Free Hide & Seek by Aimee Laine Page B

Lexi’s in his.
    “What gifts?” she asked.
    He squeezed as she wove their fingers together.
    Marge’s smile reflected one of a child with her hand in the cookie jar and no one around to catch her—a similar look to one Tripp often sported. Though as an eleven year old, he’d stolen a candy bar, not a cookie. Worse, he’d stolen it from the first thief, Ian, who’d swiped it from the corner drug store. The one action had solidified their lifetime friendship.
    “You’ve heard of Laelaps and the Teumessian Fox? Perhaps in a bedtime tale or two?” Marge slipped a cookie from the plate.
    Tripp smiled as Lexi turned to him. “Yes, of course. The two are what created Zeus’s ultimate paradox,” he said.
    “Exactly. And since you know I know, and I know you know, let’s move on.”
    Lexi nodded, but small worry creases remained. “What does Tripp buying your house have to do with waiting for me since I was born or Zeus’s game?” Lexi’s hand flexed within his.
    “Oh, humor an old lady if you will.” She covered her eyes like a child and peeked through two fingers.
    Tripp leaned back in his chair, his hand still in Lexi’s. Her grip moved from shallow to tight.
    “Oh, but that Zeus, he had the oddest sense of humor. Screwed up a right many times but thought it was good natured, nonetheless.” Marge chuckled—a raspy, old-lady sound. “You two are players in a game as old as the world itself. Actually, everyone has a bit of it in them, but for some …” Marge shook her head. “Well, it’s a little more problematic.”
    Ian twisted toward Marge. “Now this, Grandma, I gotta hear. I’ve been telling Tripp for ages that someone, somewhere, knew more about this than him, but does he listen to me? Oh, no.”
    She smiled, wrapped an arm around his shoulders and offered a quick squeeze and a pat on his shoulder. “You’re a good friend there, Ian. I’m glad you two paired up when you did.” She snatched another cookie, broke it and offered him half.
    George grunted, reaching for his own sugary treat.
    “You each were given a fantastic gift, but together, you’re like magnets with their polarization reversed. Because of that, most like you pass their lives without ever meeting—”
    “Most?” Lexi sat up straight. “There are others?”
    “Oh, honey, shush. I’m going to explain it to you.”
    Lexi slunk back in the chair.
    “Yes, there have been others.” She paused as if to wait for Lexi’s outburst. “Every once in a while, those magnets get close enough to swirl around each other, and then something comes along that pushes them right up to each other. But still, they never touch.”
    She withdrew two round black magnets, each the size of a quarter and a centimeter thick, from her pocket and laid them on the table. As she pushed them together and let go, the force between them repelled them, though not far.
    Marge beamed. “So, you see, sometimes there’s enough interest to get close but not touch.” She pushed them forward again.
    They bounced back.
    Her wrinkly, mangled fingers picked up one from the table and flipped it. With one quick nudge, the two pieces slid together.
    “If you want this connection, you can have it.” Marge pointed to the magnets. “But, in this game, once bound, you’ll be inseparable no matter what you do.” She sandwiched her hands together.
    Ian picked up the joined magnets. His grimace, as he tried to pry them apart, intrigued Tripp enough to make his own attempt. He failed, passed them on to Lexi.
    “No luck.” Lexi dropped the conjoined magnets on the table.
    “So this is a game?” Ian would be the one to ask. “How do they start?”
    “It takes a strong will and the right timing,” Marge said.
    “It took ya damn long enough.” George popped another lemon cookie into his mouth, his wobbly jowls crunching away.
    Marge shook her head. “Don’t listen to George. He’s just impatient, is all. We thought we might get called back up before we had