“I told the director about it, but he dismissed me. I tried again…again…and again. They said I was being overly cautious, that the simulations were fine, but I told them that the simulations weren’t programmed to take this into consideration. Three hours before the launch, I expressed my concern about it again, even went straight to the astronauts and warned them, which caused me to lose my clearance altogether. I went home…and watched the rocket explode on TV.”
She closed her eyes and covered her mouth with one hand, like she was reliving that moment in her mind, like it was just as fresh to her as it was to me.
“They reinstated me, but I quit, so it didn’t matter. I didn’t want to be part of a team that cared more about media coverage and money than the safety of human lives. It didn’t matter that they apologized to me, when they should have apologized to the families of those astronauts who’d lost their lives because they’d trusted them….and they fucking failed.” I stared at the table, seeing my fingers fanned out against the wood. “I still have nightmares about it…”
Her hand moved to mine, and she rested her hand on top, as if she wanted to see what my reaction would be first. When I didn’t pull away, she gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “It’s not your fault, Derek. You tried to stop it.”
“But I’m also the one who designed that rocket in the first place.”
“And you realized the error in time. They’re responsible for this—not you.” She gave my hand another gentle squeeze before she pulled away.
The guilt that overwhelmed me was still heavy in my bloodstream because I’d never gotten over it. I even went to therapy for a while because I couldn’t sleep at night. The burden of their untimely deaths was still on my shoulders…every single day.
“Now I understand why you’re so passionate about getting everything right—every time.”
I continued to stare at my hands, trying to push the painful thoughts away.
“Is that why you founded your own company?”
I turned back to her. “Yes.”
There was some emotion in her eyes, like that horrible accident killed her too. Or maybe she felt the pain that was in my eyes. “What are your rockets for? Do you launch into space yourself?”
“I hate the bureaucratic bullshit of running a company funded by the government, so I decided to go private. Inventing new ideas, making changes without typical protocols, makes everything so much quicker. We’ve been able to excel at an exponential rate and make rockets that use a smaller amount of fuel than older rockets, cars that have new safety features, machines that give people their arms and legs back. Most of my profit is from things like that, practical and everyday advances the general population needs. My rockets and space flight equipment are used for research and development. I share my intel with NASA on a regular basis because I want them to be better, not worse.”
She seemed to be rendered speechless because she didn’t say anything. Her eyes shifted back and forth as she looked into my gaze, as if she saw me in a new light.
The only people who ever looked at me that way were my parents. “What?”
“It’s just…really inspiring to see someone motivated by change instead of money.”
“I’m not going to pretend I don’t enjoy being rich. I do.”
“Of course. But you’re much more than that…and that’s more than most people can say.”
I held her gaze for a while, noting the blue color of her eyes. Fleur’s were blue too, but Emerson’s had a special quality, their almond shape, their brightness. Hers had a depth that showed her intelligence. From what I could see, there was no bottom. Fleur—or every woman I’d been with, for that matter—just had shallow pools of water that barely covered your shoe when you stood in it. Those freckles were fascinating to me as well, like she was in the sun too much as a child, but instead of leaving an ugly scar, it gave her a special quality that made her stand out in a crowd—in a good way.
“What you did for Bryan was really sweet.”
When that day happened, she never questioned me about it, which was a good thing because I hadn’t been in the mood to talk. I’d lost my birth mother, and the only reason that had hurt was because she never proved she actually gave a damn about me before she was gone…and I had so hoped she would prove me otherwise. But if I had to watch my own mother go through that…I’d lose my fucking mind. “Life is hard. We have to help each other.”
“But no one helps you.”
“Well, I don’t need any help.”
She smiled.
“What?”
“We’re still doing this?” She continued to wear her smile, her white teeth perfectly straight. Her eyes were filled with joy, like she was my friend sitting across from me in the bar, instead of the woman who went through my stuff when I wasn’t home. “Come on, I’ve made your life easier. Just admit it.”