Chapter 17 Em
Em
By midnight, I’m in my bed, but my mind returns to being overcrowded. Sleep feels nearby but not reachable.
I roll onto my side, then my back, then my other side. The sheets feel wrong. Too warm, then too cool. My legs won’t stop twisting in the sheets as my body tosses and turns under the thick duvet.
My thoughts refuse to line up long enough to be of any use. I close my eyes and try to breathe evenly, counting in fours, but my chest keeps hitching halfway through the inhale.
I turn my face into the pillow and squeeze my eyes shut. This mansion is full of distant sounds. Air circulation. Electricity. Then, very faintly, I hear them.
Nil and Stan. The sound of their wet kisses and shameless moans. They’re most likely in their bed.
I stay very still, as if movement might distort the sound.
My eyes stay closed, but images bloom in my mind. I imagine their lips locked. Their hands on each other. Bodies tangled in their bed.
The crowded feeling lifts as my thoughts drift. The noise in my head thins, replaced by the sounds Nil and Stan make in the other room.
Grateful for the distraction, I feel myself melt into the mattress. The sounds fade, or maybe I do. I easily lose track of time from merely listening.
And before I know it, I’m blinking awake with sunlight beaming on my face. I…must’ve fallen asleep without realizing. But I feel so well-rested. My head is clear. My pulse is even.
Until I sit up, and the corner desk comes into view. The MedBay equipment sits exactly where it was left. Suddenly, my mind brings me back to the ship. To a body. To blood.
Sweat gathers instantly at the base of my throat, dampening the collar of my shirt.
My vision swims. A visual fragment intrudes—thick red against dark metal—
I’m on my feet before the thought finishes. I move without planning, without glasses. I need air. I need distance.
The nearest door is the adjoined bathroom. I push through it without knocking.
Steam hangs in the air. White tile blurs into pale shapes. And then there’s…
Stan. Standing at the sink, utterly shameless, brushing his teeth. Stark naked. Faucet running. Foam coating his grin. “Hey, doc,” he says around the toothbrush. “Here to give me a physical?”
He chuckles, low and delighted, while I make a sound that resembles a squeak. My processing stutters. Startled responses spike.
For a few seconds, I blink and blink, wondering why my vision is a bit blurry, and my brain refuses to supply explanations. Then I remember I left my glasses on the nightstand.
When he’s turning to fully face me, I realize I may see all of his front. So I pivot fast, nearly colliding with the doorframe on the way back out.
The door slams behind me with more force than necessary. My palms are damp. My heart is still racing, but the sensation has changed.
This isn’t surprise or panic anymore.
Heat pools in my lower abdomen. My skin feels tight, overaware of what I sort of saw. I press my back to the door and close my eyes, inhaling harshly through my nose.
I straighten, smoothing my shirt with shaking hands that have no reason to be shaking. I’m not embarrassed. How can I be, when all I saw was a blur of skin, lines of muscles, and his round butt—?
No. This is simply nature, biology, science. Poor vision and situational awareness. I am merely, inconveniently, aroused.
I clear my throat and call out, voice pitched carefully neutral. “My apologies!”
Stan’s voice carries through the bathroom door, bright and unapologetic. “Anytime, Em!”
Breathing more deeply, I push away from the door, grab my glasses, put them on, and head out into the hall, not sparing a glance at the desk. I’ll deal with that later. There is nothing—nothing at all—expected from me right at this moment.
I didn’t expect sleep to come last night. I definitely didn’t expect to wake up like this. But I don’t recall the anxious thought I was having, so I keep walking, following instinct instead of analysis, as a scent reaches me. Chamomile, subtle and fragrant. As well as ginger, warm and familiar.
I follow the trail of scented tea, and it eventually leads me into the kitchen.
Sunlight pours in through tall windows, catching on pale stone counters and hanging greenery. A kettle steams on the stove. Sterling stands beside it, sleeves rolled to reveal his strong forearms, as he pours hot water over a waiting mug.
“Morning,” he says.
“Good morning,” I reply. “I smelled some tea, so I came by.”
“You found it.” He lifts the mug. “For Elle’s morning sickness.”
“Oh.” I hesitate, then offer, “Congratulations.”
Sterling sets the mug down and stirs in a spoonful of honey. His head’s dipped down, but I can still see his smile. “Thanks. It’s really early, but we’re excited.”
Then he nods toward a tall pantry door.
“There’s more tea in there,” he adds.
I open the pantry to find neat rows of jars and boxes. Chamomile. Peppermint. Lemon balm. Dried moringa. Ginger root wrapped in paper. My fingers brush the wrapper, grounding myself in the fine texture.
Taking a bit of the ginger, I turn to face Sterling when I hear him walk toward the doorway.
“Thank you,” I call after him. “For letting us stay. I was told this was your estate.”
“It was,” he says. “But I should be thanking you. For what you’re doing. Fixing Kys.”
My throat feels as if it’s closing from remembering my life’s work. All of it gone in an instant. The memories threaten to flood my mind. Cold floor. Warm blood—
I try to swallow down the sudden nervousness. Ignore my cool collar drenching with sweat.
Sterling walks closer, eyeing me. I look up to meet his stare, fixing my glasses that have slid down my nose.
“You okay there, Em?” he asks, voice as low as a whisper.
I nod, not wanting to disturb him or deter him from serving his wife the tea he made for her.
He frowns, turning his head a little to the door, then slowly looks down at the steaming mug. “Elle’s waiting for me.”
With a side glance, he leaves. I turn to search for a mug of my own.
Soon, I find the cabinet they’re stored in. I grab the closest mug. On it is a collage of a data table and a graph, as well as the words Freak in the Sheets. I’m not certain what the reference is.
I set it down on the counter, and start preparing the ginger. I slice a small piece of it, rinse it carefully, and place it into the mug. Steam curls upwards as I pour hot water to fill the ceramic.
I’m considering whether honey would agree with my stomach when a voice rings out from the hall. “Hello there, broody half-brother!” Kaye’s cheer is clear across the way. “What? All I get is a nod? Go away, jerk.”
I suppose cheerfulness can be brief.
She appears in the doorway just as I’m searching for a sweetener. Her expression brightens when she sees me. “Em!”
“Good morning,” I say, holding my mug. “May I trouble you for some sugar?”
“Ooh, didn’t want to knock on your neighbors’ door for that?” She sounds as though she’s teasing me, but about what, I’m not sure.
She hands me a container from another cabinet, watching with interest as I add a small amount of cane sugar.
“So,” she says casually, leaning against the counter. “I have a proposal.”
I look up, curious. Her smile stretches.
“A girls’ day in,” she supplies.
“What does a girls’ day entail?” I ask, stirring my tea.
Kaye’s eyes seem to sparkle. “A foot spa! Back massages! An indoor sauna! All at home, of course, because my feet are freaking killing me.”
I take a cautious sip. The tea I made is not like how Idris makes it for me.
When I look at Kaye, she’s looking at me expectantly, still smiling.
So I say after some thought, “I’ve never done any of those.”
“That’s perfect! It’ll be fun for your first time,” she says. “They’re incredible. Great for circulation, stress relief, muscle recovery, and whatever toxin release is.”
“Toxin release is a rather vague category,” I say automatically.
She waves a hand dismissively. “I don’t care what it releases as long as it releases something. You’ve been carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, Em. Let’s have some fun!”
I don’t respond. My mind drifts, unhelpfully, to the ship. To the monitors. To the two bodies lost. To the experiment I thought I understood and the damage I didn’t anticipate.
“Em…” Kaye snaps me out of it. “You don’t have to fix anything today, and there’s no point having a pity party of one. How about a spa party of three?” She beams by the end of it.
I consider the idea, or rather her offer. This present unexpected day. The absence of droning equipment, of any difficult decisions. “I don’t know if I’ll be good at it,” I admit.
Kaye snorts. “There’s no performance metric for this, Em. You just…exist.”
That sounds rather challenging but not impossible.
She bats her lashes. “Come on, Em. If you hate it, I’ll never bring it up again. But if you like it, we can also call girls’ day preventative care.”
I take another sip of tea. “Alright,” I say, after a brief internal calculation. There’s no risk in trying out this indoor girls’ day idea.
Her smile is immediate and victorious. “Yay! I’ll grab Elle and call some people. You just keep doing whatever you’re doing.”
She gestures at my mug. “I’m hydrating,” I explain. “With sweet ginger tea.”
“And you’re doing tea-rrific, sugar!” Kaye laughs, backing toward the hall. “I’ll send someone to fetch you when girls’ day is ready!”
Her footsteps disappear down the hall, her energy lingering in the kitchen long after she’s gone.
I lift my mug and take another sip of tea. The ginger bites pleasantly at the back of my throat, with the tea’s sweetness helping me swallow it down.
Without thinking about it, I find myself smiling. Even a little. Though, oddly, it feels like a lot.
***
I find myself wandering down the halls afterwards. My mug’s half-full when I hear footsteps coming from the double doors behind me.
Turning toward the sound, I spot Nil coming in from the back gardens. He smiles when he sees me, then lengthens his stride to reach me.