Harkham's Corner (Harkham's Series Book 3) (15 page)

“Ugh, no!” He shoved it back. “Smells god-awful, like spicy perfume.”

Amelia took a whiff. “Smells nice to me.”

“It’s not Mari. Wash it for me!”

“Okay.” Amelia chuckled. “It’s not my perfume, though, just so you know.”

“I don’t care who’s it is.” He plugged his nose.

“It means a woman had it. Does that concern you?”

“Not really. Mari says most of the women that come to Dad’s office are there just to see me. They’re not really in need of medical attention—just
horny
attention.”

Amelia’s eyes laughed hysterically as she held a steady grin and leaned toward him. “Mmhmm, I’m sure she’s right.”

“Oh, not that.” He waved a hand between his legs. “I don’t encourage anything. I don’t want that kind of attention.”

“Doesn’t matter if you do or not.” She opened up her bag. “Something’s going on with you, Adam, and I want to find out what it is.”

“I’m not worse. Well . . .” He looked at his bedroom door, then whispered, “I am, but not. You know what I mean?”

Amelia still wore her amused grin. “I do.” She nodded. “I also want to run some tests—to rule out anything medical.”

He sat up straighter. “Like what? Cancer?”

“No, not cancer. I’m not concerned about that.”

“Like what, then?”

“I’ll tell you when it’s over what I was looking for.” She raised one eyebrow at him.

He snapped his fingers. “So, I’m just supposed to hand over my blood, unaware of what you’re going to do with it?”

“Some of your hair with the roots, too, along with a cheek swab and urine,” she said.

“What the hell? This doesn’t sound scientific—it sounds psychotic.” He narrowed his eyes at her.

“You think this was my idea?” She smiled softly at him.

“B-but, you’re here, and you’re—” He exhaled in a whoosh so strong it made his spine straighten even more.

“Your father wants this done. He’s concerned about you, and as your doctor, I need to be as thorough as possible.”

He groaned.

“Do you think I could tell him no when I love him, and you, as if you’re my own son?” She stared straight into his eyes, her smile softer.

“You do?” His eyes welled up.

Where was that damn soda now? Why would it be so ridiculous? It was meant to be drunk by him. He bought it. And he was a man who owned it.

“You
are
a man, Adam. I know that. Mari says you’ve been telling her that a lot lately, and it’s worrying her.” She took a deep breath. “This test has nothing to do with you as a husband and father, or as a provider. It’s about being a son and letting your dad stop worrying. There are some things he wants to check on—that’s all.”

He blinked hard. “Did I say that out loud about being a man?”

“You did.” She sucked in her lips, studying him. When she let them go, they were whitish. Was she sucking them, worried about something? “You’re a brilliant man. I’ve always known that, but we need to know more about what’s going on. Things got better for a long time, and now they’re rocky again.”

“Stress,” he blurted.

“I’m sure you’re absolutely right—you usually are about these types of things. But your dad . . .”

He sighed, and his head wobbled a little bit. “Why not just hypnotize me instead? That seems more helpful.” He cringed. His head already pounded in warning. He hated it when she got in there and rummaged around in his memories. It was worse than the time he and Mari had to empty out her hoarder father’s house after he passed away.

“How about I do that first like you’ve suggested, and if it doesn’t help in a day or two, I come back to get some samples from you.”

He bit his tongue and kept from telling her to go to hell. He nodded instead. Seemed the nicer thing to do, even without his fucking soda.

“Why can’t I have one?”

“Have one what?” Her nose scrunched up in the middle when her brows pushed together.

His vision blurred, and he lost balance for a moment.

Where was he?

“Piano latte . . .”

Adam’s eyes ripped open wide. “Owwww!” he yelled, yet somehow it was quiet enough he knew it wouldn’t wake his kids.

Mari was hovering over him and handed him an ice pack. He put it on his head right away.

“Did you do it?” He looked at Amelia seated next to him.

“You were out quick. I’ve never seen anything like it. You agreed to let me inside your head, and then you were simply out of it without me even doing anything to put you in a trance. You were so open,” Amelia told him, her eyes gentle.

“Did it help, then?” The ice soothed his addled brain, but his legs were jumping around with nervous energy. It felt like creepy crawlies had wormed themselves inside him.

“Yes and no.” Amelia’s eyes were hiding something.

“Well, which one is it? Either it helped or it didn’t.” He ground his teeth together.

Mari’s hand was on his arm, holding him there.

Were his arms moving on their own, too? This was awful. Why was his body doing this?

Amelia’s chin angled down, and her eyes went to the floor. “You said a lot of confusing stuff—some of it even contradictory to past stuff that has to do with Thomas. I tried to get you to clarify, but it would make you weep and then lash out. You were so angry, so hurt, I didn’t want to make things worse, so I had Mari join us. She made things more peaceful for you, but you were still confusing us.”

“How did I do that when I didn’t know what I was saying?” His jaw clacked shut. This made no sense. None of it.

“You know what? Maybe you should rest first. You were at it for hours,” Mari said, then leaned over and kissed his shoulder.

He wanted to argue, but his head was a throbbing beat of endless chaos, so the best thing was to definitely rest.

A moment later he stumbled off the couch and made it onto the bed, where Button was napping.

He cozied up to his boy and fell right to sleep.

Only this time, his dream was of a bright-eyed Mari, taking him in her mouth and swallowing so much of his come, he was the biggest man that ever lived. He was all man. And his wife now knew it.

Chapter 8

Adam held a sloshing glass of water in one hand. He was trembling all over.

“I said
what
again?” He blinked, and his mouth went dry.

“You said you hate medicine and that you love music more than anything. Better than donuts, was what you said,” Amelia told him, sitting on the sofa.

She was drinking a soda.
He
was not.

Amelia wanted him to focus as much as possible.

“I doubt I’d say that. I like medicine,” he began to say, but the words seemed to stick to him like a craving for sweets that wouldn’t ever go away. When she left, he was going straight out to get some donuts and ice cream. He hadn’t eaten either of those in a while.

“I’m not making this up.” She took a small sip and set her drink down.

Why didn’t she just finish drinking it already? Why was she being so slow about it? What was this savoring all about?

It wasn’t like she’d never had soda.

His dad liked soda, too, but he liked Sprite.

“God, I don’t . . . Ugh!” He groaned and covered his face with his hands.

“You also said that Thomas was protecting you.”

“That’s what he told me recently, but I don’t know what that means.” He dropped his head back and held his breath. “He said he’d saved me. Somehow I think he’s delusional on that one.”

“You
do
know what it means. You said it was your mother, she was trying to hurt you, and your dad gave you the drugs to keep you safe.” She set the drink aside completely and lay her clasped hands on the knee of her leg crossed over the other one.

Mari sat next to Adam, stroking his back.

“How is that even possible?” Mari whispered.

“I don’t know.” He rocked a little with each pass she drew across his shoulders and spine.

“It’s complicated. Sometimes our memories have layers, so after you unearth one, a new one can surface later that reveals more truth, and it might even negate the previous one—of what you think you knew.” Harkham smiled softly at him. “It might not make sense to you now, but it might later. And the deeper we go, the easier some of these memories might come flooding back. Sometimes when you’re awake even—when you least expect it.”

“God, no! I don’t want to remember this stuff at all.” Adam reached over and gripped Mari’s leg above the knee. He cast her a look, and she returned an empathetic gaze. “And I hope it never makes sense.”

“It might not happen. The mind’s a tricky thing.” Mari leaned over and kissed his cheek, then rubbed it off.

“I like that idea better. I want to be tricky and keep stuff about Thomas hidden away.”

“But it could be what’s triggering nightmares and episodes lately. Now that he’s back in your life, it could almost make your memories explosive, fighting to get out of your subconscious.” Amelia grabbed her phone out of her bag. “Although, sometimes under duress, our memories can get distorted and twisted around, so we’ll see what else you’re able to reveal as you continue on.”

“I’m not making another appointment with you,” Adam said through a clenched jaw.

“I don’t expect you to. I’m emailing you some articles you can reference and do your own research. That way you can talk to Dustin about it yourself instead of having to go through me. You make up your own mind, and I’m sure it’ll all be great.” She tapped a few buttons on her phone and then stood up. “Adam, I’m sorry this is happening to you. I know you don’t want to deal with this since it all seems pointless right now, but it might actually be good for you to deal with it and end it all for good. The numbers might disappear completely.”

“Pfff!” He tapped Mari’s knee with his fingertips. “Why would they? They like me. I’m their home.”

“You have been—yes. But they were there for a reason. They were your stress release. Think of it this way—if someone has cancer inside them, and if you cut it out, it can’t spread anymore, right?”

He nodded.

“It can be the same way with past traumatic memories. If they’re buried, they might fester and spread, creating quirks and ticks. If they’re dealt with, then the issues can go away.” She gave him an understanding look.

It was clear she didn’t judge or think of him as inferior, but still . . . He didn’t see the need to delve knee-deep into this cesspool Thomas had created in his past.

And he kind of thought of the numbers as a barrier of sorts before he’d met Mari. They protected him from anyone getting too close and from hurting him physically or emotionally.

“Honey . . . why don’t you just do the blood work? If you don’t want to dredge up past memories—why not?” Mari leaned into him, settling her weight into his side.

It felt delicious, like a warm ray of sunshine through a window. Very nice. Way better than hideous CFLs.

“Okay.” For her, he would do it.

Dr. Harkham’s lips spread into a smile. “Good idea. We can rule out physical reasons.”

Before he knew it, she had pulled out a kit his dad had given her. This was unethical, and he knew it, but it was fine. He trusted his dad and Dr. Harkham as well.

Adam took over halfway through, even though he knew Amelia could handle it.

This was
his
problem—so
he
needed to deal with it.

He took vials of his own blood and handed them to her, along with some hair. The cheek swab went fast, and he told her he’d bring a urine sample to his dad at the office tomorrow.

She hugged his entire family and left.

“You did the right thing.” Mari held onto him, whispering her soft breath across his shoulder.

“I did it because I don’t want her to have to come back, and I’m sick of my dad worrying. I don’t like it when he does that. He’s got enough to deal with when he’s at work.” He sighed.

“It’s all gonna be fine. You’ll see.”

“Can I see you naked first?” He grinned and squeezed her in his arms.

“I thought you might ask that.” She shoved his hand up her shirt.

He groaned, took her to the ground and enjoyed what was left of his squandered sleep time.

* * *

Adam sat with Jill staring at him.

“Legos are better than dolls. Everyone knows that. How come you don’t?” She pursed her lips.

“How did I forget?” He tossed his hands up in the air. “I have no idea how that could happen.”

She built up a house without his help.

Apparently, he sucked at building a home for her aliens. They wanted a more rounded roof, not a square one.

He stood up and stretched for a minute.

“We’re not done. You should sit down,” she told him, eyeing the spot on the sofa he just vacated.