I say, “If I were you, I wouldn’t want to touch anything, ever.”
“Why? I love it. It’s not like everything I touch tries to give me a vision. The universe is way more selective than that. Usually I have to call on my ability when I need it. It’s only now and then that it comes out of left field. And, luckily, I get a little warning before it happens.”
“Warning how?”
She shoots me a grin. “Objects tickle me when they want to show me something.”
“Like they’re tapping you on the shoulder to get your attention?”
“Exactly.”
“Did you find that your ability got…” I almost sayworse, but I think Avery would balk at the word, “…stronger as you got older?”
“Oh, yeah, definitely.” She laughs. “It didn’t even show up until I hit puberty. And then, long about eighteen, it went completely off the rails.”
“Me too!” Not the puberty thing; I was picking up strange vibes even as a kid. But nowhere near to the degree I do now.
Avery drains the last of her tea. “Some weird-ass synaptic pruning, I guess.”
“So you’re clairtangent, Aaron’s clairaudient, and I’m clairsentient.” I struggle to wrap my brain around it all. “Leo says he isn’t psychic.”
“He’s not, but he has other gifts. He saved my plant.” Avery points to a lush, trailing vine sitting on the nearest windowsill. I recognize it immediately because of its distinct, colorful pot. It looks like something you’d find at a South American open-air market.
“Was that the plant that was in your kitchen a couple of weeks ago?”
“The very same. I was gonna try giving it some sugar-water or Miracle Gro or something, but now I don’t need to.”
Slowly, I place my teacup on the coffee table, afraid that in my shock, I might spill it. “Leo was talking to it.”
“Yep. It was at death’s door, and now look at it.”
Holy shit.
I get up from the couch to take a closer look. The leaves are firm and healthy, and new yellow-green shoots peek out between the older stems. Leo hasn’t saved it, he’s resurrected it.
“He did the same thing with my chamomile.” Avery directs my attention to a leggy plant with small, white flowers. “It used to be such a fussy little bitch.”
“Wow.” I breathe.
She laughs. “I’m starting to wonder if he isn’t some kind of healer.”
A healer? My hand goes unbidden to the spot on my head where, just yesterday, I’d smacked into Leo’s chest. There’s no tenderness whatsoever.
No, it’s impossible. No one can do that. Besides, we’re talking about plants, not people. He’s aplanthealer.
I tell Avery, “He can identify every tree in the forest.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“Leo the healer,” I murmur to myself. How does he do it?Knowing what I know now, it probably has something to do with energy. The plant’s and his. I’ve felt them both—that hemlock brimming with life and Leo, who’s so calming and— “Is that why it feels so good to hug him?”
Avery fights a smirk. “I wouldn’t know.”
Oh god, did I just say that out loud? My face is on fire. “I mean… I don’t…It’s not that…”
“Hey.” She holds up a hand to stop my bumbling. “You don’t have to explain.”
“I have a boyfriend.”
