Page 131 of Stars

“Go, then!”

Oleg thrust the wallet out to him. “Take this.”

“Fuck you.”

“Take it, Seryozha! It’s the least I can do. You will have nothing after this. What will you do? Where will you go? You’re the first president who hasn’t stolen from this country.”

“What the fuck is this, then?”

“A bank account. Two million dollars. Take it, for fuck’s sake.” Oleg’s face wavered, chin trembling as he fought back the waters rising in his eyes. “I did this to you,” he said softly. “Please. Take this. You and Sasha, just go. Run away. Start a new life somewhere else. These people, this country. They’re not ready for men like you.”

“Men like me?” Sergey clenched his fists—

“Good men,” Oleg said simply. “The best of men.”

Sergey stuttered to a stop. He stared into Oleg’s eyes. His friend was drowning, oceans of regret ravaging his soul. “I’m sorry,” Oleg whispered. He pressed the wallet into Sergey’s hand.

Sergey wrapped his fingers around the leather, silently accepting it.

“The account is in Switzerland. I put your name on it this morning. When you’re ready to leave, go. You and Sasha, when he comes back.”

If he comes back.

Her debris field will stretch across Moscow and continue northeast—

He couldn’t leave. Not yet. Not until he held Sasha in his hands again, either as a man or as ashes.

Oleg pulled away, backing up as the rotors on his chopper spun up again and the engine screamed. Whirlwinds rose around Sergey. Maybe he could ride on their updraft, follow Oleg into the sky and beyond, claw his way through the clouds and back to Sasha. If he could snap his fingers and reappear at Sasha's side, he would, without a moment’s hesitation. Damn the virus, the sickness. They would betogether. He would choose to die at Sasha’s side.

Oleg’s chopper rose and banked, sailing over the pine and the spruce and the derelict base and heading for the airport. In moments, Sergey was left in silence with nothing but the beat of his own heart.

Will you still beat if Sasha is gone?

This was worse, so much worse, than when Sasha’s MiG exploded over the Arctic. He’d only had a glimpse of the man then, of the seas that flowed beneath his ice. Had only seen fractions of his soul, glimpses of the wonder that was Sasha. He’d only tasted his kiss once, a press of dry lips to his in the cold air stinking of jet fuel. He’d lived lifetimes in hiswhat-ifs, imagined moment by moment how things could have been different.

And then Sasha was back.

And he’dhadthat better life, that life he’d hungered for, had watered in dreams with the tears that fell at night before he’d slept. He’dhadit—they’d had it—had built it together. Hard won, hard fought, buttheirs. A life united. A love he’d never known, never felt, never even imagined.

Debris. Fire raining to the ground, a thousand parts and pieces falling from the heavens. A thousand pieces of Sasha, a thousand pieces of his heart, nothing more than ash. He fell to his knees and screamed, and screamed, and screamed.

Those parts and pieces weren’t just the station, they were his heart and soul. Sasha had taken Sergey’s soul with him when he’d launched, and for days Sergey had been a hollow man, a shadow of himself, forever looking up at the stars and trying to catch a glimpse of his love.

Without Sasha, how could his world continue? How could a man live without his soul?

The world was a held breath, the clench of a gut, waiting for impact.

Come back to me, Sashunya.

Come home.

* * *

39

ISS

Tumbling in Earth’s Orbit