13
Eden was impressed with how calm Thorne had been. They had caught a car first thing in the morning and had driven forty minutes to the city of Entebbe, which had the nearest airport. There they had boarded an expensive private jet that they had entirely to themselves. Thorne had eaten his lunch, puzzling over the forks, knives, and spoons, and carefully mimicking her when she used them while they waited for the flight crew to prepare. Now he was seated on the plane, watching the ground crew fueling the plane and preparing for takeoff.
She put a hand on his knee, and he looked away from the window and toward her, a furrow forming between his dark brows.
“You okay?” she asked.
“I have memories. Memories of falling from the sky,” he said quietly. Eden couldn’t even begin to put herself
