Dylan is the first through the door, his head down, watching his
step over the lip of the door frame. “Jesus,” he sighs. The other
crew members file in behind him and I know their names from the
log-service tech Leena Chen, navigator Vallery Andrews, radio tech
Mike Johnson—but I can’t put the faces to them. Except for Mike,
I’m assuming he’s the guy with the short blonde hair twisted into
the beginnings of dreadlocks that hang in his eyes. And then
there’s Dylan Teague, pilot and commander and my ex-lover, and just
seeing him again makes my chest hurt with each shallow breath I
take. With a quick smile at his crew, he says, “I thought you guys
were gonna make us sit out there all day—”
Then he looks up, sees me, and the rest of
his words die, his smile freezes, he stops. Surprise,I feel
like saying, but that would be mean. Instead I force a lopsided
grin, one corner of my mouth wanting to smile and the other not