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Chapter Fourteen
The handheld communicatordevice crackled. Phate rolled over from his spot on the pull-out couch and dragged open his heavy eyelids. The incoming yellow light indicated a message was waiting.
Message?
Phate’s groggy brain couldn’t quite process anything through the sleep haze. When the pieces finally clicked together, he bolted upright with a gasp.
“What? What’s going on?” Kien quickly awakened. The mattress they shared dipped as he sat up as well. “What happened? Where’s Solgre?”
Phate didn’t glance toward the only bedroom in the small living space. The light snoring coming from the other room was rhythmic and deep. Solgre was finally getting some much-needed rest.
One of the side effects of the disease was a disruption in the sleep/wake cycle. Solgre staying up all hours of the night should’ve been a dead giveaway he was ill, but Phate had assumed it was frustration for being stranded on Earth and determination to get home.
“He’s still sleeping,” Phate replied.
“That’s a good thing, right?” Kien whispered. “This is the first time in weeks he’s been sleep for longer than two hours at a time.”
Phate grabbed the communicator off the side table. “It is. And I hate to do this, but we’ll need to wake him.”
Phate held up the communicator before Kien could ask why. Kien’s eyes went to the device in Phate’s hand and widened when he saw the blinking yellow light.
“A rescue ship is in range to send us an incoming message,” Phate said with a broad grin.
* * *
ADISTINCT THUMPINGsound came from her living room.
Tasha opened her eyes. She hadn’t really been asleep. She’d been almost sleep, but thoughts of Phate kept popping into her head. She was exhausted.
Her embarrassment wouldn’t let her interact with her neighbors just yet—and possibly never again. And her mind wouldn’t stop replaying what had happened in the middle of her hallway repeatedly and the pain each time was like it had just happened.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
She frowned and rolled over to glance at the clock on her nightstand. Three twenty-one in the morning.
Who could be knocking on her door this late?
Nisha had crashed on her couch so it couldn’t be her. Besides, Nisha had a key to the apartment. If she’d wanted to come in, she would do so with ease and would’ve been quiet about it.
Tasha sniffed at the air. No sign of smoke or a fire. That would be a reason for a neighbor to be knocking on her door at this hour.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The knocking also wasn’t urgent or hard, indicating an emergency. She could ignore it, or she could answer it. But since she wasn’t getting much sleep anyway, she got up and grabbed the robe hanging from the back of her door.
