“You didn’t do that to the twins, did you?”
“Not exactly.”
He crooked his finger at her, and she kissed him. He sat up and pulled her to him, hugging her. “It’s not you, Em,” he whispered.
“Seriously.”
“It’s okay. You guys warned me that you don’t bottom.” She tried to keep her tone light, but despite his smile, she still felt the hints of his grief.
He gently stroked her cheek. “Let’s get through training and get the hell off this rock. Then you’ll have a lot of time to work on my brain and try to get it straightened out.” His eyes searched her face. “I have a feeling if anyone can help me, you can,” he murmured.
Then, before she could ask him any more, he was off the table and quickly dressed, planting a quick kiss on her lips, back to playful Aaron. “Don’t work too hard, Em.” She grinned, catching the barb. He was the only one who called her Em, something special between them. Then he was out the sick bay door, back to work.
It was the best she could ask for, for now.
Chapter Eight
Emi rarely noticed the age difference between her and the men. It didn’t appear to bother them, and as the weeks turned to months, it wasn’t an issue for her. During training exercises, their age made their skill and experience obvious, comforting her, reassuring her that they knew their jobs and knew them well.
“Her boys,” as she’d come to think of them collectively¯“boys” being a term of endearment and not the slur the Braynow Gaston crew had intended¯were three unique personalities. Aaron was her serious, sometimes brooding, deeply passionate warrior. Ford was the intelligent, sensitive caretaker. Caph was the playful, rowdy protector.
Not just with her, but with each other, even though the dynamic was slightly different between the men than it was with her.
However, in training, whether working with her on the ship or in classes, that’s when their other sides appeared.
Professional, the men were never unfriendly or cold, but the flip side of the coin, the skills and experience that kept them alive all these years and made them successful in their field. And never condescending, as she suspected both the geeks and the grunts would have been toward her. They were always patient, always careful to make sure she understood something before continuing.
Ford best summed it up when she voiced her frustration at herself one afternoon, mad that she felt like she was holding them back.
He pulled the hand-held console out of her hand and sat on the floor next to her by the emergency override panel in cargo. He grabbed her hands. “Look at me.”
She did, fixed by his blue eyes.
“Emi, you’re the only one putting pressure on you. Graymard’s already told you there isn’t a solid departure date. We can’t take five years here, obviously, but if it takes a few extra months, we’ll do it.
Aaron’s not going to force you to say you’re ready if you aren’t.” The fear ran through her again, what had, despite her now totally uninterrupted sleep every night, haunted her dreams, pecked at her brain. “What if I’m not good enough and Aaron replaces me?”
“Oh, sweetie,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms as she finally let go and cried. She never let go like this in front of Aaron, and only rarely in front of Caph. Ford was her emotional safety net.
He held her, stroking her back, comforting her.
Ford, she knew, understood how she felt. “Don’t think that. He loves you as much as we do, trust me.” She trusted Ford to think like that, but not that he was right about it. “He’s never said it.” The twins said it to her every day¯multiple times, usually. And she knew they meant it.
She felt Aaron’s emotion, but he’d yet to voice it. She didn’t understand the contradiction and didn’t know if she wanted to.
“Babe, this is all tied in¯”
“I know, crew story.” She sat up and bitterly wiped her eyes.
Maybe she wasn’t ready to do this. The thought of losing her boys ripped her apart, nearly as strong a pain as losing her parents. She belonged on this ship, with these three men. That was one thing she felt through the depths of her soul.
He looked at his watch. “I think it’s time for lunch. You need a break.” He stood and helped her to her feet, leading her through the ship to the crew area. He seemed perfectly comfortable in the corridors, but she usually got lost at least once a day.
Caph was fixing himself a sandwich in the galley. “Hey, done so soon?”
Emi didn’t miss Ford’s imperceptible shake of his head. She sighed. “I’m okay, Ford.”
Caph grabbed her shoulders in his big hands and gently guided her to a chair. “Sit. We’ll make your lunch.” She knew Aaron was in the engine room with the refit crew, going through specs on the jump engine. She still wasn’t sure how that worked, but knew it would shave months, possibly years off the different legs of their trip.
Caph placed a sandwich in front of her, then sat with his own.
“What’s wrong?”
She couldn’t resist him and knew he’d get the story from Ford anyway. “I’m just being stupid, that’s all. I’m okay. I’m just moody.” He reached across the table and caught her chin, made her look at him. “Aaron loves you, sweetie. He just isn’t mushy like us two goobers.”
That made her smile. “Goober” wasn’t the last word she’d use to describe the twins, but it was so far toward the bottom of the list it didn’t matter.
“There’s my smile.” She couldn’t say she loved him like a big brother, because that kind of brotherly love was pretty much universally illegal. At least, on Earth it was. But the non-romantic part of their relationship felt a lot like that. Caph was the one who acted closest to her in years in many ways, and he didn’t look his age. All of the men were handsome and in shape, but Caph seemed more like thirty than forty. She’d seen him as serious as Aaron while they participated in a weaponry simulation, startled to see his green eyes dark and focused on keeping them “alive” during the battle. When it ended, he’d immediately reverted back to playful Caph.
Ford studied her. She felt his eyes and mind on her.
“Why do you always feel you have to push yourself harder?” he asked.
Caph released her chin and sat back, taking a bite of his sandwich but also interested in hearing her answer.
She shrugged, not wanting to be the center of attention. “I just needed to work hard, that’s all. I knew I needed good grades. I didn’t have a safety net. I didn’t have any family, and I didn’t want to spend my life working in a boring civil job just so I’d have a roof over my head and something to eat every month.”
“You do now, you know,” he said, his voice quiet. “A safety net.” When she didn’t respond he reached over and gently grabbed her wrist, waiting until she looked at him. “You have all three of us, babe.
We won’t let you fail, don’t worry. Your job is to take care of us and not drive yourself so hard you fall apart. Let us take care of the rest.
You think we’re letting you get away from us, you’re crazy.” Emi mustered a weak smile for his benefit. “Thanks, Ford.” Pain flared in her heart, and she struggled to push it back. She didn’t want to think about her parents, about their death and her emotional downward spiral those first months. She didn’t tell the men the whole truth. Part of her need to succeed was driven by her fear of failure.
Part of it was to escape her pain.
It was her drug, the thing that kept her going during the bleakest times after the two NSI officials showed up to break the news to her about her parents’ death. Work meant not thinking about anything but work, no time to grieve, why she drove herself to get an Alpha-ranking, psych minor, and empath training in the same amount of time most Beta-rankings took to get trained.