“Only once or twice?” My brow lifts again.
“Today. Once or twice today.”
This time, we both laugh. “You’re close, aren’t you?” I ask, because I have a ton of questions when it comes to Ian. And because Max is a really nice guy—and very easy to talk to.
Something flashes across his face—maybe amusement. “More than you can imagine.” Then he shrugs. “We’ve had to be. The three of us have been alone since we were eleven years old. We look out for one another.”
I frown. “Three of you?”
“Yeah. Me, Ian, and Milla.”
I think about that for a second. “So Milla is your sister?” Why hadn’t I realized that before? Max and Ian do have similarly dark skin and dark hair, but so do a lot of people. The two never struck me as siblings before now.
There’s that flash of something again. But I’m too caught up in the conversation to analyze it too closely. “Who did you think she was?” he asks, studying me.
I hadn’t thought about it too much. Clearly, she’s someone Ian cares about a lot, and maybe I hadn’t wanted to know the gory details.
He grins. “Did you think she was his girlfriend?”
“I didn’t think at all.” I sniff. “And why would I care if she was?”
“Oh, I think you care, Princess. A lot more than you want me—or him—to know. But for your information and absolutely no other reason, Ian has never had a serious partner.”
As if that means anything to me. The warm, fuzzy feeling deep inside me is just because of the alcohol. “So, tell me about Milla. Obviously, Ian is the obnoxious asshole; you’re the nice, goofy one. What’s Milla like?”
Max’s smile flashes as bright as a solar flare. “She’s the clever one. She got all the brains.”
“I don’t believe that. You seem pretty smart yourself.”
He laughs. Hard. “I notice you don’t say the same about Ian.”
“He’s smart, too. He’s just…”
“Impulsive,” Max fills in. “Pugilistic. Completely without common sense.”
“All of the above.” I study him closely. “So Milla’s not like that?”
“Well, the pugilistic part is something they have in common.” He gives an amused shake of his head, like he’s remembering some funny thing that happened in the past. “But the rest, no.”
“She sounds…” I search for a word and settle on, “amazing.”
“She is,” he tells me, sounding sadder than I’ve ever heard him. “She’s everything.”
I reach over and squeeze his hand. “I really hope you find her.”
“We will.” I can hear the conviction in his voice, and the last thing I want to do is put any doubt in his mind. But how can he even be sure she’s alive? It’s been months since she was taken, and the Senestris system is a dangerous place. I’ve learned that over the last few days.
He pats my leg. “Anyway, try not to worry too much. Once we’ve found Milla, we’ll get you home.”
“And if I don’t want to go home?” I ask.
His eyes turn watchful. “Don’t you?”
“Beckett sprung a lot on me today. I don’t know what I want. I just know I don’t want to be dead weight. I want—” I want my mom to not be a monster. I want there to be an explanation for the things Beckett said. The things I saw on Rangar. But what explanation could there possibly be?
My head is whirling with a million questions that I don’t know the answers to. Questions that I’m not sure there even are answers to.
I don’t say that, though. I can’t. So instead I ask, “Why are you so much nicer than Ian?”
But Max just grins. “I’m not. But you can feel free to tell him that the next time you see him.”
“So he can hit you, too? No, thank you.” I shudder.
“Ian and I’ve gone a round more than a few times,” he answers. “It always works itself out.”
“Before anyone ended up needing medical attention?” I ask archly.
“Now, where’s the fun in that?” He stands up. “Speaking of which, I’m going to head back to the bridge before Ian comes looking for both of us.”
“You don’t actually think he’d be jealous if he found you here, do you?”
He flashes me a grin. “Nah, of course not. Ian knows I would never try anything with his girl.”
I grit my teeth. “I am not his girl. In fact, he specifically told me that he does not do relationships. So, I’m reliably informed that it’s never going to happen.”
“He’s running scared.”
“He doesn’t look scared. And he doesn’t act scared. And he’s not actually running anywhere.” I sigh. Why are we even talking about this? It’s not as though I want to be Ian’s “girl” anyway. Despite the fact that he does have a nice ass. A really nice ass, actually, and a face to die for.
All the same, I can’t help but ask, “So, say—just as a matter of academic interest—I did want to make Ian jealous. Which obviously I don’t. But how would I go about it?”
“You wouldn’t,” he answers dryly. “Not if you want to avoid bloodshed.”
Chapter 35
Rain
I watch Beckett as she works at the console. She’s a rebel—not used to be a rebel or was a rebel, which I already knew—it’s not like I was forced to be a rebel, or even I used to support the Rebellion but I’ve changed my mind. She actively is a rebel. Right now. Someone intent on destroying the order of things, who doesn’t care who they kill or hurt in the process.
In other words, she’s everything the Sisterhood is not.
I should want nothing to do with her. But the truth is, when I’m near her, none of that matters. Nothing does but talking to her. Touching her. Kissing her.
I want to do all those things with her right now. But I don’t know where to start. Those things she said to Kali earlier—about her father and her brother? She’s suffered so much. Losing them and then getting captured and tortured herself?
Is it any wonder she’s a rebel? Any wonder she wants nothing to do with the Empire or the Corporation? I wouldn’t, either, if I’d had her life.
The fact that she’s still as kind as she is—and she is kind, no matter what the others think—is a testament to just how good a person she is.
I can see the soft curve of her cheek, framed by the glossy black curls. The purse of her full lips as she considers something on the screen in front of her. The long, slender line of her back as she arches, stretching it out.
Then she rubs at the back of her skull, and I know she’s in pain. I’m filled with a need to help her. I tell myself it’s because I’m a member of the Sisterhood and that’s what we’re all about. But deep inside, I know it’s so much more than that.
“There can’t be anything between you. You know that, don’t you?”
Merrick’s voice is soft, and I can hear the pity in his tone. It hurts more than his anger and more than his disappointment.