Starfall (Starflight #2)(27)
Which left her no choice but to confront this empty bedroom, particularly the naked top bunk. She didn’t know how she felt about that. Nearly every night for the last two years, she’d fallen asleep to the sound of Kane’s breathing. His presence had been her only constant on board this ship, and despite the strangeness between them, it didn’t seem right sleeping here alone. Even standing in the empty quarters felt unnatural.
Maybe Renny needed help in the pilothouse.
She jogged up to the top level and found him relaxed in his seat at the helm, letting the autopilot fly the ship while he studied his data tablet.
“Permission to come aboard?” she teased.
He glanced up at her and smiled. “Hey, there. I thought you were resting.”
“I’m not tired.”
“Anything on your mind?”
“No. Just wanted to say hello.”
He patted the copilot’s seat. “Then you can keep me company while I review these job orders.” While she sat down, he watched her with an expression she didn’t recognize, pride mingled with something deeper. “Have I told you how good it is to have you home?”
Home.
That wasn’t the word she would’ve used, but she didn’t correct her captain. Seeing him grinning at her through his broken glasses, his sweet face marred by scars—it was all she could do to keep her eyes dry. She knew the Daeva wouldn’t have touched him if it hadn’t been for her.
“Only twice.”
“Well, one more time won’t hurt. I missed you. We all did.”
“I missed you, too. It’s good to be back.”
His grin slipped, warning her the conversation was about to turn heavy. “Listen, I don’t want to dredge up bad memories—”
“Then don’t,” she said with a laugh that didn’t fool either of them.
“—but I need you to know why it took so long to reach you.” He removed his glasses and rubbed both eyes in a nervous tic she’d seen him do a hundred times. “The Daeva really worked me over. I was unconscious for hours after they finished with me. I think the only reason they left me alive was so I would lead them to Kane, but I couldn’t—”
“Renny, please.” It didn’t make her feel better to imagine her captain lying on the floor, bloodied and beaten. “I was already gone. You did the right thing and protected Kane. I’m just sorry we put you in that position.”
“Don’t be sorry.” He was still fidgeting with his glasses. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. I hope you know that.”
She nodded while studying a crack in the leather of her seat. She knew how much Renny cared for her. She cared for him, too, more than she loved her own father. But the pilothouse seemed to have shrunk three sizes since the conversation began, and now she couldn’t get enough air.
“I should go,” she said, and stood up. “I forgot that I promised to help with dinner.”
“Oh. Okay. See you at supper.”
She dropped a kiss on his shaggy head and then jogged down the stairs, pausing at the landing to catch her breath. Her relief was only temporary because now she had to help Kane in the galley, otherwise Renny would know she’d lied. She mentally groaned. She should’ve come up with a better exit strategy.
Her boots dragged as she continued down another flight of steps to the galley. When she strode through the doorway, Kane glanced up from a fish-shaped wooden cutting board piled high with the onions they’d bought from the farmers’ market on Eturia.
He used the back of one hand to blot his watery eyes. “Hey, I thought you were—”
“Not tired,” she interrupted, and gestured at the cutting board. She knew how much he hated dicing onions. “Want me to do that?”
“God, yes.” He immediately tossed down the knife and spun toward the sink, then washed his face and dried it with a dishtowel. “I hate those things. If it were up to me, we’d use dehydrated. They taste just as good.”
“No, they don’t.” She carried the cutting board to the sink and positioned it below the flowing faucet. That was the trick to tear-free onion dicing—cutting them under running water. Kane didn’t know that because she’d never told him. She liked being able to do something he couldn’t. It made her feel needed. “Good thing you’ve got me to do it for you.”
He snickered while sorting dried lentils in a bowl. “You missed your calling, Majesty. Forget the throne. You can come with me and be my personal onion cutter.”
Come with me. To the Infinium compound—that was what he meant. Because apparently he couldn’t go five minutes without dropping a reference to his job offer. Just today she’d had to listen to him brag about how Gage had told him to name his own salary and choose his own territory and order all the custom upgrades he wanted for his company ship.
She wished he’d shut up about it.
Gripping her knife, she bore down hard on the onions with a satisfying thunk. It felt so good that she did it again, and soon the only sound in the galley was of her blade against the cutting board.
“Whoa, take it easy,” Kane said, pointing at an onion. “Does it owe you money?”
She snapped her gaze to his. “Would you rather do it?”
He flashed both palms in surrender. “Never mind. Hack away.”