accuracy of her declaration. His jaw went slack before he quickly snapped it shut. Through gritted teeth he growled, “How the hell did you know that? I didn’t tell anybody.”
“Dammit, you didn’t even tell me.” Hurt laced Remy’s voice.
Pointing to the letter still clasped between her hands, Max said, “Go ahead. Open it. Read it.” Theresa unfolded the pages and started reading. She stopped once, glancing at Remy before continuing to the end. Max watched her, searching for a reaction to its contents. Nothing.
Carefully refolding the letter, she handed it to Max. He stuffed it back inside the envelope before shoving it into his pocket. Vindication should have tasted sweet. It didn’t. All he felt was a remote sense of loss for what might have been.
“They’ve offered you your old job back?” Theresa’s quiet voice belied the anger still filling her eyes.
“Are you going to take it?” Remy asked quietly.
Max shook his head. He stood and walked to stand by the sink.
“No, I’m not. I’m glad my record has been cleared, don’t get me wrong, but I like being in charge of my life. I’m staying right here.”
***
Inside, Theresa rejoiced. He was staying. For every part of her that never wanted to see him again, for every self-preserving instinct of flight, there was another part that wanted to be near him, to fight for what they could have.
“Was that enough to convince you, Max, or do you need further proof?”
“There’s no way you could have known any of that information about me. Like Remy said, I’ve never told a soul, not even my baby brother.”
Relieved she wouldn’t have to prove herself to him anymore, she let herself relax.
“How did you get so much just from touching that letter?” Max’s words were more curious than accusing. “But not from Tommy’s phone or something from his room?”
“It doesn’t work like that. If it did, I’d be a multimillionaire living the good life.” Not really, but hey it sounded good.
“I can’t control what I see or don’t see. I will either get vibrations or images from an object or dead space—nothing at all. Sometimes I’ll get a feeling before I even touch an object—if there’s a darkness associated with it—but that’s rare.” Theresa ran a hand across her forehead, brushing wisps of hair back.
“My abilities aren’t something I can call up on a whim. They just are. I’m not sure where they’ll take me, but I’m done running from them. Believe me or don’t, that’s your choice.”
“Hey, I already said I believe you—now.” Max’s voice filled the kitchen, his belief a panacea to Theresa’s frazzled psyche. Maybe he’ll drop it. His next words dispelled that illusion.
“The reason I came over here tonight was to ask you about your ability. I’ve been reading up on psychics and I keep running into the same information. That’s why I asked you if you’d had your gift all your life. I want to know when it started.”
Theresa’s eyes widened and she looked to Remy. Her breathing sped up. His words chilled her to her very soul. Remy reached across the table, clasped her hand and gave it a quick squeeze.
“All the experts I’ve read state when a psychic gift came on later in life, usually around adolescence, it was triggered by a trauma in the psychic’s life.”
Stepping forward, Max stood in front of Theresa and tilted her chin up with one finger, meeting her eyes. “If we’re going to work together, you’ve got to trust me. What happened to you? What’s your secret?”
Chapter Ten
Theresa stared at Max, trying to gauge how much she should tell him. Remy sat across from her and vigorously shook his head, his intent clear, not wanting her to dredge up her hurtful past.
“Remy, go home. I need to talk to Max.”
“Hell, no. He doesn’t need to know a damn thing. It’s none of his business,” he shot back.
Remy glared at his brother, his gaze filled with anger at Max for forcing the issue.
“Dammit, you didn’t even tell me.” Hurt laced Remy’s voice.
Pointing to the letter still clasped between her hands, Max said, “Go ahead. Open it. Read it.” Theresa unfolded the pages and started reading. She stopped once, glancing at Remy before continuing to the end. Max watched her, searching for a reaction to its contents. Nothing.
Carefully refolding the letter, she handed it to Max. He stuffed it back inside the envelope before shoving it into his pocket. Vindication should have tasted sweet. It didn’t. All he felt was a remote sense of loss for what might have been.
“They’ve offered you your old job back?” Theresa’s quiet voice belied the anger still filling her eyes.
“Are you going to take it?” Remy asked quietly.
Max shook his head. He stood and walked to stand by the sink.
“No, I’m not. I’m glad my record has been cleared, don’t get me wrong, but I like being in charge of my life. I’m staying right here.”
***
Inside, Theresa rejoiced. He was staying. For every part of her that never wanted to see him again, for every self-preserving instinct of flight, there was another part that wanted to be near him, to fight for what they could have.
“Was that enough to convince you, Max, or do you need further proof?”
“There’s no way you could have known any of that information about me. Like Remy said, I’ve never told a soul, not even my baby brother.”
Relieved she wouldn’t have to prove herself to him anymore, she let herself relax.
“How did you get so much just from touching that letter?” Max’s words were more curious than accusing. “But not from Tommy’s phone or something from his room?”
“It doesn’t work like that. If it did, I’d be a multimillionaire living the good life.” Not really, but hey it sounded good.
“I can’t control what I see or don’t see. I will either get vibrations or images from an object or dead space—nothing at all. Sometimes I’ll get a feeling before I even touch an object—if there’s a darkness associated with it—but that’s rare.” Theresa ran a hand across her forehead, brushing wisps of hair back.
“My abilities aren’t something I can call up on a whim. They just are. I’m not sure where they’ll take me, but I’m done running from them. Believe me or don’t, that’s your choice.”
“Hey, I already said I believe you—now.” Max’s voice filled the kitchen, his belief a panacea to Theresa’s frazzled psyche. Maybe he’ll drop it. His next words dispelled that illusion.
“The reason I came over here tonight was to ask you about your ability. I’ve been reading up on psychics and I keep running into the same information. That’s why I asked you if you’d had your gift all your life. I want to know when it started.”
Theresa’s eyes widened and she looked to Remy. Her breathing sped up. His words chilled her to her very soul. Remy reached across the table, clasped her hand and gave it a quick squeeze.
“All the experts I’ve read state when a psychic gift came on later in life, usually around adolescence, it was triggered by a trauma in the psychic’s life.”
Stepping forward, Max stood in front of Theresa and tilted her chin up with one finger, meeting her eyes. “If we’re going to work together, you’ve got to trust me. What happened to you? What’s your secret?”
Chapter Ten
Theresa stared at Max, trying to gauge how much she should tell him. Remy sat across from her and vigorously shook his head, his intent clear, not wanting her to dredge up her hurtful past.
“Remy, go home. I need to talk to Max.”
“Hell, no. He doesn’t need to know a damn thing. It’s none of his business,” he shot back.
Remy glared at his brother, his gaze filled with anger at Max for forcing the issue.
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