it, but I’ve always known I’d be more useful for the Brannicks if I was a girl,” Fisher said. “I could have made an alliance with another station, traveled and made connections for trade. Ned could never have done that. His work always had to be here.”
“But you’re not a girl,” Pendt said. “And you never have been.”
“No,” Fisher said.
“My family told me I was useless all the time,” Pendt said. “I was a waste of calories until I was old enough for them to use. My rebellion is that I left them before I could pay them back.”
“You don’t owe them anything.” Fisher took her hand in both of his and squeezed it. “A person is worth more than what they’re born as.”
Pendt looked at him.
“Right,” he said. “I guess I expected you to challenge me, somehow. To make me justify it. My parents never did, and Ned certainly didn’t. But sometimes a new person comes to the station, and I can just feel it wafting off them.”
“That’s a disgusting image,” Pendt said, wrinkling her nose. She thought for a moment, her hand still warm in Fisher’s, and then spoke again. “I’m not saying that what we’ve gone through is the same. It actually couldn’t be more different. But I think perhaps my upbringing made me sympathetic to yours, if that makes any sense. It’s not the same, but it’s similar enough that we understand each other.”
“I think you understand me more than I understand you,” Fisher said. “Just thinking about your family makes my blood boil.”
Pendt smiled at him. She didn’t really need it, but it was nice to have someone who was always ready to ride to her defense. She turned slightly and rested her head against his shoulder instead of the sofa. It was definitely not as soft, but somehow it was even more natural.
She’d become quite familiar with Ned’s body before he left, and he with hers, but there had never been this sort of comfort between them. There was always a task. Perhaps more on her part than Ned’s. He had never pushed her, but now that she had read a few books and eavesdropped on a few dinner dates at the bar, she was aware that he had been less concerned with the end goal than she was.
Pendt had never learned how to be quiet with Ned. On the Harland, all relationships were transactions, and that was how she’d interacted with him. He’d been good to her, much better than anyone else had ever been, but she still thought of it as part of their bargain, the way in which she purchased her freedom from her family. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted the sort of relationship with Ned that she had with Fisher. Ned was brash and charming, and she liked him, but Fisher was steady and sweet, and she liked that much more.
Fisher had gone still when she put her head on his shoulder. She looked up at him to make sure that he was comfortable. She didn’t want to make him uneasy. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing slowly, like he wanted to remember what this felt like before he let himself believe that it was real enough to see. He was still holding her hand, but he shifted so that their fingers were linked.
“Do you love Ned?” Fisher asked. His voice was low, like he was afraid of the answer.
“I’ve never loved anyone,” Pendt said. “Not like you mean, anyway. I like him, obviously. He’s almost impossible to not like. But no, I don’t love him.”
“I do,” Fisher said.
“I know,” Pendt said. “I wish I did, if that makes sense. I wish I loved my brothers, and I wish I knew who my father was, and I wish my mother was more like yours. I never wished any of that before I got here. You made my heart grow, and now I have to figure out where everyone fits inside it.”
“Even me?” Fisher asked. This time he looked at her. He was very close.
“Especially you,” Pendt said.
Ned had never really kissed her. There had been mouths on skin and on other things, but never the warm press of his lips on hers, the soft searching of his tongue.
Fisher kissed her slowly, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed. He leaned down for an eternity before he touched her, and she thanked her lucky stars that she hadn’t skipped the steamy parts in the books Ned had left