Page 15 of Witchful Thinking

Horatio rubbed the nape of his neck. “It’s really special,” he muttered.

“A house is special,” Mom said. “This house is more special than you can imagine. I saw it in a dream. I know I did.”

Horatio pressed his hand to his forehead. “You saw it in a dream? Mom, did you fall asleep watching the home and garden channel again? You’ve done that before.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Is it possessed?” Horatio asked.

“Mmm—I don’t know,” Mom said. “Maybe you can check for me.”

Was there too much saltwater in his ears, or did he mishear Mom? They’d bought him a house. His parents, Mom and Pop—Nathan and Kia Dwyer to the rest of the Grove—were two eccentric and well-meaning, if not shortsighted, merfolk who wanted the best for their sons. He let himself look around Ad Astra. The people at the tables next to him glanced over with raised eyebrows and curious looks. Alex didn’t want to embarrass himself after being in town for less than three days. The Grove gossip mill would be buzzing about this latest Dwyer mishap.

He focused back on Mom. “Anyway, I saw it. We saw it and thought of you,” Mom said, shoulders lowered. Pop gave him a “you better fix this now” hard glare.

“We thought you’d love it,” Mom said. “Do you love it?”

“I haven’t seen it yet,” Alex said slowly. This unseen house was already derailing his plans to keep moving. He didn’t need this problem dropped on his lap, forcing him to make yet another huge decision. Why couldn’t Mom and Pop give him a gift card or blanket sweatshirt like other parents gave their children?

The familiar frustration of being a Dwyer merperson bubbled up inside him.

A tense beat stretched on at the table. Horatio stood and slapped Alex on the shoulder, motioning to the bar.

“Come on, birthday boy,” he said. “I owe you a drink. Mom. Pop. If you excuse us, we’ll right be back.”

Alex numbly got up and went to the bar with Horatio, taking a seat on a stool. The walls started to push in on him. He breathed deeply and glanced around the restaurant to ground himself. The rose-colored walls were decorated with brass mirrors and Tiffany stained glass murals. Reclaimed crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling with an opulent shine. White tablecloths covered tables arranged with fresh flowers and water glasses. The polished bar felt cool against his scales. The keys bit into his palm as he clenched them. He, like always, looked to Horatio for advice. Horatio wore a crisp white dress shirt, beat-up jeans, and polished sneakers as confidently as a businessman wore thousand-dollar suits. After flagging down the bartender, Horatio ordered them Ad Astra’s signature drink, the Stargazer. Horatio gave Alex a stiff smile.

“Happy birthday,” Horatio sang weakly off-key.

Alex peered at Horatio. “Please tell me they didn’t buy me anything else. I can’t handle walking in my brand-new house and finding a unicorn.”

“Hey, unicorns are useful. Their horns can fix anything,” Horatio said sagely.

Alex shook his head. “Bro, please. I can’t keep a houseplant alive. What am I going to do with a unicorn?”

Horatio straightened like a towering lighthouse scanning a far-off horizon for impending dangers. “Hold up. Take a moment. I’m joking.”

Cold realization washed within him. “They really bought it.”

Horatio nodded. “Mom and Pop do and buy whatever they want. You don’t help them; you get out of the way and pray for a generous return policy.”

“I thought Mom ordered me a seashell comforter or mother-of-pearl bed set. What am I going to do with a house?” Alex looked to his brother.

“Live in it,” Horatio said.

“I’m not in the mood for jokes.” Rising panic washed over him. They bought him a whole-ass house. Yeah, right. He’d probably lose his house like people lost expensive earbuds on the train. Life taught him to always pack what he could carry. He never wanted to get weighed down with anything that didn’t matter. How much is the mortgage? I need insurance. Where do you get house insurance?

Alex took a deep breath and willed the panic rising with him to calm down.

Horatio’s expression softened. He touched Alex’s arm and patted it. Some of the panic that filled him ebbed away.

“Check out the house first before you freak out,” Horatio suggested. “You might just like it—or at least not hate it.”

“You said the same thing to me when you tricked me into eating broccoli.” Alex eyed him. Back in kindergarten, Alex wanted nothing more than to be just like his wise fourth-grade big brother.

“It worked. You still love broccoli,” Horatio reminded him.

Small touches of humor around the mouth and near his eyes hinted at the long-gone trickster he once was. Once upon a time, Horatio would’ve played this whole dinner and gift off as a joke. He wasn’t laughing, but he’d turned thoughtful.

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