Page 153 of Aviatrix

I hate that word.

I exhale, torn. Part of me wants to stay here naked, tangled up with him, his warmth still clinging to my skin. But I need to see Mom. Make sure she’s really here. Make sure she’s okay.

“Alright.” I sigh.

Eli reaches around me and grabs his old Academy shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants. “Here.”

I take them, glancing over at him. Long limbs, lean muscles, and that maddeningly toned stomach. He was hot back at the Academy. But now? Now he’s devastating.

“Enjoying the view,” Eli teases, leaning in for another kiss.

I laugh against his mouth before slipping into his clothes. They smell like him. Citrus. Mint. Comforting.

“Quay?” he says as I reach for the door.

“Yeah?”

“You look good in my clothes.” His smile is cocky. “You’ve always looked good in my clothes.”

“Who’s enjoying the view now?” I shoot back.

He chuckles and the sound makes my heart feel lighter.

But as I step into the hall, I immediately spot the door to Thea’s and my shared room. And a pang rises in my throat, sharp and bitter.

They lied to me. Thea. Scooter. Gary. All of them. They knew about VAL and kept it from me.

I can’t believe they lied straight to my face.

My fists clench. I don’t have time for that fight. Not now.

Mom comes first.

Lark is standing in the north hangar, arms crossed as he watches the sun rise over the mountains. Even from a distance, I can tell something’s eating at him. Maybe it’s finding Eli and me together. But maybe it’s something else.

“Hey,” I say softly as I stop beside him.

He doesn’t look at me. “Hey.”

“How far out is my mom?” I ask, trying to keep it light.

“Less than five minutes,” he replies, clipped and cold.

“You’re mad,” I sigh. “Because I slept with Eli.”

“No,” Lark says. “Not mad.”

“Then what?” I press.

He exhales hard. “There are a lot more pressing things on my mind than who you’re sleeping with.”

I frown. “Like what?”

“Amber is still at the Pentagon,” he says. “They’re on lockdown due to some bullshit external threat.”

“Oh, Lark.” I reach for his arm, but he shakes off my touch. “What can I do?”

“You can figure out why Ivanov won’t return my calls,” he says sharply.