by Pandora Pine
“Holy God, Ronan. Maybe we need to start calling you the ghost whisperer.” Carson started to laugh.
“What are you talking about?” Ronan looked up at the Craig brothers who were laughing and waving at something, someone, behind him.
“Hi, Mom!” Carson said.
Ronan turned around. “Oh, so you were reaching out for your Mimi, baby girl. Is that it?”
Bertha squealed holding out both arms. Neither of her siblings flinched.
“Hello Big Bertha,” Ronan grinned at the empty space next to him.
“Christ Ronan, going with a swing then.” Cole rolled his eyes.
“This is little Bertha.” Ronan pointed to the baby. “And that’s-”
“Yeah, we get it.” Carson rolled his eyes. “Mom gets it too. It’s a good thing she likes you, Ronan.”
“What matters now isn’t if she likes me, but if she can help Tennyson.”
Ten offered up a grateful look.
The two of them were going to have a long discussion later on about why Ten thought everyone who loved him was all of a sudden going to abandon him just because he wasn’t psychic at the moment. Ronan had to believe that his gift wasn’t gone permanently, that it was like a sock that went missing in the dryer. It was bound to turn up, sooner or later, and in the place where you were least likely to find it.
“You really don’t have any of your gift, do you?” Cole shook his head. “Mom’s saying all kinds of things about Ronan’s ass and you’re not batting an eye.”
“Nice things about my ass?” Ronan found his first smile in what felt like hours.
“Christ, Ronan, you’ve got an ass like Michelangelo’s David.” Carson rolled his eyes and turned back to Tennyson. “Mom says chin up, buttercup.”
“That’s easy for her to say. She isn’t the one dealing with this mess.” Ten shook his head. “Is she mad at me, Carson?”
“Why on earth would she be mad? She loves you like a son.” Cole exchanged a surprised look with his brother.
Ten set a hand over his heart. “Because I did this. I wished my gift away.”
“Mom says that yes, you did this to yourself, but you’re also the one who can fix it.” Carson was wearing a hopeful smile.
Tennyson gave Ronan a stunned look. “How, Bertha?” Hope filled his voice.
“Are you sure you even want to turn it back on? After all, you were the one who wished it away,” Carson recited. “That’s not nice, Mom.” His smile turned into a grimace.
“Yes, I want to turn it back on. It’s been three days and I’m going crazy without it.”
“I’m only playing devil’s advocate, Ten, but it seemed to me like there were times when you were going crazy with it too.” Ronan offered a smile. Playing a silent version of devil’s advocate, there were times when it drove him a little bit crazy too.
“Mom’s nodding,” Cole chimed in. “She says you never learned how to say no, Ten. Or ‘not now’ to spirits demanding your time and energy.”
“You have a point, Bertha,” Tennyson agreed.
“Of course I do, honey.” Carson laughed. “You have to learn how to balance your personal life and your gift especially since you’ve got Ronan and a family on the way.”
“A family?” Ten looked shocked.
“Look at the way Ronan is with Bertha, Ten. I’m not psychic and I can see there’s a family in your not too distant future,” Truman chimed in.
Ronan pressed a tender kiss to the infant’s forehead. The baby, for her part was still enamored with the spirit of her grandmother. She was cooing and reaching out her tiny hands. “Is she going to have your talents, Bertha? Or is this just the gift all babies are born with?” Ronan asked with awe in his voice.
“Damn if that boy doesn’t listen to you, Tennyson,” Cole recited. “I’m not sure if Carson and Truman want to know the truth or be surprised.” Cole laughed. “I don’t remember Mom being this cheeky with us.”
“Saucy, more like,” Carson agreed. “What do you think, Tru? Do you want to know or be surprised?”
Truman tilted his head and studied his infant daughter. “If we’d been blessed with just one little angel, then I’d say let’s be surprised, but since we’ve got three, I’d say there are going to be enough surprises in our future. Let’s hear this one.”
“Oh, Christ,” Carson buried his face in his hands.
“What? All three have the gift, don’t they?” Truman asked. “I knew it.”
Carson looked up from his hands and nodded. “Brian and Stephanie will only have a touch of it, but Bertha will be the true talent.”
“Like grandmother like granddaughter, huh beautiful?” Ronan cooed.
“As fascinating as this is,” Tennyson shot Ronan a stunned look at the way he was loving on the baby. “Can we please get back to me?” His voice had taken on a higher pitch again.
“Oh, honey, your gift isn’t gone. It’s just blocked. You missed out on so much of your own life by helping others. Now it’s time to help yourself. You get to come first. So does Ronan and your relationship,” Carson repeated.
Tennyson took a deep breath. “How do I unblock it?”
“Jesus Christ, Mom. Seriously?” Carson grimaced.
“What, seriously?” Ten sounded alarmed. “What did she say?”
Carson wore a guilty look. “Ah, she said, ‘let’s talk about that another time…’ Then she mentioned that you need to have your kundalini re-aligned.”
“Oh! My! God!” Truman burst out laughing.
“Does he need his aura scrubbed too?” Ronan was laughing now. “Shit, isn’t there a colorful rock to fix this?” Ronan couldn’t help remembering the rainbow-colored fluorite crystals Tennyson kept handing him when they first met to help control his anxiety and stress when they were working on the Michael Frye case together.
“Not funny, O’Mara,” Ten hissed.
“The point Mom is trying to make is,” Cole said, “do something kind for yourself. Get a massage or a facial.” Cole snorted. “Not that kind of facial, Ronan.”
Tennyson got up from the couch, his hands shaking. “Okay, so Bertha says my gift isn’t gone, just blocked and her only advice for unblocking it is a fucking massage?” Ten’s voice was bordering on hysteria.
Ronan quickly handed Bertha to Truman and grabbed Ten’s shoulders in his hands. “Look at me, Ten.” When Tennyson’s scared, dark eyes met his own, Ronan smiled at him. “I think what Bertha is saying is that you need to slow down a bit and relax.”
Tennyson opened his mouth, but Ronan kissed him to keep him quiet.
“You’re not going to lose your job at the Magick shop. You’re not going to lose your job with the BPD and you’re sure as fuck not going to lose me. Understood?” As Ronan spoke, he could see the fear slowly receding from Ten’s eyes. Everything was going to be okay, but fuck if he knew just how yet.
Ten nodded.
“Good. Now, how about we call out for lunch? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” Ronan pressed a gentle kiss to Tennyson’s lips.
“Sounds great,” Carson agreed. “And thanks for paying.”
“What? Why the hell am I paying?” Ronan looked around the room.
“Swear jar, my friend.” Truman laughed. “You wracked up enough today to buy prime rib and lobster tails, but I’ll settle for a chicken kabob salad with pita bread.”
“Fine,” Ronan agreed. It was the least he could do for his friends offering Tennyson a little bit of hope.
9
Tennyson
Tennyson was waiting in the lobby of the Driftwood Day Spa in downtown Swampscott, Massachusetts for his massage appointment to begin. He still thought this idea was bordering on ridiculous, but he was willing to try anything to get his gift back.
Ordinarily, he would have gone to a local Salem business, but didn’t want to risk anyone recognizing him and asking if their grandmother was proud of them or where their long-dead father hid his gold pocket watch.
Af
ter spending the rest of the day with Carson and Truman’s cranky babies, Tennyson had decided a relaxing massage might just be the thing he needed. He and Ronan had spent an hour online researching reputable massage parlors and the kinds of services they offered. Ronan had been afraid Ten would wind up with a happy ending if they picked a less than reputable establishment.
All Ten cared about was getting his gift back. It was obvious by now, with all the sex he and Ronan had been having, that a happy ending wasn’t going to bring his psychic powers back to him.
Once his 10am appointment was booked for the next morning, he and Ronan had spent the rest of the night relaxing with Mindhunter on Netflix. Ronan had loved every second of the drama chronicling the infancy of the FBI’s profiler program, while Tennyson couldn’t help wondering what happened to the less crazy, singing versions Jonathan Groff from Glee and Hamilton.
“Tennyson Grimm?” an Amazonian, blond woman asked.
“Hi, that’s me,” Ten answered, standing up from his seat in the waiting room. Christ, this girl could snap him in two like a twig.
“I’m Gretchen von Muller. I’ll be you massage therapist today. I have it down that we’re doing a deep tissue massage, followed by some hot stone work.”
If he survived… “Yes,” Ten agreed. He found himself wishing now that he’d agreed to let Ronan come with him. Instead, he was over at Hope by the Sea, spending time with Fitzgibbon’s son, Greeley.
Gretchen led Tennyson into a small room with a massage table which was dimly lit and scented with what Ten thought was lavender and vanilla. He’d been asked in his intake form what his favorite essential oils were and he’d written down lavender, orange, rose, and sandalwood. Soft music with chimes played.
“Undress to your shorts and lay facedown on the table. I’ll be back in a few minutes and we’ll get started. Do you have any questions, Tennyson?”
Is it too late to back out? “No, thank you. I’m all set.” At least his voice wasn’t shaking.
Gretchen nodded and shut the door behind her.
Ten quickly stripped down to his black boxer briefs and folded his clothes, setting them on a green floral chair in the corner. Taking a few deep breaths, he hopped up on the massage table and arranged himself with his face in the padded cut out. “Okay, Bertha. If you can hear me, here I am. I’m sure that if I could hear you, you’d tell me to just relax and enjoy this, right? Take this hour for myself and let go of everything I’m worrying about like the shop, and the Owens case, and Ronan.” Tennyson let out a rushed breath. “If that’s what I’m supposed to be letting go of, then how come it’s all I can think about?”
A light knock on the door interrupted Tennyson running monologue between himself and Bertha. “Come in,” he said in a voice that he hoped didn’t sound too distracted.
“You are ready to begin. Good.” Gretchen cracked her knuckles.
Ten bit his lip so he wouldn’t burst out laughing. Christ, he bet she could crack walnuts open with her bare hands.
“I am using a nice rose-scented oil for you. If you are uncomfortable or there is an area you want me to keep working on, let me know, okay?”
“Okay,” Ten agreed. He liked the way the warm oil felt when it touched his skin. The light scent reached his nose a second later. He took a deep breath and actually felt himself start to relax. Gretchen’s hands were gentle as they started to rub the oil into his back and neck. He could almost fall asleep if this pace kept up.
Maybe he’d mention this to Ronan. Massaging each other might be a nice way for the two of them to connect without the bone-jarring, up against the counter sex of the other night. Not that there was anything wrong with that.
While Gretchen worked his muscles, Tennyson worked on slowing his mind down. At first, he’d been upset at Bertha’s tone yesterday, but after a bit of thought, he realized she was making sense. In all of the years Ten had been working with his gift and the dead, he’d never once taken time out for himself. Before his little tantrum in Maine, he’d never asked any spirit to leave him in peace for a while so that he could live his own life.
Granted, the way that he’d gone about asking for his own space was a bit harsh, to say the least, but he could be more gracious about doing that in the future if he could figure out how to get his gift back.
“You are very tense, Tennyson. What do you do for work?” Gretchen asked.
Ten winced, both from the question and from the way she was digging into his left shoulder. “I work with the public,” he said vaguely, hoping that would be enough to satisfy her.
“Oh, I hear you. People with their different personalities can certainly be a handful at times. Maybe you could try a visualization exercise?” Gretchen suggested as she dug her fingers into Ten’s neck.
“What’s that?” The only thing Ten could visualize right now was being able to get up and walking out of this torture chamber alive.
“Okay, well, picture your favorite place, like a tropical beach or a snowed-in cabin. My favorite thing to picture is this beach I visited in Maui a few years ago. There were palm trees all over the beach and hammocks strung up between them.”
Oddly enough, Tennyson could see the beach in his mind. He could even imagine himself lying in one of the hammocks. “Go on,” he encouraged.
“I had gotten a Pina colada from the bar. It was in one of those tiki idol cups with a lid and straw that was kept in the freezer, so it was icy cold in my hand. I had one arm behind my head and the cup in my free hand. The warm breezes off the Pacific danced over my skin and helped the hammock sway a bit. I could feel the sun’s warm rays on parts of my skin where it filtered through the palm fronds, which were swishing in the breeze, while the waves crashed against the whitish-pink sands, and gulls cried from far off.”
Damn, Ten would swear he could see and feel all of those things. It was as if the tension and stress melted away, like a snow drift on an eighty-degree day. He could almost taste the tangy sweetness of the Pina colada.
“I’m going to start placing the stones in a few minutes. You just relax.” Gretchen’s voice was soothing.
Ten mumbled something. He was so focused on that beach in Maui, he was barely aware of what she said. Aside from the little trip to Maine, he hadn’t ever been on vacation. His parents used to send him to vacation bible study when he was a kid, but that could never really qualify as being on vacation. It was held at the Union Chapel Baptist Church and his mom picked him up every day at 3:30pm. The only exception was jamboree weekend when there was a slumber party with a bonfire out behind the church.
His mind expanded the visualization to being able to see other happy tourists walking hand in hand on the pink sand. There were kids splashing around in the waves and beachcombers picking up shells. Why hadn’t Tennyson ever done this before in real life? New England winters were brutal. There were mountains of snow, slick ice, and wind chills that felt like they would steal the very breath from your lungs and flay the flesh from your face.
“Here are the stones,” Gretchen half-whispered.
Tennyson sighed happily as the warm rocks were placed on his spine. He almost laughed out loud when he remembered Ronan’s asking if there was a rock that could fix him. As he sank further into a state of pure relaxation, he’d say the answer to the question was yes.
10
Ronan
The windows of the Mustang were rolled down and Tennyson was singing Like A Virgin at the top of his lungs. He was surprisingly on key and Ronan’s dick was so damn hard, he was expecting it to burst through the zipper of his dress pants at any second.
The were driving over the Sagamore Bridge on Route 3 South. The bridge was the official entry onto Cape Cod. The Cape Cod Canal was beneath them and the picturesque town of Sandwich, Massachusetts lay ahead.
Tennyson had been in high spirits since he’d gotten back from his massage appointment yesterday. His mood had been further buoyed when Ronan had told him they were off to the Cape in the morning to speak with Ma
xine and Hope Owens. Ten had never been to the Cape before and he insisted they pack a bag and spend the night.
Ronan had to admit he’d never been to the Cape either, which was odd considering he was a life-long Massachusetts resident. Money had been tight growing up. The closest he and his mother ever got to taking a vacation was their annual visit to the Hyde Park Zoo when it had a free admission day on the Fourth of July.
“Are we almost there?” Ten asked, turning down the radio.
“It’s another half an hour or so to Hyannis.” Ronan couldn’t help grinning at Tennyson. His curly hair was pulled back into a pom-pom of sorts and Ten was smiling. After his meltdown a few days back, Ronan had wondered if Tennyson would ever smile again.
“I know we’re here to work, but I can’t wait for you to see our hotel and meet the guys who run it.” Tennyson rubbed his hands together with obvious glee.
Ten had been secretive about where they were staying. If it were up to him, he would have booked some cheap budget inn and that would have been the end of it. “What’s so special about this place?”
Reaching over, Ten set his hand high up on Ronan’s thigh and pressed a kiss against his neck. “It’s run by four gay friends who’ve known each other since high school. Carson and Truman got married there.”
Christ, Ronan knew Tennyson said something, but all he and his rock-hard dick could concentrate on was the way his lover’s hand was slowly sliding higher up his leg. “Four gay friends?” Yeah, that’s what Ten was saying.
“The rooms are named after famous pirates. I booked us the Captain Kidd Room. It faces out over the ocean.” Ten started nibbling on his ear.
“Keep it up and I’m gonna come in my pants, Ten,” Ronan gritted out between clenched teeth.
Ten sighed and pulled back. “That would be awful, having dried come on your stomach while we interview those two old hags.”
Ronan snorted. “Yeah, if it were dark out you could finish your Daddy off with those sinful lips of yours, you bad boy.”