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  I turned my head to look at him, and he blinked a few times, rolling his lips into his mouth as he contemplated that. “It’s like…an explosion…”

  “Stop! That’s such a male way to describe it.”

  He frowned and turned to me. “Well that makes sense since I’m, you know, male.”

  I rolled on my side and met his gaze. “What’s it like, Ryan? I want to feel it. I’ll never get to actually live it except what I can see in movies or maybe an amusement park ride. But you’ve actually been there. You’ve done it…what 99.999% of the human race will never be able to experience.”

  He took that in with serious blue eyes, then reflected another moment. “It’s like losing control—no, it’s like being under the control of this massive force so much bigger than you that you are inconsequential. You are nothing in its wake. You feel the engines all gimballing underneath you, jockeying to keep the rocket balanced. It’s like being lost in a full-blown hurricane. Like riding a herd of wild horses all at once.” He took another long pause while I hung on his words and pictured what he was saying to me.

  “Like…looking in your eyes,” he finally concluded, his voice dying out.

  I gave him a look. “I was with you up until that last one.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I was being serious.”

  I reached out and put my hand on his cheek. “You’re going to have to up your cheesy one-liner game. I’m not a cheap date.”

  “Cheesy one-liners?” His eyebrows raised, and I couldn’t tell if he was feigning affront or if he was truly insulted. “First of all, that wasn’t a one-liner to get into your pants, because—newsflash—I already got there today. And two, because…because I meant it.”

  His cheek bulged when he clamped his mouth shut as if preventing himself from saying more, something too revelatory. But there was something in his eyes, a flicker of emotion that speared me right through the heart and wrapped around my lungs, making it a struggle to breathe.

  Oh.

  Our eyes connected, and my heart jolted and—wait, were there prickles in the backs of my eyes? Was I tearing up from his words?

  And had my flippant non-acceptance cut him off from expressing something even deeper?

  They were incredibly sweet words. And I could tell from the earnest look on his face that he did mean it. I smoothed his cheek again.

  “I’m sorry. That’s a stupid bad habit of mine. To cut off anything that might be nice or flattering.”

  He mirrored my action, putting his large hand on my cheek. I swallowed, suddenly overcome with emotion. He whispered, “You haven’t had enough nice things said to you throughout your life. I’m making it my mission to change that, Gray Barrett. Because you deserve nothing but the kindest words and actions for the rest of your life.”

  Okay, now an actual, real tear pooled at the corner of my eye, but I blinked hard so it wouldn’t spill and give me away. I took his hand where it was still laced with my own and I kissed the rough, slightly hairy, very male back of it. “Thank you. I—” I. Love. You, I wanted to say. I love you. Iloveyou. Iloveyousomuch. The thought of those words escaping my lips made me simultaneously terrified and giddy.

  Should I say it? Should I voice the words that were hanging in the air between us, anyway? Was that what he was hoping my response would be? I cleared my throat and gave my head a small shake, my tongue suddenly leaden.

  And he leaned forward and planted a firm, decisive kiss on my lips.

  When we pulled apart again, minutes later, we were breathing quickly. And he was staring into my eyes again with that look that was so intense it was like a probe straight through to my heart. Like he was searching to see what I was hiding.

  But I knew, deep down, that he wasn’t ready to see it. So I made the split-second decision to cut the tension with some humor.

  “You do have cheesy one-liners, though. Even if that wasn’t one of them.”

  He scoffed at me, settling back against his pillow. “No way.”

  “I imagine you haven’t had to up your one-liner game because you’ve got so much else going for you but…let’s see. Let me take you to the Moon. And what was that first one you used on me at the restaurant that day of the investors meeting?” I lowered my voice in an attempt to imitate him while holding my hand out in my best mockery of arrogant, cocky male. “You can’t handle this? Not every girl can…”

  He rolled his eyes and scrubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand while flushing. His embarrassment was obvious. He had been a jerk, so I didn’t feel bad for making him pay for it a little belatedly.

  “You’d just met me and you wouldn’t shake my hand,” he said. “It’s not a defense for it, but…” His eyes flicked back to me. “Why didn’t you shake my hand, anyway?”

  Because I had a massive crush on you before I’d even met you, and you intimidated the hell out of me? No, no…too much information, Gray. I’d save those revelations for later. “My hand was sweaty. I was self-conscious.”

  He grinned. “Really?”

  When I nodded, his grin progressed into a laugh.

  “You still don’t remember that wasn’t the first time we met, do you?” I asked.

  His features sobered as if I’d dowsed him in ice-cold water. “I’m not so confident you are truthful with that story you tell. I would not have forgotten meeting you.”

  I raised my eyebrows at him. “Seriously dude? That’s where you’re going to dig in? You know I’m in the right about this. I have witnesses who include all three of the men you work the closest with.”

  He rolled his eyes and muttered, “Conspiracy theory.”

  “It was at that happy hour mixer about a week or maybe two before the investors meeting.”

  He crunched up his brows in thought. “Uhhh. That time we all did that get together at the bar? You were there?”

  I blew out a breath in mock disgust though I was not surprised. “How drunk were you, actually?”

  He’d been at the bar when I’d entered, wearing jeans, a button-down shirt and a bomber jacket. Looking more delicious than every photo I’d ever seen of him—and I’d seen plenty.

  As a bona fide space nerd, I was one of the few who could claim knowing who he was even before the accident that had made him world famous. The night we met, the bar had been busy—mostly with people from XVenture. This was Tolan’s idea of company bonding—noisy, crowded, cramped and all.

  I’d entered with Marjorie, the head of the health team and hopefully my soon-to-be boss, and a couple of the doctors who would work as flight surgeons. The group of us sat down at a big table across from the other three astronauts. Marjorie made introductions, and Kirill Stonov had stood and formally shaken all of our hands before beckoning the almighty famous and heroic Commander Ty from whatever was occupying him at the bar. From what I could tell, it was a bottle of beer and a blonde in a very short, tight skirt who was standing close to him and hanging on every word that came out of his mouth.

  Kirill almost had to physically pull Ty away from that blonde who had made as if to follow him before Kirill waved her off.

  “Marjorie, have you met Ryan Tyler?” the cosmonaut said. Kirill proceeded to give all of our names and Tyler’s eyes skimmed over the four of us before tilting his head jauntily and making a two-fingered, mock salute.

  “Good to meet all of you. Of course, I already knew you, Marjorie.”

  “Likewise, Commander Tyler,” said one of the surgeons sitting to my right.

  I laced my fingers together and straightened in my seat, opening my mouth to ask him a question when he stepped back and turned.

  “Excuse me a moment, I have to go take care of something.” He reached for his back pocket, pulling out a wallet, acting as if he was going to settle his bill at the bar. Obviously, he’d bought the woman a drink—or was about to.

  She’d been staring at his back since the moment he’d left to come talk to us and ignored anyone else who tried to talk to her—like the dude right next to h
er who’d been trying to get her attention for the last five minutes.

  When Ty turned back to the bar, her grin grew massive, and she actually did a little hop in her heels. Predictably, Tyler never came back to the table.

  Nevertheless, we’d had a good time getting to know the other three astronauts, but it hadn’t prevented me from throwing annoyed looks in his direction. He never even looked back, having forgotten about us two seconds after he’d turned his back.

  Well, well, well. I guessed media reports had been more accurate than I’d been hoping.

  When he left a few hours later with his new companion, I stared daggers at his leather-clad back so hard he must have felt them.

  My stomach sank. Well, as they say, you should never meet your heroes.

  And selling that arrogant jerk to my dad as the face of the new XPAC program was going to be nearly impossible.

  What the hell were we going to do?

  By the time I’d recounted the entire thing to Ryan, he had both hands over his face, the skin on his neck a shade of cherry red. He was too mortified with himself to even laugh.

  I laughed, though, and encouraged him to do the same.

  “I get it, you didn’t think you had a lot to say to a psychologist and a couple of doctors. Your kind normally avoids our kind like the plague.”

  He dropped his hands and smiled lightly. “It’s an unspoken astronaut rule that we never fraternize with the health team. Especially the shrinks.”

  I blinked a couple times, my mouth crumpling to prevent a smile. “Well that’s another one you blew out of the water.”

  He laughed along with me, and when our gazes met, I could see that the laughter did not reach his eyes. There was something there, something heavy and a little dark. A sadness, perhaps.

  I wanted to pull him into my arms and ask him why he was sad. Instead, he reached out to me, pulling me tightly to him. “Come here,” he whispered, nestling me closely to him. My body melded to the shape of his, fitting him very close. “I’m sorry. I was a complete idiot for not noticing you then.”

  I tilted my head to kiss him on the neck and get a full whiff of his seashells and lime smell that always made my insides jiggle and tingle more than a little.

  “On the bright side, it’s given me something to tease and hold over your head all these months.”

  But that solemnity still clung to him like damp mist, and his arms tightened. “I love listening to your heart beat when it’s so quiet it’s the only thing I can hear.”

  And soon my eyes were heavy, and I felt safe and completely at ease in his strong arms.

  My face pressed against his warm, solid chest. The last thing I remembered before drifting off were his words, merely a wisp of a breath into my hair like a breeze, like a premonition. “I’m sorry.”

  Sundays were becoming my favorite mornings…as long as I woke up in the arms of a sexy, handsome man, no matter how exhaustively he was sleeping.

  I snuck kisses on him—his face, his neck, his arms—and he didn’t stir. That was the litmus test of how tired he was. If he didn’t move, even when tempted by the promise of morning sex, then he needed more sleep. And since he laid there like a log, I decided to make good on my promise of the previous day and make pancakes for breakfast while he finished sleeping in.

  Ryan typically was an early riser but yesterday and now today, he appeared to have been sleeping very restlessly. Added to that, his melancholy seemed to have lasted the entire weekend. Was there an anniversary date that I wasn’t aware of? Had something happened to remind him of the accident or pull at him?

  He seemed genuinely happy to be in contact with Xander’s family again. And as far as I knew, nothing terrible had happened on this date the previous year or earlier. It could be anything really. I’d just have to get him to tell me what it was.

  And getting that man to open up involved some epic strategizing that would put Napoleon Bonaparte to shame. I decided to contemplate my plan of attack while making breakfast.

  And as pancakes were one of exactly three foods I knew how to cook, I was in luck. I searched his cupboards and pantry for the necessary ingredients, happy to find them. There was even a bottle of maple syrup in the fridge, which clued me in that he liked them too.

  So here I was, at the ripe old age of twenty-five, making breakfast for the very first man I’d…

  I’d what? The guy I was sleeping with? The guy I was having sex with? My boyfriend?

  None of those really fit.

  I added flour to the batter, beating furiously to prevent lumps and being extra careful not to mess up the kitchen this time. I thought about our conversation the night before when I’d cut him off by laughing at something he’d said when he’d been so serious.

  He’d said that riding a rocket was like being in a hurricane, on the backs of wild horses and like looking in my eyes. Like losing control.

  Was that how he felt? And if so, did that mean he—he felt the same way as me?

  Maybe he was afraid to tell me because I hadn’t said it to him first. Maybe he was waiting for that.

  The thought of telling him felt something like I’d imagine it would feel to jump out of a plane. Exhilarating. Terrifying. Potentially life changing.

  I bit my lip as I stirred vigorously. Maybe it was because I always played it safe? Maybe he was afraid of scaring me off by telling me his feelings.

  I stirred harder, banging the spoon furiously against the side of the plastic bowl. Besides, I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to keep it inside much longer. It wanted to burst out of me.

  Just then, I thought of the most ingenious way to tell him…

  Chapter 3

  Ryan

  I’m in the bar again. It’s Happy Hour with the new work colleagues. I really didn’t want to come, but what choice do I have? I’ve been with XVenture roughly a week now and Tolan wants the astronauts to play nice with the rest of the team. I like bars well enough—and drinking even better, especially lately. But I’ve got to stay sober. This is a work thing after all.

  Plus, after the motorcycle accident, I vowed to cut back on the drinking—even though I hadn’t been drunk when I’d wrapped the damn thing around a tree. I had been speeding, though. And hot dogging—lost in the velocity. I’d come out of that incident without a scratch, lucky me. The bike however…

  The insurance guy had almost started sobbing when he’d witnessed what I’d done to that Harley. I’d paid him extra to keep it quiet, but somehow, of course, the media had gotten hold of the info, too.

  Now I’m here at my new job a week after that accident and hoping no one asks me about it. Besides this new group of people seem nice once they get over all the fawning and hero-worship that makes me want to put toothpicks through my eyes.

  Hopefully, the XPAC will get our funding soon and we’ll be able to train in earnest. Things are looking hopeful. I sip at my icy mug of beer and someone is talking to me—I hear a woman’s voice but I’m not looking at her. I’m staring into my beer instead.

  Kirill taps me on the shoulder and speaks to me in Russian. “Come over to the table. There are new people to meet.” I know this is where I’m going to meet Gray for the first time, but I know I don’t know her yet so it doesn’t make sense that I’d know.

  And this doesn’t feel like a memory. A memory I still don’t have.

  I roll my eyes and turn to say something to my companion, but she’s not there. Turning back to Kirill, I see that he’s gone, too. In fact, the bar is completely empty and utterly silent. I flick a glance at the table to see if Kirill has left without me. There’s only one person sitting there.

  I meet the man’s eyes. He’s definitely not Kirill—older, balding, thinly built and wearing an ill-fitting suit. He’s looking at me with narrowed eyes and a hardened jaw.

  I freeze, holding that hostile gaze.

  Conrad Barrett. Fucking Conrad Barrett. The man who wants to steal from me the one ray of hope I have in this life. Yank it out of m
y grasp forever.

  My entire body tenses, fists clenching, jaw clamping, and I stare back at him with an equal amount of heat. “Fuck you, Barrett,” I mutter. “I’m not giving her up.”

  He shakes his head. “How badly do you want to fly again?”

  “Go ahead and pull out. You’ll be ruining her dreams, too.”

  His brows raise. “I’m not the one ruining her dreams. It’s you. You ruin everything. And everything you touch breaks, turns to dust. Dies. I want you far away from her.”

  “Yes,” a third voice says, though I wasn’t aware there was a third person in the room with us. I jerk my head to the left, and he’s standing at my shoulder, staring into my eyes. We’re in our EMUs without the helmets on, but our heads are wrapped up in our Snoopy caps.

  My throat seizes when my eyes meet his golden hazel gaze. Xander.

  I look around again and see that we’re no longer in the bar. I’d recognize the white plastic walls of the station anywhere. And the smell—a mixture of perpetual new car smell and the faint traces of garbage and human body odor.

  The realization hits me like a brick, and I’m weightless again, floating beside my best friend. I should be happy to see him. Happy.

  But he’s not smiling.

  “Ty,” he says in a quiet voice, one of restrained emotion. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  I blink. “I’m—I’m—” My mouth opens and closes again a few times as I search for words.

  “You promised,” he shoots at me again, his words clipped and penetrating, like bullets from a gun. “Don’t your promises mean anything?”

  “I’m going to do it, man. I’m going to fly again. For you. I’ve thought about that promise every day—”

  Xander’s gaze is flat, devoid of emotion—devoid of belief. In the next second, the walls around us have vanished though we’re still weightless. Now we’re outside station though neither of us is wearing a helmet.

  There’s a gorgeous field of stars behind Xander—a darkness that can only be perceived when we have crossed the terminator and are on the night side of the planet. Otherwise, the brilliant earth below drowns out all the stars. But I can see them, which means that it is night. Which means that it is—