Like this scene is a wish come true and a secret unraveling all at once.
I don’t know why that hits so hard.
But it does.
A minute later, I pass Dar back gently, carefully. He curls into her like a kitten, bottle still in hand. I run a hand through my hair, exhaling.
“He’s amazing,” I say.
“Yeah,” she replies. But her voice’s soft. Strained.
I want to ask something—maybewhat are you not telling me—but it feels too soon.
So I don’t.
Instead, I step out onto the porch.
The sun hasn’t fully risen yet. The stars are fading, caught in the in-between of night and morning. The air’s crisp, laced with dust and ozone and the faint scent of the biolumina bloom out by the ridgeline. I lean on the railing.
Paint's still chipped in the same spots. My work, years ago. I remember every stroke. The way the light looked through her hair when she teased me about painting instead of helping with the wiring. The sound of her laugh echoing in the canyon air.
I trail a finger over the same spot I painted last.
Faded navy blue.
It never did match the base coat.
But she said it made the porch feel like home.
Behind me, I hear her humming again. Dar gurgles something back.
I close my eyes.
Maybe this is it.
This is what coming home feels like.
I smile, small but real.
I think I’m finally getting my second chance.
What I don’t know—what Ican’tknow—is how close that truth really is.
And how far away it might slip the second I find it.
CHAPTER 36
NOVA
It starts small.
A moment.
A glance.
The sound of Dar’s laugh echoing down the corridor, high and unguarded and sogoddamnhappy it stops me in my tracks.
Kaz is crouched beside him at the console bay—one of the older drone simulator rigs I’ve been meaning to decommission but never got around to. He’s got Dar on his lap, the controls clutched in tiny hands, guiding a clunky quad-copter through pixelated jungle terrain on-screen.
