She drew in a long, terraced breath and dashed her tears with the back of her hand. “Thank you”—she sniffed and gave a laughing sob at her own tears—“for my mother. Thank you so much.”
He pulled her in and kissed her forehead. “You’re welcome.”
She leaned her forehead against his, looping one hand behind his neck and stroking her delicate fingers lightly over the skin there.
His body prickled with heat.
“Sometimes…” She drew in another shuddering breath. “Sometimes, I know things. About people. Not usually about the future.”
“You’re psychic.”
Her eyes locked on his, startled. “Yes. Claircognizant. I know things I shouldn’t. But since I’ve come here, it’s been more—now I see things and hear things, too. I think it’s your crystals—they’ve amplified the trait. You believe me?”
He trac
