Page 10 of Last Chance to Save the World

“Jane Lamarr, the woman who birthed me and gave me my middle name,” I remind him in a deadpan voice. “It’s only one of the most common names on the planet.”

He has the grace to look a little embarrassed by that.

Bruna cocks an eyebrow at me, gaze flicking between us. Rian doesn’t know it, but Bruna isdefinitelyaware of “Jane Irwin,” and I’m realizing now that it was no accident she came to me personally to deliver this message.

“Jane told me to tell you she fully expects you to spend the night.”

I groan.

I don’t like this; I hate this. I canfeelRian getting more interested in this conversation by the minute.

Why—why—would my mother interfere right now?

Bruna snorts. “When was the last time you brought a lover home to your mother?”

“Not since you, in the before times,” I say, sticking my tongue out at her.

“Hey, we’re not lovers!” Rian protests.

“Not yet,” I say, and Bruna gives me an obnoxiously loud high five.

Despite my smile, I’m fuming inside. I didn’t even want Rian to know that I can land on a residency strip at Malta. I don’t like him knowing I have a place with permanence.

I don’t like the way this narrows the world around me, the way he can cage me here, pin me down.

But what I don’t like even more?

Him meeting my mother.

Bruna waves farewell as we return toGloryto gather supplies. Since I know that message means we’re not going back to the ship any time soon, I grab a bag and start packing.

Rian doesn’t have much in the way of luggage, a side effect of being kidnapped. But because I’m so considerate, he does have a spare set of nondescript standard-issue that’s mostly in his size. I had to eyeball it when I was preparing. For the kidnapping. As one does. He stuffs everything into a spare rucksack I graciously donated to the cause while I prep a few of my own essentials.

“You travel light,” he comments as I drop my bag on the floor.

The one thing I didn’t get right was his shoes. Rian’s still wearing his fancy kicks.

“You good to walk in those?” I ask.

“Mostly.”

Lucky he didn’t have useless silver heels at the gala I kidnapped him from.

I grab two sun shields from inside a storage locker and toss one to him. “You’re gonna want that.”

He starts to put it in his rucksack, but I shake my head. “You’re going to want it now.”

Rian looks about to protest, but then I take my shirt off. His mouth shuts as his eyes drop.

Sun shields come in a variety of styles—some are more like robes, some are body suits. The ones I’ve got are gossamer-thin, long-sleeved, and hooded. They work best when next to the skin, so I pull the shield over my bra and then replace my shirt over that.

Rian copies me. Once he’s fully dressed again, I cross the short space between us and reach behind him, lifting up the thinner-than-paper hood and covering his head. After I adjust it, I realize that his gaze is zeroed in on me.

For the first time since I met him, Rian’s eyes are soft, not razor-sharp.

Soft.

Because he’s looking at me.

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