Page 62 of Tethered

Marlowe does look a little relieved. I assume because every call Gryphon makes is another possibility that Vee will have to lie for her. Watching how much it hurt her the first time was enough.

“There’s not much to protect me from anymore when it comes to Dominik.”

“I think it just seems he’s put you through so much that the least anyone can do is spare you.”

“That’s... something,” she murmurs, almost to herself.

I hum noncommittally, and there’s the glint of something indecipherable in Marlowe’s frown. “What else have you taken it upon yourself to protect me from, Captain?”

I hear the edge in her voice, and I don’t take it lightly. “Just that.”

“Considering this is Dominik’s private ship and the crew have been with him for some time, I find that hard to believe.”

“That’s not protecting you, it’s just not gossiping.”

Marlowe blinks slowly and cocks her head. “So tell me some gossip,” she says in a saccharine tone that raises the hair on my arms.

“I’m not falling for that,” I reply.

“Fine. But there is something you want to say, I can see it in your face.”

Rarely do I have to work to keep my expression deadpan. I make a conscious effort to smooth my features, but it’spointless—a consequence of letting myself relive things best left to rot in the dark.

“It’s been four days. As far as Gryphon knows, his pre-pubescent son is onboard with a crew of strangers and no chaperone, making his very first interplanetary journey. He’s checked in exactly once, for five minutes, the dayafterthe ISA boarded.”

I watch Marlowe for her reaction. I’ve never met another person so determined to maintain a doomed relationship. Knowing the paths I’ve taken would be unsavoury to most, I try to reserve judgment of others, but Gryphon doesn’t deserve her, or Vee. She fights for him anyway. It’s almost impressive, but mostly confusing. Maybe that’s because I don’t forgive and forget, and it seems illogical to me when other people do.

Marlowe sighs softly, and the sound of it just about breezes through the speaker in my helmet. All she does is shrug. It would be easy to assume she’s a woman beaten down, but there’s no sadness in her response, only knowing. I try to bite my words, but they slip past anyway.

“That’s an answer in itself.”

“There are two things I can always guarantee Vee; one of them is I’ll always let him make his own choices. Wouldn’t you have liked to make your own?”

My stomach drops. “What do you mean?”

At this, Marlowe rolls her eyes. “You’re trying to tell me you had a healthy upbringing?”

“Oh.” I sweep a hand across my body. “Obviously.”

Before Marlowe, I can’t recall ever wanting to make a joke about how fucked up my childhood was. I’ve known people who do but I never worked like that. Marlowe makes me want to expose all the frayed edges I learned to tuck away when most kids were sneaking their first kiss in corners and figuring out what it felt like to be touched by an unfamiliar hand. And if Ican’t crack myself open like a shell for her to peruse, I can at least give her souvenirs when she asks—in her hands, I trust those bruises I never so much as brush up against for fear of the ache. The overlay of humour feels new, uncomfortable, but also a relief, a layer of protection whilst she turns my wounds this way and that.

Marlowe cracks a grin, genuine and wide, and it makes the hurricane in my head a little quieter.

“Vee’s not stupid; heseesDominik. But that’s his father. As long as Vee wants a relationship with him, it’s what I want, too.”

The boy deserves so much better, but Marlowe doesn’t need me to tell her what a wonderful kid he is. She knows; it’s in the things she’s sacrificed for him, the way she talks about and trusts him. I don’t want children, but if I were in Gryphon’s place, I’d spend as much time with Vee as possible.

Then again, everything is always perfect in a vacuum. And, as I said, it’s only been four days.

“You can answer my question about the meds now,” I say.

“Do you really need to know?” Marlowe huffs, swatting away a piece of loosened debris floating towards her. “It’s not that bad. I’ll be fine.” The second I open my mouth, she cuts me off. “What am I saying? Of course you do, you control freak.”

It’s gentle, playful, and surprisingly endearing, but it doesn’t distract me. She sighs again.

“I’ve never been without my meds for longer than a few hours, so I can only really speculate. I imagine that over a few days, I’ll probably be in enough pain I won’t be mobile. I’ll have ear-splitting headaches, sensitive eyes, full-body soreness. I’ll find it hard to eat. My short-term memory gets shot to hell, so talking to me might just make a murderer out of someone.” Marlowe throws her arms up in frustration. “I don’t know, Tee. It won’t be good, but it won’t be the end of the world either. I’ll survive. I always do.”

That’s my line.