“Compartmentalization isn’t healthy, brother. You saw your face on that wanted poster with the naughty W-word, yet I don’t think you’ve acknowledged it.” He arched a brow in challenge. “Denial is the first stage of grief.”

“Truth,” Reid said through gritted teeth.

“Yes, it is.” Beau leaned forward earnestly. “Why can’t you stop looking at our lovely Louise?”

If possible, Reid’s face flushed deeper. It looked physically uncomfortable now, the amount of blood in his cheeks. I started giggling. “Because I want to kill her—”

“Ah, ah, ah.” Beau wagged a reproving finger before tapping the bottle in Reid’s hand. “A lie means two.”

When Reid furiously swallowed two shots—without hesitation, without denying his falsehood—an entirely different kind of warmth cracked open in my chest, flowing through my limbs. I sat up on my knees, bouncing with exhilaration. The room swirled with a lovely, rosy hue. “Truth or dare, Jean Luc.”

He didn’t even pretend to be interested. “Truth.”

“Do you regret what happened on Modraniht?”

A beat of silence passed.

Reluctantly, his eyes flicked to Reid, who looked downright murderous now. Or downright nauseous. Still, he didn’t interrupt the game, and the sudden sharpness in his own eyes betrayed his interest. He wanted to know this truth. He wanted to know it very much. After a moment, Jean Luc scrubbed a hand down his face and muttered, “Yes and no. I don’t regret following orders. The rules exist for a reason. Without them, we have chaos. Anarchy.” He heaved a sigh, not looking at anyone now. “But I do regret the rules themselves.” Dropping his hand, he asked Reid, “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Is your heart still with the Chasseurs?”

They stared at each other for another long moment. I leaned forward eagerly, holding my breath, while Beau pretended not to listen and hung on every word. Reid tore his gaze away first, breaking the silence. “Is yours?”

Jean Luc leaned over and plucked the whiskey from his hand. After swallowing, he climbed to his feet and handed me the bottle on his way out. “I think I’m done for the night.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

“And then there were three,” Beau murmured, still toying with the edge of the quilt. He winked at me abruptly. “I dare you to lick the bottom of my shoe.”

Another half hour of antics ensued. The dares from Beau and me grew more and more ridiculous—serenade us, do four cartwheels, curse like a sailor for twenty seconds straight—while the questions grew more personal—What’s the grossest thing you’ve ever had in your mouth? To come out of your body?—until Reid was good and thoroughly drunk. He staggered over to me at his next turn, crouching down and dropping a heavy hand on my shoulder. Grayish light tinged the window.

His voice slurred. “What’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told?”