Page 73 of Aviatrix

After the chase. The near miss. The ship that flew like it knew exactly what it was doing.

Whoever—or whatever—that was, it left him rattled. It left us rattled.

I study his face for a beat, then click my tongue. “Okay. Let’s go home.”

We don’t say much after that. Just grab what we need and head out, the silence between us companionable.

An hour later, we’re rattling down the highway in a car that’s older than both of us combined. No air conditioning, no power windows, and a smell like decades of spilled coffee and sunbaked upholstery. I nearly wrench my shoulder cranking the window down. Manual, of course. But without it, we’d be drowning in this muggy Oklahoma heat.

“How much longer?” I ask as he veers off one highway and onto another. The roads are emptier than I’m used to. Fewer cars. Slower pace. Fewer reasons to rush, I guess.

Outside the window are green pastures, clusters of trees, gently rolling hills, and cows lazing in the shade. It’s the kind of quiet that lets a girl breathe.

“A few minutes,” he says, his knuckles whitening slightly on the steering wheel.

“When’s the last time you came home?” I ask, watching him.

“A year ago,” he answers. “For my Aunt Lise’s sixtieth.”

“Really?” I ask, smiling. Eli never talked much about his family when we were together. Well, other than his mother. And then she died. It gutted him. Gutted us.

I understood what it felt like, waking up one day and realizing your parent was just… gone.

But with my dad? There’s still a maybe. A possibility. Conrad Quay might be out there somewhere.

Eli knew. Knew his mom was gone. Knew she wasn’t coming back.

“Aunt Lise is married to my Uncle Rod,” he adds. “They’ve got my cousin Willa. She’s fifteen. Lives with them now. They’re raising her.”

“Lise, Rod, and Willa,” I repeat, committing it to memory. “Got it.”

“They know I’m in the Force,” he says, glancing over at me. “But they don’t know most of my missions are classified. I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” I promise, and I mean it.

What I don’t say, can’t say, is how much this moment means. How strange it feels to be driving toward his past. Toward the pieces of his life he never really let me see. I never met his mom. I went to her funeral with him, but it was small. Quiet. No one came from Oklahoma.

But now I’m here.

And for the first time in a long time, a door feels like it’s opening between us.

I snap my fingers. “Oh! We should talk about that ship.”

“What about it?” Eli grimaces.

“It looked identical to the ones that attacked the White House,” I say.

Eli’s shoulders stiffen. “What are you talking about, Quay?”

“The alien ships that hit Langdon were black. This one was gray,” I explain. “It didn’t move as fluidly. It felt more… human. You know what I mean?”

“Two different ships,” he mutters, blowing out a frustrated breath. Like he knows something I don’t.

“So, what? Two separate fleets? Or different species?”

“Or,” Eli offers, “they’re human.”

“If they’re human,” I say, waving that off, “then someone killed the President of the United States in cold blood.”