Penny Reid - Space: (Law of Physics #2)

*Mona*

Y ou left.

Shifting my eyes from the computer screen to the doorway of my office, I blinked at Poes sudden appearance. Pardon?

The reception. He pushed his hands into his pockets, strolling to the chair in front of my desk and helping himself to a seat. You left before the speech. Poe smiled at his own statement, though it was clear my leaving the reception was what he found amusing.

I guess I did. I leaned back in my chair and returned his smile. She always gives the same speech.

You mean, she always brings up that shes mentoring the infamous genius, Mona DaVinci, and you find that irritating. Poe said this as he studied his nails, still smiling.

Stinker. He knew me too well.

Lifting my eyes to the ceiling, I shrugged. Irritating is such a strong word. But yes. It feels a little condescending.

Because your mentor doesnt actually mentor you, or why? Poe leaned his elbow on the arm of the leather chair, stretching his legs in front of him as though getting comfortable, his brown eyes still bright with amusement.

He already knew the answer to this question, so why was he asking? I folded my hands over my stomach and inspected him, deciding that he was just in a teasing mood.

Therefore, I made myself sound lofty. You know I would never say my mentor doesnt mentor me.

That made him laugh, a good, deep, belly laugh, and he shook his head. You would never say it, even though its the truth.

We stared across the length of my desk, smiling at each other, good feelings and trust and respect between us, and I couldnt help but wonder

A moment flashed behind my minds eye, a dark room, my cheek pressed to a soft T-shirt, the sound of a heart beating beneath my ear. ArmsAbrams armswere around me. Reality and time felt fuzzy around the edges, as though I might be able to touch the past...

Sigh.

In the present, my hand reflexively moved to the folded envelope in my front pocket and I felt my smile fall, likely due to the ache in my chest. Despite my attempts to be rational about the shortextremely shorttime Id spent with Abram, memories of him used to cause a brutal, violent stabbing sensation in the vicinity of my heart, scatter my brain, and send a burst of heat up my neck and over my cheeks.

Id written him a letter a month after returning from Chicago, hoping to dispel some of the near-constant torment; Id placed it in an envelope; Id addressed the envelope to his parents house in Michigan and I carried it with me every day, folded in my front pocket. Writing the letter hadnt helped dispel anything, but it had given me something to hold, to touch when I felt like I couldnt breathe in those early days.

The ache I experienced nowover two years laterwas a huge improvement. I hoped soon it would be a mere small twinge. Yet, I still carried the letter in my pocket, every day, though I was unsure why. Habit maybe?

Despite the nonsensical and lingering physical symptoms and resultant mental quirks, I didnt regret my decision to help my sister. How could I? Shed kept her word, Id kept mine, we were so much closer than before, and she was flourishing. Even Gabby and I were friendly more often than at odds. Her latest birthday card to me sat on a bookshelf at my right, proudly inscribed, Donuts before bronuts. Love you forever, Gabster.

Work, my research was good. Great even.

Things with my sister were good. Great even.

I had good friends. Great even.

However ... however.

Taking a deep breath, working to disperse the ache and the image of Abram, I brought Poe back into focus. His smile had turned wry and he shook his head, a faint movement. We never spoke about it, about how I wasnt over a guy who Id known for a blink of an eye, but I was almost certain my friend knew whator whoId been remembering just now.

Poe, his smile slowly giving way to a thoughtful frown, reached forward and picked up the snow globe on my desk, shaking it. Dont worry, I covered for you at the reception. I told everyone you had a flight and couldnt stay.

I knew hed cover for me. We always covered for each other, which was why Id left the reception. When I returned from my memorable one-week trip to Chicago, Poe Payton had been the shoulder Id cried on the one night Id allowed myself to cry.

It happened two weeks before the fall semester. Id been nineteen and drunk at a grad school mixer. Hed told everyone I was on flu meds. Id bawled in his car, telling him the entire story on the drive back to my condo between self-recriminating sobs and rants. He stayed over, spending the night on the couch. He also made me breakfast in the morning, told me a story about his oldest sisters disastrous love life that made me feel better about mine, and then we went for a silent, oddly cathartic walk on the beach.

I shoved the ghost of Abram from my brain and allowed myself to be distracted by the floating bits of white swirling around the snow globe Poe had just given another shake.

Are you sure you dont want to go with us? To the cabin? I asked, hoping he would change his mind. Its not too late to get you a ticket.

Nah, he said, bringing my attention back to his face. Who wants to spend a week surrounded by snow, skiing in Aspen when one could be here, surrounded by ocean and sunshine, surfing in Southern California?

I made a face. Hed tried to give me a surfing lesson once and it hadnt gone well.

You know I dont ski. Or surf, I added quickly, just in case he offered to teach me again. And the allure of being surrounded by snow has more to do with the beverages and hermit life than the activities.

The beverages?

I began ticking off my fingers. Hot cider. Hot chocolate. Hot, mulled wine. Hot

I get it. You like it hot.

Yes. But only in the snow. I didnt mention that the other main attraction was the snow itself.

Hushed, gently falling snow was the closest I would get to the quiet of space without visiting a sensory deprivation chamber. Id tried that once and had something like a panic attack after two minutes. The walls had been too close, claustrophobic. It had felt oppressive, suffocating.

But Id grown a bit preoccupied with the concept of complete silence, a recent occurrence after testifying before Congress on climate change last summer. Thered been subsequent interviews on cable news outlets during the fall and everyone had been so loud. Why did reporters shout on TV? Didnt they know viewers could turn the volume up if needed?

Stressful.

Summary: The quiet isolation of the mountains, cut off from the world by distance and snow, felt like the only place I could draw a complete breath these days. Whenever I had free time, I went to Aspen.

So noted. Poe reached forward again, arranging the snow globe on the desk so that the front of the little model cabin within faced me. Does the cabin actually look like this?

Not exactly. My attention flickered to the rustic little log structure encased in water and glass, a memento Id picked up on my previous return trip from Aspen. And I dont think cabin is really the right word for it. Its more like a