were old as shit. The provider should’ve caught that when she talked to them. I swapped them out for ones from my stock. I wanna come back eventually to update some cables and increase the speed.”

“Lemme know when, I’ll have to get her outta the house.”

“Why?”

“She still puts up a fight about me buying dinner. No way she’ll let you put that kinda equipment in.”

Truth be told, I hoped she wouldn’t need his help ’cause I wanted her to move in with me sooner rather than later.

I hoped that, but I was realistic enough to know I had a snowball’s chance in hell of it happening in my timeframe.

Glitch packed his gear before following me outside. “Think she’ll talk to me?”

I knew he wasn’t talking about Mac. “I told her you weren’t coming inside.”

“Fucker.”

Even still, he dumped his gear in his truck and reached the porch as I opened my door. Staying outside like I’d promised on his behalf, he called, “Katarzyna, come talk to me.”

“Fuck off,” she bit out.

He rubbed his tattooed head. “My job is to keep you safe—”

“Your job? Lord save me from stupid men. I am not yours. I belong to no one. I am not a child who needs babysitting. And, yes, I get that running away today was childish and doesn’t help my point. But I am a woman. I can do what I want. I can do who—”