Below Zero (The STEMinist Novellas #3) by Ali Hazelwood

            “But Merel said that—”

            “Merel is a fucking idiot.”

            My eyes widen. Ian’s tone is exasperated and furious and not at all what I’d expect from his usually calm, aloof self. “Well, Dr. Merel has a doctorate from Oxford and I believe is a MENSA member, so—”

            “He’s a moron.” I shouldn’t laugh, or burrow even closer to Ian, but I cannot help myself. “He was at AMASE when I was here, too. There were two serious injuries during my second expedition, and both of them happened because he pushed scientists to finish fieldwork when conditions weren’t optimal.”

            “Wait, seriously?” He nods curtly. “Why is he still at NASA?”

            “Because his negligence was hard to prove, and because AMASE members sign waivers. Like you did.” He takes a deep breath, trying to calm down. “Why were you out there alone?”

            “I needed to drop off the equipment. The storm wasn’t forecasted. But then there was an avalanche nearby, I got scared that my mini-rover would get damaged, started running away without looking, and—”

            “No—why were you alone, Hannah? You were supposed to have someone else with you. That’s what the proposal said.”

            “Oh.” I swallow. “Merel was supposed to come for backup. But he wasn’t feeling well. I offered to wait for him, but he said we’d be losing valuable days of data and that I should just go alone, and I . . .” I squeeze my fingers around the material of Ian’s shirt. “I went. And then, when I called in for help, he told me that the weather was turning, and . . .”

            “Fuck,” he mutters. His arms tighten around me, nearly painful. “Fuck.”

            I wince. “I know you’re mad at me. And you have every right—”

            “I’m not mad at you,” he says, sounding mad at me. “I’m mad at fucking—” I study him, skeptical, as he inhales deeply. Exhales. Inhales again. He seems to cycle through a few emotions that I’m not sure I understand, and ends with: “I’m sorry. I apologize. I usually don’t . . .”

            “Get mad?”

            He nods. “I’m usually better at . . .”

            “Caring less?” I finish for him, and he closes his eyes and nods again.

            Okay. This is starting to make sense.

            “AMASE didn’t send you,” I say. It’s not a question. Ian won’t admit it to me, but in this bunk, next to him, it’s so obvious what happened. He came to Norway to keep me safe. Every step of the way, all he did was to keep me safe. “How did you know that I was going to need you?”

            “I didn’t, Hannah.” His chest rises and falls in a deep sigh. Another man would be gloating by now. Ian . . . I think he just wishes he could have spared me this. “I was just afraid that something might happen to you. And I don’t trust Merel. Not with you.” He says it—you—like I am a remarkable and important thing. The most precious data point; his favorite town; the loveliest, starkest Martian landscape. Even though I pushed him away, over and over, he still came in a rocking boat in the middle of the coldest ocean on planet Earth, just to get me warm.

            I try to lift my head and look up at him, but he presses on it gently and keeps stroking my hair. “You really should rest.”

            He’s right. We both should. So I push a leg between his, and he lets me. Like his body is a thing of mine. “I am sorry. About what I said to you back in Houston.”

            “Shh.”

            “And that I’ve put you in danger—”

            “Shh, it’s okay.” He kisses my temple. It’s wet from the slide of my tears. “It’s okay.”

            “It’s not. You could be working with your team, or asleep in your own bed, but you’re here because of me, and—”

            “Hannah, there is nowhere else I’d rather be.”

            I laugh, watery. “Not even—not even literally anywhere else?”

            I hear him chuckle just before I fall asleep.