Chapter 29
I don’t say a word on the flight back. Everything feels hollow and pointless.
I sit in the cockpit and stare out into the abyss.
Every now and then I wipe away a tear that breaks free.
Gray doesn’t comment on it. At least not until we return to the Dagger.
Before I can duck through the air lock, he tugs my arm back, stopping me.
“You all right?”
I open my mouth, but no sound escapes. My throat is too clogged.
“No,” I croak, and then the tears come in full force.
It’s humiliating. I don’t cry in front of other people. Uncle Jim never said it out loud, but I know he viewed tears as a sign of weakness, and I suppose I never wanted him to view me as weak.
But I can’t stop those tears now. A dam of emotion has broken, causing sobs to rack my body.
I feel like a vital part of me has been stripped away.
This is why I never cared about relationships before.
Why I never put myself out there to love or be loved.
Love comes with vulnerability and desperation and that terrifying awareness of how fragile it is.
Gray pulls me into his arms, holding me tight.
It reminds me of the morning I killed Bryce, one of the recruits in the Program.
He did the same thing then, hugging me, telling me it was going to be okay.
And just like last time, the tears slowly subside.
My shoulders stop shuddering. A feeling of numbness settles over me, replacing the agony.
He gazes down at me. “It’s over with you two?”
I draw a shaky breath, jerking my head in a nod.
He tugs a strand of hair that’s fallen loose from my ponytail, smooths it away from my wet cheek, and tucks it behind my ear. “I know it hurts now, but it’s for the best.”
No, it’s not for the fucking best.
I only just found Cross, found Wolf, and now I’m just supposed to…lose him?
Yet what’s the alternative? We’re at an impossible impasse. I’ve made my choice and taken my stand, and if he doesn’t want to take that stand with me…well, like he said, I guess that’s it.
“It’s late,” I murmur as we emerge from the air lock. “I need to get some sleep.”
Rather than immediately go to my quarters, I stop in the kitchen first and open the commissary locker.
Nothing costs credits here, but that doesn’t mean it’s a free-for-all.
I rummage through the allotted daily luxuries and pull out a small bottle of glenshade.
Curling my fingers around it, I carry it to my quarters.
Xavier is asleep, so I don’t turn on the light. I plop down on my bed and twist open the bottle. Fire burns my throat as I sling back the alcohol.
The trained soldier that he is, Xavier snaps into consciousness, sitting up in his bed. “What’s wrong?”
“Cross and I are over,” I say dully.
He wipes the sleep from his eyes, seeking me out in the darkness. Although his voice is groggy, there’s no uncertainty in it. “No. Cross loves you.”
“Love has nothing to do with whether you’re together or not.” I take another swig. “He asked me to run away with him.” Another swig. “I said no.”
“Why the hell would you do that?”
“Because we’re gearing up for a war, and sometimes your responsibilities take precedence over your emotions.”
“So you’re just giving up?” It sounds like an accusation.
“Don’t fucking start with me, Xavier. I’m not giving up. I’m choosing to dedicate myself to something bigger than what I feel for Cross. It would be easy to run away with him. But I can’t abandon the people here.”
My hand is shaking so wildly, I almost spill my drink. I swipe viciously at the glenshade pouring down my chin.
Xavier picks up the comm that I set on the table and checks the time. “It’s almost two in the morning. Are you sure now is the time to start boozing?”
“Since when do you care if someone wants to indulge?”
“You’re right, I don’t.”
He leans forward and holds out his hand.
I slap the bottle of glenshade into it, and he takes a long sip.
“So how drunk are we getting?” he asks. “Just enough to put you to sleep or enough to knock you out for a couple of days?”
“How about a month?”