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He wasn’t lying. He just… wasn’t telling her everything.

Because he wanted to go to bed, not hash out this clusterfuck of an evening.

He didn’t want to tell her about how he’d lost control, didn’t want to go into the reasons why.

That was going to be a longer conversation that just pushed him farther away from his goal of oblivion.

“Okay, fine,” Taly said. “You obviously don’t want to talk.”

Skye started to relax.

“Just tell me one thing.” He groaned. “Why did you close the bond?”

In truth, he was surprised she’d noticed, considering how she tended to mentally shy away from that connection. As if by not looking at it, she could pretend it wasn’t a problem.

“I didn’t know what would transfer over,” Skye said. “I didn’t want to catch you off guard.”

“And after?”

After he’d been busy losing his shit in the toilet. If he’d reopened it then, she would’ve immediately known that something was wrong.

That was the problem with having someone in your head all the time. There was no room for privacy or unshared contemplation. No secrets…

Still, he had to tell her something. That was real concern in her eyes, and if there was one thing he’d learned to never take for granted, it was people genuinely caring about you.

There was one other reason he hadn’t reopened the bond.

Because in the frenzied aftermath, he’d been so focused on not dying that he still hadn’t managed to reconcile his feelings surrounding the catalyst for that momentary lapse in his control.

At least, not enough to avoid inadvertently overwhelming her and piling on to what was already a traumatic experience.

The rage at what had happened. The shame for not being there. Ebondrift—it was the one time he hadn’t followed her and look what happened.

A muscle jumped in his cheek. He swallowed hard. It took a few long moments—until he was sure he could access the memory without the aether core firing—but eventually, he said lowly, “You… never told me what Vaughn did to you.”

Taly blinked. “What did he do?”

She was trying to be strong. “Taly…”

“What? I’m serious, Skye. He did a lot. You’re going to have to be more specific.”

He forced himself to breathe, the rage threatening to overwhelm him. “In Vale. At the… the relay?”

“The relay,” she murmured, her expression puzzled. “Oh. Oh .” He saw the shift in her eyes. The spark of recognition. “Seriously, that’s what this is all about?”

Then she laughed—actually laughed .

It wasn’t the reaction he was expecting, but then trauma hit everyone differently.

“Wait, so you think… Shards almighty, no wonder you made such a bloody mess.” Turning serious, she pressed a palm to his cheek—made sure he was looking at her when she said, “Vaughn didn’t do anything to me. He tried, and I put a bullet in his brain.”

It was Skye’s turn to blink. Taly nodded to confirm, a whisper of a smile on her face. The one that said, Yeah, you overreacted. Then his shoulders dropped, shedding the weight of tension like a heavy cloak as the realization sunk in.

“Oh, thank the ever-loving Shards,” he whispered harshly and hugged her. He really had believed that Vaughn… He didn’t even let himself think it. Couldn’t without the rage threatening to resurface.

“That’s where you’ve really been all night, isn’t it?” she said into his shoulder. “You and Ivain were off scheming to bring Vaughn back to life just so you could off him again.”

“It… may have come up.” And would again. Even the attempt demanded consequences.

Beneath the blanket, Taly’s legs tangled with his. “So, now that we’ve handled that , can you… let me back in?” The words were tentative. She wouldn’t look at him, staring instead at her fingers as they traced lazy circles on his chest.

Skye’s mouth quirked. “Considering you were less than thrilled about the bond to begin with, I didn’t think you’d mind a little quiet.”

The look on her face said that she did mind.

As did the punch to his shoulder. “Just because you’re all moody and broody over nothing doesn’t mean you get to rewrite history.

I never said I didn’t want it. I’m just generally more wary regarding this incredibly permanent thing you seem ready to walk into without ever stopping to think. ”

“Moody and broody,” Skye murmured. First Kato, then Aimee, and now Taly. Maybe that was something he needed to look at. Though more importantly… “I think that’s the closest you’ve come to actually admitting how you feel.”

Her expression shuttered. “I’m admitting nothing.”

“Right.”

“Stop looking at me like that. I’m not.”

“Yeah, totally believe you.”

All it took was a slight re-angling of his head to catch her mouth. And as their lips touched, the bond re-opened, like a dormant ember of awareness reigniting in the back of his head.

Taly sighed as emotions once again flowed freely between them, mingling joy with relief and a deep, comforting sense of familiarity that swept from her and into him. The force of it made his breath hitch, his eyes sting, and his lips pull into a grin.

“Should I pretend I didn’t feel that?” he whispered.

Skye loved that some things in life were certain—the sunrise, the sunset, and that Taly’s love language would always be physical violence.

She hit him—not hard enough to bruise, but just enough to remind him she cared.