“I didn’t want to talk about him in front of the cameras.” Which is the truth for why I didn’t mention him during filming. And after filming…I guess I didn’t want to talk about my failed relationship when Harlee and Briar were so happy in their new relationships.
“Is Lucas the reason you want to return to Earth?” Harlee asks hesitantly, as if she’s afraid asking will cause me more hurt. “Is he the love of your life? Is that what you’re telling us?”
“How could he have been, when I would’ve had to give up my bakery to stay with him?”
We fall silent, thinking about that. It takes a couple of seconds for me to stop being so self-centered and realize I might’ve insulted them.
“I mean, I know you guys had to give up Earth and everything for Sorin and Roan, but…” I’m floundering at the bottom ofthe huge fucking hole I’ve dug for myself. “But, um, maybe it’s different because your mums weren’t like mine. I mean?—"
“I gave up my design business for Roan,” Harlee interrupts before I can dig myself any deeper, thank God. “And I suppose that was a big deal, but it never felt big in comparison to my feelings for Roan. The two things don’t compare, at least not for me.”
“All I gave up was a ton of debt,” says Briar. “Staying was actually the smart thing to do in my case.”
I look between them, and they both smile at me.
“I’ve ruined the lives of too many other people to abandon my bakery.” Not even for Killan.
“We’ll get you home,” Briar promises.
“Thanks,” I say, even though I still don’t believe her. At least I’m not yelling anymore or throwing chairs.
Harlee squeezes my hand. “Killan wouldn’t let you miss your only chance to leave. If he thought the Freighter could get you home, he’d be the first person putting you on it.”
Would he? How can she be so sure? “I’m worried?—”
There’s the sound of howling wind followed by a door closing, and then footsteps on the stairs. Roan appears, holding armfuls of crates and boxes piled so high he can hardly see where he’s stepping.
“Babe.” Harlee rushes over to him, taking the top box from the pile. Briar and I stand up too, but neither of us is quite tall enough to confidently take anything off the pile without knocking the lower items.
“Cargo,” Roan says, as if it wasn’t already obvious. “This stuff is for Killan’s kitchen, but there’s a lot more to come.”
“We can help carry stuff,” Briar says.
Roan shakes his head. “If you come outside, Sorin will blame me for not stopping you.”
“What’s wrong out there?” Harlee asks. “Why is everyone so tense all of a sudden?”
“Killan says Atakis is asking questions about you and Briar.” Roan piles the boxes by the door to the walk-in pantry and wraps his arms around his Mate. She snuggles close.
“What sorts of questions?” I ask.
“Where you come from. Who you are. Innocent enough, if you were not Human.” He kisses the top of Harlee’s head, his eyes narrowed in an uncharacteristic glare. Such a look invites more questions than it answers, but he releases his fiancée and starts back up the stairs before I can ask anything else. “Got to get more boxes.”
“We can at least start unpacking these,” Harlee suggests.
None of the food looks like anything we have back on Earth, and most of it’s in packaging designed to keep it fresh for a long time. There’s no flour or yeast. There are no sour cherries, and there’s definitely no butter or lard.
Together, we start sorting everything into the pantry, trying to match Killan’s strict organization.
“Er, what’s this?” Briar asks, indicating the final crate. It’s larger than the others and had been at the bottom of Roan’s pile. There’s writing on the front, which we can’t read, and?—
“That’s the LOVE GALAXY logo.” I point to the familiar heart with planet rings around the center.
We share a look. This can’t be good.
Briar rips it open and pulls out what looks like a baking sheet. The box is filled with them. They’re metal, similar in size to a small poster, completely flat, about an eighth of an inch thick, and none of the edges have been cut straight. Briar’s mouth drops open, and she turns the metal sheet around to face Harlee and me.
It’s Briar’s head and neck, printed in perfect clarity. I can see the individual strands of her copper-colored hair, and I could count her freckles.
