Page 103 of Thexan

“I believe that,” Tanner replied. “That’s why I’m telling you harm doesn’t always look like an attack.”

I absorbed that, comparing it against what I had already understood and what I had not wanted to recognize.

Leaving would not be neutral.

It would not be a clean tactical withdrawal.

It would be a decision made about her without her, and that would make it a violation even if the intent was protection.

The realization settled with unpleasant precision.

“You are advising me to remain,” I said.

“I’m advising you not to make decisions for her and call it love.”

The word landed with greater impact than the rest of the sentence.

Love.

I had used care. Preference. Want. Attachment. Terms that approached the condition from angles I could understand, each one accurate in part. Tanner used the human term without hesitation, not as analysis, not as classification, but as if it were the obvious conclusion.

I did not reject it.

That was significant.

Tanner watched me carefully. “You do love her, don’t you?”

The answer did not form immediately, because the word required alignment with experience before I used it. I thought of Brynn’s hand on mine when instability threatened to take control. Her voice telling me I did not get to decide alone. Her body choosing mine once from necessity and again because she wanted me. Her refusal to abandon her people, her quiet exhaustion, her strength, her irritation, her laugh when I said something she found absurd. The way her presence had shifted from stabilizing my system to defining what stability meant.

“Yes,” I said.

Tanner exhaled, and some tension eased from him, though not all of it. “Then don’t be stupid about it.”

“I will attempt not to be.”

“That’s probably the best I’m getting from you.”

“Yes.”

For the first time, Tanner almost smiled.

Then his expression sobered again. “Talk to her.”

“I intended to.”

“Before or after you decide what’s best for both of you?”

I did not answer immediately.

He nodded as if the silence confirmed something. “That’s what I thought.”

His approach was imprecise, his language blunt, but the value of the exchange was undeniable.

“I will speak with her before making any decision,” I said.

“Good.”

He turned to leave, then paused and looked back. “And for what it’s worth, if more of your people come, running won’t make us safer. It’ll just mean we don’t have you here when they do.”