But dating Craig felt like going through the motions. Nice dinners, polite conversation, a goodnight kiss that left me feeling nothing but a vague sense of unease. He deserved someone who could love him the way he deserved, and I wasn't that person.
I couldn't be. Not anymore.
Because I was ruined for anyone else.
Cristox had done that to me. With his quiet strength, his careful way with Teddy, the way he looked at me like I was something precious and rare. And that kiss... God, that kiss. It had awakened something in me I didn't realize had been sleeping. His mouth on mine, his hands cradling my face like I might shatter. The heat of him seeping into my bones and lighting up every nerve ending I'd thought had gone dormant.
I'd lain awake all last night thinking about it. Thinking about him in the next room, so close I could hear him breathing through the wall, the soft rustle of sheets when he shifted. I wondered what would happen if I just got up, walked across the hall, and slipped into bed beside him.
I knew exactly what I wanted to happen.
I wanted his hands on me. I wanted to feel the weight of him, the strength of him pressing me into the mattress. I wanted to taste his skin and hear him say my name in that low, rumbling voice that made heat pool low in my belly. I wanted to stop pretending that this ache in my chest was anything other than what it was—desire, need, and something deeper that both thrilled and terrified me.
But I couldn't. Because he was leaving. Because this was temporary. Because letting myself have him would only make it hurt worse when he left.
The sun had started to dip toward the horizon when I set the last of the bread on the counter to cool. The golden loaves steamed in the dimming light, the crusts crackling softly as they contracted. I wiped my hands on my apron and looked around Rachel's kitchen one more time, making sure everything was in order before I locked up.
Cristox and Teddy had gone fishing this afternoon. They wouldn't be waiting for me, which meant I had time to stop atthe market and pick up ingredients for dinner. Pasta, I decided. Something simple. Cristox liked spaghetti as much as Teddy did, another thing they had in common. Like the way they both got that same focused look when they were concentrating on something. Or the way they both tilted their heads when they were listening. The way they both made me feel like I mattered.
God, they were so much alike.
My chest tightened at the thought. It was going to break my heart when Cristox left. Not just mine—Teddy's too. My son had already lost so much. And now he'd found someone who looked at him like he hung the moon, someone who taught him how to cast a line and didn't mind answering the same question seventeen times. Someone who made him feel safe.
Someone who made us both feel safe.
I locked the deli door behind me and started for home, my feet carrying me on autopilot while my mind spun in circles. Maybe I should just tell him. Tell him that I didn't want him to go. That I wanted him to stay, wanted to see where this thing between us could lead. That I was tired of being afraid.
But what if he didn't feel the same way? What if I was reading too much into every look, every touch, every moment of tenderness?
What if I wasn't?
I took the long way home, avoiding Main Street and cutting through the side streets near the park instead. Walking alone still made my pulse quicken, though I hated admitting it even to myself. Someone had set that fire. The thought sent a chill down my spine despite the lingering warmth of the day.
Cristox hadn't liked the idea of me walking by myself. We'd argued about it this morning, his jaw set in that stubborn way that made him look even more like Teddy. But I refused to be a prisoner in my own town. Refused to let whoever didthis control my life through fear. I'd already lost my bakery. I wouldn't lose my freedom too.
So we'd compromised. I'd stick to well-lit streets, avoid shortcuts through alleys or empty lots. Keep my comm in my pocket, ready to call him at the first sign of anything wrong. He'd made me promise, those golden eyes intense and worried, and I had. Because as much as I needed to prove I wasn't afraid, I also wasn't stupid.
The street was quiet but not empty. A few people were out, heading home from work or running evening errands. Normal. Safe. I forced myself to breathe evenly, to walk with confidence I didn't entirely feel. I wouldn't let fear win. I couldn't.
The sun was halfway set when I passed what was left of my bakery, casting long shadows that made the destruction look even worse. Everything looked gray in the fading light. The charred beams jutted up like broken bones, the crumbled brick scattered across the lot, the scorched earth where my garden used to be. Even the surrounding landscape looked burnt, like the fire had somehow leached all the color out, leaving only ash and ruin.
I hated it. Hated how it looked, hated what it represented, hated that every time I walked past, I felt that same crushing weight of loss all over again, like a stone pressing down on my chest.
I was about to turn away when something near the back of the bakery caught my eye. Something that didn't belong. A dark shape on the ground, too large to be debris, too still to be an animal. It looked like someone curled up sleeping, though the position was wrong—too awkward, too unnatural. Homelessness wasn't a problem on Tau Ceti, but more than once, we'd had someone drink too much of Clemon Peters'moonshine and sleep it off where they fell. Still, sleeping beside a burned-out building wasn't the safest thing in the world.
My heart started to pound as I moved closer, my feet crunching over ash and broken glass, each step sending up small puffs of gray dust.
"Hello?" My voice came out thin and uncertain, swallowed by the empty lot.
The shape didn't move.
I took another step, then another, and that's when I saw the boots. The uniform pants. The familiar broad shoulders.
"Craig?"
The one person on the entire planet I would never expect to find passed out drunk.
I broke into a run, stumbling over rubble, my breath coming in short gasps. Please let him be okay. Please let him just be drunk. Please—
