I'd known that. I'd known it from the moment I watched the flames eating through my bakery, through everything Teddy and I owned. His baby pictures, my grandpa's recipes, all the memories of our life on Tau Ceti. But hearing it confirmed still felt like a punch to the gut.
"Okay," I managed, the word barely more than a breath.
His eyes met mine, and I saw something flicker there—determination, anger, a focus that made my pulse quicken. He wasn't just looking for salvageable belongings. He was looking for evidence. For proof of who had done this to us.
"Why don't you go rest?" Cristox nodded toward the bedroom that Teddy and I shared. "I'll finish up with Craig."
I retreated to the bedroom, but relaxing was impossible. My mind wouldn't stop spinning, replaying the flames licking up the walls, the smoke that had burned my lungs, the way I'd screamed for Teddy until my throat was raw. The way Cristox had emerged from that hellscape with my son in his arms like some kind of avenging angel. I lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to breathe through the tightness in my chest.
At least I didn't have to worry about rebuilding. That was one small mercy.
Pearl had called this morning, her voice warm and reassuring through the comm's tinny speaker. The restaurant—thank God—had escaped damage. It was right next door, closeenough that I'd been terrified we'd lose that too, but the fire had stayed contained to the bakery.
"Ruby, don't you worry about a thing," Pearl had said in that no-nonsense way of hers. "We're going to add a second kitchen. A proper baker's kitchen, just for you. Everything you need—a deck oven, a proper mixer, stone counters for pastry work."
I'd tried to protest, to say it was too much, but she'd cut me off.
"And we're pushing the opening back. You need time. Time to breathe, time to heal. The restaurant will be there when you're ready."
I was so grateful I'd almost cried on the call, my throat closing up with emotion I couldn't name. Because the truth was, I was too shellshocked to think about the restaurant right now. All I could think about was Teddy, keeping him safe, and the fact that someone had burned us out of our home.
On purpose.
I must have fallen asleep at some point, exhaustion finally dragging me under. When I awoke, the light filtering through the windows had shifted to the colors of dusk, painting everything in shades of purple and shadow. For a moment I felt disoriented, forgetting where I was. Then it all came rushing back.
I pushed myself up from the bed and padded into the living room, my body stiff and aching.
Cristox sat at the small dining table, hunched over papers spread across the surface. Even in the dim light, I could see the soot still streaking his face. His clothes were filthy, stained with ash and smoke.
He was so focused on the documents that he didn't notice me at first. The fire chief's report, I realized. He was studying it like if he just looked hard enough, he could find the person who'd done this and make them pay.
"Where's Teddy?" I asked.
Cristox glanced up, and I saw the exhaustion etched into every line of his face, the shadows under his eyes, the tightness around his mouth. Even tired and covered in soot, he was beautiful in that dangerous, otherworldly way that made my heart stutter. "At Mei's. Playing with her kids."
A spike of anxiety shot through me. "Is he...?"
"He's safe," Cristox said quickly, reading my panic. "I walked him over myself. Mei said she'd keep him as long as we needed." He rubbed a hand over his face, leaving another smudge of soot across his cheek. "Being with the other kids helps take his mind off what happened."
I nodded slowly, letting out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. He was right. Teddy needed normalcy right now. He needed to be around other children, to play and laugh and forget, even for a little while, that someone had tried to hurt us.
"You should shower," I said softly, moving closer to the table. "Get cleaned up."
Cristox glanced down at himself as if just remembering the state he was in. "Yeah." But he didn't move. His eyes went back to the report, his jaw tight with determination.
"Cristox."
He looked at me again, and something in his expression made my chest ache—a vulnerability I rarely saw in him, a weariness that went soul-deep.
"Shower," I repeated, gentler this time. "The report will still be here."
Finally, he nodded and pushed back from the table, his movements stiff like he'd been sitting too long.
While the water ran in the bathroom, I moved around the kitchen, trying to keep my hands busy. People had been bringing food for days—casseroles in disposable pans, pasta dishes, baked goods wrapped in foil. The kind of thing neighbors did whentragedy struck. I pulled out what I could easily assemble: cheese, crackers, fruit, sliced meat, olives from a jar.
I arranged it all on a wooden cutting board, making it look halfway decent. At least it was something. Neither of us had eaten properly since the fire, despite Mei’s attempts.
The water shut off and a couple of minutes later I heard the bathroom door open. I was still fussing with the arrangement, trying to make the crackers fan out just right, when Cristox emerged, and the sight of him made me freeze.
