Pete stared at her.
“Oh, you still drop him off at his community service, but the rest of your free time isn’t spent here anymore.”
Pete opened his mouth to protest, when Jada’s words about Charlie came back to him. Okay, so maybe he and Jada had been a little wrapped up in each other lately.
“For nearly two months, Mateo had your undivided attention. Now you spend all of your free time with Jada.”
Pete moved the food around on his plate as his mind worked.
“He asked me the other day if I thought you liked her son,” Julieta continued. “I told him you said Jada’s son is a nice boy.”
She shrugged her shoulders, and an unpleasant idea suddenly occurred to him.
“Mateo is jealous of Charlie?”
“I don’t think he’s truly jealous of Charlie. Only of the time Charlie gets to spend with you. I just think he needs to know that his place in your life is permanent.”
Pete sat back and sighed, staring at his plate of uneaten food and wondering how he hadn’t seen this sooner. He looked at his mom.
“I’m not doing this very well, am I?”
Julieta propped her chin on her hand.
“Well, these aren’t normal circumstances. Legally, Mateo is my responsibility, not yours. You help us both so much, but I suppose it’s only natural that you wouldn’t feel the burden of guardianship. Of parenthood.”
Something about that statement kicked him in the gut.
“But I do feel responsible for Mateo, mamá. And I don’t like that word, burden. Mateo is not a burden. I love him just like I love you!”
“We love you too mijo.”
Pete let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. He had to fix this. He had to fix it for all of them.
“I’ll tell you what. I think you’re right about how I’ve been spending my free time lately. Maybe it’s time I brought Jada over for dinner. What do you think? I mean, I’ve been wanting to introduce you to her anyway. And Mateo could meet Charlie in a relaxed setting. We could all get to know each other.”
Julieta smiled. “Me encantaría conocer a la mujer que tiene tu corazón.”
She’d love to meet the woman who has his heart. Pete couldn’t argue with that description. Jada did have his heart, and he hoped she wanted to keep it for a good long while.
“Haré algo especial,” Julieta said. I’ll make something special.
“No, you won’t.” Pete stopped her with a raised hand. “I’ll do the cooking!”
“Oh. Una noche verdaderamente especial.” A truly special night.
Pete rolled his eyes at her sarcasm, and they laughed.
7
The next morning, Isaac stood in the galley-style kitchen sipping a cup of black coffee. He’d had another one of those dreams where the sound of a little girl screaming had him bolting awake in a cold sweat.
Memories of it lingered now, alongside thoughts of his encounter with Jeffery Schiffer — the Lullaby Killer.
He remembered the physical pain of struggling over the gun with that bastard. The images of horror that had bombarded his mind when his bare hands touched Schiffer’s; the agony of it. And he remembered the rush of relief when he let go of the gun with his hands, but took hold of it with his mind.
Those few moments still seemed so unreal.
He’d gone to see Geneviève Leroux about it the next day — to talk it through with the woman who’d become his psychic mentor. Her words about the incident still haunted him.
“Whether you like it or not, Isaac, your telekinetic powers seem to be growing. They took over instinctually when your physical body could no longer stand the pain.”
He leaned against the kitchen counter and Geneviève’s words rattled around in his head. Was she right? Had the telekinesis taken over all on its own, like she speculated? And more importantly… would it happen again?
He took another sip of the piping hot coffee and his gaze landed on the salt and pepper shakers on the opposite counter. Why did this aspect of his psychic abilities scare him so damn much?
“You will always fear this side of yourself unless you learn to master it, Isaac. Embrace it. Learn how to properly use it and control it, and it will become a source of strength.”
When she’d told him that, he’d thought she was nuts. Embrace it?
He wanted no part of it.
When it had first happened — the day he’d somehow made those cement blocks fly through the air and connect with Damien Jarvis’ head, killing him instantly — Isaac thought it had been some kind of fluke. Some kind of mistake. Some kind of hallucination.
Telekinesis was not real.
Then it happened again, with Jeffery Schiffer, and he had no choice but to accept the fact that it wasn’t a hallucination at all.
He zeroed in on the salt shaker, concentrating on it with a single-minded focus. Placing the mug of coffee in his left hand, he extended his right hand out toward the salt shaker.
“The left hand is used to glean information, Isaac. The right hand is used to impart affirmations, or to expel power.”
Another nugget of Geneviève’s wisdom rolled through his mind as he focused on the salt shaker.
The salt slid, ever so slightly, to the left.
Isaac’s heart skidded to a stop.
He pushed a breath through his lips and narrowed his eyes, concentrating harder.
The shaker wobbled and jerked.
It hopped to the left.
The toast he’d forgotten he’d started, shot up with a pop.
Isaac jumped.
Sidney breezed into the kitchen.
“Mmm. Thanks for pouring the coffee and fixing the toast this morning. I’m sorry we ran out of time for a proper breakfast.”
Isaac choked on his embarrassment and coughed it away. He grinned at her hoping she hadn’t noticed.
“I’m not.”
Sidney gave him an almost bashful smile that he adored.
She sidestepped
