“This isn’t your problem!”
“You became my problem the moment you walked into my station!” His voice drops lower. “You became important. To me. To Tavia. You think I’ll just let you run into danger alone?”
Dove’s eyes are wet now. “I’m trying to protect you!”
“So am I!”
I stand between them, my markings doing panicked flashes I can’t control.
They’re fighting. About leaving. About Dove running away to keep us safe.
No no no no no.
“Don’t go,” I whisper.
They both look at me.
“Please don’t go,” I say louder. “Please, Dove. We can fix this. Together. Please don’t leave before...”
Before Papa’s marks stay glowy forever.
Before we get to be a real family.
Before I lose another mom.
“Tavia—” Dove starts.
But I run to my room before she can finish, before the tears fall.
I press my ear to the vent that connects to the kitchen, breathing hard.
“I have to go,” Dove says quietly. “I’ll leave tonight. Give you plausible deniability.”
“Like hell you will.”
“Cetus—”
“No. Listen to me.” Papa’s voice is intense. Raw. “I didn’t want this. Didn’t expect to feel this way again. But I do. I want you here. Permanently. Not just until the storm clears. I want you in my life, in Tavia’s life, in our home. I want—”
He stops. I hold my breath.
“I want you forever,” he finally says. “However long forever is. Whatever complications come with it.”
Silence.
Then Dove’s voice, small and broken: “I want that too. So much. But I can’t drag you into my mess. I won’t.”
“You’re not dragging. I’m choosing.”
“I need to call Mother Morrison. Get extraction coordinates.”
Footsteps. The door to the guest quarters closing.
I wait, listening.
A few minutes later, I hear Dove’s voice through the vents.
“Mother? It’s Dove. I need to update you on the situation.”
