Chapter 4 #2
“This is wonderful,” I tell her, meaning it completely.
“It’s just bacon and eggs.”
“Perhaps. But it is prepared with care, shared in warmth.” I meet her eyes. “On my worlds, such meals are reserved for family. For those who matter.”
Something softens in her expression. “You really haven’t done the family holiday thing, have you?”
“Xarian culture has observances, but courier work requires spending most holidays in transit or at frontier stations.” The admission comes easier than I expected. “I have not shared a holiday meal in... many years.”
“That’s really sad.”
The simple statement, delivered without pity but with genuine sympathy, makes my chest tight. “It is the life I chose.”
“Doesn’t mean it can’t be lonely.”
The understanding in her voice nearly undoes me. “No. It does not.”
She’s quiet for a moment, sipping her coffee, and I find myself memorizing the picture she makes in the soft morning light. Auburn hair catching gold highlights, hazel eyes thoughtful, the curve of her mouth as she contemplates whatever thoughts are chasing through her sharp mind.
“Can I ask you something?” she says finally.
Wariness prickles along my spine. “Of course.”
“Your courier route that brought you here. How often does it pass through this area?”
The question is casual, but there’s something underneath it—a sharpness that suggests she’s fishing for information. My heart rate spikes.
“Occasionally. When cargo requires transport to this sector.”
“Occasionally meaning...?”
“Perhaps once per year. Sometimes less.” The lie tastes bitter, but the truth would expose everything.
She nods slowly. “And you just happened to crash near the best mechanic in the region?”
“I researched local resources before landing. Your reputation extends beyond—” I stop, realizing too late what I’ve revealed.
“My reputation extends beyond what, exactly?” Her voice sharpens. “Beyond the county? The state? How exactly does a courier who’s only passing through occasionally know enough about my reputation to seek me out specifically?”
My mouth goes dry. The careful lie is unraveling faster than I can construct new ones.
“OOPS maintains databases of skilled technicians—”
“Bullshit.” She sets down her coffee mug with deliberate care. “There are dozens of mechanics between here and wherever you supposedly crashed. But you came straight to me. In a blizzard. Bleeding and barely conscious, but somehow you knew exactly where to find Fiona Davis.”
“I...” The words die in my throat because there is no explanation that doesn’t reveal everything.
“And another thing,” she continues, her voice gaining that dangerous edge I’ve heard her use with difficult customers. “You knew I’d be alone on Christmas Eve. Not just small town patterns—you specifically said I usually spend this evening alone. How do you know my personal habits, Ja’war?”
My mouth goes dry. “OOPS couriers are required to study local cultures when delivering to inhabited worlds.”
“Right. Cultural studies.” Her tone is becoming skeptical. “So when you mentioned that I usually spend Christmas Eve alone, that was just... educated guessing?”
I freeze with my coffee mug halfway to my lips. The words had slipped out last night during our conversation about timing, spoken without thought because after three years of watching her annual solitude, it felt like established fact rather than secret knowledge.
“I... small settlements often have predictable patterns...”
“Ja’war.” Her voice is quiet, but there’s steel underneath it. “How did you know I spend Christmas Eve alone?”
The moment stretches between us, loaded with the weight of three years of secrets. I can see her putting pieces together, her sharp mind working through inconsistencies in my story. The careful way I’ve spoken about this area, my knowledge of local folklore, the timing of my arrival.
The way I say her name like I’ve been practicing it.
Because I have been.
“Fiona,” I begin, but she holds up a hand.
“The truth. Please.”
I set down my coffee mug with hands that want to shake. Three years of careful distance, of watching from shadows, of protecting her without her knowledge. Three years of falling in love with a woman who doesn’t know I exist.
And now she’s looking at me with growing suspicion and hurt, waiting for me to admit that everything about our meeting is a lie.
“I have not been entirely honest with you,” I say quietly.
“No kidding.” Her voice is flat, carefully controlled. “So let’s try again. How long have you really been coming here?”
The weight of truth feels impossibly heavy. But the alternative—more lies, more deception—would destroy any chance of the trust I desperately need from her.
“Three winters,” I admit. “I have been altering my courier routes to pass through this system for three winters.”
She goes very still. “Three winters. You’ve been coming here for three years.”
“Yes.”
“And during these visits...”
“I observed. I learned. I ensured that travelers lost in storms found their way to safety.” The words come out in a rush, desperate to explain before she can process the full implications. “I never approached your home, never interfered with your life directly. I simply... watched.”
The silence that follows is deafening. I can see her working through it—three years of the Jack Frost legend, three years of mysterious rescues, three years of a creature in the shadows that turned out to be an alien with an obsession.
“You’ve been watching me.” Her voice is deadly quiet. “For three years, you’ve been watching me specifically.”
“Yes.”
“That’s—” She stops, runs a hand through her hair, then looks at me with an expression I can’t read. “That’s either the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me, or the most terrifying.”
“I hope for the former.”
“Yeah, well, jury’s still out on that.” She stands abruptly, pacing to the window and staring out at the snow-covered landscape. “Three years. Three years of secret observation.”
“I know how it sounds—”
“Do you?” She turns back to face me, and now I can see the hurt underneath the anger. “Because it sounds like stalking, Ja’war. It sounds like you’ve been living in my peripheral vision for three years without my knowledge or consent.”
The accusation cuts deep because it’s true. No matter how I dress it up with noble intentions or romantic yearning, I have been watching her without permission, learning her life while remaining invisible.
“I never intended to cause harm—”
“Intent doesn’t matter.” She crosses her arms, defensive now. “Effect matters. And the effect is that I feel violated. Like my privacy has been invaded by someone I’m supposed to trust.”
The words cut deep because they’re fair. Completely, devastatingly fair.
“I know,” I say quietly. “You have every right to be angry.”
“I do. But here’s what I don’t understand.” She moves closer, studying my face with those perceptive eyes. “Why? Why me? Why three years of routes and watching and secret protecting? I’m nobody special, Ja’war. I’m just a mechanic in a small town who fixes things and minds her own business.”
The question hangs between us, begging for the truth that will either bridge the gap or destroy any chance we might have had.
“Because,” I say, meeting her eyes, “from the moment I saw you, everything in me recognized you as essential. As mine.”
She blinks, clearly not expecting that level of raw honesty.
“Xarian biology includes what you might call... instinctive recognition. When we encounter our ideal mate, our bodies know immediately. There is no confusion, no gradual realization. Simply absolute certainty that this person is meant to be ours.”
Her mouth falls open slightly. “Are you saying—”
“I am saying that you are my fated mate, Fiona Davis. And I have spent three years trying to be worthy of someone who doesn’t even know I exist.”
The confession hangs in the air between us like a live wire, crackling with implications neither of us is prepared to handle. She stares at me, processing, and I can see the exact moment when the full meaning hits her.
“Fated mate,” she repeats slowly. “You’re talking about some kind of alien soulmate situation.”
“In essence, yes.”
“And you determined this how? By watching me change oil and fix transmissions?”
Despite everything, her dry delivery almost makes me smile.
“By watching you work with mechanical systems like you understand their souls. By seeing you help stranded travelers without expecting payment. By observing your strength, your competence, your refusal to be anything less than exactly who you are.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, working through the implications. When she speaks again, her voice is softer, more uncertain.
“That’s a lot of pressure to put on someone, Ja’war. This whole fated mate thing.”
“I know. Which is why I never approached you, never tried to force contact or connection. I hoped that someday, perhaps, our paths might cross naturally, and you might see something in me worth knowing.”
“Instead, you got shot and crashed on my doorstep.”
“Yes.”
She moves to the window again, looking out at the pristine snow. “So what happens now? You’ve confessed to three years of stalking and declared me your destined soulmate. What’s the next step in this cosmic romance plan?”
Before I can answer, the radio on her workbench crackles to life.
“—organized search teams have located what appears to be a crash site approximately fifteen kilometers north of Frosses Ridge. Military advisors are en route to secure the area. All residents are advised to remain indoors and report any suspicious activity immediately—”
The blood freezes in my veins. They found my ship.
Fiona turns from the window, her face pale. “fifteen kilometers north. That’s where you said—”
“We have to go. Now.” I’m already moving, gathering my coat and emergency pack. “If they breach the cloaking system, if they access my cargo—”
“The medications.”
“Will be confiscated and studied for months while hundreds die.” I turn to face her, knowing that everything—her trust, her safety, her choice—now hangs on this moment.
“I need your help, Fiona. Not just as a mechanic, but as someone who understands that some things matter more than personal comfort or safety.”
She looks at me for a long moment—this alien who’s been secretly obsessed with her for three years, who claims she’s his fated mate, who’s asking her to risk everything for the sake of strangers on distant worlds.
Then she reaches for her coat.
“Let’s go save your spaceship.”