“I didn’t want to make you worry. And it didn’t seem like a big deal.” I sniff and pull away. “At least, it didn’t until today. That was the worst letter by far.”
He hums in agreement. “Okay, so why would you think we’re breaking up after everything we did and talked about today?”
“It’s stupid.”
“Nothing about you is stupid. Tell me why you thought that.”
I shake my head. He’s going to think I’m even more ridiculous than he already does. “I keep getting certain cards in my readings.”
He blinks several times. Poor logical, linear Logan. “Come again?”
I roll to the side and grab the velvet bag I’d laid on the bed and pull out my tarot journal and deck of cards.
A muscle in his jaw twitches. I can’t tell if he’s trying not to laugh or if he’s about to blow a gasket. He slides one leg on the bed and turns to face me.
I flip through the notebook until I find what I’d written about the first reading that plunged this shaky sensation into my heart.
He leans over and studies the page. “What’s this one?” He points to the Devil card I’d noted on the side of the page.
“It was a jumper card.”
“What the fuck is that?”
“You know, when you’re shuffling a deck and a card or two pop out?” I flip through an imaginary deck of cards in my hands to demonstrate. “I’m a slow shuffler, so that doesn’t usually happen, but that time it did. And it’s happened two more times since then. Same card.” I stop my frantic rush of words and take a breath. “It’s freaky as shit, Logan.”
He scrubs his hands over his face and through his hair. “I don’t believe this,” he mutters.
“I know you think this stuff’s stupid—”
“Here I’m worried I triggered some abandonment issue you’ve got over your dad walking out on you, but you’re letting some pretty pictures on a deck of cards guide our relationship?”
“Abandonment issues?” I sputter. “I don’t have abandonment issues. And you’re not that much older than me, so don’t you go sayin’ I’ve got daddy issues either.”
He snorts and then laughs.
“It’s not funny.” I shove him, and he falls to the side, still laughing. How dare he think I have abandonment issues. I got over my father leaving years ago. Didn’t I?
A few more chuckles spill out before he finally stops and holds out his hand. “Can I see your booklet?”
“What? No. Why? You don’t believe in this stuff anyway.”
“But you do, so let me see if I can help you.”
I don’t know whether to hug him or smack him. “Why? So you can mansplain my cards to me?”
“Fucking hell. I can’t win tonight.” He leans over and scoops his phone from the nightstand.
“What are you doing?”
He snatches my journal off the bed and studies the open page for a second before typing on his phone. “Googling it.”
“Googling what? You can’t google tarot readings.” I tap my chest. “They’re guided by intuition and inner wisdom.”
“Everything can be googled.” He grabs a pen and paper off the nightstand and scribbles down his own notes. “Each one of these could mean one of a thousand fucking things,” he grumbles.
“That’s why you read the entire spread and use your intuition. Not Google.”
“How’s this?” His smile takes on a seductive gleam. “My intuition says I’m gonna be fucking you doggy-style right here in this bed forty-five minutes from now.”
I blink and scoot back a few inches. “Like hell you are.”
He shrugs. “My prediction is about as accurate as anything here.”
I reach over and scoop up my stuff. “Get your negative energy away from my cards.”
“Which ones do you keep getting?” He rests his hand over mine to still my movements.
“The Devil’s jumped out three times.”
“What else?”
“The Three of Swords. I guess those are the two consistent ones. And Justice.”
He flicks through a few more screens on his phone and jots down more notes.
“Your handwriting looks like chicken scratch.”
He ignores me.
“Fuck me,” he breathes out, staring at the notes in front of him. “Your Three of Swords isn’t just breakups. It’s loneliness and rejection.”
“I’m lonely on the road,” I admit with a pathetic shrug. “It made sense.”
He sighs and pulls me to his side, kissing the top of my head. “Chickadee, I’m going to be so far up your ass from now on, you won’t have time to be lonely.”
Rooster
“There’s your faulty intuition again,” she sasses. “You’re not getting anywhere near my ass.”