Where is she going with this?
Her turquoise eyes drop to mine. “Yes.”
“Is this a trick question?”
“No. But Ghost is, well, a ghost. He is a spirit animal that has attached himself to me. I’m the only one who has ever been able to see or interact with him. That first day when you picked him up, I was so shocked I didn’t know what to think. I mean, you picked up a spirit, for starters, like it was some normal ass cat. I’ve been the only one who could do that.”
I stare at Salena as she blurts all this out, my hands clenching in my lap. My brows slam down and my jaw clenches as I look away from her.
“Who put you up to this?” I grit out.
“No one. It’s the truth. You’re a medium, or something like that.”
“I don’t believe in that spiritual crap, Salena,” I snap, my gaze swinging back to her.
Why is she saying this? Did she find out about my past? The way they tossed me from foster home to foster home, everyone claiming I was mentally unstable and a freak?
Salena's voice is firm. “It’s not crap. Did your mother, father, or maybe grandparents have any psychic abilities?”
I huff out an irritated breath. “Not that I know of. I never had the chance to find out.”
I see guilt slide across her face.
“I know, and I’m sorry about that, but don’t you think–” she starts again.
“No, I don’t,” I interrupt her, and pick up my beer. I push my food away, suddenly not feeling very hungry anymore.
“You saw something the night your brother died, didn’t you?” Her voice is small, almost apologetic when she speaks.
I freeze, beer halfway to my lips. My eyes land on hers. I feel a sliver of ice work its way into my chest. A cold distance moves between us. She must sense it, because her eyes widen, and she lets out a small gasp.
“Why do you say that?” I ask, my voice void of emotion.
“Because you can–”
“I’m not some psychic or medium who can see spirits and shit, Salena, and I don’t want to fucking talk about it!” I yell, slamming my beer down on the table.
“Logan.”
“No.” I stand abruptly and grab my jacket off the back of my chair. “I’ve got to go.”
“Logan, please just listen. I know you see things; you know it, too.” Salena stands, her beautiful eyes pleading with me to hear her out.
I would, but her words bring up too many memories, too many emotions from my past. My nightmares have been becoming more frequent lately, a feeling of dread and doom lingering around me for hours after. Her words hit me hard.
“I’m sorry.” Turning, I leave her standing in my kitchen as I walk out the door.
Chapter Thirty Two
Salena
Sandersaidhewouldpull away, but watching it happen is harder than I thought. A sharp pain pierces my chest as the door slams closed behind him and I hear his feet pound across the wooden porch and down the stairs. He was so desperate to end the conversation that he left instead of asking me to leave.
I groan, tipping my head back. If he couldn’t accept his own differences and gifts, how did I expect him to accept mine?
I rub at my chest, my heart pulsing with anxiety. He didn’t even give me a chance to explain. I inhale through my nose and growl when all I manage to do is drag his scent in. I’ll give him a chance to cool down, then I’m going to make him listen.
I look around and think I better tidy up and take the trash out before I leave.
