Page 204 of Every Almost

Charlie's knee suddenly shifted away, and Reyna felt the absence immediately in ways she could not explain. Instead, she kept going. "His shuttle came back without him. I read histransmission in Elena's office, standing at her desk, because even ten months later I still would not call it mine. He apologized and told me he could not come back. He told me to keep going, to be the captain Elena and he believed I could be."

"What did you do?" Charlie asked.

"I went to Borran's kitchen, actually."

Charlie laughed, a real one, right out loud. "Really?"

"Yes," Reyna answered, but let her voice go solemn. "But not for the reason you may think." Charlie's expression softened again. "There used to be three settings at his counter. After Elena, there were two. Then, that night, there was only one." She took a deep breath. "He fed me and I ate because refusing him would have taken more strength than I had. But, after that, the ship still needed a captain. So I kept the consoles lit and the stations manned and the ship rescuing what Elena, Jere, and I built it to rescue."

Charlie looked at her, close enough that Reyna felt the need to meet her eyes. "That's not the same as being okay."

"No," Reyna said. "It is not."

Charlie's eyes were on her, steady through the redness. But there was no pity. Instead, Reyna saw recognition.

Reyna looked away first, moving her gaze over the stars because they were easier to look at. But also Charlie had a way of looking at her that made it near impossible to look away.

Beside her, Charlie shifted. Reyna expected distance immediately since that was the Kaelari way. It would have been appropriate.

Kaelari grief had an architecture and at its center was space. Space to process, distance to allow for one to overcome the feelings that could threaten the Kaelari holding. Her species did not crowd pain. Instead, they waited at the threshold and let the grieving person decide when, how, or even whether to invite you in.

But Charlie did not know that. She couldn't have. And so, she moved closer. Only an inch or two, but enough that her shoulder pressed into Reyna's.

And Reyna stopped breathing.

The contact was not accidental this time. It was clear and poignant. Charlie had specifically aimed it with the same care she used fitting a component into place.

Charlie didn't say anything, and Reyna realized it was that which made it different overall. Not the touch, though that was something all on its own. No, it was that Charlie didn’t explain it or ask permission after the fact, she didn't fill the space with words. She just simply put herself where she had assumed she was needed, answering Reyna's grief by just staying.

Reyna blinked slowly, and when she opened her eyes, she saw that the stars hadn’t changed, the ship still moved. But she felt the space beside her no longer feel empty anymore.

Reyna did not know how long they sat that way. Eventually Charlie shifted, only enough to ease the pressure between them, her hand resting on the bench. Reyna raised her eyes to Charlie.

"Rey," she said.

Charlie looked to her. Reyna had not meant to say the name like that. But she figured the simplest explanation was the best. "Jere called me Rey first," she said. "At the academy, the first night we met, in fact. He'd known me less than five minutes and somehow discovered something sacred before I even knew it to be." Reyna laughed softly. "I really should have corrected him."

"But you didn't," Charlie stated.

"No," Reyna said, looking to Charlie.

"Why not?"

Because he had said it as if he already knew her. Because no one had ever claimed familiarity with her without trying to take something from her. Because he had made the shortening sound less like a liberty and more like a place at a table. She didn’t sayany of that, though she didn't know why. "I told myself it was efficient."

Charlie's brows furrowed. "But was it?"

"Technically, yes," Reyna said.

"There," Charlie said, raising her hand and pointing at Reyna. "There it is."

Reyna looked at Charlie with a confused expression. "What?"

"That... thing you do," Charlie stated matter-of-factly.

"'Thing I do?'" Reyna repeated, a single eyebrow rising.

"Where you make something sound emotional, real, and then you whip it upside down, as if placed under logistics, so nobody can accuse you of being a person."