Chapter 44
NOVA
There’s a softness to this quiet I’ve never felt before.
I’m not in containment. Not in a lab. Not strapped to a pod with the hum of death in my ears.
I’m in a bed.
Kaz’s bed.
The sheets smell like soap and warm skin and a faint hint of that old paint thinner he never really managed to get out of his flight jacket.
And I’m not alone.
Kaz is next to me. Legs tucked under him, back braced against the headboard. His voice low and steady.
He’s holding Dar.
My son—our son—is curled up in his arms, small fists clutching the edge of Kaz’s shirt. And Kaz is telling him a story.
No voices. No sound effects.
Just soft words, wrapped in gravel and patience.
“…and then, just when the rocket thought it was gonna fall, a tether shot out from the satellite and caught it—held it steady, even in the storm.”
Dar blinks up at him. “Like a hug?”
Kaz smiles. “Exactly like a hug.”
My heart gives out a little.
I don’t move. Don’t breathe too loud.
Because I don’t want this to stop. Not yet.
It’s too pure. Too real.
After everything—after Stark, after the fight, after being sealed in that damn pod—I thought the world would feel wrong again. Like waking up from a dream too good to be true.
But here, now, in this bed… it feels like a beginning.
Kaz finally looks up.
His eyes meet mine.
And gods, they’re soft. Like ocean light filtered through ash. Worn down. Full of too much.
But not angry.
He shifts Dar gently, laying him down between us. Dar’s already asleep, one tiny hand curled around the toy ship still clutched in his palm.
I reach out, run my fingers over the boy’s hair.
“You didn’t have to stay,” I whisper.
Kaz shrugs, but it’s not casual. “Didn’t know how to leave anymore.”
I sit up slow, the ache in my ribs blooming as I move. “I wanted to tell you.”
“I know.”
I look away.
“I was scared,” I say. “Not just of you being angry. I was scared you wouldn’t believe me. Or that you’d come back and want to fix it all like it was easy. And it’s not. It’s never been.”
He nods, quiet for a second. “I blamed you. At first. But it wasn’t just you. I left. That’s on me.”
“You were ordered off-world,” I say, sharper than I mean to. “I remember. Swan’s crash. The coverup. The mission. All of it.”
Kaz swallows. His jaw flexes. “I should’ve fought harder to come back.”
I glance at Dar.
“You came back when it mattered.”
Silence stretches between us.
Comfortable.
He breaks it with a small smile. “He’s stubborn.”
“Like you.”
“Snorts when he laughs.”
“You snort when you laugh.”
Kaz grins wider. “I do not.”
I raise a brow.
He tries to deny it again, but then I giggle. Full on. And he just gives in, chuckling under his breath.
And gods, I missed this. The ease. The air between us not being razor-sharp and full of what-ifs.
We sit there, watching Dar sleep.
I lean in.
He meets me halfway.
The kiss is slow. Deep. Not rushed like before. No urgency. No rage between our teeth.
Just heat. And safety.
It starts soft.
My hands on his jaw.
His fingers trailing the curve of my waist.
The bed shifts under us, but we barely notice. Dar’s in his little nest of blankets, undisturbed.
Kaz lays me down like I’m something sacred. Like I might vanish.
But I don’t.
I stay.
Because this is home.
And when he kisses me again, it’s not lust. It’s memory and promise and hope wrapped in skin.
We move together like we used to.
Like we never stopped.
It’s tender. Quiet.
His breath on my neck.
My hand gripping his back.
Whispers passed between us—not dirty, not desperate. Just truths.
“I missed you.”
“I’m here now.”
“I love you.”
And when we finally still, tangled and warm, the room heavy with peace, I press my forehead to his and whisper the one thing I was never brave enough to say:
“You make me feel safe.”
Kaz doesn’t reply with words.
He just holds me tighter.