A grin in expectation of a compliment quickly turned to panic. “Oh, hey, what are you doing that for?” He crouched in front of her. “I don’t think crying will feel very good in your condition.”

She bit her lip, hard. He was right. Already her warbling breaths were making her abdomen throb. She forced the tears to subside.

Thorne took her hands, snaking his cast beneath her fingers. His skin looked tan and rugged against hers.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wanted to be there when they brought you out of the tank, but I was in a meeting when Scarlet commed to tell me, and I couldn’t leave, and I thought … I didn’t know…” He exhaled, a frustrated set to his mouth.

“A meeting?” Cress said, not sure if this explanation made her feel better or worse.

His expression brightened. “You’ll never believe this. President Vargas himself wanted to meet me. The actual president of the American Republic. Guess what he said.”

She considered. “He’s giving you a medal of honor for your bravery?”

“Close enough.” Thorne’s blue eyes gleamed. “He’s giving me the Rampion.”

Her eyes widened.

Launching to his feet, Thorne started to pace. “Well, I mean, he’s leasing me the Rampion, but I can start making payments to purchase it from the military. Cinder asked him to pardon me if I promised not to steal anymore, yadda yadda, and she recommended me and my crew to head the efforts of distributing the letumosis antidote. But I need a ship to do it, which is why President Vargas made the deal. You should have seen how unhappy he looked about it. I don’t think he’s my biggest fan, but—he still did it.”

Cress clapped. “I’m so happy for you.”

“Can you imagine, me, in a legitimate job?”

“And a job that’s helping people.” She beamed. “I can imagine it very easily.”

“I’m sure you’re the only one.” He stopped pacing long enough to grin at her.

Warmth flooded her face, and she looked down, noticing his cast again. He would have to retrain himself how to fly with his injuries. “I’m—I’m sorry about your hand,” she stammered.

“Don’t,” he said quickly, as if he’d been expecting this apology. “Scarlet and I are going to start a missing-fingers club. We might let Cinder be an honorary member.” Sinking onto the edge of the bed, he stared at his cast, twisting it in the light. “Plus, I’m thinking of getting some cyborg replacements. You know how Cinder’s hand does all sorts of tricks? I thought it might be nice to always have a toothpick handy. Or maybe a comb.” He sounded distracted, like his words and thoughts weren’t lining up with each other. When he dared to look up again, there was anxiety behind his eyes. “I’m sorry too, Cress. I … I nearly killed you and—”

“Levana almost killed me.”

His jaw flexed. “I was the one holding the knife. I felt it. I felt it happening, and there was nothing I could do…”

“There was nothing you could do,” she agreed.

Settling his elbows on his knees, he leaned over, his head hanging between his shoulders. “No. I know.” He dragged his good hand through his hair. “I know, logically, that it was her, not me. But … Cress.” He sighed. “I will have nightmares about that moment for the rest of my life.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Cress, that’s not…” Massaging the back of his neck, he peered up at her, but the look was so intense she had trouble holding it. Her blush deepened. “I…” He planted his hands on his knees, bracing himself. “Will you stay on my crew?”

Her thoughts scattered. “Your … crew?”

“I know.” He cleared his throat. “You’ve spent your entire life in space, removed from civilization. I understand if you say no. If you want to stay here on Luna, or even … even if you want me to take you to Earth. I’m sure you could stay with Kai for a while, who, you know, lives in a palace.” Thorne’s expression darkened. “Which is probably really tempting compared with the cargo ship I’m offering.”

He started to pace again. “But Wolf and Scarlet are staying on—just temporarily, until the disease is under control. And I had an idea. This assignment will take us all over the Republic. Not that we’ll be doing much sightseeing, but there’ll be … um. Forests. And mountains. And all sorts of things. And when we’re done, if there’s anywhere you want to go back to, we could do that. And stay for a while. Or I could take you … anywhere. Anywhere you want to see.”

His pacing was making her dizzy. “You’re offering me a … job.”

“Ye—no.” He hesitated. “I mean, sort of. You know, this went a lot smoother when I practiced last night.”

She shut one eye, squinting. “Captain, I’m still on a lot of medication, and I’m not sure I’m following you.”

He took in the hospital gown and hovering chair as if he’d forgotten about them. “Spades, I am bad at this, aren’t I? Do you want to lie down? You should lie down.”

Without waiting for a response, he swept an arm beneath her knees and lifted her out of the chair, gentle, as if he were picking up a priceless dream doll. She buried a hiss of pain in her throat as he carried her to the bed.

“Better?” he said, easing her on top of the covers.

“Better,” she admitted.

But he didn’t let go, and he was awfully close when she met his eyes. “Cress, look. I’m obviously no good at this. At least not when it’s … when it’s you.” He seemed frustrated. His fingers curled, gathering up the flimsy material of the hospital gown. “But I am good at this.”

He leaned closer and his lips found hers, pressing her into the soft pillows. She gasped and dug her fingers into his shirt, afraid he would pull away before she could memorize this moment. But he didn’t pull away, and Cress gradually dared to kiss him back. The mattress shifted—Thorne bringing a knee up to keep from crushing her. His cast brushed her hip, clumsy at first, but less so when he raised it to the side of her face to trace his bare thumb against her jaw. And his lips followed. To her chin. Her neck. The dip of her clavicle.

Her body became liquid, and she thought, if they could bottle him, he would make the best pain medication.

Thorne stopped kissing her, but she could still feel the brush of his hair against her jaw, the warmth of his breath on her shoulder.

“Twenty-three,” he said.

“Mm?” She opened her dazed eyes. Thorne pulled back, looking guilty and worried, which made some of her euphoria fade away.

“You once asked me how many times I’d told a girl I loved her. I’ve been trying to remember them all, and I’m pretty sure the answer is twenty-three.”

She blinked, a slow, fluttering stare. Her lips pursed in a question that took a while to form. “Including the Lunar girl who kissed you?”

His brow furrowed. “Are we counting her?”

“You said it, didn’t you?”

His gaze darted to the side. “Twenty-four.”

Cress gaped. Twenty-four girls. She didn’t even know twenty-four people.