Inside the flat, it’s dim and quiet. Nova’s hand-scanned me access to her quarters last night, though she didn’t say why. I think she knew. I think she’s always known this moment had to come, and she trusted me enough to do it right.
Dar wriggles in my arms. “Can I have cookies?”
“Not yet,” I say, voice soft. “First, can I tell you something cool?”
His brows shoot up like I just offered him a laser dragon.
“Is it about pirates?”
I chuckle. “No. Cooler.”
“Aliens?”
I shake my head, then carry him over to the little reading nook by the viewport. It’s shaped like a half-moon, the cushions sunken with use, Nova’s neat handwriting etched onto the side of the bookshelf in silver ink:To Dar, may the stars always listen.
I set him down gently and sit across from him, our knees touching. The glow from the starscape lamp overhead casts slow-rotating constellations across the walls. He always said they helped him sleep. I think they help him dream.
I take his tiny hands in mine. They’re sticky. Of course they are.
“Hey,” I say, swallowing a knot the size of a collapsed moon. “Can I tell you a secret?”
He leans in. “A real one?”
“The realest one I’ve ever had.”
His green eyes—Nova’s eyes—go round. “Okay.”
I hold his hands tighter. “I’m your dad.”
Dar stares at me.
Just stares.
Not the way I thought he would. No wide-eyed surprise. No tears or fear or confusion. He just... looks.
Then he blinks. “Duh.”
I jerk back like I’ve been shot. “What?”
He shrugs, completely unbothered. “You talk like me. And your ears are pointy too.”
I laugh. It starts as a chuckle, short and sharp, then something inside me breaks open like a decompression hatch. The air’s too thin. My chest’s too full. The sound tumbles out of me in huge, ragged pieces.
Dar watches with wide eyes as I keel sideways, clutching my stomach and howling. I can’t stop. I can’t stop. I laugh until it’s not laughter anymore—just air and salt and something too old and too raw to name.
My hands go to my face. Wet. Gods, I’m crying.
I don’t even care.
Dar crawls into my lap without hesitation, like this is just what we do now, like my arms are home.
“Why’re you leaky?” he asks, pressing a chubby hand to my cheek.
“Because I’m happy, starlight,” I whisper, voice wrecked. “Because I never thought I’d get to hold you like this.”
He hugs me tighter, chin digging into my collarbone. “You can always hold me. I’m fast but I’m not faster than you.”
Stars save me.
