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He sighs. “I don’t want to think about what just happened.”
But he can’t help it. His thoughts are stuck on the image of Sara’s dad. His dad.
They’re eerily similar. Like they could almost be identical twins.
There’s no chance in hell that man isn’t related to him.
The ghost girl isn’t lying. His mother was the one who made that choice, and she isn’t around to explain herself.
“Yeah, me either,” I tell him. “You’re weird enough without having a ghost for a sister.”
He blinks at me.Shit. He hadn’t thought of that.
“Sara,” he murmurs. “She’s my sister.”
“Half-sister, I guess,” I correct myself, as if that makes it any less shocking.
“Fuck,” he curses. “She tried to speak to me a bunch of times at school. I assumed she wanted help with a ghost. I didn’t give her the time of day.”
I feel the bitter regret that overwhelms him. He wishes he’d listened when she tried to talk to him.
He can’t undo the past, and wallowing over things that could have been different isn’t going to help.
“It wouldn’t change anything if you had,” I start, not sure if I’m about to make things better, or worse. “Fate chooses our path, Silas. You weren’t meant to know this until now. Everything happens the way it does for a reason. You know that.”
We all felt it when we met Rachel. She was destined to be ours, and nothing could have stopped that. Everything we went through to save her, twice, was fated. Our paths were carved in stone.
He knows I’m right. I see it when he locks gazes with me.
He just can’t admit it to himself right now.
“I should have listened to her,” he insists, his dark eyes glittering with unshed tears.
Maybe he should have, but the truth is that wouldn’t ever have happened. Not back then. When he was tortured by his abilities, overwhelmed by the consequences that talking to spirits brought into his life. He had no room for anything else. He never would have let that girl in.
“No,” I tell him. “You couldn’t.”
He curses under his breath and stares off into the distance.
His regret is turning into remorse. His thoughts are torturing him worse than any spirit ever could.
There’s only one thing I can do to help him, and he won’t like it.
I move closer and put my hand on his shoulder. He flinches, but he doesn’t push me away.
My gifts as an Omega don’t always help me. Feeling everyone else’s emotions can be draining, and it’s pretty much impossible to ignore when someone I care about needs my calming touch.
I feel his energy change, his emotions dampening until they’re replaced by pure serenity.
He breathes out a soft sigh as the tension drains out of his body.
“I think we should head back to Wolf Creek.”
While he’s in this relaxed state he should be prone to suggestion.
He clears his throat as I remove my hand from his shoulder.
“I need to run,” he tells me.
