Page 57 of Deadly Blooms (Psychic Unraveled #1)

“I asked Derek,” Graham said, voice flat, “and he let me know—in every gory detail—what he and Katie walked in on.”

Jesus.

My entire body locked up. Heat flushed my cheeks. Was there a correct response to that?

What the hell was I supposed to say— Thanks for the ride?

I sighed, reached out, and grabbed his hand—stopping him mid-step. His palm was warm, solid, grounding. I traced a thumb across the rough skin of his knuckles.

“Maybe we could try again sometime,” I said, softer. “For real. When neither of us is possessed… that time didn’t count.”

I looked up at him from beneath my lashes, my heart fluttering like it had a mind of its own.

“I mean, the parts where you were in control definitely counted,” I added with a hint of a smile, “but I’d like to get to know you a little better first. You, not the ghost of horny past.”

His lips twitched, the beginnings of a crooked grin. “Alright, what do you want to know?”

I held his gaze. “Maybe.. why you put on this big front. Like you’re this big rough and tough macho dude that can’t get hurt.”

I stepped just a little closer, my voice dropping. “When I know you’re actually sweet, silly, and gentle.”

There. I said it.

And maybe I pushed too far. Maybe I scared him off. Maybe peeling back his armor was too much too soon.

But I didn’t look away.

Graham

Shit.

I was hoping she’d ask something simple—like how I maintain this rock-hard bod or what my favorite color was. Blue, for the record. Not that it mattered. Not like she’d care. Not like I’d say it.

I dragged a hand through my hair, stalling. “I don’t know… it was a rare phenomenon. Not many get to see it.”

Deflection. Classic me.

Because I sure as hell wasn’t ready to talk about Rebecca. About how she’d been the last person to see that version of me—unguarded, soft, maybe even a little hopeful.

I shrugged. “I guess you matched my inner crazy. You’re psycho like me.”

I grinned, hoping it’d land as a joke. It sounded better in my head. Truth wrapped in a joke always did.

But the second I looked at her, I knew I’d screwed it up.

She wasn’t laughing. No snark. No eye roll. Just a flat, blinking stare—like I’d complimented her with a slap to the face.

“You think I’m psycho?” She asked, voice all calm and cracked.

Fuck.

Fix it, Locke. Don’t screw this up. She was the only thing in this mess that made you think maybe—just maybe—you could still feel something close to happy.

“Yes—but, like… good psycho,” I blurted. “Like, ninja-level. One minute you’re sweet, the next you’re tossing sass grenades and enchanting stray raccoons. It’s chaotic. It’s… I fucking love it.”

A pause.

She squinted at me. “Thanks… I think?”

The corner of her mouth twitched into a reluctant smile, unsure but real.

And God, I wanted to kiss it.

I wanted to kiss her .

But that meant it was real, and I wasn’t ready for real.

The rain didn’t turn out to be more than a drizzle and it had cleared now.

Small sticks and dry leaves crunched beneath our boots as we walked deeper into the woods.

Nothing stood out—no looming darkness, no ominous vibes.

Hell, the birds were singing. Cheerful little assholes.

And every time a new song hit the air, Maggie perked up and named the culprit like she was hosting a damn nature documentary.

“That’s a robin. And that one… cardinal,” she rattled off, barely giving the birds a chance to finish.

“You really know your birds,” I said.

“Sorry—bird nerd here,” she said, raising her hand like it was some sort of guilty confession.

She bent down, plucked a tiny feather from the trail, and held it up like a prize. “This is the feather of a?—”

“Tufted titmouse,” I cut in.

She blinked at me. “Leave it to you to know the one with tit in the name.”

She smirked and tucked the feather into her hoodie’s pouch.

Yep, I’d called it.

Stealthy ninja—taking one perfectly innocent moment and flipping it on its back.

“Maybe I’ll take you back to my place sometime, show you my blue-footed boobies,” I said with a grin.

She gave me a look that could’ve arrested me on sight. “Pardon me, Officer, but aren’t you supposed to be the model of professionalism while on duty?”

“Do you really think I can maintain professionalism with a woman I just fucked on the floor of an attic?” I shot back. “Pretty sure I still have splinters in my ass as a souvenir.”

Maggie’s cheeks flushed bright red, and she brought her hand up to hide the giggle threatening to spill out.

God, she was thinking about last night. I knew it.

Hell, I hadn’t stopped thinking about it either.

All this talk of tits and boobies just yanked me right back to the image of hers bouncing in my face while she rode me like I owed her something, and the only payment she’d accept was draining every last drop from me.

Jesus. The thought of doing it again— really doing it, while I was fully in control—made my cock twitch to life.

She stepped ahead of me on the trail, giving me the perfect view of her ass—a full, round peach of a thing—and those thick thighs I’d kill to wear around my neck.

Just the thought of spreading her open and tasting every inch of her had me swelling, painfully aware of the restraint my zipper held on my dick.

Then—

“Hey, do you know any places in town looking to hire?” She asked, blissfully unaware she’d just interrupted the reel of filth playing in my head.

“I picked up an application at Marble, but I’m not sure I want to go back into food service.

I’ve done it for eighteen years. I think I need something new.

I cleared my throat— twice . “I could ask around. But you’d probably have better luck with Elsie Hargrove.”

She paused and turned to me. “Wait—Elsie Hargrove? Like the mercantile lady?”

“Yeah. That’s the one,” I said. “She’s Port Grey’s original gossip pipeline. Pretty much knows everything about everyone and makes sure the whole town knows it, too. I’d bet money she already knows about you.”

Maggie blinked. “Oh, God, the aunts mentioned going there this morning…”

I nodded. “Exactly. Elsie owns the mercantile down by the pier. You know, the cheaper place you didn’t go when you overpaid for the fancy sand Chester shits in.”

I shot her a side-eye, and she made a face.

“Hey, if I hadn’t gone to Nature’s Grove, I wouldn’t have met Katie,” she said, kicking a pebble down the trail. “Go easy on me—I’m new in town, in case you forgot. I don’t exactly have the Port Grey local’s guide to where not to get ripped off.”

I smirked. “I’m just saying, when you’re buying the exact same bag of overpriced crystal cat litter six times more expensive than what Elsie sells? It hurts my soul.”

“Well,” she said with a shrug, “I guess I’ll have to check her place out. What’s it called?”

“Everyone just calls it Elsie’s. Technically it’s Saltwater’s Supplies & Sundries… only the tourists call it that.”

She hummed, “Cute.”

“I guess,” I muttered. “Elsie works with local growers. She always makes sure there’s fresh in-season produce and she donates any non-perishables that don’t sell during the Winter Festival. People come from out of town for that shit.”

“She sounds like an angel.”

“She is.” My hands slipped into my pockets automatically, fingers curling into fists. “She, Linda, the aunts, and Derek… they helped me through the worst time of my life. I owe them.”

Easy, Locke. You’re flying too close to the emotional sun, and you know what happens when you get burned.

“Oh, yeah?” She asked softly. “Do you miss Colorado?”

Shit.

There it was.

The past. Front and center. No sirens, no warning. Just one innocent question that threatened to unearth the whole goddamn graveyard.

“Yeah. I guess there are some things back home that I miss.”

She tilted her head. “Like what?”

Oh, I don’t know?—

My wife.

My daughter.

The ability to close my eyes without seeing their bodies.

Or maybe the luxury of fucking someone without it being a desperate escape from my mind.

“…Nothing,” I muttered.

Her face softened, brows tugging inward. She opened her mouth—then closed it—and spun around.

“So… rumor has it you’re quite the heartbreaker here in Port Grey,” she said, forcing a playful smile.

“Where I put my dick is entirely my business and none of yours.”

Goddamn it, Graham.

Her expression froze. She blinked, wounded.

“Oh—I… I wasn’t trying to imply that it was,” she said, voice small with an awkwardness taking over.

“I was just trying to… I don’t know… talk.

Since we’ve kinda been open about everything.

Especially since we, you know, fucked… in the attic…

but you probably didn’t even want to. And if that’s the case, then it’s fine.

Cool. Whatever. Let’s just forget this—whatever this is?—”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

What the hell was wrong with me?

She was trying to connect, and I was out there throwing up walls.

I exhaled hard and cleared my throat. “Max,” I said. “That came out… harsher than I meant it. I’m sorry, I just don’t like people knowing my shit. Because when they find out why I am the way I am? All they do is pity me. And I’m not looking for that.”

She looked up at me, eyes unreadable. “What if I told you I was too selfish to feel sorry for you?”

I blinked. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“You’re like all the other guys I’ve fucked,” she said, quick and defensive. “You were tricked into it. Only difference is—you won’t get obsessed. You can’t. I didn’t?—”

She choked down whatever she was about to say.

My brain scrambled to process it, but my body moved first. I stepped in and gripped her shoulders, firm but gentle. She flinched barely, and I hated myself a little more.

“I wasn’t tricked into fucking you, Max,” I said, searching her eyes. “I wanted to. I’ve wanted to since the moment I saw you. So make sure your brain remembers that.”

I let go.

But part of me wanted to pull her in and keep her there.

What she didn’t know—what she couldn’t possibly guess—was that I was already obsessed. Had been from the start.

We walked in silence after that. Tense, raw, both of us lost in the ruins we just created. I didn’t know what to say, and she sure as hell didn’t offer a lifeline. I could feel her putting up walls of her own now. Maybe I deserved that.

Maybe this was what I did best—ruin shit before it could become real.