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“If it’s just you and me in this conversation, then I agree.” I think about Jamef, his patient, steadfast expression, and she’s right. He does deserve better than to have two females shrieking at him constantly.
“If it’s just you and me, you come and tell me when I’m being stubborn, okay? Maybe we have a word that we use to make the other stop in their tracks and re-evaluate.” Bethiah gives my hands a squeeze. “If it’s just you and me, you’re the first person I’ve cared for in a long, long time.”
My lip wobbles despite my best efforts, and I nod. “I’m sorry I overreacted earlier.”
“I’m sorry I made you overreact.” She squeezes my hands again. “So…what’s our word? Let’s make it something that wouldn’t come up in regular conversation, so when we hear it we know to drop everything and re-consider.”
I think for a moment. What would be appropriate? “Clone?”
Her expression immediately hardens. “No. We never use that word. Not even around each other. It’ll keep you safest.”
Oh. “How about arm cannon? Because when you suggested it, I wanted to punch you.”
Bethiah snorts. “Yeah, that works.”
Ninety-Two
JAMEF
“If it’s just you and me, you’re the first person I’ve cared for in a long, long time.”
I hear the fragment of their conversation as I stride down the hall towards our quarters, and it makes me stop short.
It’s like a knife in my gut.
Haven’t I suspected all along that they’re with me out of convenience? That the real attraction is between Dora and Bethiah? I should have known. Shouldn’t have let myself hope that things would be different. That not one, but two people would care for me and want to be with me. Their voices lower, murmuring, and I move away from the door, not wanting them to hear me.
I don’t want them to know that I know.
As I retreat to the end of the hall, my leg jerks, the response-time flashing red in my eye-sensors. I grab the rail on the wall and hold onto it, waiting for it to return to normal. With a few frustrated kicks at the air, it surges with power again in an almost painful way, and then settles in once more.
I bite back a sigh of frustration. Not right now. There’s enough going on.
Turning, I walk back towards our quarters again, deliberately making more noise as I head down the hall so they hear me approaching. Pausing before I enter the room, I step in and give them a weary smile. “All good.”
Both my mates are seated on the edge of the bed, holding hands. They look over at me as I enter, and Dora beams in my direction. “You’re just in time.”
“Oh?”
She nods, giving Bethiah’s hands a squeeze before climbing over to the far side of the bed. “Yes. I’m exhausted. I hope you guys don’t mind if we cuddle and just go straight to sleep?”
“Why would we mind?” Bethiah asks.
“Because I’m going to be selfish and demand cuddling,” Dora announces. “From both of you.”
“You absolute monster,” Bethiah replies dryly, giving me an amused look. “I’m fine with it if you are.”
I nod, not trusting my voice. Part of me wants to demand that they be honest with me, that they tell me that I’m the unnecessary portion of this triad. That they don’t need me and I should go back to my lonely apartment on Three Nebulas, where I listen to life moving around the universe but never participate in it. I didn’t mind that once, but I suspect it would just feel like a tomb now.
In a way, they’ve ruined me. Now I know what love and affection feels like—even just the scraps of it—and I want more.
I’m quiet as I undress, and by the time I get into bed, Bethiah and Dora are already there, pressed against each other. The moment I sink into the bed, Dora pulls my arm around her waist, cuddling me against her. She sighs with contentment and I lower my head to her hair, breathing in her soft scent.
Enjoy now, I remind myself. Take what you can get.
DORA
It’s been three days since the fight. Three days of peace and quiet, three days of love and affection from my mates, and me loving them right back. It’s also been three days since I’ve seen Rhonda, since I’m deliberately avoiding her. I don’t want to look at the beautiful, ethereal creature that Bethiah was once in love with. I just don’t.
I’ve been spending my time on lessons with Bethiah, which have been going surprisingly well. She’s a good instructor for all of her impatience and her jokes, and I’ve been getting better every day with my blaster. She also takes time to sit with me in the afternoons and go over the primer on Homeworld’s written language, and it’s starting to look less like indecipherable garbage and more like a language. The thought of learning it excites me, because then all the doors will open up. I’ll be able to read communications that come in. I’ll be able to work the controls on the ship and know what I’m reaching for. No one will be able to keep secrets from me any longer.
