Free Feel by Karen-Anne Stewart Page B

eyes until they are as dark as slate.  “He did this,” she seethes.  Saige slips off my lap and I miss her warmth the second she’s no longer touching me.  A low hiss leaves her lips as she stands. 
    “Let me look,” I coax, knowing she has to be banged up pretty good from the blast. 
    She shakes her head, stepping back as she paces the small confines of the van.  She no longer looks fragile or lost; she looks seriously pissed. “I’m fine,” she snaps as I reach for her again.
    “We’re almost to the hospital,” Andy calls over his shoulder.
    Saige shakes her head vehemently, “I’m not going to the hospital.  I want to find the sick bastard and then kill him!”
    I’ve never heard her like this, but I don’t blame her.  I want to kill the bastard, too.  But not before beating the living shit out of him for hurting Saige.  “You need to be seen so we can make sure you don’t have a concussion.”
    “I’m fine,” she breathes.  She’s not.  We both know that. 
    Grabbing her arm, I gently tug her towards me.  Her shorts and shirt are covered in dirt, grass, blood, and soot.  I go to pull up her shirt so I can see if the blood is hers but she grabs my wrist. 
    “I said I’m fine.”  She drops my wrist, stepping backwards.  “We need to go back and find him,” she calls to Andy.  “How did you know where he was when you touched his bag?”
    “Because I’m the shit,” Andy grins and winks in the rearview mirror. 
    He’s trying to ease her, and I nod when he looks at me.  No words are needed for him to know I appreciate him for that.  He’s closer to me than my own brother.  Andy’s the only reason I didn’t drink myself to death or get my ass killed when I was homeless, broke, and beyond fucked-up when I left home right after I left Saige.
    “Other than being the shit , how did you do that?” she asks again, relaxing a fraction as she goes to take a seat next to him.  Her body tenses when she slides into the passenger’s seat.  She’s hurt, and I know that there’s no way in hell she’ll tell me how badly.
    Andy glances back at me before answering and I nod my head.  “You know how you can sense things?  I can too, but differently.  I can see where a person’s at by touching something they’ve touched, but only if it’s been within the hour.”
    Saige looks at me and Andy.  Her bottom lip slips between her teeth and her arms circle around herself, “How?”
    “I think the technical term would be clairvoyance or remote viewing.  Whatever the hell it is, a person’s residual energy gives me a view of where they are.” 
    “So if you touch what he’s touched, you can see him?”  Her words are a question but they come out more like a fact she is rolling around in that pretty head of hers.  “Then we need to go back to the stadium.” 
    “You can’t go back there, Saige.”  I’ll never allow her to experience the pain she just did ever again.  “There are too many people.  Besides, we have to come up with a plan to explain why you told your friend to leave campus.”
    Her chin falls.  A thick, wavy walnut shield hides her face.  Tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear, I call her name.  I keep my voice soft, calm, because she’s back to looking so damn fragile. 
    “There’s no need to explain,” she whispers.
    Shit .  I pull her into my arms, sliding my hand down her soft hair, “I’m sorry.”
    Saige’s arms never unwrap from her waist but she does lay her head against my chest.  “Like I said, you’re not the one to blame.”
    I don’t know if she’s meaning he’s to blame or if she’s blaming herself.  She’s done that before – way too many times.  Every time I got in trouble for knocking the shit out of some asshole for teasing her or worse, she blamed herself for it.  I fucking hate that!  She isn’t to blame; she can’t help what she feels or who she feels.  I’ve never regretted beating someone’s ass