Chapter 11 #2
Behind the tree sits a small cottage with fresh paint and clean windows. There’s a tiny porch with a well-worn chair in the front. The little house fits here the same way the inn does, patched together with care, not money.
“That’s my place,” Jasper says proudly, watching me take it all in. “I’d show you around, but I brought everything out here so we wouldn’t wake my mom. She’s sleeping.”
Sympathy catches hard in my throat. Mom also slept a lot at the end.
Don’t project, Lenny.
I glance toward the cottage, then back at him. “Hey… next time, I should probably say hi to her. Properly. I don’t want her to think I just… show up and… steal her son or something.”
Jasper chuckles. “Why would she think that?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I’m an adult, you’re still in high school. It’s… a look.”
“I’m an adult too! I’m almost nineteen.” He makes a face. “And I’m only still in high school because I had to repeat a year. Do you feel weird about it?”
“A bit.”
Jasper studies me for half a second, then smiles. “We’re meant to be friends. Honestly, the cards say we’re probably meant to be family, but that can mean a lot of things, so I’d have to pull your whole chart and ask the stars about it before I commit to that.”
Family?
I don’t have any family left, except for Tessa. And right now, she is somewhere I can’t reach, so for all practical purposes, I came here for the only person I have left, and she wasn’t home.
So no, I don’t have family. I have a yellow Beetle, a rented apartment, and an almost nineteen-year-old who just told me the universe has opinions about our friendship.
“You went quiet,” Jasper observes.
“Family is a big word.”
One I’m not touching without gloves right now.
“It doesn’t have to be blood,” he says simply.
“Mine isn’t. My mom had us both very late.
I don’t know my dad, and we don’t know Nevan’s dad either.
So technically, Nevan is just my half brother.
And Mabel, who is like an aunt to me, isn’t my blood at all.
The stars and cards don’t care about biology.
They care about… I don’t know. Resonance, I guess. Who you’re supposed to find.”
Supposed to find.
Like it’s already decided.
It’s either the most comforting thing I’ve ever heard or the most devastating.
“Jasper… I say that with genuine affection. You are not weird, but a lot.”
“I know.” He grins, hands me my coffee, then gestures toward the swings with his own. “But I’m also right. Now sit.”
I eye the nearest one, then the ropes, then the branch above it. “I don’t love trusting old ropes with my entire existence.”
“What?” He settles onto the other swing and glances up, curls bouncing as he laughs. “It holds Nevan, and he’s, like, at least a hundred pounds heavier than me.”
That does not reassure me in the way he thinks it does.
Still, I sit gingerly, testing the seat inch by inch. The rope creaks in protest, but to my surprise and relief, it holds.
Jasper takes a sip of the latte, then sighs. “Pumpkin spice. Nice.”
I let out a breath and grip the warm cup with one hand as he hands me a croissant before taking one for himself, munching greedily.
“So,” he says around a bite, feet dragging lightly through the grass. “How’d you sleep?”
“Better. Weirdly better.”
If you don’t count the stranger in my dreams.
“That’s great! So the crystal worked?”
“I don’t know if it was the crystal, but, yeah, I didn’t have the same nightmare again.”
“That’s huge.” He looks genuinely pleased. “But I think you’ll have to wear it a few more nights to make sure.”
“I’m planning to, thank you.” I take a sip of coffee, watching the fairy lights sway above us, and decide to take the leap.
If someone can help me with the lucid dreaming stuff, it would be him, right?
“Do you… know anything about dreams?”
“Nope.” He shakes his head. “I’m more into astrology, crystals, and cards.”
Shit.
“But…” he adds, “… my mom is super into dreams. She has a whole bookshelf on dream interpretation. Symbolism and that stuff. If you want, I can look up whatever you dreamed about.”
I hesitate, turning the cup slowly. “It was… kind of ridiculous.”
His eyes light up. “Try me.”
“Okay. There was a kitchen, and… muffins. Lots of muffins.”
When I chance a look at him, he’s grinning eagerly. “I’m listening.”
I sigh, glancing back up at the sky and gesturing with my coffee. “They were floating in the air and had little smiley faces on them. And they were singing.”
“Singing?”
“Yep. And at the end, they all started attacking a guy who was also in my dream. But he was a stranger, and—”
Jasper snorts so hard he almost chokes on his croissant, coughing and laughing at the same time. “Oh my God.”
I shoot him a glare. “Don’t laugh at me.”
“Sorry.” He chuckles, wiping at his mouth. “I just… okay, I don’t even need a book for that.”
“Oh?” Hope flickers up before I can stop it.
“It means you’re into muffins, and that you don’t like to share your food,” he says solemnly, finishing the last bite of his croissant. “Which, honestly, tracks for a Taurus. I still need your moon sign.”
“I always share my food.” I nod pointedly at the crumbs on his lap. “But yeah, let’s do the tarot first, and then we’ll see.”
I finish my croissant faster than is probably dignified and drain the rest of my coffee in one go, wrapping both hands around the empty cup just to have something to hold.
I need something. A sign, a nudge, anything that points in a direction I can actually follow, because right now I have too many threads and no idea which one to pull.
But it’s obvious that whatever answers I’m looking for about the dreams, I’m not getting them from him.