My pulse jumps, and I know he feels it.
“But we’re ridiculous together,” he continues, his thumb tracing gentle patterns across my knuckles. “I’ve spent three years maintaining controlled systems. You’re teaching me that sometimes chaos is worth the risk.”
“You’ve been spending too much time with Pickles.”
“I have been spending exactly the right amount of time with people who remind me that efficiency isn’t the only metric worth optimizing for.”
Those careful patterns across my knuckles. The heat of his palm. The way his markings are doing that warm bright pulse that means he’s happy.
“Three days.”
“Three days. No pressure, no expectations beyond the hope that you’ll stop planning escape routes long enough to see what staying might look like.”
“I always plan escape routes.”
“I know. But maybe this time you won’t need them.”
Maybe.
The word sits between us like a promise, terrifying and hopeful in equal measure.
We stand there in the dimmed corridor, his hand in mine, neither of us moving. His markings cast soft light across our joined hands. Outside, the storm rages. Inside, something else builds—slower, warmer, infinitely more dangerous.
“Dove,” he says quietly.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for staying.”
“You didn’t give me much choice.”
“You always have a choice.” His voice drops lower, intimate. “You could have run the moment that message arrived. Taken your ship and fled despite the danger. You chose to stay. To trust us enough to stay.”
“Trust might be a strong word for ‘trapped by weather and debt collectors.’”
“Is it?” His yellow eyes hold mine. “Or are you starting to realize that maybe staying isn’t the worst thing that could happen?”
Before I can answer—before I can figure out what to say to that—Tavia’s voice carries down the corridor.
“Are you two done having your moment? Because Pickles says we should celebrate Dove staying with dessert, and I found the recipe for Earth chocolate cake in Papa’s research files, and I think we should make it!”
Cetus’s markings flare bright with embarrassment. “I was researching comprehensive Earth cuisine—”
“You have a recipe file specifically for desserts,” Pickles supplies helpfully. “Organized by complexity and romantic appeal. The chocolate cake is filed under ‘high difficulty, significant emotional impact.’”
“I will dismantle you.”
“Statistically improbable given my current integration with station systems.”
I’m laughing now, the tension of the last hour finally breaking. “You researched romantic desserts?”
“I researched… comprehensive options for… various social situations.”
“He has a whole new section on ‘foods humans associate with courtship rituals,’” Tavia calls from the kitchen. “It’s very thorough!”
“Tavia!”
“What? I’m helping!”
