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that
     the water’s still running—the tub is almost full. I reach over and twist the faucet
     back. The tiled floor is cold against my knees. I’m tingling all over.
    “Ready?” I say, trying to steady myself. Day nods wordlessly. Moment’s over; the brightness
     in his eyes has dimmed.
    I pour some liquid bath gel into the tub and splash the water around until it froths
     up. Then I get one of the towels hanging in the bathroom and wrap it around Day’s
     waist. Now for the awkward part. He manages to fumble underneath the towel and loosen
     his pants, and I help him tug them off. The towel covers everything that needs to
     be covered, but I still avert my eyes.
    I help Day—now wearing nothing except for the towel and his pendant—to his feet, and
     after some struggling, we manage to get his good leg into the tub so I can lower him
     gently into the water. I’m careful to keep his bad leg high and dry. Day clenches
     his jaw to keep from crying out in pain. By the time he settles into the bath, his
     cheeks are moist from tears.
    It takes fifteen minutes to scrub him, and all of his hair, clean. When we’re finished,
     I help him stand and close my eyes as he grabs a dry towel to wrap around his waist.
     The thought of opening my eyes right now and seeing him naked before me sends blood
     coursing fiercely through my veins.
What

does
a naked boy look like, anyway?
I’m annoyed by how obvious the heat of my blush must be. Then the moment’s over;
     we spend another few minutes struggling to get him out of the tub. When he’s finally
     done and sitting on the toilet seat cover, I walk over to the bathroom door. I hadn’t
     noticed before, but someone had opened the door a crack and dropped off a new pair
     of soldier uniforms for us. Ground battalion uniforms, with Nevada buttons. It’s going
     to feel weird to be a Republic soldier again. But I bring them inside.
    Day gives me a weak smile. “Thanks. Feels good to be clean.”
    His pain seems to bring back the worst of his memories from the last few weeks, and
     now all his emotion plays out plainly on his face. His smiles have become half of
     what they used to be. It’s as if most of his happiness had died the night he lost
     John, and only a tiny slice of it remains—mostly a piece that he saves for Eden and
     Tess. I secretly hope he saves a part of his joy for me too. “Turn around and change
     into your clothes,” I say. “And wait outside the bathroom for me. I’ll be quick.”
    *   *   *
    We get back to the living room seven minutes late. Razor and Kaede are waiting for
     us. Tess sits alone on a corner of the couch, her legs folded up to her chin, watching
     us with a guarded expression. An instant later, I smell the aromas of baked chicken
     and potatoes. My eyes dart to the dining room table where four dishes loaded with
     food sit neatly, beckoning to us. I try not to react to the smell, but my stomach
     rumbles.
    “Excellent,” Razor says, smiling at us. He lets his eyes linger on me. “You two clean
     up nicely.” Then he turns to Day and shakes his head. “We arranged for some food to
     be brought up, but since you’re having surgery within the next few hours, you’re going
     to have to keep your stomach empty. I’m sorry—I know you must be hungry. June, please
     help yourself.”
    Day’s eyes are also fixed on the food. “That’s just great,” he mutters.
    I join the others at the table while Day stretches out on the couch and makes himself
     as comfortable as he can. I’m about to pick up my plate and sit next to him, but Tess
     beats me to it, seating herself on the edge of the couch so her back touches Day’s
     side. As Razor, Kaede, and I eat in silence at the table, I occasionally steal glances
     at the couch. Day and Tess talk and laugh with the ease of two people who have known
     each other for years. I concentrate on my food, the heat of our bathroom encounter
     still burning on my lips.
    I’ve counted