Instead, it felt like safety and that was terrifying in ways she couldn't name.
Harper retreated to the guest room without another word. The door slid shut behind her with that same soft hiss, and she leaned against it, her eyes closing.
One day down. God knew how many more to go.
She moved to the viewport and pressed her forehead against the cool surface, staring out at Earth rotating below. Somewhere down there, her life had continued without her. The data center would notice she hadn't shown up. Her landlord would wonder where rent was when the signing bonus got clawed back. The world kept turning.
And she was up here, in quarters nicer than anything she'd ever lived in, under the supervision of a man who made her feel things she had no business feeling.
A cage with a view.
A warden who smelled like safety.
And a cousin fighting for her life because Harper hadn't been strong enough to say no.
She counted her heartbeats against the viewport. Fifty-three. Fifty-four. Fifty-five.
Tomorrow she'd see Delilah. Tomorrow she'd start figuring out how to fix this mess.
Tonight, she'd just survive.
Like always.
Harper pushed away from the viewport and climbed into the too-soft bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. The guest room was dark except for the light from Earth painting everything in shades of blue.
In the main quarters, she heard Kirr moving around. The quiet sounds of someone existing in their own space. No pressure. No demands.
Just there.
She closed her eyes and tried not to think about how his hand had felt on her elbow, steadying her. Tried not to remember the heat of his body against her back.
Tried not to want things she couldn't have.
Harper stared at the ceiling and counted the light panels. Seventeen. She started over, counted slower.
Her bladder protested.
She'd been holding it for forty minutes because she was apparently twelve years old and couldn't walk twenty feet without falling apart. Ridiculous. She was a grown woman. She could pee without having a crisis about it.
Except the bathroom was out there. In the main quarters. Which meant leaving the guest room. Which meant potentially running into Kirr.
Her bladder clenched and she bit back a groan.
Fine. Quick trip. In and out. He was probably working or sleeping or doing whatever seven-foot warriors did when they weren't supervising flight risks. She wouldn't even see him.
Harper pushed off the bed and pressed her ear against the door. The metal was cool against her cheek. Nothing. No footsteps. No voices. Just the station's hum thrumming through the walls like a distant heartbeat.
She palmed the control and the door slid open. The main quarters were dim—evening mode, all warm amber light. The desk sat vacant, datapad dark. Empty.
Good.
She padded across the floor, bare feet silent on the cool surface. The polished metal pulled heat from her skin with each step. The bathroom was just past the kitchen. Twenty feet. She could make it twenty feet.
Fifteen.
Ten.
The sound of water stopped running.
