“‘Don’t be cheap. Durability costs.’”
He bursts out laughing. “You’re an ass. I like that. You start Monday.”
Alaina is so proud when I tell her I got it. She even fake-bows in the middle of her kitchen, balancing Caelix on one hip.
I try to ignore the way her eyes light up. The way her cheek dimples when she smiles.
“You did good, Troka,” she says. “I’m proud of you.”
I shift awkwardly. “Didn’t expect to be selling floating tin cans for a living.”
“Life’s full of weird turns,” she says, kissing Caelix’s forehead. “Doesn’t mean you’re on the wrong road.”
Her words settle in my chest like a weight and a balm.
I want to say something. Anything.
Instead, I nod.
She sees too much.
But stars help me—I want her to seeeverything.
CHAPTER 15
ALAINA
“Are you seriously gonna wear that?” I ask, biting back a laugh as Troka lumbers out of his apartment in what can only be described as a half-zipped, half-wrinkled company polo two sizes too small.
“It’s the uniform,” he growls.
“It’s a cry for help.” I circle him, eyeing the way the fabric stretches across his chest like it’s holding on for dear life. “You look like a bouncer at a children’s party.”
He grunts. “They didn’t have triple-XL.”
“You’re a seven-foot-tall space lizard, Troka. Just say no to polos.”
He snorts and shoves his keycard in his back pocket. “You coming or what?”
“You bet your overbuilt ass I am,” I say, grabbing my coat and sliding Caelix into the baby harness on my chest. “I need to see this disaster firsthand.”
The used hovercarlot smells like scorched plastisteel and stale cafeteria food. Sun beats down on rows of half-bustedvehicles with peeling decals that scream things like“GRAVITY GRIP GUARANTEED!”and“SPACE-READY...SORTA!”
Troka stomps across the asphalt like he’s back on patrol. He barely makes it two feet before a family of three wanders over to check out a hovertruck with a rusted undercarriage.
“Need help?” he booms.
The mom jumps a little. “Uh... maybe?”
He nods. “This one? Trash. Absolute junk. But,” he says, crouching beside the wheel well, “the engine’s got heart. If you treat her right, she’ll get you from A to B—probably even C.”
The dad laughs. “You always this honest?”
“No. Usually I lie in combat situations.”
The mom laughs, the kid giggles, and somehow—somedamnhow—they end up test-driving the thing ten minutes later.
I blink. “Did he just...sellthat hoverjunk?”
