Oracle: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Series (A Diana Hawthorne Supernatural Mystery Book 1) Carissa Andrews (nonfiction book recommendations TXT) 📖

“I’m so sorry, Aiden. That must have been hard for you.”

“Yeah, it was. A lot of people weren’t sure this was the right path—going with Blake, you know? Right away I knew my life was never gonna be the same. But Blake, man, he made sure things stayed as stable and recognizable as possible for me. I don’t know what I’d do without him. He’s really given up a lot over the years.”

“He sounds like a good guy,” I say, flicking my eyebrows in recognition.

“The best. I know it sounds all cliche and stuff, but he’s my best friend.”

“Blake was saying you lived in Minnesota before you came here. Was that weird for you?”

“Nah, it was pretty awesome. I wanted to go to the University here, and Blake up and moved us so I could make it happen.”

“Do you miss Minnesota?”

“Not even a little bit. It’s damn cold there,” he chuckles.

“I suppose it would be. I mean, it’s practically the North Pole.”

“You’re not kidding. Especially in the winter.”

I shake my head. I lived in Minnesota once—pretty lakes. But seven months of cold is enough to drive a person batty. One thing you learn when you’ve been around as long as I have—don’t live where the air hurts your face. Gorgeous lakes or not.

“Blake should be back soon. He usually runs errands while I’m in school, but tries to be back about the same time I am,” Aiden says, dumping coffee beans into the coffee maker and flipping the switch on.

The room fills with the sounds of beans grinding, then subsides to the percolating noises I’m used to.

“I gotta get me one of those fancy coffee pots. I still grind my beans by hand,” I say, chuckling.

“Hardcore.”

“Yeah, compared to that crazy thing,” I say pointing.

The room begins to fill with the smells of coffee, warmth, and kindred spirits. I’d forgotten how easy it can be to talk with people sometimes. Not everyone is as laid back as Aiden and Blake.

“So, you go to school around here?” Aiden asks.

“Me?”

My hand flies to my chest as I try to digest the question. I forget sometimes how young I still look—despite my super advanced age.

“Yeah, you’re what? Twenty-five or something? I suppose you don’t need to, with your line of work. No offense.”

I run my hand along the back of my neck.

“Uh, yeah. No college necessary.”

He nods, handing me the first cup of coffee.

“You take cream or sugar or anything?”

“All of the above,” I nod.

I grab hold of the handle, pulling it in tight to me so I can inhale the aroma even more. There’s something magical about the scent of coffee. Even after all this time, I don’t quite know what it is. Sure, the caffeine buzz is nice, but it’s deeper than that.

Aiden takes out the milk and sugar and hands them over to me, along with a spoon. The front door creaks open, and my heart kicks things up a notch.

“We’re in here,” Aiden calls out, continuing to work on his nachos.

There’s some scuttling in the hallway, but Blake calls back, “Who’s we?”

He enters the kitchen, bags in hand from his grocery shopping excursion. The smile on his face fades as his lips form an “o.”

“Diana—” he says, recovering.

I flit my eyes from him to Aiden and back again. Aiden continues to cook, oblivious to the awkwardness permeating the room.

“Hey Blake,” I say, trying to force my lips into a genuine smile.

“What—I mean, not that it’s not great to see you—but what are you doing here?”

“I came to talk to you. Do you have a second?” I say, hopping off the bar stool.

Blake strides quickly to the counter, placing the bags down.

“Aiden, would you mind putting this stuff away when you get a second?” he asks.

“Sure thing.”

“Great. Uh—Diana, do you want to follow me to the study?”

I nod, sweeping my hand out to suggest he lead the way.

Blake bites his lower lip and takes the lead.

We walk down the narrow hallway, past the room with all the computers and gadgets, and into a large study on the opposite end. Books adorn the walls in floor to ceiling shelves spanning the entire room. By far, it’s the most decorated room I’ve seen thus far.

I walk up to the shelves, my fingertips grazing the spines.

“You like books, huh?”

Blake nods, his eyebrows raising up quickly.

“You could say that, I guess.”

“Hmmm.”

“Hmmm?” he asks, standing in the doorway.

“Look, I didn’t mean to upset you the last time we talked. I forget sometimes to dial down what I know. I guess, I thought you could handle more than you could,” I say, leaving the books and walking back to him.

Blake’s face flashes between expressions quickly, as if he’s fighting internally with himself.

“Look, you just caught me off guard. I’ve had some time to work through it now, though. So don’t worry.”

I let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, good.”

“I mean, once I realized you and I aren’t all that different, it all made sense.”

I blink, confused.

“I’m not following.”

“You did your homework, right? After you met me and Aiden, you what—used Detective Radish or whatever his name is to pull our records?”

“No—first of all, I’d never invade your privacy like that,” I say, indignation rising. I take a step forward, invading his personal space a bit instead.

“Come on. You can’t possibly expect me to believe you’re really psychic,” he says, making a face.

“No, not at all. I expect you to know it. Where the hell were you when we got Esther out? Did you think it was just an educated guess?”

“Educated, perhaps. Mostly, I figure it was more a lucky guess. It happens sometimes.”

“Oh my God, please.”

I roll my eyes and lick my lips. How on earth can someone be so dense? The evidence is right there in front of him, but he’s oblivious to seeing it.

Blake keeps his eyes trained on me—his intense brown eyes wide.

“You’re a moron, you know that?” I spit, pacing back and forth like a caged animal