Calix gave him the third shot of anesthetic, and after a few minutes called in a more experienced nurse to help with the long process of finding the right gland and extracting the pheromonal cure for RM. Samm couldn’t talk during the extraction and spent the next forty minutes cataloguing his day, planning out the jobs he had to do and the order in which he could do them most efficiently. Phan called him a walking day planner, but it never struck Samm as an odd behavior: He had a lot to do, and a limited amount of time to do it. What was wrong with a little planning? His first order of business would be the maternity ward, saying hello to the new mothers and hearing a report on the children. He had no specific responsibility there, but he liked to do it anyway. He liked to see what these sessions in the lab had wrought.
When the nurses finished the extraction, the older one took the vial to be processed, and Calix helped Samm sit up. The anesthetic always made him a little woozy, and he munched on a piece of flatbread while he waited for his head to realign. Calix watched him, more pensive than usual, and after a moment asked a question.
“Do you like it here, Samm?”
“It’s wonderful,” said Samm automatically. “You have food and water, you have electricity, and people aren’t killing each other. It’s great.”
“And yet you’re not happy.”
Samm chewed slowly, thinking. “I’m helping people,” he said at last. “The pheromone we just extracted saves lives, and we’re helping the other Partials get back on their feet. I’m happy to be a part of that.”
“You’re proud of it,” said Calix, “but you’re not
“The total amount of happiness in the Preserve is greater with me in it than out,” said Samm.
“That’s the saddest definition of happiness I’ve ever heard.”
“What other choice do I have?” asked Samm. “It’s not like I can leave.”
“It’s exactly like you can leave,” said Calix, “and nobody could stop you. We might try, but let’s be realistic. Especially if Heron’s helping you—that chick makes the monster under my bed have nightmares.”
Samm smiled. “She feels bad about shooting you.”
“She’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
“She would,” said Samm, nodding. “I was just trying to make you feel better.”
Calix laughed and swatted his arm. “Now let me be clear about this: We are incredibly grateful that you’ve stayed. You’re giving us a future. But you don’t have to . . .” She trailed off, and Samm looked up, finishing her sentence for her.
“I don’t have to stay here?” he asked. “Of course I do. I gave my word, and that’s a stronger bond than any chains you could use to lock me down, or any walls you could put up to keep me in.”
Calix bit her lip, thinking, and finally nodded. “I realize that, and I thank you. We all do. But . . . I asked if you were happy here, and you talked about leaving. You told me how wonderful it is here, and then talked about leaving. How do you think it makes us feel that your only conception of happiness involves leaving? You could be happy here, Samm, I know you could. We would do anything we can to make you happy here.”
She stopped talking abruptly, wiping her cheek with her hand so quickly that Samm couldn’t tell if there’d really been a tear on it or not. He instantly felt bad, thinking about how insulting his attitude must be to the humans of the Preserve. They needed him for the pheromones, but they treated him like a person. They’d accepted him as one of their own, just like Samm had shown Gorman. And yet for all their efforts to include him, Samm wasn’t working to include himself. He didn’t know if he could.
Calix looked at the floor, avoiding his eyes, and he realized something else. Calix had wanted him once, back when he’d first arrived. He’d told her he was in love with Kira, but now Kira was gone. What was to stop Samm and Calix from being together now? Had she been waiting this entire time, too polite to exploit Kira’s absence, but counting the days until Samm came to the same realization? He’d promised to stay here forever. What was he waiting for? What was he holding out for? If this was really his home—not just the place where he lived, but a real home, with a new family—why was he still acting like a visitor?
Calix was kind, she was smart, she was funny, and even with a bullet wound in her leg she’d been more than capable of contributing to the Preserve. They’d been spending more and more time together over the last few weeks, until Samm had come to think of her as one of his best friends. And he had to admit she was beautiful. Calix wasn’t Kira, but Kira wasn’t Calix, either.
And Kira wasn’t here.
Calix looked up, as if sensing his gaze. He looked at her, studying her face, her eyes, remembering their kiss. Was it really so wrong? He was staying here anyway—was it really so bad if he stayed here with her?
“Samm.” Her voice was hesitant, probing.
“Calix,” he said.
“I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be,” he said quickly. “You’ve made me realize something.”
She bit her lip again. “What?”
