Page 65

Jennette

I didn’t sleep last night.

Which is why I know that Tam didn’t come to bed. At all. Well, technically, to mattress. I chose to crash on an air bed in the loft, allowing others to take the more comfortable accommodations. I have no idea where—or if—Tam slept, or what’s going on, but it’s major.

My eyes burn with exhaustion as I head down to the kitchen. Poppy is making coffee for everyone, which is fitting since she’s a barista. I don’t think she hates the drink portion of her job, just the management. Everyone’s at the table, including Tam.

“Morning,” I mumble, feeling like utter shit.

Jaz slides a plate in front of me. “You look like you could use this.”

It’s scrambled eggs and toast, something she made, maybe, but can’t even eat.

That’s sweet of her. And I’m sitting here with aliens, over breakfast, like it’s no big deal, stressing over the status of my relationship.

Teen me would be absolutely enchanted by all of this, even the parts that are messing me up.

Like wondering what I did wrong. Why it feels like everything is about to come crashing down.

“Thanks.” I manage a smile.

“I have something to share with everyone,” Tam says, before I can take a single bite.

“Oh yeah?” Tad puts down his tablet, all attention.

Before he can say a word, a ping comes from his pack. Tam freezes, and Ravik is the one who goes to Tam’s bag and pulls out the beacon. Numbers. At first, I can’t make sense of what I’m seeing; I’m too damn tired.

And then I simply know.

“The agency,” I breathe. “Those are coordinates.”

“And the day and time,” Jaz says.

By her lack of surprise, she already knew. Ravik evinces no reaction either. And that hurts so much that it takes my breath away.

“Holy shit,” Poppy says. “You’re leaving?”

“Dude.” Tad drops his mug with a clatter, looking like I feel, and his pale coffee sloshes on the darker wood of the table.

Seems like only the humans are stunned. And I try to take a bite of toast to pretend this doesn’t feel like a world-ending event. It’s tasteless in my mouth and chewing makes it worse, making it a chore to swallow the wad of bread. I pick up my utensils, resolving not to reveal how wounded I feel.

“Wow.” My hand trembles slightly, so I set down the fork before anyone notices. I can’t eat the eggs either, I guess.

I muster up a wider smile, one that feels as though it might crack my face open. “He can finally see his family. Go back where he belongs.”

It’s not like he planned to stay this long. With me, he might have been making the best of his situation. And yeah, that’s not a great way to describe someone I love this much. There, I finally used the L word. I think I’m in love with an alien, and he is leaving.

Story of my life.

“They’ll be so relieved,” Jaz says in a gentle voice.

“They will,” Poppy agrees.

Tam hasn’t spoken a single word since dropping that conversational bomb. He’s not looking at me either. I have no idea what he’s thinking, and I’ve never felt so cut off from him, not even when we were only talking online. In fact, it’s like he’s already gone.

I clear away the dishes while the others amble into the living room. As the day inches forward, the others are trying to cover the silence with nervous laughter, and I’m a spectator, watching a play where everyone knows their lines but me.

It’s not even noon, and I want to retreat to the loft, pull the covers over my head, and never come out. I try doing that, but Tam comes up and tugs away the illusion that everything is fine, along with the blanket. I should act like it’s okay, but I can’t.

Angry words spill out instead. “You should have told me first.”

“I didn’t tell Ravik. They knew. They have equipment, and they happened to ask about it last night. You were talking to—”

“Oh, so I’m not there for you. That’s what you mean?” God, why am I being so petty?

Don’t be a dumbass.

“I do not believe I said that.”

But my mouth is on auto and I can’t shut up. “This is probably for the best. We were already struggling to make this work long-term. My family doesn’t like you. And we can’t even take pictures together. Everything is built on a lie.”

He pauses. His arm—no, his extensor—hovers in the space between us, and then he retracts it.

“Is that how you truly feel?”

I don’t answer, rolling onto my side so the air mattress makes an awful farting sound. This is the worst day in my whole life, and I’m counting the time I got food poisoning after eating poorly cooked chicken. Eventually, I hear the soft sound of Tam retreating.

Nobody bothers me for a while, and I eventually fall asleep.

Judging by the shadows, it’s near dusk when I rouse.

The memory of what’s happening hits me like a hammer upside the head.

I slink down the stairs, unable to face Tam or anyone in this condition.

I should shower or eat or pretend to be a normal human but instead, I’m a ball of unraveling emotions, just hissing and spitting all over the place.

It’s like when Spock gets all grumpy and chases Scotty around the house over a stupid toy mouse.

I find Poppy outside, away from the others, watching two squirrels that seem to be having a vicious argument.

“This sucks,” I whisper.

“Jen,” she says gently, and that’s all it takes.

Tears spill over, hot and relentless. Poppy opens her arms without a word, and I step into the hug with weary gratitude. “I can’t do it. I can’t watch him go.”

In her embrace, I break, knowing she’ll help me put the pieces back together again. But even as I cry, I wonder how much of me will be lost once Tam leaves Earth. She pats my back gently and doesn’t bullshit me. I’m sure she knows that I’m losing the love of my life.

Not to death or indifference but distance .

“What’s the alternative?” she asks.

“I didn’t even really unpack. So I can just grab my bag and head out quietly when everyone’s asleep tonight.”

She eases back to arm’s length, frowning. “Are you sure you won’t regret that? Even if he’s leaving, you need closure. He probably does too.”

“Closure is for flesh wounds, not emotional ones.” Maybe that sounds glib, but it’s also how I feel.

There are no magical words that make a parting like this feel fine and will leave me well adjusted.

Miraculously not feeling like part of my soul has been slammed repeatedly in a car door.

This is why I always planned to die alone and get eaten by my cats, damn it.

Romance is too painful, and happy endings obviously aren’t meant for weirdos like me.

Now if Jaz could play a tiny violin for me, everything would be perfect.

“I think you should take some time. Think it through. Maybe talk to Ravik or Jaz. Or even Tad. See what they think.”

I clutch her arm before she goes back inside. “Don’t tell anyone I’m going, okay? I’m trying to avoid a painful scene, and if you alert the rest of the crew, it’ll be so messy.”

“I’m going on record as saying I think this is a mistake,” Poppy says flatly. “But I won’t spill your plans either.”

“Thanks. You’re a good friend.”

She sighs. “Everyone’s gonna be pissed at both of us, but I can take it.”

Maybe she’s right. Maybe I’m taking the easy way out and acting like a coward.

But right now, all I want to do is run. But I shouldn’t drive when I’m this upset; I should calm down first. There’s a hiking trail nearby that leads in a loop around the property.

Ravik mentioned it last night. I greet Kevin in passing as I head past the chicken shed.

I need to get some air, put some distance between me and the source of all this pain.

Sticking around means facing goodbyes I can’t bear to speak.