Chapter 6 Gravity
Gravity
You can’t blame gravity for falling in love.
— ALBERT EINSTEIN
ORION
Through the panoramic window of my observatory, I focus the monocular on Collins crossing the leaf-covered quad. All around, the clear ocean sky vies for my attention, yet I can’t take my eyes off the breathtaking view below.
Shoulder braced against the cool windowpane, I tighten my grip on the compact telescope. After grinding a new lens, the image quality is unmatched, bringing her close enough to burn.
Her legs are bare below the hem of her stylish skirt, where eight little buttons hold the pleat of fabric fixed, the suit jacket coming to rest an inch above the skirt hem. It’s just provocative enough to be distracting, but still professionally tailored to her petite body.
Dark waves bounce along the curve of her back as her heels punch down with purpose, carrying her toward the arched colonnade, the overcast afternoon doing nothing to mute her striking presence.
Though she’s trying, it’s impossible for her to blend into the scenery.
She’s calling attention just by breathing.
Whether Collins realizes it or not, her presence has caused a disruption. I’ve fine-tuned this institute the way I calibrate every instrument in my observatory, and I can sense the interference in my bones.
Her vibration cracks through me like a fault.
Every time I catch the soft echo of her voice, or feel her gaze across a room, my ribs tighten, my sternum caving until breathing alone aches.
It has to be enough.
I watch her stride beneath one of the stone archways. She pulls out her phone and absently presses her foot to the column behind her, posed effortlessly at ease, her knees slightly parted. So tantalizingly seductive I almost feel ashamed for looking.
Almost.
Something dark and dangerous stirs beneath my skin. Seeing her in the darkened walkway by herself, vulnerable, as if she’s issuing a dare. The thought scratches at some deep itch just enough to inflame it.
It’s getting harder to find relief. Chasing hits of adrenaline, speeding my bike until the rush bleeds the turmoil from my veins, numbing the residual aches in my bones. And still, the hollow inside me deepens, this insidious hunger growing harder to satisfy.
Because fuck, this isn’t healthy. Pining after a woman who reminds me—with every aching breath—how dangerously close I am to losing control.
As if to reinforce that thought, I catch sight of Prescott approaching from the side. My spine stiffens as he steps into her space, leaning in far too close—and the sudden, intrusive urge to disembowel him with his own calipers grips me.
“That fucking prick,” I mutter.
“Even the most insufferable pricks don’t deserve to have their equipment sabotaged.”
Leo’s irritated grumble further coils the fury in my gut. “Some equipment is just inadequate,” I say. At his exasperated sigh, a smirk tips the corner of my mouth.
I sense him drawing near the window, and my annoyance flares. Leo’s the only one allowed in this part of the observatory, and that’s only because he’s the president—and I haven’t figured out a way to do away with him.
Yet.
I lower the monocular, but not before he catches on to what I’m observing below.
“You know, a little professional rivalry is typically healthy,” he remarks from over my shoulder. “But this is not, my friend.”
Hit with the fierce desire to strangle him with Prescott’s entrails, I drop the instrument onto the metal table with a resounding clang and step away. “The magnets were misaligned and the timing of the beam was off,” I say, offering some explanation. “It wasn’t safe.”
“Then you should’ve simply overwritten the program for beam alignment and magnet currents,” he says with infuriating logic, “correct any anomalies. Not kill the unveiling.”
Correct any anomalies.
I scrub the back of my head, blinking hard to force the swelling pressure to recede. “When the system detects an anomaly, it calls for a complete shutdown,” I say, but I’m no longer talking to him.
My gaze snaps to the screen in the corner. I tap my fingers against my thigh in time with its continuous flicker—one, one, two, three, five—my thoughts drifting as the algorithm continues its search.
Leo watches me closely, a concerned draw to his brows. “Rye…” He says my name questioningly.
“Yeah,” I say, giving my head a shake. “It was petty. Won’t happen again.” I tell him this so he’ll leave.
“It can’t happen again,” he stresses, a warning there.
He proceeds to pick up the monocular and gaze at the scene unfolding below, letting a beat stretch before he says, “Prescott seems to like Dr. Holbrook. He had a meeting with her after the disastrous unveiling.” He lets his baiting remark hang between us.
“In fact, he said he finds her sessions quite stimulating.”
Dark filaments edge into my vision.
“He’d find a seminar on orbital debris stimulating,” I say, annoyingly aware of the possessiveness in my voice.
“Well, can’t blame him with a celestial body like that floating around campus.” He chuckles at his own crude joke.
My jaw clenches, and I snatch the scope from his thick hand. “You’re not here to shoot the shit, Leo. What do you want,” I demand, unable to curb the lethal edge in my tone.
“Right.” He drops his hands into his pockets.
“I’m here to make you an offer in the hope that we can get back on track.
I’m ready to grant your terms.” He clears his throat.
“Because I do understand the obstacles you face, if working entirely alone will help you make progress in your research, I’ll relocate the team to the RC section. ”
I cock an eyebrow, waiting for the catch.
He rocks back on his heels. “All that’s required is a single evaluation with Dr. Holbrook.” He holds up a hand. “Just one. That’s all I’m asking, Rye. No, it’s not mandatory, but it will go a long way to appease those who have concerns.”
At the mere suggestion of being alone with her, a dark current thrashes against my skull. Something deep within claws, gnashing its teeth. While dabbling in a little light stalking can be a somewhat masochistic pastime, it’s ultimately harmless. But placing her directly within reach—
That’s more than dangerous.
Leo expels an audible breath. “You do owe me this,” he says.
A knowing smirk pulls at my mouth. And there it is, cashing in on a debt he thinks I owe him. But for a single evaluation… That’s not nearly a high enough ask to balance the scales. I’ve known my old colleague too long not to suspect an ulterior motive.
At my silent refusal, he curses under his breath. “Christ’s sake. Whatever you think, I am trying to help. I don’t even ask that you prepare your own course material. Your damn TA handles all that, down to grading papers. I practically let you get away with murder.”
I cock an eyebrow.
“You’ve become rash and impulsive,” he continues, undeterred. “Do you realize what the faculty and students are saying about you? That you’re unhinged.”
I release a dry laugh. “Is that the trending word of the day?”
He bristles, struck right in his fragile ego. He doesn’t like to be reminded that he’s aging, becoming obsolete.
Hell, we all are.
But here’s what Leo can’t seem to grasp. Our empathy, our vaunted humanity, is a weakness holding us back from achieving what is otherwise impossible within a single lifetime.
Leo sighs heavily. “They just want a clearance on record,” he says.
I shake my head, annoyance mounting. “Fuck, I already gave you that two years ago—”
“Yes, but after the most recent incident,” he interrupts, “you have to appreciate my position here. It’s risk mitigation.” His voice softens a fraction as he says, “It’ll be handled internally. I am looking out for you, Rye. Just trying to keep you here.”
I glance at the brass orrery mounted beneath the platform, feeling that urgent tug with each mechanical orbit. The solar eclipse is only two months away, and I’ve been here all this time, waiting.
“Fine,” I relent, the bitter concession ground between my teeth. “One evaluation.”
Leo nods, looking relieved. “All right. Good.” He heads for the staircase, pausing at the landing to glance back.
Shadows deepen the lines around his eyes.
“It’s been six years,” he says quietly, his tone tinged with regret.
“We’ve avoided it all this time, but… What happened to Emma—it was tragic.
Horribly unfair and tragic. But it wasn’t your fault.
There was nothing you could’ve done to prevent it. ”
The dome tilts around me, pitching me off balance. Old breaks throb with a sudden flare of pain as a faded memory ripples through. The panic in her voice. The crushing helplessness. The vicious twist of guilt as my body lay broken, useless beneath the stars.
I struggle to anchor myself, fighting back the dark tide roaring in my ears.
Leo exhales an exasperated breath. “What I’m saying is, you can’t punish yourself forever. Moving on doesn’t mean forgetting.”
“Forgetting,” I repeat in a bitter tone as I flex my fingers, aggravating the phantom ache of shattered bones. A painful reminder that refuses to let me forget.
He lingers for a moment longer, then gives a solemn nod before he descends the stairs, leaving me alone with my loathing.
And I’m thrust back to the day he extended a lifeline, offering me the chance to head my own Department of Physics and Astronomy at Stonehurst.
Leonard Banner knew me before I became a blight on the field, mocked for my theories, reputation smeared. Hell, he was even the one who encouraged me into the dark regions of my research, eyes alight with ambition.
Well, technically, that was more spite than Leo.
Nothing fuels the drive to succeed quite like spite.
Still, beneath my cold resolve, some shred of sentiment must remain, because I decide maybe I won’t strangle him with Prescott’s entrails. Just leave them lying around for him to trip over.