Page 2

Joey

I blinked, then burst out laughing. I turned to Dad, expecting to see him laughing with me, but even though his eyes were twinkling, his face was completely void of humor. Slowly, my laughter dropped off. “Wait. You can’t be serious.”

A soft, resigned smile crept over Erin’s face before she looked at Dad and shrugged.

Dad nodded at her. “I think you need to run the same demonstration with Joey that you did with me that first time, hon.” He leaned back and relaxed into the chair, his fingers loosely intertwined on his crossed knees.

I stared at them both incredulously. Dad had always been a man of logic. Science, math, and reasoning were how he lived his life and how he’d raised me. And yet he believed in this mumbo-jumbo bullshit?

Erin released a light sigh of air and nodded once. She returned her attention to me and held her hand out towards me, palm up. “Let’s play a guessing game, Joey.”

I scoffed at her and rolled my eyes. I’d seen the TV shows where magicians had performed these sorts of tricks. There was no way she was psychic. She might have hoodwinked Dad, but there was no way she was going to get one over on me.

Dad and I were going to have a serious conversation about the type of weirdos he attracted later.

I placed my hand on her palm, smirking as I did.

Just like Callum had done, she placed her other hand on top of mine, enclosing my hand entirely. “Think of a number between—”

Seven hundred and fifty-four. There was no way she was going to guess that.

She cut herself off, tilted her head to the side and her eyes took on that glazed quality that Callum had when he’d shaken my hand earlier. “Seven hundred and fifty-four.”

The smirk dropped from my face. What?

“Another.”

Um… Shit. Okay. Maybe that was a lucky guess. Let’s go astronomical. Five billion, four hundred and thirty-three million, six hundred and eighty-two thousand, nine hundred and sixty.

She raised an eyebrow and started chuckling. “Five billion, four hundred and thirty-three million, six hundred and eighty-two thousand, nine hundred and sixty. Your dad tried the same thing. You two are more alike than either of you realize, you know.”

My jaw dropped open. “What the actual fuck?”

“Language, Joey,” said Dad, even though his voice held a trace of laughter to it.

“Like I said, certain members of my family are psychic,” Erin said as she let go of my hand, her eyes clearing. “Most of us can hear what you’re thinking if we maintain skin to skin contact, and we can see things that have happened in the past relative to the object or person we’re touching.”

I brought my hand back and cradled it to my chest like it had been injured. “Um…”

She shrugged. “I don’t know what Callum heard or saw when he was shaking your hand, but yes, Callum has the same gift I do. Has since he was tiny.”

Oh, fuck sticks. Did that mean that Callum had heard what I’d been thinking? Gah! What had been going through my head when he was shaking my hand? I know there was something about his gorgeous eyes. And his beautiful freckles. And his stunning floppy hair… Fuck, fuck, fuck. Plus, I’d been thinking about how I wasn’t ready for him to be here yet. Could that thought have lingered?

Which train of thought could I be more mortified over?

“Don’t worry. I’ll have a chat with him once we’re done here,” said Erin. “He usually knows better than to act the way he just did.”

My mind spiraled as my anxiety spiked. How much had he heard? Had I upset him with what had been going through my head? I must have. The way he looked when he pulled his hand away from me had left me chilled.

And yet… “He can’t control it?” I asked quietly. As much as what had happened freaked me out, something about the thought of him not being able to turn that ability off left me so very sad.

“He couldn’t when he was little,” Erin said, smiling softly. “But now that he’s older, he can. He’s been better at controlling his ability since he’s been trained. I haven’t seen him have a reaction like that in a few years.” With a worried frown, Erin turned her head towards the stairs as if she could see through the walls and ceiling to where her son had disappeared to.

“You okay, Joey?” Dad asked, capturing my attention. “I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“Understatement,” I muttered, running my trembling fingers through my shaggy hair that desperately needed a cut. “Um, if it’s okay, I’m going to go have a shower.” I scratched my scalp nervously. “I need some time to wrap my head around all… this .”

“Of course,” Dad said. “Take your time.” He looked at his watch. “We’ll sit down for dinner at seven, okay? And bring your EpiPen. There’ll be satay sauce on the table.”

Still in a daze over what had just happened, I nodded, then lifted myself off the sofa and escaped to my room, a lot slower than Callum had. I was worried about what he’d heard or seen in my head, but I was also beginning to realize that as long as Erin was in my life, there wouldn’t be a thing I could do about hiding anything from my dad.

No surprise parties when they left me home alone. Not that I’d done that up to this point, but now even the idea of hosting a forbidden party sometime in the future had been stripped away from me.

No lying. About anything. Erin had a built-in lie detector.

But as much as the idea that my thoughts weren’t mine alone anymore, it was the tiny differences between the way Callum and his mother had done their psychic thing.

Erin had demonstrated her ability with purpose, even when I was trying to give her a crazy number. It was almost like it had been a job to her. There was control over the way she’d taken my hand, the way she’d heard me. She knew what she was listening for and ignored the rest.

Callum, however… It was like he’d gripped my hand purely on instinct. There had been no control at all, no restraint. How could a person live their life with that sort of lack of control? It must be overwhelming.

And it was that thought, the idea that Callum must be drowning in the thoughts of others, that made my heart break more than the concept of mourning the loss of my own perceived mental freedom.

That being said, both Erin and Callum had shown that they needed intentional physical contact for their ability to kick in.

If there was no contact, there could be no way to read my mind. And I couldn’t lie—that made me feel a whole hell of a lot more at ease than I had been less than an hour ago.

Dinner that night was awkward.

Dad and Erin tried desperately to keep the conversational ball rolling along, but there was this tension in the air that was so thick it was almost visible.

For the most part, I tried to keep my head down to concentrate on my food and everyone else’s. Erin had made barbecued chicken skewers with various vegetables, which we’d had plenty of times before, but like Dad had warned, this time there was a small dish of satay sauce on the table for Callum. As I was allergic to peanuts, I was keeping an eye on where the dish was at all times, so I wouldn’t risk having a reaction. My EpiPen was close by, so I wasn’t terrified of dying or anything, but it was good practice for when I went out to restaurants or cafes where I couldn’t control what food was around me, when I needed to be aware of my surroundings.

Whenever I did manage to look up, though, my eyes were immediately drawn across the table to Callum’s, and without fail, he was already watching me.

Sometimes he looked curious; other times he looked guilty. A few times there was sadness. Overriding all of that, though, was anger and annoyance. He kept his responses to questions, single words, or a variety of grunts, and a constant frown marred his beautiful face.

The easy-going, smiling, cheerful man that I’d first met earlier that day was long gone, and it was obviously all my fault.

By the end of the meal, I was a miserable and anxious mess.

As soon as he was able to, Callum left the table, muttering under his breath as he went.

My shoulders sagged as I looked to my left at where Dad was sitting.

He patted my hand that was toying with a teaspoon. “Don’t worry, Joey. He’ll come around.”

“I don’t even know what I did wrong,” I muttered sadly. “How can I fix what’s broken if I don’t know what needs fixing?”

Dad exchanged glances with Erin but said nothing, just patted my hand again.

I sighed in resignation. “May I be excused, please?” If I was going to be miserable, I could at least be miserable in the comfort of my own room.

“Of course you can, sweetie,” Erin said with a small smile. “Things will be better tomorrow. I promise.”

“Okay,” I said quietly as I pushed back from the table. “See you both in the morning.”

Erin hugged me and kissed me goodnight on the forehead before Dad said goodnight. I wandered slowly up the staircase and disappeared into my room, shutting the door quietly behind me.

A night in front of the TV watching art-house French romances and stuffing myself full of chocolate seemed the best idea in the world right now.

“Goodbye, mo lus na gréine. Until we meet again.”

I felt the slightest pressure on my forehead, enough for me to wake up. I looked around my darkened room, still lit only by the TV that I’d left running when I’d fallen asleep, but everything seemed normal. Nothing at all seemed out of place.

But there had been that pressure.

And those words said with the hint of an Irish accent…

I raised the tips of my fingers to the middle of my brow and grazed the spot where I’d felt the pressure. Letting out an amused huff of air, I shook my head at the absurdity of it all. I must have been dreaming it all or imagining it or something.

Looking at my bedside clock, I smacked my lips and realized how thirsty I was. It was almost midnight, and I’d been asleep for maybe three hours. The glass I kept on my bedside table was bone dry, so I grabbed it and headed downstairs for a refill.

The house was quiet, but the light in the lounge was still on. I looked down the corridor to see a shadow moving back and forth across the wall opposite the open door. A muffled voice sounded down the hallway, but I couldn’t tell who it was.

Silently, I plodded as close as I dared to find out what was going on.

“At least for now.” The sound of Callum’s voice made me stop. He sounded so upset.

There was a pause, then, “Are you sure?” That was Dad.

Another pause. “I can’t stay.” Callum again, this time sounding distraught. “Not while he’s here. Not one more night. It’d be a disaster if I stayed.”

Taking a sharp breath in, I recoiled before quickly and silently tracing my way back towards the kitchen. There was no way they were talking about anyone other than me, seeing as Dad was in there with Callum. What the hell had I done to him for Callum to react this way? What had he heard in my head to make him feel like this? Did he truly dislike me that much that he’d escape in the middle of the night two days before Christmas?

Misery settled around me like a shroud once more as I filled my glass and made my way back up the stairs to my room. He was such a beautiful man, but he hated me so much after a single afternoon that he decided he couldn’t be around me anymore. I didn’t understand.

After drinking what I needed to and settling my glass where it normally lived, I crawled back into bed and pulled the blankets around me until I was wrapped up tight. I angrily wiped tears from my eyes at the injustice of it all. Was this the way it was always going to go? What would happen if Dad and Erin got married? Would Callum avoid us all because of whatever he’d heard in my head?

I let the tears flow. Why the hell was I letting all of this get to me so badly?

Eventually I must have cried myself to sleep, because the next thing I knew sunlight was streaming through the sheer curtains and making its slow journey across my bed. I stared up at the ceiling and stretched, my jaw cracking as I let out an extended yawn. It took me a moment to remember why my eyes felt so puffy, but when it all came back to me, my mood took a nosedive. Maybe I had dreamed it all? Maybe if I got up and checked the spare room, I’d see Callum still in bed asleep.

A tiny well of hope sprung deep within my chest at my thoughts. Yes. Callum would still be here and that would prove that what I thought I’d overheard last night was just some twisted dream my brain was tricking me with.

Flinging the blankets off me, I darted out of my room and made my way to the spare bedroom. I held my ear to the closed door to see if I could hear any snoring or movement, but there was nothing. As quietly as I could, I turned the handle and cracked the door open just a fraction, certain that I’d either see Callum still in bed or the blankets in disarray because he hadn’t made the bed yet.

I took a deep breath in and peeked inside.

The bed was made, and there was no sign of Callum in the room at all. In fact, it looked like the bed hadn’t been slept in.

I opened the door wider. Maybe he was one of those weird people who made their bed as soon as they got up, and he was downstairs getting breakfast. My eyes roamed the room, looking for any evidence that Callum was still here.

There. Hanging on the back of the chair was his leather jacket. I let out the breath that I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in relief. He was still here. Good. I had today to talk to him, see what had gone wrong between us yesterday, and try to resolve it before the madness tomorrow would undoubtedly bring.

I lingered in the doorway, letting my eyes drift around the room one last time before I went downstairs to corner him during breakfast. It was only then that I realized that other than the leather jacket, there was nothing else in the room to suggest he was here. No bag on the floor, no phone on the bedside table, nothing.

Frowning, I stumbled to the wardrobe and warily opened the door.

The hangers were empty.

My heart clenched at the thought of what I’d overheard last night and the realization that it wasn’t a dream.

Callum had really left in the middle of the night, because something he’d heard me say in my head had scared or angered him enough to leave immediately, taking everything with him except his leather jacket.

I brought my hand to my chest and rubbed at the ache spreading through me.

Was this what heartbreak felt like? I’d never felt this sort of pain before, and I decided then and there it wasn’t something I enjoyed feeling at all.

I walked over to the leather jacket and picked it up, bringing it to my nose to inhale whatever scent Callum had left behind.

If he’d stolen a piece of my heart in the middle of the night like a thief, it was only fair that I could steal his leather jacket in exchange.

Served him right for leaving it behind, anyway.