In the last six months, Ren had perfected the intricate dance of moving about on the drift during the rush times. He no longer bumped into anyone or allowed them to bump into him—Darby had laughed loud and long the first time Ren’s credit chip had been stolen, but then spent a day teaching him how to be on the lookout for “people like her.” He knew his way without getting lost or needing to bleed into the systems and find a map to his and Asher’s home. He’d settled in here, in his environment and in his skin, and only had the occasional hiccup.
Ren slid between a couple arguing and ducked into the lit storefront for the best mechanic and tech support on the entire floor, maybe even the entire drift—him. Asher looked up from a vid screen where he argued with Rowan.
“Is that Ren?” Rowan’s voice came over the screen. “Ask him. He’ll settle it.”
“I’m not asking Ren.” Asher pouted. He tapped the toe of his boot and put his hands on his hips. “I’m right.”
“You’re not!” Lucas’s voice sing-songed from off-screen. “Ask him. He’s a duster after all.”
Rowan raised an eyebrow.
Asher pinched the bridge of his nose. Ren furrowed his brow, stepped behind the counter, and nudged into the frame. His arm was flush against Asher’s.
“What do you need to ask?”
Rowan tapped her mouth with her fingertips. “The tomato—fruit or vegetable? We picked a few up when we dropped off the cargo on Erden—Sorcha says hi by the way—and Penelope is on this kick about all of us consuming better nutrients, especially since she and Lucas have settled on this baby idea and…” Rowan trailed off. “You look unimpressed.”
Ren laughed. “Are you serious? This is what you’re arguing about?” He walked away, waving over his shoulder. “Tell Ollie I’ll have those power sources ready for him next time you’re docked.”
“They’re a vegetable,” Rowan said in a fierce aside.
“Fruit,” Asher said, arms crossed. “And you’re a cog. I have to go.”
“Fine. We’ll be docking at your drift in a few days to pick up our next load. We’ll discuss this more then.”
“Fine.” Asher switched off the screen.
Their place was merely a counter where Asher coordinated shipments for the Star Stream and Ren took orders for repairs. Their back room had a place for Ren to tinker and a set of steps to an upper level which housed their shared apartment. Asher kept his Phoenix Corps uniform in the closet, behind everything, and Ren kept a few trinkets—a shell from the beach by the lake and Liam’s comic book—on the table by the bed. It wasn’t much—a place to eat and sleep and the old couch from the ship with the spring that dug into Ren’s back just so, but it was home.
“Hey,” Asher said, following Ren into the back, “how’d it go?”
Ren sat in his chair, picked up a relay that had seen better days, and passed it back and forth between his hands. “Better. I like her, I think. Much more than the last one who didn’t even believe people like me existed. She gave me some calming exercises that I hadn’t tried before, and we talked.”
“About?”
Ren shrugged. “Panic attacks. Nightmares. Millicent.”
After the confrontation on the drift, Millicent disappeared. Liam tried to reach her once in a dream, with Ren present, but he couldn’t find her. They didn’t know what that meant, but guilt plagued Ren over the outcome of her defeat and capture. It was the way Darby had said, if the Corps wanted someone gone, they were gone.
He cleared his throat. “She’d like to meet my support system next time.”
“Yeah?”
Ren nodded. “Yeah.” And if Asher liked her, maybe he’d start seeing someone too, but one step at a time.
“Okay. I’m glad.” Asher’s mouth ticked up in a smile. “Sorcha says hi in case you didn’t hear.”
“Did Rowan say anything else? Did she see Liam?”
Asher walked all the way into the room and leaned against the wall. He was casual and well-rested and gorgeous. He’d let his hair grow and he’d taken to going on runs in the early morning hours while Ren stayed under the covers. “Sorcha is still leading all the villages. She has some new official title—I didn’t really hear what it was—and Jakob works at her side. She saw Liam, said he helped unload the cargo. He looked good. Happy.”
“Good.”
When Vos returned to Erden, Sorcha was waiting for him, and he was arrested within minutes of his ship touching down, as was Abiathar. His army was given a choice, and to date, most of them have either left Erden or assimilated into the villages.
“The wedding is still on. We’re expected, you know.”
Ren tensed. “I know.”
“You wouldn’t miss Jakob’s wedding, would you?”
Ren snorted.
“And it would be good for you to see Liam for yourself.”
“I talk to Liam once a week, you know that.” Liam’s ability to visit in Ren’s dreams had come in handy more than once, and Ren cherished the relationship they’ve developed. He hasn’t been this close to his brother since they were small, before Ren’s aspirations to leave the planet drove a wedge between them. “You’re often there.”
“Seeing him in dreams is different from seeing him in person.”
“I know.” Ren had a few hang-ups about going back to Erden: bad memories and bad feelings. Liam had gone home after their week-long stay on the resort drift and tugged Darby along with him. Darby didn’t stay—too much dirt—and soon was back in the stars floating in and out of their lives as she pleased—sometimes assisting Rowan, sometimes helping Ren and Asher, but always looking for her next thrill. After she’d find it, she’d return to the family that had accepted her, either the Star Stream or to the drift and the small room she rented on the same floor as their shop. “I’ll think about it. Let’s see what the new therapist says. It’s not for a few more months, right?”
Asher nodded. “Surprisingly adult of you.”
That startled a laugh out of Ren and Asher’s smile grew into a real one. “You were the one who was arguing with his sister about tomatoes. I don’t want to hear anything about maturity from you.”
Asher chuckled. “Point taken.” He uncrossed his arms and nodded toward the mess on Ren’s work desk. “By the way, you have a few new jobs. A ship that just docked is having trouble with its air recycler, and a restaurant needs something repaired in the kitchen.”
“Is that your subtle way of telling me to get to work?”
Asher rolled his eyes. “That’s my subtle way of reminding you that you’re doing well here. Your business is steady. You have a caring and handsome boyfriend and a family of oddballs who love you. I know how your thoughts get after appointments sometimes, and you need reminders.”
Ren smiled softly. “You have a handsome and caring boyfriend, too, you know. And he is very happy about where he is and how everything turned out.”
“He better be,” Asher said, abandoning all pretense and stalking across the small distance between them. He tilted Ren’s face up and kissed him softly.
Ren pressed his smile to Asher’s lips. Yes, he still had nightmares and panic attacks. Asher’s shoulder ached on bad days. They fought about silly things and serious things, but always made an effort to make up. Their place was cramped, and their shower didn’t always work, and there were days it was difficult for Ren to get out of bed and days when Asher stared at the uniform in the back of their closet.
But this—right here—Asher and him living together on a drift with their family safe and happy on ships and planets—that’s what Ren always wanted.
And he finally had it.
Everything else was stardust.