Page 76 of Space Oddities

“I originally changed it because I was a stripper. Now it’s because I’m a wanted felon.”

I blink, replaying what I just heard. Then I laugh. “Funny.” Stepping back, I lean against the kitchen island. “This is some sort of test, huh? Throw the worst-case scenario at me, and when I buckle you’ll have proved your point?” Still smiling, I shake my head. “You, a stripper and felon?” I chuckle. “Yeah, right.”

Seconds tick by, her serious, forlorn expression never changing. The humor I felt a second ago drains away, leaving behind a sense of foreboding. Once more I replay her declaration, really thinking it through this time, aligning this new information with what I already know. The fake name, the secretive past, moving from place to place. Why a private investigator would knock on her door. The more I think about it, the more things fall into place. “Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh’.” Tears well in her eyes, making them look darker. Deep pools filled with secrets I never fathomed. “Not only am I a bastard child, abandoned by her mother and who doesn’t even know who her daddy is, but I grew up to be the ultimate cliché— a stripper accused of stealing.” She hitches her bag higher.

I’m ashamed to admit it, but one of my first thoughts is wondering what my father will do when he finds out.

“If I stay, I’ll be found out. And not even your father would be able to control the bad press. And that’s not to mention what NASA’s reaction will be. A government employee, up for a promotion that involves international partnerships, in a relationship with a felon?” Her laugh is short and hard. “Bye-bye, career.”

My thoughts are elsewhere, trying to see ahead, plan my next move, figure out some way to protect Trish. She’s still talking as she circles the island, but her words and movements are just a blur. My mind is too busy running through possible scenarios, trying to come up with a solution to this puzzle now that I finally have more of the pieces.

My father. My job. Her background. Her warrant.

Maybe she can live under her romance writer pseudonym, Audrey Cole? We could get married. That would force my father to keep her past a secret if he doesn’t want it to implode his career. Some people might consider that a drastic move, but marriage to Trish sounds awesome, actually.

To be safe, I could find work somewhere else so we’re not tied so closely to the government. I love NASA, but I love Trish more.

Love. Yes. I love her. All that stuff she said doesn’t matter. Well, the felon thing does, but we can figure it out. We can deal with ittogether. Like we should’ve from the start.

I unclench my jaw, trying to stop the rumbling that suddenly fills my ears. I blink, refocusing on the room. “Trish, what did you—”

She’s gone. “Fuck.” The rumbling wasn’t in my head, because I can still hear it. I’m out the door, nearly crashing into my Audi. The boat garage is empty.

I jog to the bottom of the drive, looking down the street. The glint off of Trish’s silver trailer hits me in the eye as she makes the turnout of our neighborhood. I hurry back to my car, sliding inside and hitting the starter button.

Nothing.

I pat my pockets, remembering I left the key in the dish. I jump out once more, almost taking the hinges off the kitchen door in my hurry.

The dish is empty.

She’s taken my keys.

* * *

Trish

“Yo! Shortstack!”Jules jogs down the front steps of the ranch house and through the dirt drive’s dust, still swirling around my truck. “How’re you…” Her smile fades when I slam the truck door closed and aim a death glare her way. “Um…”

Like a cowboy about to challenge someone to a gunfight at high noon, I step into Jules’ space. With us both wearing sneakers, she towers over me, but I’m mad enough not to care. “Et tu, Brute?”

It takes a sec, but I see the exact moment Jules understands why I’m mad. “Oh, shit.”

I arch one brow while waiting for an explanation.

“So I know it looks bad.” She raises both hands defensively. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

I cross my arms over my chest.

“It’s just that he caught me at a weak moment, bothering me while I was inputting new commands in the simulator.”

I start tapping my foot.

She huffs out a laugh. “Captain America was seriously concerned.” Her smile drops when I don’t return it.

My rational brain is trying to tell me that I’m not truly angry at Jules. Hurt, yes. But not angry. I really only have myself to blame for this whole catastrophe that is my life. But I can’t help but vent.

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