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I frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“I want you to come see me sometime in the next few days. When the fear has calmed down, and you’ve had some sleep. Come speak with me. I’ll have more for you. But for now, when you go back to her, when she talks to you about this… don’t pretend.”

I glanced at Gil, but he stared at Terra, frowning.

I shook my head. “What the fuck—”

“Don’t pretend to be happy or sad. Don’t shush her if she tries to speak about it. Don’t tell her it’s fine—it’s not fine. She is experiencing something you’ll never be able to. You can’t fix it. What she needs is you to be in it with her. Not turning it away. Not pretending it didn’t happen, and God forbid, not telling her to stop thinking about it. If you truly want to help her heal, let her speak. Let her feel. And let yourself feel it.”

Something uneasy twisted in my chest. Something fearful and jittery. But I nodded. I could do that. I could let Grace talk about it. “Fine. I will. Now can we—”

“And when you feel bad—because you will. It will hit you eventually. When you’re sad, tell her that you’re sad. Don’t hide your feelings from her.”

I scowled. “You just told me she’s weak and grieving. I am not going to burden her—”

“Nothing makes a woman feel more alone in this than the man she loves, the man she took, and who shared her body, and who made a life with her, telling her that it’s nothing. Or not to worry. Or pretending he doesn’t feel it,” she snapped.

I blinked.

But Terra wasn’t done. “Perhaps that escape is what you need. Perhaps with others who support you.” She glanced at Gil, “I don’t know. But I can tell you, it’s not what’s best for her. She needs to not feel alone in this. And the only way she won’t feel alone is if you tell her when you’re sad, or angry, or afraid. When she hears that you feel it, it will help her. If you want to help her… do that.”

I didn’t know why I froze up at that thought. I wasn’t sure why the concept of sharing grief with Grace felt terrifying. But it did. “How the fuck does telling her I’m scared or hurt or anything help her when she’s already weighed down with those feelings herself?” I ground out.

“Because that means she doesn’t have to pretend. If you can be scared together, if you can be angry together, if you can grieve together, she will heal. And frankly, so will you.”

My head jerked back like she’d slapped me. But before I could tell her that she didn’t know me or my mate, or what either of us needed, Kham was in my head. Not with words, but with memories.

Kham lying with me when I was afraid, his wing shaking as he laid it over me.

Kham resting his snout on my chest after we’d landed for a rest when we were flying after the girls, groaning, because he missed his mate.

Kham, sighing when he had to leave Koa.

Kham sharing joy with me when we were reunited.

Kham grieving in the link when we discovered the mindless dragon.

Kham roaring at the Cruors…

Kham, in it with me. I saw the memories, and realized what she meant.

Then Kham showed me one more thing. That moment, all the way back at the beginning, when I’d been so full of grief, and self-loathing, and anger, and hatred that I’d wanted to die. And instead of talking to me, or telling me all the reasons I was wrong, Kham curled up with me in the dark, held me against his belly with a foreleg and a wing, and he crooned.

Small, awful, pained sounds. But his warm breath filled the air and I breathed it. The croons rumbled in his thick chest, and vibrated through my body that was pressed against him. And even though I broke, even though I hated everything… I didn’t feel alone.

I’d never felt alone by his choice.

Only by mine.

Suddenly, memories through every phase of my life, but most especially in recent years when I’d told myself I was so much healthier, so much happier… But I’d never let anyone in. Never shown my weakness. Never given a glimpse at anything that could make me vulnerable to others.

I’d carried it all myself, and kept everyone distant when I had anything to process.

Until Grace.

Oh, fuck.

I couldn’t do that to her. I couldn’t pull away. I couldn’t block her from feeling me. That’s what Terra meant. That’s what Kham had been saying all along.