Chapter Seven
Ravvi
“By the way, screw you. I’m an adult. I can look after myself.” Cove spins and bolts toward the buses at a rapid pace. “All of you hovering and asking the same questions is starting to piss me off.”
“Goddamn infuriating woman,” I mutter, taking off after her.
She’s reliving the past again,a low feminine voice says close to my right ear.
Yeah, well, I don’t need to be psychic to know that’s true.
There’s no point in glancing over my shoulder. There won’t be anyone there. There never is.
I’m clairaudient, which is a type of psychic ability that presents as auditory extrasensory perception. One of the first doctors my parents took me to in the States was convinced I was having hallucinations.
Once my family ruled that out, they took a break from sending me to doctors.
Most of them didn’t believe me.
The few who did wanted to study my brain.
It’s no wonder people with gifts hide them. I guess a small percentage choose to exploit them for their own gain, but in reality, most of the self-proclaimed psychics I’ve met werefrauds. A few had gifts like clairsentience, claircognizance, or clairvoyance, though a very small number compared to the whole.
I did spend about six months seeing a neurologist who was studying psychic abilities in neurodivergent kids and teens. She was convinced the whispers—what I call the voices that tell me things—are actually a form of telepathy.
That doesn’t fit for two reasons.
First, some of the voices are downright fucking terrifying. There’s no way I was overhearing someone’s thoughts and mistook them for spoken words.
Second, the whispers can lie.
Some do it because they can.
Others want to deceive some poor living fool and watch as the chaos ensues and their life falls apart.
It may have taken me almost a quarter of a century, but I’ve built up a few voices that I trust.
The rest?
Well, I try to tune them out whenever possible, but some are persistent. It’s better now than it was when I was a kid. I used to hear them constantly, but it’s much less frequent now.
“We all make mistakes,” I call out, chasing Cove across the parking lot. Her long wavy blonde hair bounces around her shoulders as she stomps away from me as fast as she can without actually running. “I’m not perfect. No one is. I’ve apologized more times than I can count for leaving that day. I’d also really fucking appreciate it if you could see things from my point of view for once.”
Her entire body stiffens, and I know I made a mistake.
Apparently, I’m just never supposed to mention that I’m a human being with thoughts, feelings, and emotions of my own?
I’ve put myself out there over and over again, but the only time she’s ever wanted me was when she needed my knot. Shealso made it blatantly clear that after the heat sex, she wanted us to brush it under the rug and go back to being only bandmates.
My heart couldn’t handle that, and if she had been thinking clearly, she would have known how hurtful it was for her to even ask.
She really is about to drive me over the edge.
I can see her suffering.
I’m ninety-five percent sure I could helpifshe would let me in, but she’s legitimately the most stubborn person I’ve ever met.
We’re meant to be.
