“You okay?” Thorne’s deep rumble pulls me back to reality. “Yes.” “Are you sure?” He gives me a gentle squeeze. “Because you’re awfully quiet. And that’s not like you.” “Just enjoying the flight.” I twist around to catch a glimpse of his face under the starlight, a little surprised to find genuine concern there. “You act like I talk nonstop.” “Wellll,” he draws out the word, “you do sometimes. Especially when you’re pissed and hurling insults.”
