Tinfoil Heart
Page 24
“They met and fell in love like anyone else.”
“Like us,” I add. “Did she know? That he was from . . . Mars?” I take a wild guess.
“Panaeon.”
“Pan-e-on. Panaeon.” I repeat his pronunciation. “Right. And that’s where?”
“Very far away.” He chuckles. “I’ll show you the constellation later.”
“You’re family is from a different galaxy? My brain hurts from thinking about the physics involved if you came from the moon. How is that even possible?”
“It’s not important. No one’s going to quiz you later.” He touches my hand, sending warmth up my arm.
“But you look human. You have all the regular parts and bits.” I’m churning out random observations at this point.
“Bits?” he asks.
“Male genitals.”
“We’re ninety-nine percent genetically identical, so it makes sense the bits are, too.”
“Same as chimps.” Great, now I’m thinking about monkey sex. I think my head is two seconds from exploding.
“Are you calling me a primate?” He looks insulted and that makes me laugh.
“Simply pointing out the similarity. What about your freakishly fast reflexes?”
“Hereditary. We have both human and Panaeon genetics. Speed is one of our traits. Empathy is another. Shari obliviously got more of that characteristic.” His smile is shy, almost apologetic.
“And your eyes changing? They’re not just hazel, are they?”
“No, they reflect our emotions. We suck at poker.”
“Is being ridiculously handsome part of your other genes?” I have questions shoving each other out of the way in my brain.
His lips curl into a sexy smile. “Our features tend to be more symmetrical, which is apparently the current standard of beauty.”
“You have incredible stamina. In bed.” I add the last part like I’m reading a Chinese fortune cookie and trying to make it dirty.
“We can tap into deep energy sources more easily than—”
“Humans,” I finish for him. “Me.”
“Non-hybrids,” he quips.
A horrible idea hits me. “Are you going to want to do butt stuff to me?”
His eyes bug out of his face. “Now is when you want to talk about anal sex?”
“Everyone knows aliens are into anal probing.” Waiting, I give him a pointed look.
He closes his eyes and inhales deeply. “More lies. I wish people wouldn’t blame their kinks on others.”
I poke his arm to get him to open his eyes. “So if not to probe human butts, why did the Panaeons come here? Panaeonites? Panaeonians?”
“Panaeons works. The same reason any group colonizes an area: resources.”
“Green chiles from New Mexico?”
This makes him laugh. “No, gypsum. White Sands is the largest dune field in the world, conveniently visible from space. The surrounding area is filled with layers of it. For decades, gypsum was mined in the area, and then small ships transported it to the staging area on the moon.”
“Our moon?” I ask, thinking of my dad’s saying.
“Our moon. Then the moon landing took place and we had to abandon it.”
“Are you saying you’re stranded here?”
“I’m from here. Roswell is home.” He smiles. “But to answer your question, as NASA and other space agencies expanded their technology, it has complicated Panaeon missions to Earth. There hasn’t been a return in almost twenty years.”
“The sinkholes?” I ask.
“The result of greed and mining too heavily in one area. Same as the salt caverns, just a different mineral.”
“Interesting.” Talking about mining and transports makes this conversation feel normal. Like we’re discussing silver mining in Colorado.
“You’re handling this surprisingly well.”
“You should see the word soup in my brain.” I bobble my head on my neck to demonstrate the internal chaos.
“Ask me anything.” He runs a finger down my arm, leaving a wake of goosebumps.
“Zed? What role does he play in this?” No idea why I’m thinking about him right now.
“He knows our secret. When you showed up, he remembered your father’s story from his research as soon as he heard your name. And that’s when he let me know you were finally here.”
“Finally?” My eyes widen.
“This is a lot to process. How about we save the rest for tomorrow?” He’s completely sincere.
And delusional if he thinks I’ll be sleeping at all tonight.
“No?” he answers for me.
I shake my head.
“Can we at least make dinner while we talk? I’m starved.”
Food is the last thing I want, but I join my alien boyfriend in the kitchen. Jumping up to sit on the island, I continue my questioning. “Do you know what happened to my father?”
“Yes, and no. I know the why, but not the where.”
“The time for being cryptic has passed, don’t you think?” I say, a sharp edge to my tone.
He exhales and fills a pot with water before answering me. “I want to give you a definitive answer, but I can’t.”
“Please tell me what you know. Anything is better than the nothing I’ve lived with for years.” I blink away a fresh batch of tears, confusion and anger mix with hope.
“Your grandfather on your dad’s side worked as a ranch manager for us for a few years early on. He learned about my great-grandfather, but kept our secret. When your dad was little, his father died protecting us when the government got to close to the truth.”
My heart aches for the kid version of my dad losing his own father.
“My family took care of your grandmother and dad financially until he went off to college.”
“Where he met my mom.”
Boone meets my eyes. “Yes.”
“You know my whole life story?” My voice shakes.
He glances away for a second. “Yes.”
“This is a whole other level of creepy stalker, you know?” I try to laugh but it comes out like fake “ha ha ha” villain laughter.
Pressing his lips together, he ducks his chin. “I hope when you know the full truth, you’ll think I’m worth it.”
“I love you,” I say. Because I do.
“And I love you. I’ll be the luckiest man in the world if I’m the one who gets to be loved by you.”
His words melt my heart, but don’t lessen my need for answers.
“Tell me what you know,” I demand.
“You chose aliens over not knowing, remember that. Do you want the short or long version tonight?” He looks nervous and that gives me anxiety.
“Short, so I can interrupt and ask a million questions.” I give him a weak smile, which he kisses away. When our lips part, I whisper, “I just kissed an alien.”
“Hybrid,” he corrects me.
“Alien boyfriend has a better ring to it. If I tell people my boyfriend is a hybrid, they’ll think you’re part Prius.”
He laughs and tries to kiss me at the same time. He fails.
“You know this part. Your parents met and fell in love in Albuquerque.”
“Whirlwind romance that resulted in marriage and me within six months,” I explain although I suspect he already knows everything. “Then they moved back to Pine Bluff.”
“To protect you and your mom.”
“I always wondered why they left New Mexico.”
“According to my family, the Defense Department started funding their UFO threat and protection department in the early nineties. This means they were searching for aliens. We think your dad saw something, maybe told the wrong person some sensitive information. Then your parents left and cut off all communication with us.”
“Did my mom know?” I wish she were here to fill in all the gaps in Boone’s story.
“We don’t think so. If she did, she never revealed it to us or anyone else. I’m sorry she d
ied.”
“I’m sorry, too.” No tears fill my eyes. I think I’m dehydrated at this point. Or numb. Because, you know, my boyfriend is half alien.
“When she died, we thought you might come west. Hoped you would. My family feels responsible for what happened to your dad and your mom having to hide away.”
“She left me a note telling me to go west. I thought it was a metaphor.”
“Maybe she knew more than we suspected,” he mumbles.
“What about the symbol? I drew it in my dad’s book when I was little. What does it really mean? Besides a random sinkhole that probably isn’t random at all.”
“It’s a combination of symbols. The astrological sign for Earth is a cross inside a circle. It also references a four dimensional graph for Minkowski’s spacetime.”
“Hold on, Shari once joked that if you were a twin, you’d break the space time continuum. I didn’t know what she meant.”
“She thinks she’s funny. It’s a physics joke.”
I could have him try to explain the humor behind spacetime jokes, or I can ask the question that led me here.
“What happened to my dad? Did he leave on a transport ship?” This is the moment I’ve waited for since I was nine.
“In the late nineties there was an increase of UFO sightings in New York and along the East Coast. Drew a lot of attention,” he explains.
“I discovered that in my research. It supported the alien abduction theory even without a sighting the night he disappeared.”
“I’m just going to say this like ripping off a Band-Aid. Okay?” He holds both my hands in his.
“Okay.” I bite my bottom lip as I wait.
“He wasn’t abducted. He left voluntarily. That’s all we know.” The words leave Boone’s mouth in a calm, logical order.
The revelation slices through my heart. “He chose to leave?”
“As far as we can tell, it wasn’t supposed to be permanent. While on this planet, we can’t communicate with our ships or Panaeon. The last transport left that summer and we haven’t had contact with the fleet since.”
“How are you sure he didn’t wander away and fall into a sinkhole, or get eaten by a bear?”
“It’s possible, but you chose aliens as the explanation you wanted to believe. This is all I know. And I’m so sorry I can’t give you more. If I could bring him back for you, I would.” Tears brighten his green eyes.
“If you don’t know for sure, why did you tell me the truth about being a hybrid? I could expose you.” That’s a lie. I never would.
“But you won’t,” he says, confidently staring into my eyes.
“How do you know?” Challenging him, I lift my eyebrow. My inner skeptic hasn’t completely gone silent.
“I love you, and loving means trusting the other person with our true self.” His soul shines in his eyes.
I was wrong about being too dehydrated to make more tears.
“Why are you crying?” He kisses away the salty streaks on my face.
“Because I didn’t find what I was looking for,” I say, softly.
“I’m sorry, Lucy,” he whispers, his lips brushing mine.
“Don’t be. They’re happy tears. I found something better.” I smile through my tears.
Leaning away, he meets my eyes again. “What’s that?”
“Love.”
To keep up with me, sign up for my mailing list. Lots of exciting news, a newsletter exclusive serial, and tons of new books coming your way in 2018. Let’s keep in touch!
As a reader myself, I know how important other readers’ recommendations are when it comes to choosing my next book. I’d be honored and so grateful if you will take the time to write a short review of Tinfoil Heart. Please post your review on Goodreads or on your favorite retailer. Thanks in advance!
Wingmen:
Ready to Fall
Confessions of a Reformed Tom Cat
Wingmen
(a boxed set of Ready to Fall &
Confessions of a Reformed Tom Cat)
Anything but Love
Better Love
Small Town Scandal
Wingmen Babypalooza: A Christmas Babies Novella
The Last Wingman (Coming 2018)
Love with Altitude:
Next to You
Crazy Over You
Wild for You
Up to You (Coming June 2018)
Modern Love Stories:
We Were Here
Geoducks Are for Lovers
Wanderlust
Love, Laughter and a Happily Ever After
An Amazon Exclusive Short Story Collection
Bewitched:
Bewitched
A magical novella set in Salem, Massachusetts
Spellbound
A magical sequel to Bewitched
Enchanted
A magical continuation of Bewitched
Charmed
A magical conclusion of Bewitched
currently serialized in my monthly email
My heart and gratitude belong to my husband, who listened to the early germs of this story while we were in Roswell in 2015. It may have taken three years to get from there to here, but this book would never have happened if it weren’t for your love and encouragement. Someday we’ll go back for more green chile cheeseburgers.
To my dad, I wish you were still here to read this one. Thanks for passing on your love of good stories and road trips.
Thank you to my family and their friends in New Mexico, who shared personal stories about what happened out in the desert in 1947. Those conversations sparked the idea for Lucy and Boone. Maybe it was a super spy weather balloon. Maybe it wasn’t.
I am blessed to work with amazing, magical women who turn my manuscripts into a books. To my beta readers, MJ and Dianne, thank you for letting me know this wasn’t as weird and crazy as I first thought. Thank you for your early feedback. MJ, we’ll always have Monday. Thank you for cleaning up my messes, Melissa Ringsted at There for You Editing and Elli Reed. Thank you to Hang Le for the perfect cover for this story. I’m still blown away by it. Thanks as always to Christine Borgford for making the interior of the book as beautiful as the cover.
Big thanks to the amazing Jennifer Beach for the beautiful teasers and keeping me organized. Thank you to Jessica Estep and KP Simmon at Inkslinger PR; and Jeananna and Kylie at Give Me Books for your help spreading the word about my books and for your continuing support. To Meire Dias at Bookcase Literary Agency, thank you for all you do behind the scenes.
To the RC, your enthusiasm and support keep me going. To Christina, I don’t know what I’d do without you. To the members of Daisyland, thank you for spending part of your days with me in our little virtual treehouse. Thank you for being my readers and my cheerleaders.
To the members of the Nerdy Little Book Herd, thanks for welcoming into the group and being a happy, fun place to hang out. Autumn and Laurie, thanks for listening. Becca, you’re the best. To Benita and Tina, you are bright, shiny stars. Thanks to all of my fellow authors who continue to inspire me with their dedication to writing and this business. Special thanks to Julia, Tina, Katherine, M.E., Heather, Andrea, Tijan, Debra, Helena, Erika, Penny, Elizabeth, Shannon, Nic, CC, Julie, and Rachel. Thank you for your friendship and checking on me while I wrote this book that felt like it would never be finished. Thank you all for lifting me up and encouraging me on a daily basis.
To the Indie book community and Romancelandia at large, thank you for the support, kindness, and generosity that goes far beyond writing and publishing. To every single blogger who reads, reviews, shares and promotes the authors and books you love, thank you. Your hard work and dedication to books is a gift to readers. Thank you for supporting me and my writing.
Most of all, dear reader, thank you for reading this book. Thank you for taking the chance on something different.
I appreciate every review, message, and email from you.
Come find me on social media and say h
i, or email me at:
daisy@daisyprescott.com.
xo
Daisy
Daisy Prescott is a USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romantic comedies, including Modern Love Stories, the Wingmen series, and the Love with Altitude series. She also dabbles in magical realism in her Bewitched serial.
Daisy currently lives in a real life Stars Hollow in the Boston suburbs with her husband, their rescue dog Mr. Fox Mulder, and an indeterminate number of imaginary house goats in pajamas. When not writing, she can be found in the garden or kitchen, lost in a good book, or on social media, usually talking about books and sloths.
Mailing list | Goodreads | Website
Facebook | Twitter | Instagram