Page 66 of Border Control
“Me too,” I add, though no one asked.
My mobile phone gives a happy ping. Fucknuts. I put Morgan’s emails as an upbeat, pleasant little jingle, except it’sstarting to seriously piss me off. Heat pulses around my body with every beat of my heart, temples throbbing, and my phone case creaks in my hand.
“Mm. Looks like you're having a whale of a time,” Ellen notes.
I struggle to take a deep calming breath through the tightness in my chest, but the pain fades as if drawn off. My anger ebbs so it no longer forms a self-perpetuating motion machine under my skin, and my fingers loosen so I can put my phone down on the table. Notifications, all marked. The twisting, panicky feeling doesn't return in the same strength it did. I fill my lungs with the glorious scent of coffee in a deep, satisfying inhale.
And I know, somehow, that's Dom.
“We should give them the option for weekends off,” I say.
“That will delay progress on the first stage of El-len's vision,” Ilia rumbles.
“By only a few days,” Ellen reassures him. “What would you guys like to do with weekends at leisure?”
Ilia’s brows beetle. “Progress our assigned mission.”
I rap my nails on the side of my mug. “I think Arabella had the right idea with the party. We need to allow them more free time, and introduce them to what that means.”
“Uh huh.” Now Ellen looks at me properly. “I can't teach them that, all I do is farmwork. And, no offence, but you don't ever seem to have time off.”
“You're right, for now. The inquiry?—”
“I mean ever, Laura.”
My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. Ellen doesn’t understand. She doesn’t know what it takes for justice to be done. Working for herself is hard, yes, but so is laboring in a system where being prepared for every eventuality is crucial. Only certain traits let you coast, having literal balls chief amongst them.
Ellen glances at me. “Wait. This is about your dad, isn’t it?”
“No. This is about doing a good job, Ellen, and making sure the people who went to prison or worse get their names cleared.”
Her eyes narrow. Ilia looks between us, the big alien’s scales clicking.
I have to get out of here. “I want to check out the Roadhouse. That's the next one you'll need planning permission for, correct?”
“Yessss,” Ellen says slowly.
“That can be the next rebuilding project, if the aliens are happy with that.”
Ilia squeezes his mate in his arms. “We are ecstatic. We'll begin immediately on completion of the barn.”
“You don't even know the size and scale of it yet,” Ellen teases.
“Whatever its size, we will meet the challenge. Together.” The way he looks into her face, so adoring, signals he means them as a couple, not just the aliens.
I'm pleased for her. I am. It's nice to have someone in her corner, utterly devoted to her and her life.
“Great. I’ll grab one of the other guys as a volunteer to help me scope it out.”
Ilia’s attention doesn't waver. “Very well.”
“I'll be a couple of hours, back for dinner.”
“Mmhmm.” Ellen doesn't break eye contact with her guy.
Fantastic. They’re distracted, and they won't be wondering what I'm getting up to.
Except… My stomach tightens. If Ellen ever did find out… if she caught even a glimpse of the things I crave, the games I play, she’d judge me. I can almost hear her sharp laugh, see the look she’d give me, like I’d broken some unspoken rule.
