Page 24 of Starfighter’s Salvation

Corvan studied the blank hull as I walked away.

Corvan found me in the observation dome forty minutes later, which was impressive because I had deliberately chosen the least likely place on the base for a rescue pilot to look for a medic. I needed breathing room. Time to adjust. To think and figure out what I was going to do with the volcano of emotions just under the surface.

I didn't think he would come looking for me. He did. I tried to pretend that didn’t make my pulse race or my heart ache. I was so tired of his mixed signals. First he doesn't want me at all. Then he holds me on his lap the entire trip here. Then kisses me like he'll never get enough. And an hour later, he's yelling at me about obeying him and following orders. Pick a lane, mister.

Men. Or should I say, man. One man in particular who was driving me crazy.

I leaned back into the comfy chair I'd found and stared out into space, at stars I'd never seen and a planet that didn't look like home. It was pretty, but it was different and unfamiliar. One more thing unsettling me and making me feel like I didn't belong here. The dome had been built into the side of a lunar mountain, all curved glass and low lights. The base on Arturri spread out below me like any city would from the top floor of a skyscraper. The military base was oddly beautiful, its structures shimmering with starlight on silver. I knew their star was called Vega, but it was hard to think of it that way. It was their sun and this was their moon and nothing else made sense.

Above my head, the planet filled half the visible sky, blue-white clouds dragging across continents I couldn’t name. I had one shoe off because the new boots they gave me weren't broken in yet and they had rubbed a blister across my heel. I sat and stared and pretended my fascination with the view had nothing to do with the fact that I suddenly had nowhere I needed to be. No home. No safe place. No retreat except solitude.

Rumination about my sad lack of options was not helping my mood.

Corvan appeared carrying two covered bowls and looked irritated about it. “You left the bay without eating.”

“Hello to you, too.”

He set one bowl on the small table in front of me. Steam curled up from it, the aroma something savory and warm and unfamiliar, and my stomach reminded me loudly that he was right. “You completed five hours of training and drank two cups of water.”

“You're tracking my water intake?”

“Yes.”

“That's ridiculous.”

“Eat.”

I closed my eyes but received no relief from his presence. I knew where he stood without looking. The mark at my nape had become a quiet compass, always pointing toward trouble. Right now, trouble was spending his evening making sure I ate.

He was tracking my water intake? I didn’t know what to do with a man who paid that kind of attention. No one on Earth had cared what I did or didn't do, not for a long time.

I looked at the bowl. Then at him. “Did you bring yourself food?”

He still held the second bowl but stood, glowering at me as if he could force the soup into my body by pure will alone.

“Sit,” I said, pointing to the chair opposite mine.

“Gina.”

“Pilot, you aren't the only one who pays attention. You have been on your feet since before breakfast, you skipped whatever meal this is, and you haven't eaten either. Sit down.”

His mouth twitched — not quite a smile, but I'd take it. He sat.

“That was an order,” he said. "And you expected me to obey."

“Correct. It feels weird when someone uses one on you, doesn’t it?”

He studied me for a second, then lifted the lid from his own bowl. “This is keral stew. It is safe for humans. Jamie asked the kitchen twice.”

“Jamie is my hero.”

“You should not tell her that when you meet her. She will become even more impossible.”

“Too late. I already decided we're going to be besties.”

The stew tasted like roasted vegetables, pepper, and something buttery enough to make my eyes close. I made a sound before I could stop it.

Corvan went still. “Is it bad?”