Page 78 of Aviatrix

She laughs softly. “Bet this place feels like Mars.”

“Yeah,” I admit with a soft laugh. “Sort of.”

Eli leans back, draping his arm along the back of my chair. The motion is casual. Intimate. But in this small kitchen, surrounded by cookies and coffee and the smell deeply comforting, it feels too intimate. Too close. Like a memory I didn’t give permission to surface. My chest tightens. I miss things I shouldn’t still miss. The feel of his arms around me, the weight of his body beside mine under the same blanket, the knowing curve of his smile when no one else was looking.

“What do your parents do for a living?” Aunt Lise asks as she sits across from us, guiding the conversation along.

“My dad was a pilot in the Force,” I answer. “And my mom was a schoolteacher.”

“Are they retired now?”

“Yes,” I lie, swallowing the truth with a sip of coffee that suddenly tastes too bitter.

“I smelled cookies,” Willa announces as she strolls into the kitchen.

“Where have you been?” Aunt Lise asks, half-curious, half-suspicious.

“Getting the cot ready in my room for Eli’s girlfriend,” she replies, snagging two cookies from the plate.

“I’m not his girlfriend,” I say at the exact same time Eli echoes, “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Willa waves us off, chewing smugly. “You two keep saying that like you think I’m dumb or something.”

I take a breath, trying to steady myself. “Is there a landline I can use?” I ask. “I need to call my mom.”

“Living room,” Eli answers.

I excuse myself and step into the sitting room, the air quieter here, softer. There’s a dated phone on the small side table beside the TV. At first, I figure Aunt Lise and Uncle Rod are just old school. But then I see it. A framed photo of Eli on Academy graduation day, proudly displayed right beside the receiver. Maybe this phone isn’t just practical. Maybe it’s a tether. To family. To him.

I pick it up and dial. Mom answers on the first ring.

“Kinley? Is that you?”

“Yes,” I say.

“Oh, thank God,” she breathes. “They’re forcing us to evacuate.”

“What?” I gasp. “Why?”

“You haven’t seen the news?”

I glance around the room. The TV is off. The house is quiet. Somewhere in the kitchen, Willa is still talking. But it all feels distant now. Like I’m standing at the edge of something horribly monumental.

I fumble for the remote on the coffee table, flip on the TV, and my blood turns to ice. Three huge black ships roll across the ocean and hang ominously over major cities. Los Angeles. Seattle. Miami.

All four alien ships are strategically positioned around the country now.

“Eli!” I cover the receiver and shout. “Eli!”

He bursts into the room as I clutch the phone tighter.

“Mom, where are they evacuating you to?”

“They’re moving us inland, Kinley,” she says, her voice trembling. “How will I get ahold of you?”

“Be smart,” I tell her, trying to sound braver than I feel. “Stay low. Try to get to Colorado Springs. I’ll find you, Mom.”

“Where are you?”