Setting Fire to the Stars (a MM Sci-Fi Romance)

Chapter 35: Homecoming

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Lauren
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The last ten years of my life flashed before my eyes. Every moment of isolation, every trial forged in loneliness crashing into me all at once. And even though I wanted nothing more than to beat my father over the head with a fucking frying pan, I couldn't move. My body was locked in place, muscles wound so tight I might as well have been stuffed with cotton. If I opened my mouth, I wasn't even sure what came out would qualify as English. Pins and needles charged up my legs and arms. My mind began to fracture, the chains guarding my trauma snapping one by one as I struggled to reconcile this stranger with the parent of my youth.

A decade away had taken a toll. Dad had more frown lines than I could count, the neatly trimmed beard a new addition I hadn't anticipated. Probably grew it during the years he'd spent elsewhere while I had to learn how to navigate puberty without a father.

Only his eyes remained unchanged. Living pools of liquid mercury, nearly identical to mine. The chestnut hair from the photographs Mom had kept of him was gone, replaced by a head of stark silver. It wasn't a bad change. It just felt weird. Reminded me of the proof that our time apart had touched him, too.

This was . . . not the reunion I had hoped for.

Silence thickened the air between us and I willed him to say something—to be forced to confront what he had done and who he had left behind.

Finally, Dad inclined his head toward me. "Hello, son. You look. . . well."

My stomach cramped as the pathetic lie fell flat between us, something acidic souring my tongue. This was the same man who used to read me bedtime stories and sang "The Wheels on the Bus" on long car rides. The same voice from all those old family home videos I had tucked away. Tobias had been in a warpath after dad disappeared, collecting anything and everything that belonged to our father to throw in the trash. But I had kept those DVDs. Those memories remained crammed in the CD binder stashed under my bed at Mom's. They were probably still there, collecting dust, abandoned and forgotten.

Like me.

Those thoughts reignited the smoldering cinders of my rage, words tumbling out before I could stop them. "Dad. What the hell are you doing here?"

A thick brow lifted, surprise flashing across his face for the briefest moment before settling into a soft, guarded frown. "Looks like I'm the one getting you out of this mess," he said, his voice carrying a weight of quiet relief beneath the sharpness.

My nails dug into my palms, leaving stinging little half-moons as I swallowed hard. "Is that all you have to say to me?"

There was a flicker of something unreadable beneath his composed expression. "You have every right to be angry with me, Lauren," he said, his voice so neutral it was almost cold. "But this isn't the time or the place. We need to focus on getting to the Star Razor."

Star razor? What the heck was a 'star razor'?

A headache piled behind my temples as I grit my teeth. Nope. Hell no. Screw later. I had plenty to say, most beginning with "fuck you" and ending in "fuck off". My fury burned like lava in the back of my throat, a tirade just waiting to erupt.