Tease by Melanie Harlow

Author:Melanie Harlow [Harlow, Melanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-07-10T16:00:00+00:00

ELEVEN

HUTTON

“Tell me a secret,” Felicity said, snuggling up to me in bed.

“A secret?” Lying on my back, I put one hand behind my head and wrapped the other around her shoulders. I could still smell the lavender and vanilla on her skin—pretty sure I was never going to find those scents relaxing, especially now that my brain would associate them with what had just transpired in my bathroom. But at the very least, they’d bring back a nice memory.

“Yes. Or a story from when you were little. I like those.”

I thought about it for a moment. “When I was young, I thought I had magic powers.”

“Oooh! What kind of magic powers?”

Her reaction made me smile—I loved that she was more interested in the nature of my otherworldly abilities than in laughing at the idea. “I thought I could control the outcome of things—favorably for me, of course—or prevent bad things from happening, with certain actions.”

“What would you do?”

“Small rituals like always putting my right sock on first, always sitting on the right side of the car, touching my nose as I entered a room, counting things.”

“Did you have OCD?” She was playing with my chest hair again. I loved when she did that.

“I don’t know. If I’d been evaluated back then, they might have diagnosed me that way, but I never told anyone about my powers.”

“Why not?”

“Because then they wouldn’t work.”

“Ah.” Her fingers moved in slow, relaxing circles. “When did you stop believing in them?”

I didn’t even have to think about it. “When my grandfather died.”

Her hand stopped moving. “How old were you?”

“Eleven.”

She propped her head on her hand and looked at me. “Is this the grandpa that gave you the signed Ray Bradbury paperbacks?”

I smiled—she remembered. “Yes.”

“Tell me more about him. What was he like?”

My head filled with memories of the brilliant, fun-loving grandfather I’d known. “He loved puzzles, and we used to work on them together all the time. He loved baseball and never missed one of my games. He wore Pinaud Clubman aftershave, and sometimes I catch a whiff of it in a crowd and it’s like he’s right there.”

“Maybe he is.”

“Now you sound like my mother.”

She laughed. “Do you still have the books he gave you?”

“Yes. They’re not in pristine condition or anything—he read them over and over again, and I did too—but I’d never sell them anyway.”

“Of course not. That kind of thing is priceless.” She put her head down again. “I’m sorry you lost him so young.”

“His death hit me hard. It wasn’t sudden—we knew he was sick—but I was so sure of my ability to prevent anything terrible from happening that I was totally unprepared when it happened.”

“Did you blame yourself?” she asked softly.

“Not exactly, but I started to doubt myself in every way. Soon after that was when I struck out three times during my baseball team’s championship game. I remember thinking then that it was clear—I wasn’t magical. I wasn’t even that special or talented. And everyone fucking knew it.”

She kissed my chest, then pressed her cheek against it, wrapping her arm around my waist.

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