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Cedra
I could see the wheels turning in Twyla’s head as her fingers played with mine.
She’d rejected Ana’s offer of her own passenger seat for the ride home and was now perched on my legs, pressing close. My thighs had gone numb hours ago.
She’d spent the first ten minutes checking my wound and then asking Ana what she thought when my insistent “I’m fine, I’m fine” just didn’t cut it.
“I was so worried,” she said for the fiftieth time.
It was not me that groaned. It was Trin.
“All right, all right. We get it already. She was hurt, now she’s healing. We’re heading back home, T-minus 5 minutes. Everything’s back to normal.”
If only it was.
These last twelve hours proved just how easily things could change, how fragile everything was. I wanted to wrap Twyla in a protective little bubble and keep her away from anything that might hurt her. And if it had been in my power to do so, I would’ve already done it.
That last interaction with her parents replayed in my head. I’d heard the thoughts flitting through Twyla’s mind and knew that their lack of understanding had pushed more than a few buttons. But I could also tell that her meticulous little brain was slowly picking apart the events of the day, trying to make sense of it in a way she could live with.
“I thought I might never see this house again,” she murmured as the tank looped around my land. “There’s just something about it.”
A stray curl brushed against my hand and I looped it around my finger.
“Like what?” I asked, mesmerized by how that inky strand looked in contrast to my skin.
“I don’t know.” She shrugged, narrowly missing my jaw. “You have real history here. Your family didn’t just move into a house that was already built, they put it together brick by brick.”
Well, the house was made of wood, not brick, but I thought this was not a moment to be pedantic.
“I feel the love there, you know? Every time I fluff a handmade pillow or clean the mismatched plasti-wood floors.”
I made a little noise of agreement, feeling her words bloom into a soft glow in my chest.
“Sometimes I wonder if the house will be a part of my history, too...”
She touched my cheek, raising my gaze to hers. I could see hope glistening in her soft eyes, and I wondered if it was simply a reflection of my own dreams for us, shimmering like tears under the artificial lights of the tank.
“There are too many people.”
Ana’s sudden comment broke our contact.
I gently pushed Twyla down into the space next to me and strapped us both in together for the landing.
“What do you mean?” I asked as the tank swooped low.
“Something’s wrong.”
I felt a groan bubble up my throat.
But Ana was right. There were too many people gathered in front of my family home. Austy and her parents, Fend and his brothers, and a few others from the community stood around in a circle, looking worried.
When Austy saw us emerge from the tank, she rushed forward, running her hands through her close-cropped hair agitatedly.
“What’s wrong?” I asked immediately.
“We received a security warning about an unidentified hovercraft landing on your property about an hour ago—” She paused, looking to my right, eyes widening. “Um, hi.”
Twyla had ducked around me to see what was going on. She gave Austy a little wave. “Hello.”
