Decorating the tree was not what I planned on doing when Kelsey and I got home from the funeral, but here I am. I need to make a decision about Martha’s offer. Normally, I would have just talked to the guys. I’ve always talked everything over with them, and I will, eventually. But, it’s Kelsey I want to talk to, alone, snuggled upstairs. In just a few weeks she’s become just as important to me as these guys, but in a different way. They are like brothers to me. My best friends who get me. She is, well, Kelsey. The woman I’m falling in love with.

At least that’s what I think it is. I’ve never been in love before, but I’m pretty sure that’s what’s happening. She’s the first person I think about when I wake and the last person I think about when I go to sleep, whether I’m with her or not. She’s strong and vulnerable. She can take care of herself, but needs me. She’s smart and focused. She’s a dreamer and kind. Just by holding my hand she calms me, warms me, comforts me and makes me hot.

It’s so odd. I’ve never felt like this before. Never. I’ve dated, but none of them meant even half as much to me as Kelsey does. And, I don’t want to make such a permanent decision that will keep me here when she moves. The more I’m with her, the more I know I’m going with her. I can take classes anywhere, and I don’t want her living three hours away.

Yet, opportunities like Martha’s don’t happen every day. I’ll have a hell of a lot more security running the place, than always hoping to be employed by someone else. The option to buy is even on the table, which would leave me permanently here while she is somewhere else.

I can’t have both. I want Kelsey. I need Kelsey. She is permanently rooted in my life now. But, what kind of life can I offer her if I’m a tattoo artist working where I can? There is no stability in that. It doesn’t matter that she’ll have the steady job, I’m the guy, and I’m the one who should have job security and take care of her. Not the other way around.

Besides, teachers don’t last long at Baxter. They are usually out the door by twenty-six or so. Or maybe that’s just how it seemed. Maybe that’s all the longer they could take it given the students at the school. When I was there, I’m pretty sure there wasn’t a teacher over twenty-five or a counselor over thirty.

“Kelsey, is there an age limit on the employees at Baxter?” Wouldn’t that be considered age discrimination?

“Sort of,” she answers, sipping from her cup of chocolate. “The students respond to adults who are closer to their age more than someone much older. They see people pushing forty as out of touch, not understanding, and all that. Same for counselors. Kids like to talk to someone younger, not some gray-haired old man smoking a pipe. Not that anyone would ever smoke at Baxter. The school encourages teachers to look for other positions before they turn thirty and the age is thirty-five for counselors.”

I nod and take this in. Kelsey will have five to eight years at Baxter before she has to find another school. Then where will she move? With art programs constantly being cut from schools because of budgets, she might not find a job right away. If I’m with her, just working for someone else, hoping I don’t get fired, then neither one of us would have job security.

“Besides, Mrs. Robak told me that the burnout rate for teachers is about four years.”

“Makes sense to me,” Sean says.

Four years! That is not much time. When I started college, it felt like forever before I graduated, now I know how quickly that time could fly.

So, what to do about me and Kelsey? What to do about Skin Scribes?