Free The Counseling by Marley Gibson Page B

the world's most elaborate logarithm. God knows that would make me go goofy in six different languages.
    He takes his hands down and stares right at me with those eyes of his that seem to cut right through me. I'm expecting some sort of retort to my previous "Whatever," but all he does is ogle, unblinking. The gaze is so forceful that I can't pull away from it. I dare not blink for fear of losing this crackling union.
    In my mind's eye, I see Patrick and me ... together ... walking ... one minute we're in a heated discussion, the next a heated embrace.
    I jump back, reeling from the hallucination. That's what it's got to be. Me going stark raving bonkers. Sweat dots my forehead and my upper lip. Now I blink like there's no tomorrow. Did Patrick see that delusion too?
    As precipitously as the image appeared, it vanishes. But the tension hangs in the air, like drying laundry.
    Patrick scares the crap out of me when he shoves his sunglasses back in place and mutters, "I knew I shouldn't have taken them off. I can't deal with this." With that, he pushes out of his chair and hightails it up the basement stairs, away from everyone.
    "What was
that
all about?" Jess asks.
    Even though I'm in a roomful of psychics, I'm not telling her what just happened. "Beats the heck out of me."
    I collapse back in my chair and sigh. A long, deep one that has been building in my chest for the last fifteen minutes. I think I'm in for a whole hell of a lot more than enlightenment on this trip.
    Oliver continues with the orientation and I berate whatever spirit guides or angels are leading me on right now. I do believe the fates are pulling a dirty trick on me, having me dream about...
him.
    Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to forget the mental picture I just had of me in Patrick's arms. I try to forget about the chill bumps I get being around him. I try to forget about the zip-pity-zap when our hands touched.
    I try to forget about Patrick Lynn ... period.

Chapter Nine
    "T HAT WAS FAN-FRICKIN'-TASTIC! " Maddie exclaims as we leave the conference room shortly before noon.
    I'm still spinning from the war of wills with Patrick—who stayed gone for the rest of the morning. "What? The dowsing demonstration Heidi did?"
    "Yes! Did you see how the pendulum moved when she asked it questions? I've never seen anything like that before. Right, Erin?"
    Her sister nods profusely. "Oliver said he has some we can buy to try dowsing on our own. You should get one too, Kendall."
    I don't want to sound like a Miss Priss know-it-all. "I already have a couple. I use them when I'm ghost hunting."
    Harper chimes in, "You go ghost hunting? Doesn't that scare the crap out of you?"
    I lift my hand and wave it in the air, trying to be nonchalant. No need to get into the details of my ghostly horrors at this point. "Not any more than, say, having spirits talk to you any time they want to. You guys know how it is."
    "I suppose," Erin says. "But purposely going out and
looking
for ghosts? That seems a little wacked."
    "It's not," I say in defense of my ghost-hunting group. "We help people who have entities that are ... causing trouble." To say the least.
    "Do you do it like all those people on television?" Maddie asks. "Like with computers and meters and thermometers and stuff?"
    I nod. "Exactly."
    "That sounds like fun!" Maddie exclaims.
    Remembering the tumble down Mayor Donn Shy's front staircase thanks to a supernatural push from her resident spirit is anything but fun. The scar on my torso where my spleen was removed is anything but fun. The vivid memory of sitting in heaven with my Grandma Ethel and my cat Smokey—although it was soothing at the time—is anything but fun.
    I clear my throat to unclog the anxiety of days past. "It's work. Something you have to take seriously and responsibly."
    How can I explain to the triplets, who are just now experiencing their own awakenings, that ghost hunting isn't all fun, games, silliness, and drama, like you see on the