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Finding sleep bordered on impossible. Every time Javad closed his eyes, he saw his family. He needed to get off the mountain and be somewhere he could help them as soon as possible. Guilt plucked his nerves like a harpist, warming up for a solo. There was no good solution, and the day left him feeling plenty of remorse about leaving Chen and Nujalik to their fate as well. With no good solution, he tossed and flopped on the couch in an effort to find a fleeting bit of comfort. When sleep finally came, it was the shallow, dreamless sleep of exhaustion.
When he woke, the sun still hadn’t risen, and the ruddy glow seeping out of the stove’s grate did little to move the contents of the room out of shadow. Once his eyes had adjusted to the murk, he stretched his back and sat up. From the back of the cabin, he could hear a fine-pitched canine snore that made his heart glow. The need to leave warred with his desire to see Chen safe, until there was no point in trying to fight his way back to sleep; the rest of the house would be awake long before he’d managed, and his mind was already torn midway between Farhope and Khonsu.
Javad flowed into a stand, shifting through the forms of a moving meditation as much to settle his mind as work the blood back into his stiff muscles. Back on the Cry, he’d have hit the treadmill. Morning runs were his favorite and cleared his head for the day. He glanced at the cabin door. It was theoretically possible to run outside, but the dark, the unfamiliar landscape, and above all the cold smothered the idea before he could entertain it for long.
At least he could do something about one of those. Javad picked up a few smaller pieces of wood and fed them into the stove. Gentle breath brought the coals back to life, and in a matter of moments flames were eagerly licking at the new logs. He gave a bit of quiet thanks to his mother for all the times she’d made him manage the enormous wood oven at the restaurant. Between learning the most efficient way to split logs and knowing how to keep a fire banked, the lessons had already come in handy.
Which reminded him why he was up. He’d noticed a few things in the kitchen when Chen had asked him to check the food supply. He may not have many skills outside the clinic, but his parents had made sure he had one good one. He started toward the kitchen.
The second he stepped off the living room rug onto the cold slate floor, a chill shot up his leg. The surprise almost ripped a squeal from him, and he only barely managed to swallow it back. Screaming the house awake in the dark hours was a bad idea at the best of times. When your housemates were a prickly special forces soldier and her highly trained combat wolf? Even worse.
Also, there was no doubt that rousing them would drain away any goodwill he’d earned in the last twelve hours.
He went back and pushed one more log into the fire, then adjusted the vents to control the burn. By the time he’d finished prepping ingredients, the stovetop should be plenty hot enough for him to whip up a decent breakfast.
Cooking had always been his comfort space. His mother had instilled a love of both the science and artistry at an early age. After months on the Cry, where fabricators reigned supreme, the ability to make real food with actual ingredients felt like a guilty pleasure. That he could, hopefully, repay some of Chen’s kindness with a fresh meal only made it better. Whatever the day held, he needed to go, so a table full of thank you would be a perfect gift.
He found yogurt in the fridge and flour on the countertop in a sealed container. Two out of three. Not a bad start. He opened the pantry and scanned the shelves. One box was obviously out of place, in more ways than one. The sharp fruity smell was completely different from the musty earthiness of the rest of the cabin, and with a self-conscious scowl he pulled out the box and set it on the counter.
It was filled with half-used shampoos and bath gels, the source of the aroma, and he chuckled at the idea that Chen had a secret love of floral scents that she saved for the cabin. He checked the labels. Kanaloa Nights had a tropical smell that conjured up images of the namesake water world. Skybridge Grove carried hints of citrus and clove like the spice-oranges for which Farhope was famous. Each bottle was more flowery than the first and felt less like the Chen he’d come to know. And then he found a toothbrush, old and flared with use. And a cloth scrunchie, the long pale hair clinging to it decidedly not Chen’s.
His amusement melted into cold shame. The scents didn’t seem like Chen’s because they weren’t hers. Some past lover, who Chen had boxed up and set aside. Someone who’d been enough a part of Chen’s life that they had left their mark in the cabin. In every room, from the looks of the box. The idea that he was prying, ripping open Chen’s private life, made him feel dirty in a way that no shower was going to scrub clean. He closed the box back up and returned it to the pantry.
The baking powder was stuffed to the left of the stranger’s things, and he grabbed it out of the pantry, happy to have something else he could focus his attention on. His mom would be horrified. Nobody had written the purchase date on the package. The dust on the container certainly wasn’t a good sign, but Javad decided to go with hope.
He took a mixing bowl out of the cabinet and shook a pile of the white powder into the bottom, then hit the button on Chen’s auto-kettle. As soon as the light flashed red, he poured a splash of the boiling water onto the baking powder and held his breath. For a heartbeat, he thought the baking powder was dead and useless, then bubbles foamed up as it reacted to the heat and moisture. He wiped out the bowl and gathered the rest of his supplies.
Three ingredients, his mother had taught him. That was all you needed for a good flatbread. Everything else was just gilding.
He mixed the yogurt, flour, and powder into a soft dough, patted a piece flat between his hands, and laid it directly on the stove’s iron top. Almost immediately, the familiar aroma of cooking bread filled the air. It smelled like his parents’ restaurant, and the pang of memory that thumped in his chest carried with it the guilt of knowing he was delaying his departure and jeopardizing their safety.
This was a thank you, he reminded himself. Because Chen kept him safe. Because she’d shared her shelter when he’d been trapped up here. That’s all it was.
All it could be.
He flipped the bread too soon and it tore. His mother swore that the first flatbread of the day was always a waste, that you had to lose the first one to get used to the day’s inconsistencies in humidity, heat, and the like. Personally, he’d always assumed she just liked the privilege of eating that first piece. Certainly, his dad and mom had never begrudged her that.
A soft blur pressed into his leg, sending a wave of calm through him. Javad tore off a piece of the bread and fed it to the umbra wolf with a conspiratorial wink. “Don’t tell your partner, okay?”
“Don’t tell me what?” A sleepy-sounding Chen padded out of the bedroom at the end of the hall. It was the first time he’d seen her in something other than battle dress, and the voluminous flannel pajamas looked both perfectly comfy and utterly alien on her. Baggier than her uniforms aboard the Hunting Cry and yet endlessly more sexy because of how intimate it was, how easily he could imagine the body beneath.
With gritted teeth he looked back to the next flatbread, pulling the perfectly bubbled and brown circle off the stove and slapping another one down in its wake.
She flopped down onto the couch. “Is that fresh bread?” The respect in her voice was like an addictive drug, and he wanted to chase after it.
Javad shrugged. “I told you, my parents own a restaurant on Khonsu. I worked there from the time I could stand up.”
“Pretty sure that violates child labor laws.”
He grinned. “Pretty sure my parents didn’t care. When you’ve got a precocious child, too curious and too smart for his own good, you kept him busy however you could.”
“Well, next time I’m on Khonsu, I’ll have to thank them.” Chen yawned and stretched. “I don’t suppose you made tea?”
“I hadn’t yet. I didn’t want it to be cold when you woke up.” He walked into the kitchen, refilling the kettle from the tap before starting it up. “Flip that for me?”
He watched as Chen got the flatbread turned over, then rinsed their mugs from yesterday and filled a pair of teabags.
“How long have you been awake?”
“Half an hour? Maybe a little longer. It’s not a particularly difficult bread.” He’d made it so many times that he didn’t even measure anymore, just eyeballed the ingredients until the dough looked right. The kettle whistled quickly, a benefit of having already been used once. He filled the mugs and carried them into the living room. “That one’s yours if you’re ready.” He nodded at the flatbread.
Chen pulled it up and passed it from hand to hand to cool it, then took a big bite. She hummed contentedly as she chewed, eyes closed as she savored the smell and taste, the feel of steam on her face. “That’s amazing. I had no idea we even had the stuff in the cabin.”
“I was going to cook some of your eggs to go with it, or brush on a little oil and garlic. Do something more. If I’m honest though, when I’m on my own, I usually just eat the bread straight.”
She nodded. “It doesn’t need anything else. It’s perfect like this. Besides, Elena was the one who always wanted things complex and elaborate.” She winced, as though she realized what she’d shared.
“I, uh...” He pinched the bridge of his nose before remembering that he’d left his glasses on the table next to the sofa. “I wasn’t trying to snoop, but I found a box of stuff in the pantry while I was looking for ingredients. I’m going to assume it’s hers.” Better to keep it in the open; she’d notice it had been moved soon enough.
“Thanks for telling me.” She combed her fingers into Nujalik’s coat, and the wolf curled next to her on the sofa. “You’re right. I’d have wondered.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, how long were you together?” He knew he was prying now, but the opportunity to look behind the gruff, military mask was too tempting, and Javad couldn’t resist.
Chen focused on the flatbread in her hands. Again, he wished he’d had time to do more with it than just serve her plain flatbread, but if she enjoyed it, he wasn’t about to complain. After a long silence, she finally said, “Three and a half years.”
“I’m sorry.”
The wall that had started to dissolve slammed back into place with an almost audible pop. “I hadn’t realized it was your fault.” She grabbed another flatbread off the stack. “Thanks for making breakfast. I’ve got to take Nujalik out for her morning business.”
Before he could muster a response, she’d already thrown a jacket over her flannel, jammed her feet into the boots by the door, and headed outside. The blast of chilled air that rushed into the cabin in her wake matched the confused concern that settled in Javad’s blood.
#
THE COLD DID NOTHING to clear her head. Chen dragged her fingers over her scalp and pressed her palms against her eyelids until stars sparked in the dark. “Very smooth, Rakhi. Very subtle.”
It shouldn’t have bothered her. Heck, it shouldn’t even have affected her. She didn’t talk about her relationships with anyone. May only knew about Elena because Chen bunked with them, and they knew better than to ask questions without need. But Priddy was just...easy to talk to. Like he had some mental power that made you want to open up to him.
She narrowed her eyes at Nujalik, who was patrolling between two trees to find the exact perfect spot to leave her mark. “That’s it, isn’t it. He’s a secret psychic. That’s why you like him.”
Annoyed perturbance jangled back at her like a string of discordant notes, and Nujalik gave a huff of indignation before squatting low in the leaves.
“Fine. I deserved that.” Chen took a step closer to her wolf, watching the woods to make sure nothing wandered too close to her partner. She’d told Priddy that whoever his blackmailers were sending wouldn’t be able to make it up with the pass closed, but that wasn’t entirely true. Soldiers could come in on foot or by shuttle, just as she had. The chance was small, but it was still non-zero. Keeping an eye on the woods ensured all three of them stayed safe.
She’d said the same to May last night in an encrypted text to the Cry. It could be nothing, but it could be trouble. They’d shared her opinion that leaving Nujalik in gravity was the best choice for now, unless or until the situation changed.
Nujalik trotted back over as soon as she’d finished, the blur of her head shoving against Chen’s leg with an insistent whine. Chen groomed her fingers into her wolf’s coat and glanced over her shoulder at the cabin. Despite the cold, she could feel the heat in her cheeks that echoed the discomfort in her gut. She’d run out in a huff, like the selfish person Elena had always accused her of being.
And that was the rub of it. The last time she’d allowed someone past her defenses, it had almost ruined her relationship with Nujalik. Elena had made Chen doubt herself, and worse, question her relationship with her umbra wolf. It had taken Chen a long, difficult conversation with May to help realize what she needed to do, and extracting the hooks her partner had laid left bleeding wounds behind that made the thought of moving on nearly as loathsome as being alone.
The wind picked up, and she squinted against the tiny ice crystals it rasped across her skin. “Why am I right back here again, Nooj?” She caught the flicker of her wolf’s amusement at her using Priddy’s nickname and smiled. “Yeah. He likes you. I get it.”
It wasn’t like she was hunting for a relationship with him, or even anything deeper than friendship. There was no reason she couldn’t lift her barriers enough to talk to him like a fellow human being. She leaned against a tree trunk, thankful for the heavy coat that kept the jagged bark from digging into her skin. Nujalik’s hunger tickled along the nerves of her belly and made her remember the warm flatbreads waiting in the cabin. Her stomach gave a growl in response. Another reason to go back.
She just had to decide if facing him was more painful than not eating. Or putting on better clothes. She shivered as the wind gusted again, whining in the tree limbs high above and cutting through the flannel of her pajamas.
“Okay, I can do this,” Chen whispered. “You’ll back me up, right?” Nujalik nudged the back of her knee in the direction of the cabin, the wolf’s insistence obvious. “Right. As long as you get to eat. That’s fair.”
She pushed open the front door, and the heat inside the cabin felt like a cozy blanket wrapped around her. After prying off her shoes and returning her coat to the hook, she took a deep breath and steeled herself to reopen the conversation.
Priddy had dressed in his day clothes, including the two sweaters she’d loaned him, although he’d switched which one was outside so that it could pretend to be a new outfit. The blankets she’d given him for the couch had been folded up, while the remaining flatbreads had been wrapped in a tea cloth and sat in a basket on the table next to the emergency radio.
Before she could say anything, he dragged a hand through his hair and offered a lopsided smile. “So, the radio said they should have the pass open in the next hour or so. I thought, if you didn’t mind, I’d take your sweaters with me, so I could clean them before I return them.”
“Stay.” She blurted the word out before she had time to process saying it. Before she even recognized the ache that hit her chest at the thought of an empty cabin. He blinked, head tilted in a fashion not dissimilar to Nujalik’s, and she raced to follow up her confession. “I mean, they’re never right about the pass. At best you’ll get down there and be blocked in traffic for several more hours. If you wait until this afternoon, you’ve got a better shot of getting through cleanly. And I could use your help setting up a scent training course for Nujalik.”
“Are you sure that’s safe? I mean if the pass is open...”
Then there’s nothing stopping them from coming here. “I know my land better than anybody. The smart person would wait until morning, when the light’s best. Easier to spot a wolf.”
Priddy still looked stressed, and his eyes scanned the sky outside the window, as though it might give him an answer. When he spoke, his words were slow. “If you’re sure... I suppose I could use the time to make additional observations on her movement. Maybe develop a more personalized exercise plan for her. Then I’ll feel like I’m leaving you with something other than existential dread.”
She recognized the olive branch for what it was and took it. “That would be helpful. Thanks. Also, sorry I stormed out on you.”
“You didn’t storm out. You just left to take your wolf out. Abruptly. In your pajamas.”
Chen couldn’t hold back the chuckle. “To be fair, the pajama thing would have been true regardless.” She almost added that it wasn’t that cold out, but the way her skin ached from the chill kept her from boasting too much.
“Still,” Priddy said. “You probably want to change before you do the scent work. You go do that, and I’ll set stuff up. That could even make it a challenge since I’m not bonded with Nujalik, so she won’t get a peek behind my poker face.”
That was something Chen hadn’t considered. Placing scents and decoys would be a lot easier for her wolf to work if Nujalik could read her subtle clues and emotions. “That’s perfect. I owe you one.”
His smile would have warmed the cabin all by itself, and it shot a surge of heat through her blood. “Tell me when I can collect.”