Page 9 of No Room to Breathe
The grief was obvious and bleak and so big and heavy, squatting there deep in his chest.She couldn’t see the root cause yet.But it was draining him day by day.He needed to let it out, share the burden.
With her, apparently.
Grim, half-heartedly wishing another capable and compassionate psychic would stroll by and take over, she pressed on.Cradling his hand, she imagined the warm sunlight filling his palm, flowing upward through his arm and across his shoulder to melt away the stagnant chill around his heart.
She would’ve testified that hours passed before he finally began to relax and those impenetrable barriers, he’d built softened enough for her to dig into the real work.
The initial onslaught eased to a more manageable flow.She could pick out individual details now, specific emotions.A tragic death and expected sorrow led the pack, casting a thick, sticky fog over every aspect of his life.He wasn’t sleeping because his home was a minefield of tragedy and his bed, more so.When she tried to see more, she found portions of his home blocked, as if someone had draped black Holland cloth over certain items and areas.
The love seat in the living room.The bed.The shower.One counter in the kitchen.These places oozed that pervasive, sticky fog.How did he function?She did the relationship math.“You lost your partner.”
“Samantha,” he murmured.“The baby died and...”His body shuddered.“The baby first.Then her.”
Tears stung her eyes.Her own sympathy rising like a tide, not just a physical echo of the tears on his face.“I’m sorry, Cade.”
He hadn’t been this way when she’d met him, about eight months ago.Losing a partner and the baby within such a short time would flatten anyone.He needed help.Help beyond this specific moment.
“You knew.You had to know,” he accused, his voice faint with exhaustion.“Why didn’t you warn me?”The demand was there, anchored in his grief, though his voice faded to little more than a whisper.
“Why would I have known?”She didn’t think he was up for an info session on the variations in psychic gifts.Marlene was the one with remarkably accurate foresight.Devyn’s talents leaned more toward finding people and things.
Yes, there had been shadows close to him, but she’d chalked it up to his work and the environment.The Pereda home had been a crime scene that day.
Even if she had knownthissoul-crushing grief was barreling toward him, she would never have volunteered the information.That was a recipe for disaster.The future was fluid, uncontrollable.As Marlene had taught her, armed with foresight, a person was more likely to panic and make things worse in an effort to change a predicted outcome.
No easy way to explain that either.
“You’re psychic.You were there.”He jerked upright and swiveled toward her.“Did you—”
“Stop,” she ordered.“Before you say something you can’t take back.”Being psychic didn’t mean she could control people or cause a health crisis.That was the stuff of myth and legend.“I would never deliberately harm anyone.”
He sagged back, still holding her hand.“You don’t like me.”
Fact.“You disliked me first,” she reminded him.“But liking a person has no bearing on how I use my gifts.”
His eyebrows dipped into a frown.“Why should I believe you?”
“Good question.You are the one who is demanding answers and I’m here cooperating.”More than that, but best not to dwell on those details.
“Why didn’t you warn me?”he asked again.“You had to know.Would you have told me if I’d paid you?”
“No.”
“So, you’re a fraud with a code?”
She stifled the sigh.“No.”He started to say something more.Probably more insults or asinine accusations.She cut him off.“Detective Laurier, I didn’t know anything about you that day aside from your obvious disdain for me.I was focused on finding Nell.”
“Because she paid you.”
“She did, yes.And I care about my clients.”Why was it so hard for him to accept she was a good person?This wasn’t about her bruised feelings.“I’m very sorry for your losses.You need a counselor or therapist.”
“Did that,” he mumbled.
“Do more,” she suggested.“You also need time off to sleep, grieve, and recover.”
“Time is a lie.It hasn’t helped a damn thing.”He swiped at the fresh tears streaming down his face.“Sleep is impossible.Work helps.”
She didn’t agree, but arguing was pointless.“What is it you need from me?”
