Chapter 6 Nebulous #3
The mug finally slipped from her shaking hands, shattering on the kitchen counter, glass pieces scattering about the floor. In the aftermath, her ears rang, but she merely stared out at the trees, the perfectly cut lawn, and the bed of flowers—
Stared at a shadowed figure.
It shifted, wavering in the evening light as the sun dipped below the skyline and the Stars began to twinkle overhead in the sky, made of dim blue and blooming purple.
"It’s you," she breathed, staring out the kitchen window at the shadow. "You’re here. You came back. Is this—is this real?" Her words were tremulous with shock.
The shadow rippled, the shape of a hand rising from the mass of being, held out, as if reaching for her.
The sight of it, faceless, near formless, made her feel such deep yearning and pain that she nearly grew ill.
Bile rose in the back of her throat, her head pounded, as if something was desperate to escape, desperate to be known.
It was the shape of a man, shifting like shadows, crafted entirely of darkness.
She wanted to go to it.
A sense of peace clung to her like smoke. Her heart steadied. She hadn’t even realized how much she had hurt until the vise wrapped around her heart loosened, making a relieved breath whoosh from her lungs.
Entranced, she lifted her foot, cutting into the broken glass as she took a step. She winced but was not deterred.
Thundering footsteps pounded on the stairs before Kit nearly stumbled around the corner. The kitchen and living room were open, decorated with pillars—he wrapped a hand around one, using the momentum to force himself deeper into the kitchen. He fell against the island, hands slapping on the marble.
"Rin, what happened? Are you okay?" Kit’s wide brown eyes found hers. As he rounded the kitchen island, his brows jumped up in shock as he saw her standing, unmoving, among the shattered glass. "Don’t move. You’re bleeding." As he said it, she realized the bottom of her foot was stinging.
She met his eyes, tearing her gaze away from the window. "I-I’m fine," she stammered.
Kit shook his head, grabbing a kitchen towel from the sink, and kneeling by her side, uncaring that the glass cut into his sweatpants-clad knees. She gasped as he lifted her foot, using his bare hand to gently brush the glass embedded in the bottom of her foot.
"You’re not fine. What happened? Did you have another episode? Do I need to call Lucien?" He was near-frantic, but his hands were achingly soft as he brushed the remaining glass from her foot, using the kitchen towel and pressing it into the small cuts littering her heel.
Rin floundered for a moment, finding herself staring out at the window but—
Nothing.
The shadow was gone, and she was left wondering, once again, if it had all been in her mind.
Kit tapped her knee, and she looked down at him, finding the evening light cast thin streams of pale blue across his face, highlighting his freckles and messy brown hair. The awkwardness was back, and she felt her cheeks heat.
"Nothing. It was nothing, sorry. My hand was wet. It just slipped." She was rambling, avoiding his eyes entirely.
She felt his amused huff against her exposed legs. She was wearing thin cotton shorts and an oversized soft shirt, perfect to lie around in.
Kit stood, fingers dancing over the backs of her calves and thighs as he did so. She shivered as he came up to his full height, towering over her. She tipped her head back, staring up at him. For a brief moment, she forgot all about shadows and Nova and the invisible clock ticking on her heart.
They were just a girl and a boy in a kitchen, desperate to be more as the sun set and the Stars twinkled.
Kit’s throat worked. "There’s glass all over the floor. Don’t walk, let me carry you?"
"Oh—what about you?"
"Don’t worry about me." Kit held out his arms, a hand settling on her waist and making her shirt ride up to her hip.
He paused, and when she gave a soft, small nod, he carefully lifted her, her legs hooked around his waist and arms thrown around his shoulders.
It was… intimate. She felt her lower belly clench with a novel, scorching sort of awareness.
This close, she swore she could count every freckle scattered across his nose, like the Stars in the sky.
Kit stepped over the glass, taking big steps as he moved around the kitchen island. He sat her down on top of the countertop, his hips pressing into her knees as he stepped close to her.
She drank in his airy scent. "What are you doing, Kit?"
Kit grabbed another towel, fingers leaving soft dimples in her calf as he held her leg up to tend to her foot. Blood beaded across the heel. When he swiped it away, more took its place. Each pass of the cloth stung, but she would bear it to be this close to him. Any pain was worth that.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, why are you acting this way?" Rin’s breath hitched when he bent low over her leg, his breath skittering over her thighs.
"What way is that? I’m just treating you as I always have… Maybe it’s you who’s acting different?" He arched a brow, and she wanted to strangle him for being so coy.
"That’s not what I mean, and you know it," she retorted.
"No, I don’t know what you mean." Kit finally stood, releasing her foot.
He stepped back, and air shivered between the space he had once inhabited, leaving her cold as his eyes shuttered.
He blew out a harsh breath, shaking his head slightly.
"I got a call before I came down. I was going to tell you differently, but…
I have to leave again. Another mission—off-planet. "
It felt like the glass on the floor had found its way to her dying heart. "Okay."
"I can tell them no," Kit murmured. "All I have to do is say you need me, and my superior will extend my leave." She didn’t speak, so he continued, "I don’t have to go."
She licked her lips, wishing she knew what he wanted from her. Did he want her to ask him to stay? Or was he only being nice and playing the role of big brother?
"Where?" she asked instead, anything to not give in to the selfish tears burning the backs of her eyes. She would be fine—she could be alone.
"Sibeth," Kit answered softly. "A Rogue got in from an illegal ship, and they need someone from the Fleet to pilot a ship there with Hunters."
She searched his eyes, feeling the peace from the shadow leaving her with every breath, replaced by a burning ache in her abused heart.
She couldn’t rely on him forever, no matter how much she wanted.
He would find someone one day—a pretty girl who wouldn’t burn his lasagna, and look beautiful sitting in the passenger seat of his car. Someone who wouldn’t be Rin.
She had to let him go.
"Go. I’ll be okay here, Kit. Besides, Dr. Lucien is only a call away. He’s been texting, wants to make sure I’ve been taking my pills like I’m supposed to. I’ll be back at the Academy by Monday. I feel fine now, besides how tired the pills make me."
Kit’s hands landed softly on the countertops by her thighs, the sides of his thumbs brushing her bare leg. "Don’t play that game with me. I know all your tricks. You don’t have to put on a brave face… It’s okay to need someone."
It took everything in her not to reach forward and fall into his arms—maybe go further, and touch the side of his jaw, tilt his face down to hers, and taste his lips one more time before reality set in.
"I’m fine." Rin’s lips twitched with a wan smile. "Tell me everything when you come back home." But that only made her think of all the clubs and brothels on Sibeth. She tried not to imagine him falling into the arms of some succubus temptress.
Kit rolled his bottom lip between his teeth, watching her. "You’re really okay?"
She nodded.
No, she wasn’t.
He sighed, turning his back on her as he faced the living room. She hoped the low hum of the television muted her stuttering heart.
"I leave in the morning." His voice was strangled.
This was for the best, though. They could never have anything more than what they had right now.
As Kit left to grab a broom for the broken glass, Rin found her eyes drifting back to the window. It was even darker outside now. No shadows were to be found, only the tree limbs swaying in the balmy breeze.
Maybe the Nova in her heart was making her hallucinate.
Rin was awake when Kit left in the early hours of the morning. She heard his footsteps as he walked into her room, the soft whoosh of air as her bedroom door opened, the clicking of his boots on her floor, the shuffling of them across her many rugs.
She blinked, lying on her side, facing her closet doors and the small mirror on top of her vanity.
She watched as Kit stepped into her room.
His uniform made him appear untouchable.
The dark coat, slim-fit black pants, and gloves.
Unruly brown hair poked out from under his black cap, and her lips tipped into a drowsy smile.
The bed dipped behind her as he sat, and she rolled over to meet him.
"Are you sure you don’t need me to—to stay?" he asked, voice so low she had to strain to hear it over the whir of her ceiling fan.
"Go, Kit. Do what you have to do… When the time comes, and I might be called away because of duty, I’d want you to tell me to go, too." She spoke freely, in this hazy space between waking and sleep. She understood the line they could never cross—so why didn’t he?
Still, her hands traveled across the soft duvet, searching for his. Her pinky brushed against the side of his glove, and his throat worked as he laced his fingers between hers. The glove was a barrier between them. A reminder.
He held her for a moment, watching her and the way her white, sleep-tussled hair fanned above her on her pillow, the fluttering canopy casting shadows on her pale cheeks and grey eyes.