Page 114 of Aviatrix

I nearly drop my tray. “My dad?”

My ears start ringing and my pulse drops. I grip the edge of the table just to stay upright.

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. He introduced himself. Said I could sit next to him. He was… honestly, he was the nicest guy in that room.”

I stare at him, breath shallow.

Dad was part of the Legion? Or, at least, there at the beginning?

“Did you ever go back?” I ask hoarsely.

“No. Walker did. For years. I never knew what it became. He never told me.”

“You lied to me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” he says. “When I told you I’d only seen the Legion once, I meant it. I didn’t know what the meeting was or what it would become. I only wrote down a page of notes about flight logistics and protocols, then handed the paper to Walker when I returned to Langdon. I didn’t make the connection until you told me what that meeting had been.”

“No.” I shake my head. “You never told me you met my dad.”

He licks his lips. “I didn’t know how.”

“Try now.”

Lark hesitates.

“You were so angry with him,” he says quietly. “I didn’t want to add fuel to that fire. I thought about telling you a few times, but the moment always passed. I didn’t want to ruin good moments with his memory. And I didn’t want to add to the hurt in the bad ones.”

I exhale. “My dad was part of the Legion. Is that why the aliens reached out to me?”

Lark shrugs. “It’s possible.”

I fall silent, my conversation with Amber echoing in my head. You spend your whole life thinking you know your parents, but they’re just people. Flawed. Haunted. Full of secrets.

“Maybe I didn’t know him at all.”

“I get that,” Lark says quietly. “Better than most.”

He knows what it’s like to grow up in the shadow of an ambitious man. “Did they set a date for your dad’s funeral?”

He nods. “Tomorrow evening. Amber and I are flying out in the morning.” A pause. “Would you want to come with us?”

I hesitate. For three years, Lark and Amber were my family. I want to be there for them. But looking at him now, at the eyes I used to love, the jawline I used to trace, the betrayal I can’t seem to forget, I just... can’t.

“I need to stay here in case—”

“He comes back?” Lark finishes for me.

I shake my head. “No. My mom. In case she resurfaces.”

“We’re still looking,” he says. “No leads yet.”

“Thank you for trying.”

“Kin,” he starts, “I can say I’m sorry every day for the rest of my life, and I will if that’s what it takes. I don’t expect forgiveness. But maybe we can be…cordial? At least until the world stops trying to end.”