Soul Whisperer by Jenna Kernan Page A

It was such a pointless way to die.”
    â€œCesar, it was an accident.”
    He tapped his index finger on the lip of the saucer, impatient at being told the obvious. “I know that.” He hadn’t meant for his voice to sound so sharp. He reined himself in. “Accidents can be prevented. I could have…” He shook his head. Carlos was gone and he couldn’t do a damned thing about it, then or now.
    His stomach heaved and he realized he was a breath away from humiliating himself by puking. He clamped a hand to his mouth, pinched his eyes closed and swallowed hard.
    Cesar’s other hand remained on the table and it was a small reach for Bess to place hers upon it. Sympathy danced over him like warm summer rain. Their eyes met.
    She sat back. He watched her hand retreating to her side of the table.
    â€œThanks,” he said.
    She nodded.
    He noticed his damned hands were shaking. He drew them around the coffee cup.
    Bess’s shoulders were uncharacteristically hunched over and she looked grim as if bone-weary from what he had told her or was it from what she had felt when she touched him? When she touched him again, he’d take back his memory.
    â€œYou’re very hard on yourself. Teenagers make mistakes. It’s what they do best. They are also self-absorbed. It’s hardly surprising that you were not mindful of Carlos’s needs. Your brother would not want you to hurt like this.”
    â€œHis pain was worse.”
    She stared at him with those dark eyes, wide and full of compassion. “If you could speak to him, what would you say?”
    â€œWhat difference does that make now?”
    â€œHumor me.”
    â€œI’d ask his forgiveness. I’d tell him I miss him still.” How he got the words past the squeezing fingers of grief that clamped around his vocal cords, he did not know.
    Bess leaned forward, reaching across the white linen tablecloth to grasp his hand. He met her partway, allowing himself to experience the gentle comfort of her touch. Just a moment longer, he told himself, knowing that while he was bathed in her compassion, she suffered the burden of the visceral pain tearing through him.
    He stroked his thumb over her knuckles and closed his eyes, searching for where she had hidden their conversation, finding it easily. Then he concentrated oncalling the energy back to him. An instant later he pulled back, forcing a smile.
    â€œHow do you feel?” he asked. He knew the process of retrieving a memory could leave the other person feeling momentarily disoriented or even sick.
    â€œFine. Well, sad, of course.”
    Some people retained the emotion of the conversation if not the details, so her feelings were hardly a surprise.
    She gave him a quizzical look. No wonder, since she likely didn’t recall the past several minutes.
    â€œHow’s that cobbler?”
    She frowned. “I’m not sure… Cesar, are you all right?”
    â€œMe? Why?” He held his brittle smile like a mask before him, but the dread was already creeping through him like poison.
    â€œBecause I don’t understand. One moment you are telling me about your little brother and the next you’re asking me about cobbler.”

Chapter 7
    S he remembered all of it. Cesar fell back in his seat so hard that the wood gave way. The crack sounded like a rifle report and the vibrations seemed to reverberate in his ears like white noise.
    He couldn’t take it back.
    The realization slapped him in the guts. His mouth went dry as he hardened his lips into a grim, tight line and straightened.
    â€œCesar? You’ve gone pale.”
    He sat like a store mannequin, rigid, frozen. What had he just done? Revealed a secret to a woman who hated him. Given an enemy power over him.
    Bess suddenly seemed preoccupied with her cobbler. He noted she didn’t eat, but just prodded, succeeding in getting the insides to spill out.
    She did not look up as she