Tarot Academy 4 - Sarah Piper Page 0,51

at me, but it’s sad as hell. “To tell you the truth, I’m pretty sure I don’t even like guys, but that’s a story for another day—assuming we live that long.”

My jaw hits the ground.

None of this makes any sense. No, not because I can’t bear the thought of a woman not falling head over heels in my presence. But because for years, Carly was damn near banging a drum on the campaign trail, telling everyone with ears she was my girlfriend. That I was off-limits. That she and I were quote-unquote meant to be.

“You okay there, champ?” She releases my hand and slaps me lightly on the cheek. “You look a little pale.”

“Carly, I just… If you don’t have feelings for me like that, why torment Stevie? Why act like a raving psycho around any woman who’s ever shown an interest? Why tell your parents we’re together? Your mother thought I was cheating on you with Stevie. She threatened to tell you about it and fuck with my brother…” I pull out of her grasp and pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to make a shred of sense of a moment that has completely run away from me. “So now you’re basically admitting that you were, what? Just petty and jealous? You didn’t want me having other female friends? That’s it?”

“Nothing could be farther from the truth, Baz.”

“Then what is the truth? That’s what I’m trying to understand. Goddess, Carly. There’s a witch upstairs right now that I’m fucking crazy in love with. So crazy, I’m about to throw myself on her feet and beg her forgiveness for everything I’ve put her through this week alone. And you tormented her for months!”

“I know. I’m sorry. I just—”

“Why? Why would you do that? Just for kicks?”

She shakes her head, fresh tears tracking down her cheeks.

“All right, Carly. You win. I’m not going to kill your psycho mother. I’ll go upstairs and drink my tea like a good little mage. But you and me? This bullshit? The games? We’re done. Not friends. Not pseudo-siblings. Nothing.” I turn my back on the Kirkpatrick women, more than ready to leave this bullshit in the rearview. But before I can take a single step, Carly grabs my hand again, stopping me in my tracks.

She steps in front of me and puts her hands on my chest, looking up with eyes so suddenly haunted, the sight sends a chill to my very bones.

“Wait. Just wait. I need to say this. I…” Carly takes a deep breath, then curls her fingers into fists against my chest, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I know, Baz. I know what she did to you.”

Even at a whisper, the words slam into me one at a time, like tiny wrecking balls to the gut.

I

Know

What

She

Did

To

You…

I don’t have to ask her what she means. I don’t think I can handle hearing her spell it out, either.

Shame rushes through my body, making me hot and itchy and pissed off all over again. I turn my back on her, not wanting her to see the truth in my eyes. The confirmation. The disgust.

“It was the only way I could think of to stop her,” she continues. “I thought if Mom believed we were together—that I loved you—maybe she’d let you go. Maybe she’d stop doing… everything she did. But it turns out my mother didn’t love either one of us enough for that. She’s just a selfish, evil bitch…”

She’s rambling, but the words don’t even make sense. My head is spinning again, my ears ringing, my brain reshaping itself to try to make room for this.

All this time, Carly was trying to protect me from Janelle.

All this time, she knew. And she had to live with it too, just like I did. The secrets and shame. The disgust. The unspoken agreement that her father could never find out. The burning fear of the monster in the house—one we could never defeat, because this monster fed us and clothed us and put a roof over our heads and went by the name of Mom.

“I should’ve done more,” Carly says. “I should’ve told someone, or… I don’t know. Something. I’m so sorry, Baz. I didn’t know how else to—”

“It’s not your fault.” I head over to the cot again, staring down at the monster we lived with for so long, her jaw swollen, her mouth hanging slack. “I don’t accept your apology, Carly, because it’s not yours to make. It’s not your fucking fault.”

“It’s