Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
He glances back at me, and his face falls. “Did I wake you? I was trying to make breakfast noodles.”
“It’s okay,” I tell him, and I can breathe again.
EPILOGUE
Months later
BRUX
“Here, take this with you,” my mate says as she rushes to my side. “I just made it.”
I watch, amused, as she loops a narrow belt over my thicker one that carries my tools. On the belt is a slender canister in a holster, her latest “creation” that she’s made for me. This is in addition to the jacket with the heating elements in it that she made so I don’t “freeze” as I do my rounds of the space port’s many docks.
“What’s this?” I ask, patient as she tinkers with the fit. Melody’s way to show she cares is to make you things. Things that you don’t necessarily need, but she likes to anticipate those needs for “just in case.” “Some sort of weapon?”
She scoffs. “It’s a drink container. It keeps your tea hot all day. I already filled it for you.”
“And why do I need that?” It’s adorable how she fusses.
“Because it’s cold outside and I don’t like that you have to walk around in the chill. And because I wanted to see if I could make one and I did. I also have a toaster that I need you to deliver for me, please. Can you stop by the boarding house and give it to a woman named Janet?”
“Janet,” I repeat, even as my mate races back to the far side of our house to get the toaster she’d worked on just last night. Well, until I’d distracted her with touches. She finished it this morning while I made breakfast.
Our new house is one of the tiny homesteads that dot the surrounding area of Port. Melody had initially declined getting a farm because she didn’t like the thought of taking care of animals and she doesn’t care to farm. Once we got together, however, her room in the boarding house felt too small for longer-term living. Now we’re on a farm with a refurbished air-sled. We’re a brief hop from town on the air sled, but when Melody goes into town, I take one of the bicycles and let her use the sled for hauling scrap. Our fields are nothing but grass, and if I look out the window, I’ll see the neighbor’s meat-stock grazing on our land. The woman who lives nearby pays us a stipend to let her stock use our fields, and it pays for our necessities.
Melody rushes forward with the toaster in hand, wrapped in a square of thick plas. She says it’s like a “present” when you wrap it up, and does so every time. She hands it over to me. “Who are you delivering this to?”
“Janet. Boarding house.”
She beams at me and reaches up to pat my cheek. “Perfect. And if you run into Eliza, tell her I’m still working on her commission. Don’t let her nag you.”
“I’ll be sure and scowl at her.”
“No you won’t. You’re too sweet.”
“Woman, you do not tell a former convict that he’s ‘sweet.’”
She rolls her eyes at me again, hands on her hips as she looks me over. We do this routine every morning, and I pretend like I’m tolerating it, but secretly, I enjoy every moment. I love that I get to wake up next to my mate, in our house. I love that our living room is full of scrap and half-completed projects. I love that the front of our yard is nothing but piles of Melody’s “potential.” I love that she fusses over me every morning, and we kiss before heading off for our jobs. We come back together every night and spend hours just talking and laughing, playing board games or cooking…or making love. Lots and lots of making love.
I’m happier than I’ve ever been. I even like my job. Being outside even in the worst weather is better than spending all my time on some dank space station.
As Melody reaches up and adjusts the collar on my space port uniform, I reach out and tuck a lock of her bright yellow hair back from her face. “Are you working from home today?”
“No, I’m biking out to visit Heidi. Her comm panel is on the fritz and she wants me to look at it.”
“On the what?”