Page 59 of Deadly Blooms (Psychic Unraveled #1)

WHAT LINGERS

Maggie

You know that sensation when you touched something and it rubbed all the wrong buttons, and no matter what you tried, you couldn’t get it to leave you?

I called it the “ icks ” and they say many neurodivergent people experience it often—and was beginning to wonder if I fell into that category, because ever since I’d moved here, I hadn’t stopped feeling it.

This particular time was the worst, though, I could scrub and scrub, but the sensation never left. It clung like a second skin I’d never asked for.

Maybe I’d made the wrong decision by uprooting my life and leaving the safe, perfectly mundane world I’d had back in Ohio. I knew starting over would be different—maybe even scary—but I didn’t expect this.

I didn’t expect death to follow me like a stray that refused to go home.

And what the hell was that vision?

I’d never had anything like that happen before.

Then again, I’d never touched a corpse before either.

Graham and the police had been out in the woods for hours now. It was nearly midnight. I’d sent everyone else home after they devoured the meal Katie and the aunts had prepared. I couldn’t bring myself to eat a single bite—even water turned me off.

Naturally, they’d protested the idea of leaving me “at a time like this,” but I insisted. All I really wanted was to go to bed, wake up, and have it all magically resolved—suspect in custody, proven guilty, case closed. Blah, blah, blah.

But I knew better than to expect that.

My phone chimed—it was Katie.

Katie:

You still up?

Unfortunately. Still waiting for Graham and the cops to clear out.

I forgot to ask… you and Graham going to Portia’s Beach Bonfire tomorrow?

I think so. I’m hoping to do a little snooping.

Be careful. If she’s behind all this… she’s psycho.

I forgot to tell you. When I was out with Graham, I accidentally touched the body. And… I had a vision. I think I was the dead guy.

There was a long pause. Then?—

The screen lit up with Katie’s name— Incoming video-chat .

I hesitated for half a second, then answered.

Her face filled my screen—wide-eyed, no makeup, and zipped into a ridiculous Lilo & Stitch onesie. The hood was up, complete with floppy blue ears and angry alien eyes, making her look like the little blue alien after a sugar bender.

“You what now?!”

“ I touched the body,” I repeated, quieter this time.

“You’re gonna have to back up, doll.”

“I didn’t mean to touch it. I thought it was a mushroom.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Next thing I know, I’m in a man’s body, threatening Portia while smelling her overpriced perfume and cigarettes.”

Katie blinked. “What the actual fuck? ”

“I felt him, Kates. Not just what he saw. His strength. His anger. Like he wanted to hurt her.” My voice cracked, barely above a whisper. “And then… he died. I felt it happen.”

She tugged the Stitch ears tight around her face, her expression shifting from alarmed to haunted. “You died ?”

I nodded.

“Oh, my God, Mags…”

“I can’t get the feeling off my hands.” I held them up like they were still marked. “It’s like it soaked in.”

Katie went quiet, studying me through the screen. “Okay. I’m calling the aunts. This isn’t your basic freaky psychic shit .”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Is that the official term?”

“It is now.” She didn’t laugh. “You should’ve told Graham.”

“I didn’t want to spook him any more than he already is. Besides… I don’t think he’s ready for the weirder side of me.”

Katie leaned in, serious. “Girl, what’s weirder than fucking someone for the first time on your second possession in one night?”

I didn’t answer, just stared at the screen.

Katie sighed and added gently, “You good?”

No, but I nodded anyway.

She gave me a small smile. “Love you, Ghost Whisperer .”

Call ended.

I rolled my eyes, slid the phone back into my pouch, and ran my fingers down Chester’s spine. He and I were curled up on the papasan, under a chunky teal blanket in the sunroom. He purred like a little engine, kneading biscuits into my lap, the only tangible comfort I had left.

A knock broke the silence—sharp, deliberate. My phone buzzed a second later.

Graham:

It’s me.

I scrambled up, gently shifting Chester back into the warm hollow we’d made together. My mind raced, spiraling through all the implications of what we’d found. Another body. Another dead end, maybe. Or maybe the breakthrough we’d been chasing without realizing it.

The old lock on the front door groaned as I twisted it, metal clattering in the quiet house. I opened the door, and there he was.

Graham looked wrecked. Not bloody, not bruised—just done. The wear carved deeper into his eyes than I’d seen before, and shadows clung under them like bruises that sleep couldn’t fix.

His boots were caked in mud, and I realized with a small jolt that the rain had started up again. I hadn’t noticed. I’d been too wrapped up in death, memories, and visions that didn’t belong to me.

“Everyone’s cleared out,” he said, stepping inside and wiping his feet. “It’s just you and me now.”

I nodded and closed the door behind hm. “Did they find anything?”

“Not yet.” He exhaled and scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “They’ll run prints, try to ID the body if it’s in the system. We won’t hear more until morning.”

His gaze dropped to himself, noticing the mud. “Hey, can I use your bathroom?” He asked, holding up his dirt-covered hands. “I’d like to wash up before spending the night out there.” He thumbed toward his SUV in the driveway.

“Oh, of course!” I pointed to the water closet across from the stairs. “It’s right there.”

As he disappeared behind the door and I returned to my little nest in the sunroom, but my heart wouldn’t settle.

The thought of him outside—alone—gnawed at my nerves.

I could barely breathe thinking about it.

Maybe I should have asked Katie or Derek to stay.

Maybe I shouldn’t have sent everyone home.

Graham stepped out of the bathroom and joined us. He sat on the arm of the couch beside me, and Chester wasted no time leaping into his lap, rubbing his cheeks all over him like he was the long-lost love of his life.

“Oh—I’m sorry, he’s probably going to get fur all over your uniform.” I reached to pull Chester back.

“Max, it’s okay,” he said, his face softening in that way that made it hard to look away.

I glanced down at my hands in my lap. “Hey… do you think you could stay inside tonight? With us?” I asked, scanning my fingertips like they still held traces of the corpse.

“Shit,” he muttered. “You should’ve led with that. I would’ve already kicked my boots off by the door, and we could be halfway into Gilmore Girls by now.”

I huffed out a laugh, even though my chest was still tight. “As if you’d watch Gilmore Girls .”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

He was trying. And as sweet as it was, I didn’t know if it actually helped or not.

I looked at my hands again, “I can’t seem to shake the icky feeling.

That cold, rotting flesh on my fingers… it’s like it sank into me.

And I know this sounds dramatic, but it feels like death is attached to me lately—and I just…

” I swallowed, my voice quieter now. “It freaks me out.”

He leaned in a little closer, eyes narrowing like he was reading something off my soul.

“Death’s not attached to you, Max. You just keep running into its mess. There’s a difference,” he said, voice lower now, grittier. “And if it tries to get close again, I’ll break its fucking jaw.”

The corner of the my mouth tugged into a small smile. I wasn’t happy at all but I appreciated his efforts to make me feel better.

“Maybe I can help.” He set Chester on my lap and kneeled in front of me. “May I?” He asked, reaching for my hands.

My god. Kneeling in front of me? Yeah, that did something.

He placed my hands in his, palms up. His touch was fire in winter—melting the frozen wall I’d built around myself.

What was happening?

Graham ran his fingers over mine, making sure to move his pointer up the length of each one to my palm where he drew a spiral before moving on the next finger, sending tingles from my hands up my arms.

“Nan called it ‘ light touch.’ When I’d get too worked up, she’d trace my arms, my back—like this. It always calmed me down.”

“Well, it’s working.”

I closed my eyes as his gentle touches ignited warm fuzzies up my arms, sending sparks from my shoulders, it was like he was pulling all the stress from my body and my mind.

“Oh, my God! That feels… so… good.” My eyes rolled back and I sunk into the papasan, letting him steal all my pent up stress.

There was nothing explicitly sexual about it—but damn if it didn’t feel intimate. Like he was learning me by touch alone. And the fact that he was taking the time to calm me down… no man had ever done that for me.

I opened my eyes to find him staring at me, taking in every inch of me, like he had an unquenchable thirst that he was about to succumb to.

His tongue ran over his bottom lip as he moved in, bringing his face mere inches from mine.

He paused for a moment, studied my face—looking from my eyes to my lips and back again.

He’s gonna kiss me. Fuck, he had to. Everyone said they look at your lips first, right?

But…

He just looked at me.

He didn’t smile…

He didn’t move…

What was he waiting for? My entire being ached for him to kiss me, and my heart felt like it was going to burst right out of my chest, and this man was just… staring?

In fact, he almost looked like he was going to cry.

Maybe I should of leaned in… closed the gap… made sure he knew I wanted this too.

Just as he finally moved closer, his cellphone rang, and the moment was gone.

Dammit!

He jumped up, yanked his phone from the cargo pocket of his pants, it was in a matte black, metal, military-style case—figures.

He held up one finger, letting me know it’d be a minute, then answered it.

I leaned back in the papasan and pouted.

Son-of-a-bitch!

Graham