Page 74 of Red Star Rebels
‘You don’t get to choose?’ I murmur, feeling like I’m floating on cottonwool clouds. ‘Seems unfair.’
‘What?’ he asks, and something deep inside me starts to struggle awake. ‘Cleo?’ he says as I stare at him, his expression slowly turning uncertain.
Like I’m dreaming, I slowly raise one hand, extending it toward him. I’m so sure my fingers will pass straight through him that when they come to rest against his solid chest, my heart nearly stops. ‘Wait,’ I rasp. ‘Wait, are you …?’
And then he understands, and he flashes me that impossible grin of his, and it’s like the sun coming out. ‘I’m right here,’he says softly, those green eyes focused on nothing else in the world but me.
And I think my mug hits the ground, and then I’m launching myself at him, and my arms are around his neck as he staggers back. I tangle one hand in his hair to pull his lips to mine and lose myself in the kiss that comes next.
He’s so warm, so solid, soreal, and his arms are around me to keep me in tight against him, and I can taste my own tears, but I can’t stop.
‘I’m here,’ he whispers, when we finally break for breath, and he presses his forehead to mine, and I focus on that point of contact, on the feeling of his strong hands against my body.
‘How are you alive?’ I whisper. ‘The base blew. It blew early.’
‘I got outside,’ he murmurs. ‘In a pressure suit, with an air tank, like you showed me. You taught me how, Cleo. I got outside without about a minute to spare. Then I waited, and hoped my oxygen would last, and the cavalry showed up in time, lucky for me.’
‘What about …’ I don’t even know what I hope for his sister. And the Martian, I suppose. The Boxer. Grace. Even Mr Chin-Up. I mean, of all of them, I hope Marguerite’s dead. She was prepared to murder thousands of people. But I ache for what that will do to Hunter.
‘I don’t know,’ he says quietly, pressing his forehead to mine, the words just for us. ‘It’s possible she got the last rover working in time, but she had maybe two minutes to do it in? I – I think it’s unlikely she managed it.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper.
‘Me too,’ he murmurs back. ‘For who she used to be, if not who she became.’
Our next kiss is softer, gentler. Comfort and togetherness, answers rather than questions. He cups my face with one hand, and I take what I think might be my first deep breath in hours.
‘I told them it wasn’t you,’ I whisper. The crowd has coalesced around Sabrina, who’s found a second wind and is answering more of their questions, and for at least a few moments, Hunter and I are on our own tiny island of two. ‘They know you’re not responsible.’
He glances up and past me to where one of the media screens shows his mother at a press conference, surrounded by reporters from every outlet in the solar system, their hands in the air with the frenzied energy of a mob of predators. The sound is on mute, but I can tell she’s shouting, coming apart at the seams in front of our eyes.
‘I still think I might be broke now,’ he murmurs, rueful. ‘There won’t be much of a company left.’
‘What will you do?’
‘I’m not sure,’ he admits. He drops his gaze – when I look down too, I realize he’s still wearing his cuff. ‘Maybe it’s time I joined your side,’ he continues. ‘See what good I can do with what I have left.’
‘Maybe we figure out whatourside looks like,’ I whisper in reply. ‘We can probably leave that until after we’ve showered, though.’
That wins me a proper smile. ‘You’re probably right. You know, there is one thing I want to try, though, that I don’t think can wait.’
I tilt my head into his touch and find I’m smiling too. ‘What’s that?’
His eyes gleam. ‘I did say that if we survived this, I was going to ask you out on a date.’
Somehow, impossibly, a laugh escapes me. ‘And I told you I’d say yes, Hunter Graves.’
And then I kiss him again.
