by Pandora Pine
Cole set a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “After the vision ended. He fell to the floor and when he woke up, he asked me to grab my sketch pad. I drew this.” Cole flipped over the drawing.
“Oh my God!” Cassie clutched Truman’s arm.
“Do you know who that is, Truman?” Carson asked.
Truman nodded. “It’s Mike Davenport. It’s the guy I fired on December 1st.”
Carson relaxed back into his seat. At least Truman believed him. Maybe now he had a chance to save his soulmate's life.
30
Truman
Even though he was seeing the drawing with his own eyes, none of this made sense. Visions. A sketch of a man he fired. Carson knowing what the lobby of his office building looked like. His dead body lying on that very floor. His head was spinning and he couldn’t make sense of any of this.
“You said there was another vision?” Cassie asked. She was still clutching Truman’s arm. She looked pretty shaken by the drawing of Mike Davenport.
Carson nodded. “My mother used to tell us the future was fluid. That it changed when other influences acted upon it. Any moment can be a new start, she’d tell me. After Truman and I fell in love and said those words out loud, I hoped that was enough to change his future. So I tried the ball again.” Carson angled his chin toward the crystal ball but made no move to touch it. His blue eyes glittered with unshed tears.
“What happened?” Cassie asked.
“I watched Truman die for the third time, only this time I was the shooter.” Carson’s voice was barely above a whisper. It was dead-silent in the room. “I heard a crack of what I thought was thunder, but it turned out to be the gunshot. I saw the bullet strike his chest. I saw the crimson bloom through his shirt. I saw him fall.” Carson’s eyes looked unfocused and blurry with tears. They started falling down his face.
“All I could feel was rage. It was in every cell of my body. It burned white-hot like no anger I’ve ever felt in my life. Once Truman fell and the pool of blood started to spread around him, I felt this bone-deep satisfaction. An eye for an eye is how the feeling read, like he’d done what he’d come there to do. Then I was tackled to the ground and the vision ended.” Carson looked up at Truman. “I’ve never been angry at my mother in my entire life, Truman. Not when she brought Cole home from the hospital or when she kicked my dad out. Not even when she died. But I was mad at her that night. I was angry that I couldn’t see a vision of you where you weren’t lying dead in a pool of your own blood. I begged her to see our lives if I succeeded.”
“Succeeded?” Truman didn’t recognize his own voice.
“If I managed to somehow save you from the gunman’s bullet.” Carson shook his head. “So I touched the ball again, but nothing happened.”
Truman snorted and rolled his eyes. Of course nothing happened because this was all a bunch of bullshit.
“Then I smelled tomato sauce and you hugged me from behind. I opened my eyes and I could see your kitchen and could hear two toddlers squealing your name-”
“Okay, that’s it!” Truman stood up quickly knocking the chair back behind him. “I can’t take anymore of this.”
Carson gasped and tears started streaking down his face.
Cole reached out for his brother, pulling him into his arms.
Truman could see Cole whispering to him, but couldn’t make out the words. Truth be told, he didn’t want to make out the words. "So that's it" Truman demanded. "That's the whole story?"
Carson pulled back from Cole. He wiped his eyes and nodded. "Yeah, that's it. I lied to you about working at the shoe company and kept the visions and what I really do for a living a secret, but everything else is the truth. I love you, Truman. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I truly believe my mother sent me that first vision because you're my soulmate."
"Soulmate?" Truman scoffed. "You lied to me. Deceived me. Stalked me. Lied to me. Fucked me. Staked me out and lied to me and I'm your soulmate?" He laughed. "Well fuck, Carson! If this is love, I'd hate to see how you treat someone you hate."
"Now hold on a minute, Truman." Cole stood up. He was an inch or two taller than Truman.
"It’s okay, Cole. Truman has every right to be angry at me,” Carson said quietly.
"Oh, do I, Carson? Thanks for that."
"All that matters here is you surviving, Truman. I set out to save your life, and love me or hate me, that's all that matters right now. You said that you need that Christmas bonus to pay an extra mortgage payment on your house? Tell me the amount and I'll write you a check now." Carson dashed out of the room. He came back in a second later carrying a checkbook.
"We can't afford that, Carson," Cole whispered.
"I'll get a job working nights at the twenty-four hour Walgreens over on Market Street. I love him, Cole. Even if he hates me. I've lived with the vision of his dead eyes in my mind for weeks now. If that vision becomes a reality, I won't survive it."
"Oh for God’s sake," Truman scoffed. "You said it yourself that you’re a fake psychic. Now you expect me to believe this isn't some huge put up job? How the hell do I know you weren't stalking me from the beginning? You said your father was a thief, maybe you are too. Maybe you were looking for a gullible man who was an easy mark."
"Jesus, Truman, no! For the last time, I was not stalking you! I love you." Carson took a step forward, stumbling before he caught his balance again.
"I don't believe you. I don't believe any of this." Truman meant every word. The man standing in front of him couldn’t be his soulmate. He was a total stranger.
"Tru, how do you explain Carson knowing about the marble floor in our lobby, or about that ridiculous Christmas tie you wear every year or about Mike Davenport?"
"Jesus, Cassie, these people are professionals. There must be pictures of last year's Christmas party all over the internet. Pictures of me in that tie. Pictures of the lobby at Gemtronics. Let's go. I can't stay here one more minute." Truman strode toward the front door.
"Please don't go to the party!" Carson cried out. "Truman, please!'
Truman heard every pained word Carson shouted, but it was too late. He wasn't turning back.
31
Carson
Carson collapsed back into his seat the minute the shop door slammed behind Truman. Cole sat down next to him. Neither of them moved. Neither brother said a word.
He could still smell Truman's light cologne and knew it would be for the last time. Carson didn't need to be a real psychic to know he'd blown it. He'd been given one job: save Truman's life, and he'd failed. "He's going to the party. It's like when you tell a kid not to touch a hot stove and they do it just to spite you. Only he's not gonna get burned, Cole. He's going to die."
"Does this mean you're giving up?" Cole’s dark eyes focused on his older brother.
"Realistically, what are my options? Show up at the party uninvited? Wait in the parking lot for this Davenport guy and confront him myself? Call the cops and sound like a crackpot? What if Truman files a restraining order against me?" Carson sighed.
"Our options are limited," Cole agreed.
"Our options?"
"You're my brother, Carson. You know I'm in this with you all the way."
"I know." Carson felt the tears starting again. He was a mess, but now wasn't the time to give in to the tears and let them fall.
"Touch the ball."
"What?" Cole had lost his mind. The last thing he wanted to do was touch the ball again. What if things had gone from bad to worse? What if someone else besides Truman died now? What if Cassie tried to talk the gunman down and he shot her too? According to Truman, she was in the room when Davenport was fired.
"Maybe this fight changed things? Cassie believed you. I could see it in her eyes. She was scared for Truman and they are obviously close. She might be able to talk him out of going to the party.” Cole sounded hopeful.
"I'm scared, Cole."
"I'm right here, brother."
"You
always have been." Carson held a shaking hand out and touched the crystal ball. The faint rumble of thunder sounded in his ears and then there was nothing. There was no sound, no light, no smell. He was about to pull his hand off the cool glass when an image swam into view.
He could see a swirl of red and white lights and the wail of sirens. Voices swam up to him calling out like in a medical drama on television before he was looking at his brother again.
"What happened?" Cole's look was anxious.
"I don't know. I could hear sirens and see flashing lights. Then I could hear paramedics or maybe doctors shouting fast-talk like you hear on television. I don't know who the patient was. I don't even know if this had anything to do with Truman. I could be on to my next case, like a weird psychic version of Mary Poppins." Carson laughed ruefully.
“He’ll come around.”
“I don’t know if he will.” Carson had been watching Truman closely the entire time he’d been talking. He’d seen the play of emotions in his eyes. Anger. Fear. Disbelief. Hate. “All I wanted to do was save his life. I didn’t go into this planning on falling in love with him.”
“I know you didn’t, but Mom or God or fate had other plans.” Cole pulled Carson in for a hug. “We still don’t know how this story is supposed to end.
Carson held on tight and prayed for Truman.
32
Truman
The car ride back to Truman’s house was quiet. Cassie hadn’t even turned on the car radio. She pulled into an empty parking spot in front of his house and hopped out of the car. He hadn’t been expecting that. He’d ruined her fun day out at the psychic shop. The last thing he expected was for her to be in the mood to baby him.
“Come on! Out!” Cassie’s voice was tight. Her anger barely restrained.
Okay, maybe babying him wasn’t on her top ten list of things to do this afternoon. Truman climbed out of the car and fished his keys out of his pocket. He wasn’t sure if Cassie was coming into the house with him or if she was going to get back in the car and speed off. If it was the latter, he wouldn’t blame her at all. If she came into the house with him, he’d have to hide the cutlery. She looked fit to be tied.
He trudged up the front stairs. Sadie was barking for him in front of the door. The little dog was going to be disappointed to see Carson wasn’t with him.
Where had that come from? Sadie was going to have to get used to not having him around anymore. As far as he was concerned, Carson Craig and his crazy, stalking ass were out of his life forever.
“Hello, Princess. Daddy’s home.” He turned to look behind him and saw Cassie on the stairs. Auntie Cass is here too.” He stepped into the hallway and toed out of his boots.
Cassie took off her coat before bending down to scoop Sadie into her arms. “Hello sweetums. I could sure use some love.”
Truman walked past her into the living room and sank down into the couch, his arm slung over his eyes to protect them from the light. He had one hell of a headache brewing.
“Oh good. You’re going to die in six days and you’re lying down on the couch. Good strategy, Tru.” Cassie carried the dog into the kitchen. Truman could hear her rummaging around.
“Cassie, what are you doing?” Truman called from the couch. She still sounded pissed. He was sort of scared to walk into the kitchen and confront her anger. He was half-convinced he deserved it.
Against his better judgment, Truman hauled himself off the couch and into the kitchen. His best friend was making tea. As far as he knew, tea never actually made anyone feel better, but if Cassie wanted to make it, he’d sit and drink it.
“I’m making tea and trying to figure out how to get you to listen to reason.” She added a tea bag to each of their mugs before grabbing the steaming kettle off the stove and pouring the water into their cups.
“Reason? Is that what we sat and listened to?” Truman’s head was still spinning over the story Carson told them.
“Truman, three hours ago you were so in love with this man that you were going to propose to him. Yes, he lied to you about his job and how you met, but Jesus, we’re talking about your life here. If you want to be mad at him, be mad at him, but at least be alive to be mad at him!”
“That made no sense.” Truman dunked his tea bag, knowing full well he was supposed to let the peppermint tea steep.
“What are you really upset about here?” Cassie blew out a frustrated breath.
That was a fair question. What was he really mad about? Carson hadn’t cheated on him. Truman was in his right mind enough to have believed that part of the cockamamie story Carson had spun for him this morning.
“Are you mad at Carson for lying or are you scared about the visions and what he saw?”
Truman looked up at Cassie. His best friend had tears glittering in her eyes. “You’re scared.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes, I’m scared, you idiot! You know I love you like a brother. I was angry at first too, Tru. I was mad that Carson deceived me and took my money when I was in his store last year, but then he said his mother died a year ago. It’s nine days until Christmas, Truman and his mother died about a year ago, so that boy was just trying to live out his mother’s dying wish by keeping their family business open when he read me last year. I can’t be angry at him for that. Then, I was angry at him for stalking you, like you said, but then I thought about that too. Carson didn’t know you from Adam, but he tried to find you so he could save your life.”
“Jesus, Cassie, I-”
She held a hand up to stop him. “I’m not finished. Think about how terrified he must have been to have that first vision. To see a man get shot and die in front of him. How brave was it of him to set off to try to find you. How much braver was it to meet you and befriend you? Then he fell in love with you knowing he could lose you! Or knowing what happened today was a very real possibility. Not to mention that admitting how he earns a living could ruin him if you breathe a word of it. He risked everything to find you and love you, Truman.”
“I risked a lot too.” Truman knew he sounded bitchy, but Carson shouldn’t get all the credit here.
“I know you did, sweetheart. Falling in love is always a risk.”
“What if this vision thing is all a bunch of bullshit? What if he made it all up?” Truman was serious. He wasn’t asking this question out of spite. What if Carson made it all up?
“We both saw the same thing today. We saw a man in anguish. Granted, you know him better than I do, but he looked like a man on the edge, desperate to save you from something awful.”
“Or he was desperate to save his mark.”
Cassie deflated right before his eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me, Truman? That’s the line you’re going with? You told me every time you went out, Carson paid. If he was trying to take advantage of you, he would have let you pay. Christ, he offered to write you a check today for your Christmas bonus so that you wouldn’t go to that party. His brother’s eyeballs almost popped out of his head. They obviously couldn’t afford that, but he was willing to do it to save you.” Cassie shook her head and dumped her tea down the drain. “I have to go. I can’t sit here and listen to you talk like this. Six days, Truman. You’ve got six days to come to your senses and save yourself. I can’t do it. Carson sure as hell couldn’t. All you’ve got left is yourself.”
33
Carson
It hadn’t been easy, but Carson had managed to pull himself back together to get through the rest of his readings on Saturday. With it being this close to Christmas, he’d been booked solid with readings.
With the shop being closed on Sunday, he’d spent the entire day in bed. It was supposed to have been the day he met Truman’s family for the first time. He couldn’t help wondering what excuse Truman had given them for his absence, if Truman had gone to dinner with his family at all.
He’d had his phone in his hand a dozen times over the course of the weekend, but had no idea what he’d say to Truman. Should he apologize again? Sh
ould he ask to see Truman so they could talk one-on-one? Should he just send his love?
Carson had no doubt that his now ex-boyfriend still loved him. Feelings that strong don’t just evaporate like a puddle on a sunny afternoon.
He felt lost for so many reasons. He’d meant what he said yesterday that it didn’t matter if he and Truman never got back together. All that mattered was that the gunman was stopped and that Truman was okay.
Rolling over in bed, he saw it was almost 9am. Another Monday. The last thing he wanted to do was go open the shop, but it was December 18th and Christmas was his busiest time of year. He had three readings scheduled today and now that school was over for the semester, Cole would be working full-time with him.
His brother was making pancakes when he stumbled into the kitchen after a quick shower. “What’s all this?”
“Couldn’t sleep, so I made us pancakes. You didn’t really eat much this weekend.” Cole hugged him.
“Yeah, well, when the love of your life hates you, and oh, by the way is gonna die in a few days, it doesn’t exactly inspire me to want to eat.” Carson rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be like that, but…”
“I hear you,” Cole sighed. “Did you come up with any new ideas to get Truman to listen to you?”
“I thought maybe I’d reach out to Cassie. Maybe I’ll call her at the office today.” It was obvious how close the two of them were. Cassie was Carson’s last best hope to save Truman’s life. Before she’d left the store Monday, they’d exchanged cell phone numbers. “My only other option is to kidnap him.”
“That’s not a bad idea you know,” Cole said thoughtfully.
“Jesus, Cole! I was kidding.” He wasn’t. Not really. It was the last, best option Carson had.
“Desperate times call for desperate measures. I mean we’re talking about his life. If it were just a break up, you could live with that, but he’s going to die, Carson. You’ve seen it. I’ve seen what those visions have done to you. Even if I weren’t your brother I could see that you were telling the truth even though Truman couldn’t.”