Timber Hudson and Chevelle Donahue stared at one another in a mixture of shock, confusion, and fear. She imagined she was making the exact mirror image of his face: jaw dropped, eyes wide, and with a slight quiver of the lip. Tears threatened to surge to her eyes. Somehow she kept them at bay, though she wasn’t quite sure why. There was no reason for her to keep a strong composure. After all, she’d just gotten the worst news of her life, and that was saying a lot given the events of the past months.

Without a word, she pulled herself free from Timber’s arms. Perhaps he still needed consoling, but if that were the case, he would have to find it elsewhere. Being near him only broke her heart more. Chevelle needed space—air—something that was hard to find on an intergalactic spaceship.

She went back to the office of their apartment and tore it apart until she found a notebook. Grabbing a pen, she sat in the corner and proceeded to empty herself onto the pages.