Chapter 23
Tavryn
The damage to my ship is minimal, thankfully, though I still take my time examining it. I’m being thorough. Thoroughness is important. The last thing I want is to get back to space and find out we need to make another emergency landing.
Yes, that’s why I’m doing it. It’s definitely not because I’m trying to avoid Banjo. Again. Because I apparently didn’t learn anything the first time I tried ignoring him.
The problem is, I know what’s going to happen once we’re alone and settled.
Banjo’s going to have questions about what happened.
He always has questions about everything.
I’m in no place to answer anything about the encounter with the Vanquishing, not when I don’t even understand what happened myself.
I’ve never just…frozen like that. My entire body shut down. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. I was completely engulfed in icy cold fear, and no matter how hard I struggled, I couldn’t break out of it. The memory alone is enough to send a chill down my spine.
Rouverace is after me.
He’s going to use me. Again. There’s no other explanation why the Vanquishing, a ship he’s now captaining, would follow me all the way from Qauvela. I have no idea why or what it means, but if he’s involved, I’m in danger.
More importantly, Banjo is in danger.
And I’ve just proven that when it comes to Rouverace, I can’t protect him.
Eventually, Banjo comes off the ship with two bags and his guitar case. I frown as he proudly holds up the second bag. “I knew you were busy, so I went ahead and packed all your stuff,” he tells me with a grin.
I blink at him. I suppose it’s not surprising he knows what I require—we’ve been sharing the same small space for months—but I didn’t realize he’d been paying enough attention to my habits to pack for me.
I give him a curt nod, feeling strangely too emotional to say much else, and climb down the ladder. “Let’s find Harry, then.”
As if on cue, the Einkrok comes bounding over to us.
His tail twitches madly, as if in some sort of code.
He runs down the path the others followed, checking over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure we’re still right behind him.
I grab one of the bags from Banjo, and he immediately takes my hand in his.
Nervousness makes my stomach flutter as he interlocks our fingers. This is new. Very new.
It scares me how much I like it.
The rest of the day feels like a dream I know is eventually going to turn into a nightmare.
It has nothing to do with the planet or its inhabitants.
Eczok is somehow both tropical and temperate at the same time, and no matter where we go on the property, we’re surrounded by beautiful scenery.
Even the hut, while lacking most modern conveniences, is spacious and gorgeously decorated. It’s not enough to settle my nerves.
The questions are coming. I know they’re coming.
They don’t. Not when we unpack in the hut. Not in the time before dinner, when Banjo plays his guitar. Not during dinner, while we dine at a small, candlelit table surrounded by sparkling lights.
By the time we get back to the room, I know this is it. There are no other activities on the agenda. Nothing to do until morning. There’s no way Banjo’s not going to bring up our skirmish with the Vanquishing. Absolutely no way.
I’m tense as we lie in the soft, comfortable bed together.
Normally being cuddled up to Banjo like this, with his arms wrapped tight around me, is enough to drive my stress away.
Not tonight. Instead, I lay there, waiting.
And waiting. And waiting. Until I realize that Banjo is snoring.
I wiggle away enough to look at his face.
He’s asleep. Out cold, from the looks of it.
I frown. Hm. He had a long day. The light jump obviously took a lot out of him.
It’s not surprising he passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow.
Sleep doesn’t come anywhere near as easily for me.
The thought of putting the inevitable questions off until tomorrow doesn’t give me the relief I thought it would.
All it does is make my stomach churn until I think I might vomit.
I need to stop assuming the worst. Maybe Banjo isn’t going to ask about it after all.
Or maybe he’s waiting for me to let my guard down. I’ll have to build my defenses twice as strong, just in case. He’s already broken through them far too many times. I can’t let it happen again. Not about this. Never about this.
Two more days go by, and Banjo doesn’t mention the incident at all.
I want to believe he’s going to let it go.
I should let it go. Pretending he never existed has been my life’s mission for the last fifteen years.
It shouldn’t be hard to go back to that.
Back to never thinking about him ever again.
Back to pretending to be happy. Honestly, the latter is easy with Banjo, especially now.
This tiny little village in Eczok is a dream come true, from the scenery to the food to the company.
Even though I finished the ship repair the day after our arrival, I haven’t told Banjo. I should. I should get back to my mission, take both Remington and Banjo home, and claim my bounty so I can get on with my life.
Instead, I’m on a middle-of-nowhere planet eating the most delicious, juicy fruit I’ve ever had and cuddling with a human who’s equally as delicious.
Not that I’ve indulged in more than kisses recently.
The event I’m avoiding discussing has shaken my confidence, and I’m honestly not sure how I’m going to build it back up again.
Banjo hasn’t said anything about that either.
Is he being polite, or has he not noticed?
Knowing Banjo, it could easily be either.
Eventually, we get out of bed to head to the nearby hot springs. Mary told us all about how they’re going to be the main attraction drawing tourists to the area.
“Are you ready?” I ask Banjo, securing the tie of my robe more firmly around my waist. Instead of my normal thin, short sleeved robe, I’m wearing a longer, fluffy one Mary provided for both of us. Banjo’s is much shorter on him.
“Yeah!” Banjo replies, sliding on his shoes. We’re both wearing these ridiculous little sandals that he is, of course, pulling off with unbelievable style. “I can’t believe they got hot springs here! I’ve always wanted to go to one.”
I’m looking forward to them too. My back and shoulders ache with all the tension I’ve been carrying these past few days.
Hopefully the hot water will finally leech it out of me.
Mary claims the water has healing benefits, but it sounds more like a gimmick than the truth.
We are her first customers, so she’s not holding back.
Healing or not, the heat will be welcome.
The walkway to the springs is underground and lined with the same small lights that cover the village at night.
Banjo hums softly as we walk, his hand brushing against mine.
My tail finds his bare calf, wrapping around it to give a little squeeze.
His smile grows bigger and bigger the longer the contact goes on.
I roll my eyes, but I can’t quite hold back my own smile as his humming grows louder.
The pool at the end of the tunnel is wide, the water a deep orange color.
Steam rises from the lightly rippling surface to gather in the domed ceiling.
A variety of different oils and soaps line one side of the ledge, along with a basket of towels.
The products are all natural and, according to Mary, perfectly safe to use in the water. Overall, the setup is impressive.
“I’ll just stand over here,” Banjo tells me, drawing my attention away from the pool and back to him. He’s standing in the corner with his back to me, waiting patiently. I blink. What in the stars is he doing?
“Are you not getting in?” I ask. He was so excited for the pools, plus I know he’s naked under that robe.
I’m not sure what would keep him from getting in the water.
Maybe he can’t swim. It does look deep…but that doesn’t make any sense.
The majority of Earth is water. All humans must know how to swim.
Banjo doesn’t look at me as he answers, his voice echoing around the quiet chamber. “Oh, I’m definitely gettin’ in,” he assures me. “I’m just lettin’ you get in first.”
The corner of my mouth quirks up in a smile. “And why exactly does that involve you standing in the corner with your back to me?”
“‘Cause you don’t want me seein’ you naked.” Banjo says it so simply, like it’s a well-known fact, but the words hit me like an oversized vehicle. I stare at the back of his head, mouth hanging open. “Whenever you’re ready, you just let me know. No rush, babe.”
Something in me cracks. It’s like Banjo just pried my chest open and extracted my heart.
I don’t know what to say, so I just stand there, gaping at him. And then the worst thing happens. I sniffle. It draws Banjo’s attention, though he doesn’t turn around.
“What’s wrong?” His voice is filled with concern.
“I can go if that would make you feel better.” A soft sob escapes me, even though I’m trying my hardest to hold it in.
“Tav, baby, no, don’t cry.” Even though he’s obviously distressed, he stays where he is, respecting the silent boundaries I’d drawn between us.
It only makes my crying worse. “Can I turn around?”
I nod before I remember he can’t see me. Part of me screams I shouldn’t let Banjo see me like this. That I shouldn’t let him see how broken I truly am. But the other part of me wants to give in, to be wrapped in the comfort of his embrace.
“Yes,” I manage to croak, wrapping my arms tightly around myself. He immediately spins around, eyes roaming my body in an attempt to work out what’s wrong.