I blink the chat away, but don’t delete it. I have a feeling I’ll regret it later if I do. Instead, I scoot closer to Remi and, with trembling fingers, reach out to lay a hand on their knee. A second passes, two, ten . . . then Remi’s hand joins mine, twining our fingers together. When they look up a moment later, I force myself to meet their gaze.
“You okay?” I mouth, mustering up a smile.
They smile back faintly and nod, squeezing my hand gently. I squeeze back, still fighting that awful creeping dread inside me, that bite of the past that works to hold me down. It’s easier now, though. It’ll be even easier in the future. Every day, I’ll work at it. Remi deserves it.
I deserve it.
We sit together for a while, until the sun is nearly down and the others have gone inside to make dinner. We stay until the stars come out and we can look up and spot our favorites, tracing constellations on each other’s legs. Eventually, I lift my hand to Remi’s face, drawing a star high on one cheekbone. Another, on the tip of their nose. The corner of their mouth. On their full bottom lip.
When I seal each one into their skin with a kiss, Remi shines brighter than all the stars in the sky combined.
“It’s not going to be perfect,” I murmur between kisses, hating to say it but needing to all the same, even as our mouths slot together again and again. “I’m still going to mess up all the time.”
Remi nudges my nose with theirs, a silent request I’m only too happy to fulfill. I lean in to brush our lips together, featherlight, barely there, that faint touch full of electric promise.
“I’m going to try, though,” I whisper.
Their lips pull into a smile under mine, then they sit back to meet my eyes.
“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
The telltale click of Ania’s bootheels on the metal deck draws my eyes away from Remi’s face for the first time in what feels like hours. Ania stands at the corner of the ship cabin, one hand on her hip, grinning like a fiend.
“Come inside,” Ania says, her eyes shining. “I know what you were up to!” practically radiates from her every smug pore. Out loud, though, all she says is, “It’s dinnertime.”
“We’ll be right there,” Remi says, scooting back from the edge and turning to help me up. We take it slow, balancing carefully so as not to put any weight on my half-dead arm. Golden light and deep laughter spill from the open cabin door onto the hard steel deck, drowning out the darkness and crash of the waves.
Yes, I’ll miss Kyrkarta. I’ll even miss Davon. But my true family is out here. Wherever they go, I go.
Remi’s hand slips into mine and squeezes.
“Ready?” they ask.
I squeeze back and take one long, deep breath.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m ready.”