Another minute and I wonder if I’ve dropped
the signal. Maybe he’s drifted out of range—the coordinates on the
screen tell me he’s somewhere to the north and that’s all uncharted
right now, that’s why his unit is out that way, they’re mapping
those stars and maybe he’s too far out to come in clearly. He’s not
ignoring me, he’s not.
Then static scratches across the speakers
and his voice surrounds me. “Neal,” he sighs. I close my eyes and
lean back, hating the relief that courses through me, but I love
his voice, the way it sometimes cracks a little even though he’s
already twenty, the way he can say my name and make me feel like a
schoolboy all over again. “God, I’m glad it’s you.” I’m about to
ask him again what he wants—the last thing I need is someone
listening to the backup and hearing the two of us reminisce about
what we used to have before they sent him out on this mission and
he thought it’d be best if we just put usaside for awhile.
Though now, here, tonight? Just hearing his voice again makes me
realize how much I’ve missed him, how much I still feel for him,
how much I want him back here and in my arms again, in my bed
again, with meAnd he’s got another what, two years out
there? So wanting him isn’t going to accomplish shit. He didn’t
WANT you pining for him, remember? That’s why he suggested the
break-up, he didn’t want you to want for him, he wanted you to be
happy if you could and how did he ever think you could be happy
without him? I mean, really.But just as I brush my thumb over
the transmit, static crackles around me as he says, “We’ve sort of
run into a situation out here, Neal.”
It’s been two months since I saw him last
but I can still picture him in my mind, leaning over the radio,
maybe running a hand through whatever hair has managed to grow back
from the last time he cut it all off. He’d have a good length by
now, a dark brown the color of rich chocolate, long in the front
and clipped to the nape of his neck, that’s the way he likes to
wear it, and I clench my hands into fists because I can almost feel
that soft length in my palms. His mouth would be close to the mike,
he likes to keep it close so he can talk low—he used to call me on
a secured channel when he did daily jaunts and he’d whisper over
the signal, his voice sexy and wonderful and I’d turn it up as loud
as I dared, put on the headset and press the receivers against my
ears until it felt like he was speaking inside of me, my whole body
vibrated beneath his words. Without realizing it I reach for the
headset now, slip it on, switch over the signal and my voice sounds
unbelievably deep to my own ears when I speak into the mouthpiece.
“What kind of situation?”
“You recording this?” he answers, his
voice filling my ears. Keep talking to me,I pray, leaning
back in my chair. My body reacts to the sound of his voice, so
close, so unbearably close, and even though I’m dressed in a
loose-fitting jumpsuit, the area below my belt is suddenly feeling
pretty damn tight.
“Yeah,” I whisper. The mouthpiece
touches my lips and I don’t have to talk very loud for him to hear
me. “What kind of situation, Dylan?”
“We’ve intercepted a signal—” he
starts, and then he laughs. He has an infectious laugh, it makes me
smile to hear it. “I almost forgot what you sound like.”
I sigh. He’s not going to make this
separation easy, is he?I wonder. Even though it was his idea
to start with—I was fine with him out there in space and me back
here at the station, but he was the one who didn’t want that.
“Dylan,” I warn. “What kind of signal?”
He must realize this isn’t going to be the
breathless reunion he was hoping for because he sighs and his voice
is curt when he replies. “From the Epsilon system.” A cluster of
stars well beyond the north sector—out past the range of their
mission, which explains why he’s calling it in. “It seems to be an
archaic code but the computer’s worked it out, says it’s a welcome
message, of sorts.” I don’t like the way he says of sorts,
like he knows the computer can’t be wrong but he doubts the
validity of its findings all the same. “Seems there’s life out
there, Neal. Or was, I don’t know, the source is pretty far away.