Psy (Alien Castaways #3) - Cara Bristol Page 0,14
for that matter. My mother took me to every expert she could find.
Maybe your medical science has advanced in two decades.
Why do you keep harping on that? I will never be able to speak! You’re acting like all the rest! You prefer a speaking person!
That’s not what I’m saying at all! He raked his hands through his hair. He was botching this. She’d said she preferred open, direct questions, but obviously, he’d touched a nerve.
Pleasure and intimacy had vanished. Anger and hurt filled the void.
Her face reddened, and she balled her fists. What happened to me is unfixable! I believed you accepted me, disability and all. You don’t. You’re trying to change me. I’m not good enough the way I am.
He was horrified she’d misunderstood. That’s not true. I asked about it because you seemed upset at not being able to speak.
They had brought a med pod with them from ’Topia. The unit hadn’t been calibrated for human anatomy and physiology per se, but perhaps it could repair or regenerate her vocal cords. No guarantees, but wasn’t it worth a try? He’d hoped to broach the possibility, but she would not be receptive right now.
Take me home. She crossed her arms and pressed her lips together.
Please…wait, listen to me. He should have allowed her deeper access to his mind so she would see he’d had the best intentions. She desperately yearned to speak. He wanted it for her because she desired it. Whether she spoke or didn’t speak didn’t matter to him.
I’m done talking to you. Get out of my head! Now!
The Code of Conduct left him no choice. She’d rejected the mind-link, and he had to withdraw.
I’m sorry. He retreated.
She pivoted, charged down the steps, and stomped through the lavender field.
Chapter Six
“You’re home early.” Rosalie shifted her attention from the television.
Cassie had hoped to slink into her room unseen. However, it wasn’t even nine o’clock—of course her mother still would be awake. And since this was Cassie’s first date in years—she would have waited up no matter what the time.
The start of something wonderful had ended badly, and guilt had begun to needle her, although none of what had happened was her fault. She had a right to be angry and disappointed. Psy’s acceptance had been a sham. He was no different than anyone else.
Her mother scanned Cassie’s face. “It didn’t go well?”
She shrugged.
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. What happened?” Her mother switched off the TV.
After experiencing the ease of telepathic communication, the last thing she wanted was to write out everything. How could she explain the best night of her life had become the worst? She couldn’t stop replaying the date. The romantic setting. The way he had kissed her and had held her. The conversation. For the first time in her life, she’d felt normal. And just when she started to believe dreams could come true, the magic had evaporated the way dreams always did. The hover scooter might very well have turned into a pumpkin.
Nor was Psy Prince Charming. He preferred a woman who could speak.
The ride home had been long and awkward. She’d scooted to the rear of the seat, putting as much distance between them as she could, but she couldn’t escape his body heat or his leather-and-cloves masculine scent.
Or his continued apologies.
Words were cheap. His actions had said it all. She’d refused to forgive him. That was the sole benefit of being a mute—the ability to freeze out someone who’d wronged you. She didn’t need to be fixed!
Her gaze sympathetic, Rosalie patted the sofa. “Sit down.”
Stifling a sigh, Cassie sank onto the couch. The sooner she got this over with, the sooner she could hide in her room.
“You have something stuck in your hair.”
Her hand shot to her head, and she found the twig of lavender. She pulled it loose and sniffed it. A lump formed in her throat.
“What happened? Can you talk about it?”
Talk. How ironic. She opened her notebook. We broke up, she penned the simplest, shortest answer she could give.
It sounded strange to call what had happened a breakup, but the night had held so much promise, it had seemed like so much more than a date. It had felt like the start of a life. Communicating with Psy had been so wonderful, so liberating. For the first time, she’d been free of limitations, free of pad and pen. She hadn’t realized how much she hated the damn notebook.
“I’m so sorry, honey. I know you’re disappointed. But it’s better to