Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lydia
If I thought I was traumatized before, I was so wrong.
Now every time I close my eyes, I see those three aliens tangled in the algae net, splashing in the lake, their shouts muffled by water.
Whenever that happens, I force myself to remember the woman in the arena, waiting to die, and the lifeless way Sorin and Roan looked when Killan carried them from the Freighter to the relative safety of his house.
The bit that came next was creepy, too. But Killan promised us it was important. He fitted Sorin, first, into the strange upright coffin-container-thing that looks disturbingly like the plastic pods Harlee, Briar, and I were stored in when Smith first abducted us.
When Sorin was snuggling inside the “coffin” (I can’t think of any better name to call it), there were all these flashing lights, and it displayed rows and rows of words, which only Killan could read. After studying them for a long moment, he nodded, apparently satisfied.
“Well?” Briar demanded, her lips white and her fingernails chewed down to the quick.
“He is healthy,” Killan answered, and Briar almost cried in relief.
“He should wake soon. Once the sedative has run its course.” He then tested Roan the same way, explaining about how the “coffin” is actually a medical facility, the alien version of a one-stop shop for people who don’t live near a hospital.
It can’t cure chronic diseases, but it does a pretty good job of disinfecting wounds and treating illnesses.
Maybe it can help me manage my asthma…if I’m never brave enough to climb inside.
I made Killan get into the “coffin” next, even though the sight of him in there made my skin crawl, and I kept having to glance over my shoulder to double-check that Smith hadn’t suddenly returned to Ril II.
The “coffin” cleaned and sealed the cut on Killan's forehead (was it only yesterday that the cave ceiling collapsed?) and declared the lump on his head to be nothing serious.
Next, Killan and I searched the Freighter for signs of Chloe. I found her designer glasses, one lens cracked, on the floor of the cockpit, but there wasn’t anything else. Almost as though she’d never snuck on board. Which..wow. That’s going to take a lot of therapy to process.
“You are glaring,” Killan says, and I blink, coming back to the present.
We’re sitting in his still-destroyed kitchen—him and me, Briar and Sorin, Harlee and Roan. We’re each nursing a cup of Killan’s homemade hooch, shaken, scared, and traumatized but alive, safe, and together.
“Just thinking.” I resist yawning, but it escapes anyway.
We weren’t able to save the guy who drowned, but we pulled the other two aliens from the lake. Which...wow. I’m going to have nightmares for weeks.
The Guild finally answered its fucking phone, and Killan was able to make a formal complaint about everything that happened.
It then told him exactly how to tamper with the Freighter’s engine to keep the ship from leaving Ril II and how to lock the two remaining guys in their own cockpit to await arrest, while the Guild sends someone to collect them.
They should be arriving in the next two days.
“What I’d like,” Briar says, catching my yawn and yawning herself, “is for one single drama-free month when someone isn’t trying to abduct me.”
“Oh yeah,” Harlee says through a yawn. “That was your third time.”
Roan opens his mouth experimentally. Is he trying to yawn, too? Do Ril’os even yawn? It’s not a question I thought to ask before, but I suddenly want to know. I want to know everything about Killan and his family and his home.
“I don’t mean to brag,” says Briar, clearly bragging, “but apparently I’m super popular in outer space.”
Sorin wraps his two left arms around her shoulders, shuffling his chair a fraction closer to hers, and she leans against him.
“Imagine what a boring life would be like,” I reminisce. “Seeding lakes. Harvesting lakes. Rinse and repeat. It’s starting to sound like heaven.”
“Careful,” Briar warns. “You’re starting to sound as if you actually like it here.”
A complicated mix of feelings assaults me. I’m excited to be staying. I love that I’m not leaving the two best women in the entire universe, and I can’t wait to wake up tomorrow morning and find that Killan hasn’t rushed off to work and is still asleep beside me.
But…the part of me that cringes at the sight of an unfinished plan is embarrassed to admit failure. Especially as everyone else has known for months that I wasn’t ever getting back to Earth. I’d been the only one stubborn enough—and stupid enough—to think I could change the course of our lives.
Call me selfish—hate admitting to being wrong.
“What would we do without her?” Killan asks, speaking before I can think of an answer. “It was Lydia who planned and organized your rescue. If she were to leave, I hate to think of the trouble we would find ourselves in.”
“That’s right,” Harlee says, reaching across the straightened table to take my hand.
“I haven’t said this nearly enough. Please don’t leave, Lydia.
We need you. We’ll miss you. It won’t be the same if you’re gone.
” She makes it sound as if she’s begging.
As if there’s still the possibility I could leave, and I love her for it.
I love Killan for it.
“Hmm…” I feign thought, stroking my chin with my other hand. “I suppose…if you guys really need me, I could consider staying.”
Harlee cheers. Everyone laughs.
“And I really am good at planning.” I squeeze Harlee’s hand. “Like, you know, helping to plan someone’s wedding.”
“Oh, thank God.” She grins. “Because I’ve been wanting to ask you and Briar to be my bridesmaids all week, but—yeah.”
“But you didn’t want me getting angry,” I guess.
“Something like that.”
“I’m so sorry.” I look around the table at everyone. “Really sorry.”
“No way.” Harlee stands so that she can lean over the table and kiss my cheek. “No apologizing for being upset you were kidnapped.”
“Fuck Mr. Smith,” Briar agrees, pretending to gag on his name.
I laugh.
“Tell them your idea,” Killan urges.
“My idea?”
“For the broadcast.”
“Oh, right. So I’ve been thinking about how I’d like to make a documentary of our failed LOVE GALAXY season.” And I explain about wanting to use the highlight clips of us already online, supplemented with new interviews about Smith abandoning us and explaining how we found our own way in the end.
I don’t tell them about the gladiator arena and the other Human woman I saw. I will. Later. When we’ve had a bit of time to process everything else.
“Actually,” I add speculatively, “the more I think about it, the more I think it could help with our abduction problem, too. If we were to stay in the limelight and keep everyone wanting updates from us, even after the documentary, then we’d be less of a target for future attacks.
You can’t kidnap celebrities without lots of people noticing. ”
“Huh.” Briar and Harlee share a look.
“That’s a good idea,” Briar admits. “We would make our version of Keeping Up with the Kardashians.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “Exactly like that, but classy.”
“Akh, not all of your words translate.” Sorin’s scales are tinged blue with a blush. “Would we have cameras in our bedrooms again?”
“God, no!” exclaims Briar. “No filming anyone without their permission.”
“Of course,” I agree. “It would be family friendly. And absolutely no livestreaming.”
“We could advertise the farm,” Killan adds. “Everyone will know we grow the best algae.”
“Would I have to be interviewed?” Sorin asks.
“No, not if you don’t want to be,” I assure him, hoping he doesn’t hate the idea. “It won’t be an intrusion into your life, I promise, and you’d only share what you’re comfortable with sharing.”
“Like the farm,” Killan adds.
“Like the farm,” I agree, unable to suppress my smile at Killan’s one-track mind. Is that what I’ve been like this whole time, always talking about returning home, no matter the conversation?
“I can do all of Sorin’s interviews for him,” says Roan. “I have seen my fan mail and the chatrooms. The people are calling out for more Roan and Harlee. We are the universe’s favorite couple.”
“The universe has terrible taste,” mutters Sorin.
“Don’t sweat it.” Briar turns in her chair to more fully face her Mate and wraps her arms about his neck. “Everyone knows you’re the most romantic brother. The way you called my name that first day, I choose Briar. It still gives me chills thinking about it.”
“You are cold?” Smoothly, he slides Briar off her chair and onto his lap. “I will warm you.”
“And that,” I say loudly, “is exactly the type of thing we won’t be filming.”
“Get a room,” Harlee jokes.
But instead of laughing, Briar straightens, her eyes widening. “That’s reminded me of…the thing.” And she gives Harlee and Roan a deliberate look. “The thing you were telling me about.”
“What?” Harlee frowns.
“You know,” Briar says. “The thing.”
“Oh, babe.” Harlee stands, clutching Roan’s arm. “The thing.”
“Akh. The thing,” Roan agrees.
“It’s official,” I say. “You guys have officially suffered too much trauma, and you’ve all gone crazy.”
“You’re the one who’s about to go crazy,” Harlee says, motioning for me to follow her and Roan downstairs.
It’s still trashed down here. The door to Killan’s room has a huge tear down its center as if Atakis and his crew took an axe to it instead of bothering to turn the handle.
I catch a glimpse of the few clothes and the spare pair of shoes I left behind when I ran away to the caves.
Which makes me realize that of course Atakis knew about me, even if he never saw me through the window.
He’d have seen my stuff and known there were three Humans, not two.
I’m guessing Killan has realized the same thing because he’s scowling at the mess of my clothes over his bedroom floor. It’s probably a good thing we’ve already locked the two remaining crew in their ship, because there’s a murderous glint in Killan’s eyes.
I nudge his arm with my shoulder, and he glances down at me.
“We’re safe,” I murmur. “We’re together.”
He doesn’t stop scowling, but the murder glint dissolves into something else, something like love. His expression has my heart skipping a beat as my mouth drops open. Killan has a love scowl. A love scowl.
“I forgot about the mess down here,” Harlee says, peering over my shoulder into Killan’s bedroom. “This probably isn’t going to be the nice surprise we were hoping it’d be.”
“What do you mean?” I turn to face her.
“Here.” She opens the door to what I know is one of the many empty rooms. Except it isn’t empty.
There’s a bed. Well, there’s a bedframe from which the mattress has been dragged and dumped in the middle of the room.
There’s a nightstand—with its drawers all pulled out and tossed aside.
There’s a desk—the surface of which has a deep gouge.
And a chair—which is lying on its side. There’s even a blanket—which has been trampled and stained by boot prints.
Harlee hurries inside, straightening the chair and fluffing the blanket.
Roan lifts the mattress back onto the bed, stares at the tear and the stuffing trying to burst its way out, and flips the whole mattress over to the uninjured side.
“It was supposed to be way more impressive than this,” Harlee says.
“Wait. Is this for me?” I glance at Killan, who shrugs.
“It is.” Harlee smiles, gesturing around the room. “Roan and I, er, found where Mr. Smith had hidden all of Killan’s extra furniture. We wanted to have everything set up for when you got back from the caves, but…it didn’t go to plan.”
“We thought you would like your own space,” Roan explains. “So that you do not have to keep sleeping besides that grumpy fek.” And he nods toward Killan.
“I can’t take all of this. It’s Killan’s, and I’ve already taken so much of his—”
“It is yours,” he says. “I would give you everything you could ever need or want.”
“I know you would.” My knees practically melt. “That’s the problem. I don’t have anything to give you in return.”
“Lydia.” He growls my name, and I can’t resist pressing a hand to his chest, wanting to feel the rumble of his voice. “You saved my family.”
“We saved them.”
“I could not have done it without you.”
“Of course you could’ve.” I roll my eyes because he’s being overly sentimental again. A few months ago, I never would’ve guessed it of him. Nor could I have guessed he’d have a love scowl.
“We’re going to…umm…yeah.”
Vaguely, somewhere behind me, I think I hear a door shut. Then comes Roan’s muffled voice, “This is exactly the type of thing we will not be filming.”
“I didn’t think they liked each other,” is Harlee’s muffled answer.
I glance over my shoulder. Killan and I are alone, and my bedroom door is closed.
Footsteps sound on the stairs, and a second later, Briar’s laughter is echoing around the house.
“They’re definitely gossiping about us.”
Killan shrugs, like he’s had a lot of practice not caring about his brothers being idiots. “This is your room. Not that I am removing you from my bedroom,” he adds. “But I want you to have a space of your own.”
“I still can’t take it. You’ve already given me too much.”
“You will need an office for when you are filming your documentary. Yes?”
“Yeah, I guess…” I glance around. He isn’t wrong. And if the documentary is a success, I could start financially contributing. Fuck it. “Thank you, Killan.”
“You need not thank—”
“If you can give me an entire bedroom, then I can give you a simple thank you.”
“Akh.” He purses his lips, and I can tell there’s a war waging inside him—part of him wants to deny my thanks because he’s always taking way too much responsibility onto his shoulders, but the other part of him probably wants to keep our argument-free streak going for as long as possible. It’s been at least three hours. Go us!
“It’s late. I had a really good and then a really crappy and then a really scary day.
And now I’m going to bed, in my own wonderful, amazing bedroom, where I’ll dream about the six of us living happily ever after.
” Or have nightmares about drowning aliens, but I don’t say that part out loud because—mood killer.
“Yes.” He takes a step to the door. “Sleep.”
I catch one of his hands in one of mine. “Stay.”
“Lydia—”
“Stay.”