“Gee,” I snap, “maybe that’s because I’m the only onethinking.”
He snorts. “That supposed to be an insult?”
I drag a hand through my hair and pace the narrow simulator chamber, boots thudding against the deck. I can feel the sweat drying on the back of my neck, feel the way my nerves buzz like frayed wires. It's not just fatigue. It's something deeper.Something tangled in the base of my spine and the pit of my chest.
Naull shifts behind me, and I hear the creak of the pilot rig adjusting to his weight. “You keep acting like the Meld is a math problem. But it’s not. You don’t solve it. Youfeelit.”
I spin around. “Idon’tfeel it, Naull. That’s the problem.”
“Bullshit.”
“No—” I shove my palm against the console. “I can’t just shut my eyes and let someone rummage around in my head, okay? That’s not how I work.”
Naull stands. All seven feet and change of red-scaled heat and motion. He steps toward me, and I can smell the salt on his skin, the sharp metal tang of stress-sweat and burning circuits. He doesn’t crowd me, not quite, but he’sthere. Fully. Inescapably.
“I’m not rummaging,” he says. “I’mknocking.”
“That’s not better.”
“It is if you’d open the damn door.”
Something raw rises in my chest. “You don’t get it.”
“Then help meget it,” he says, voice rising. “Explain it. Scream it. Hit me, I don’t care—butdon’tshut down. Don’t just sit there behind your perfect little wall and pretend this doesn’t matter.”
I feel the words before I speak them, like a pressure behind my teeth.
“I don’tknowhow to trust people.”
The silence that follows swallows the room whole.
Naull’s expression shifts. It’s not pity. Not surprise. Just... something very still. Very quiet.
I go on, because I can’t stop now.
“I was thirteen when my dad left. Said he was off-planet for work. Never came back. My mom never talked about it. Just... shoved it under the rug like it was dust. My first partner intraining sold my prototype to Nexxus to pay off gambling debts. My last relationship ended with him hacking into my personal logs to accuse me of cheating on him with amentor AI.”
Naull blinks. “Wait, was it a sexy AI?”
“Naull—”
“Okay, sorry. Bad joke. I’m listening.”
I fold my arms tight. My voice is shaking, but I force the rest out.
“I stopped letting people in because every time I did, they turned into ghosts. Or knives. Or both.”
His jaw tightens. “Then whyme?”
I hesitate. My throat goes tight.
“Because I can’t shut you out.”
He exhales slowly. Like the wind’s been knocked out of him, but he’s trying not to show it.
“That a compliment or a confession?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
