My voice is little more than a whisper. “You buried her.” Kai stills beside me. “Not only that,” my eyes slowly slide up to meet his, “you laid flowers on her grave.” His smile is almost sad, filled with fatigue. “Nothing gets past you, Little Psychic.” He reaches out a hand then, flicking the very tip of my nose like he’d done when we danced. Somehow, the simple action feels far more intimate than I care to admit, as though he is sharing something precious with me, saying something without uttering a single word.
