Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
ELAINA
The warm desert wind swept over them as they walked along the dunes, the white sand beneath their feet shifting with each step. Elaina let out a small laugh, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear as Lance pointed out one of the distant ships in the sky.
“I’m telling you, that model was outdated five hundred cycles ago,” he said with a grin. “No way it’s making that trip again.”
Elaina rolled her eyes. “You’re such a ship snob.”
“Someone has to be,” he shot back playfully. “Besides, it’s fun to see how much they think they can push those old engines.”
She shook her head, but the truth was, Elaina was enjoying herself. Lance was easy to talk to, smart, and funny. Elaina had resolved to give him a proper chance, and a segment since her return to Earendel, giving that chance had become significantly easier, especially with Lance’s considerable patience—she hadn’t even kissed the man yet.
They had a kind of natural flow to their conversations that made her feel… normal. Like maybe she could move on from everything after all .
They reached the top of a dune, Chevron glowing faintly in the distance. The sunset bathed everything in warm amber light, and Elaina let herself relax. This was nice. Simple. Safe.
Lance stopped and turned to her, eyes softening as he reached for her hand. “I’m really glad we’re doing this.”
And that outstretched hand—that beautiful hand with perfect fingers and well-groomed nails and no calluses or rough knuckles—made Elaina realize that she was nowhere near where he needed her to be.
The cold dread of what she had to do washed over her.
“Hey, Lance?” Elaina forced herself to meet his gaze.
“Yeah?”
“I… I can’t do this with you,” she breathed. “I thought I could. I usually get over things so fast, but… I’m just not where you are right now, and it’s not fair to you.”
Lance’s eyes clouded with disappointment as his hand dropped back to his side.
“It’s the sword guy, isn’t it?” he gave her a sad grin.
Elaina swallowed, looking down at her feet, and she didn’t trust herself to try to speak just then. All she could do was nod.
“It’s okay, Elaina,” he said. “I get it.”
“I’m sorry I wasted your time,” she whispered. “I really thought I could…”
“No,” he said firmly. “This wasn’t a waste of time. This was two people having a great time together. Understand?”
What a good fucking person. Why couldn’t she just love him?
“Okay,” she whispered as they made their way down the dune back towards Chevron side by side. If only she could believe him.
At her hab, the first thing Elaina did was take a really long shower, scrubbing the sandstone dust from every inch of her skin like her life depended on it. The dust—it got everywhere. She used too much scalding hot water, her living deposit swirling down the drain with each passing liter as she scrubbed herself clean over and over until her skin was raw and red.
It was all right. She could afford it, even if she lost her job. Because she still couldn’t seem to patch anything.
But losing her job was not what she intended to do. She needed to figure this out—she was usually so good at that.
Clean, Elaina pulled on an oversized sweater with nothing underneath and sat at her workbench, turning on the glaring halo light suspended over the tools.
She pulled out a small gadget she’d been tinkering with for sols—a simple diagnostic scanner that should have taken five minutes to patch. The moment her fingers touched the wires, the thing shorted out with a sharp crack, sending a spark up her wrist.
“Damn it!” she cursed, sending it skidding across the bench with a frustrated flick of the wrist.
Elaina grabbed another device—a basic mineral detector. But as soon as she tried to reconnect the piecemeal circuit board, the entire thing fritzed out. Again.
She threw it aside, wincing as it hit the wall. “What the dead drift is wrong with me?”
Everything she touched fell apart. She’d been the best astrotechnician everywhere she’d worked for cycles. She had a gift. Everyone said so. But the part of her that had always been so attuned to machines was now just… gone.
She tried again and again, one thing after another. Each failure stoked her frustration until she was practically shaking with it, rubbing at the angry pit forming below her sternum .
By the time Elaina finally gave up, the table was littered with broken devices, and her hands were trembling, tired and pocked with scratches and burn marks.
She slumped back in her chair, staring at the mess she’d made. Her mind raced with everything she couldn’t seem to patch.
“What do I do now?” she muttered, not sure who or what exactly she was talking to.
Either way, nothing seemed to be listening.