She grunted and held her free hand in his direction, making sure to display an extra special finger for his benefit. She didn’t know what she expected to come next, but it wasn’t the gentle touch of Doran’s thumbs massaging her palm. Caught off guard, she flinched upright.
Doran didn’t seem to notice. He watched her hand while rubbing it in alternating circles, soothing muscles that had grown stiff from clenching her fists for too long. “My mother used to do this when I was little,” he said. “It always calmed me down after a bad dream.”
Solara didn’t know what to say. Doran was holding her hand. In what alternate dimension was that valid? Crazier still, she didn’t hate the sensation. It felt rather delicious, actually. Her whole body responded to the warm contact, coaxing her to relax until she nearly dropped the flask.
“Sometimes I lied about having nightmares just so she’d do this,” he continued. “I think she caught on because that’s when she stopped.”
“Are you two close?” Solara asked. “Like with your dad?”
His thumbs paused for a moment. “No.”
“Because she quit giving hand massages?”
“Because she took off. About eight years ago, after the divorce.”
“Oh.” Solara’s cheeks heated. Her comment about the massages was a joke, and now she wished she could take it back. “Took off, as in permanently?”
He nodded.
“Why? Where’d she go?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “But I think my parents hate each other too much to share the same planet. They used to work together—that’s how they met. She was the scientist who invented Spaulding Fuel chips. It was a huge moneymaker, but after the split, they couldn’t stand to look at each other, and my dad ousted her from the company. Then there was the whole thing with…” He trailed off. “Well, I guess she couldn’t handle the reminders, so she left.”
“Do you ever hear from her?”
“Sometimes.” Doran moved his thumbs to the inside of her wrist, delicately stroking between the tiny bones there. His voice turned soft in a way that plucked at her heart. “On birthdays and holidays. But there’s not much to talk about anymore.”
“I’m sorry,” Solara told him, and meant it. She knew how it felt to be abandoned. But unlike her mother, Doran’s mom had no excuse for leaving—she had the resources to be a parent, just not the desire. Solara could only imagine how much that hurt. She looked at him with new eyes, and something warm stirred behind her ribs. “I guess we’re members of two secret clubs now. My mom left me when I was little, too. And my dad.”
Doran stopped massaging her hand and pointed at the flask. When she passed it over, he took a long pull, then winced and coughed. “We need to join better clubs.”
“Agreed,” she said. “Chess, maybe.”
He swore quietly to himself and took another swig of Crystalline. Then his voice went hollow while his eyes fixed on a point in the distance. “Don’t freak out or anything, but they’re here.”
She snapped her gaze in the direction of his, and all the air leaked slowly out of her lungs. Approaching them was the ugliest tank of a ship she’d ever seen, like evil in motion. At least the length of a football field and twice as wide, it probably housed the population of a small town, maybe a hangar of shuttles as well. The battered metal patchwork covering the ship’s hull was proof of combat, and the pulse cannons mounted all around the exterior promised they could dish it out as well as take it.
She’d expected a shuttle to meet her, not the whole operation. She wasn’t ready for this.
A computerized voice crackled over the intercom. “Set your controls to neutral and prepare to come aboard.” Doran did as commanded, and their shuttle jerked forward into the ship’s tow beam. Slowly, they closed the distance until a massive rear hatch opened—a dragon’s maw sucking them into the belly of the beast.
A tiny squeak escaped Solara’s lips.
Doran took her hand and squeezed it hard. “Look at me.” When she didn’t listen, he physically turned her face. “Before we land, I need to know why you’re doing this. We’re not friends. We’re not even cohorts. So why are you helping me?”
Even facing him, she could see the hangar in her periphery, a dim, cavernous space filled with mismatched shuttlecraft. Her heart hammered. There was no turning back now. “You know why,” she told him. “If we can’t find a propellant cell, we’re as good as dead.”
“But you leveraged it in my favor.”
“So what?”
“There has to be a reason.”
She shook her head at his low opinion of her, though after what she’d just learned about him, it wasn’t surprising. If he couldn’t trust his own mother, why would he trust a felon? “That’s where you’re wrong,” Solara told him. “Most people don’t need a reason to be decent. I’m one of those people. You could be, too, if you made an effort.”
That seemed to get through to him.