“I didn’t realize how much time you spent here,” March says softly.
My mother, my father, my past . . .
When the hell did I develop a conscience?
“When you came for me.” March answers the unspoken question with an expression I can’t interpret.
He’s right to fear that. I love him, but he terrifies me in some ways.
“Get used to it,” he says dryly. “Once you start caring, it’s hard to stop.”
Up on the eighth floor, I key my room open and stare. “What the fuck . . .”
“Shouldn’t we call security? They might be able to find out who did this.”
I shrug. “If you like. I don’t feel up to dealing with it tonight, though.”
He takes a closer look at me. “You don’t look good, Jax.”
“Hope so.” Maybe it’s because I know him, but he’s not doing a good job of hiding his concern.
“You want to stay?” Even as I ask, I press the button to enlarge my bunk from a single to a double.
“I was hoping you’d ask,” he says. “Shower?”
Maybe things will look better in the morning.
l’m having the strangest dream.
“A what?” The neurons in my brain aren’t firing at capacity yet.
“How’d you manage that?” he asks.
“What’s it called now?” I ask over my shoulder.
This is my favorite blue jumpsuit, dammit.
I glare at him. “And if you think I’m donning ceremonial robes, you’re out of your mind.”
“You
are
interested then, I take it?”
“Yes, I’m interested. I’ll dress up more when we arrive.”
“This is March, my pilot, and Dina, ship’s mechanic.”
“When do we leave?” Dina asks. “I have some preparations to make.”
He nods. “That’s your top priority then.”
“I haven’t briefed you fully,” Tarn protests, as we head for the door.
I shrug. “Send the files to the ship. I’ll read it en route.”