Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Lennon
A shudder runs through me as I stare at the image of a skeleton riding a horse.
“Okay, but listen,” Jasper adds quickly. “It doesn’t usually mean, like… actual death. It’s metaphorical. Transformation. Endings that make space for new beginnings.” He lets out a weak laugh. “So, you know. Death, but not death-death.”
He looks back down at the card, his brow furrowing deeper. “I’ve only ever pulled it in past or present readings, where it makes sense. But here…” He shakes his head. “I don’t know what I could tell you, direction-wise. I don’t know what it’s pointing at.”
The disappointment hits harder than it should. Why did I think this would help? It was fun, sure, but also kind of dumb. I came here for answers, and all I got was more indecision and chaos.
I glance at the small house next to us, needing a visual anchor, and catch movement in one of the big windows. A woman stands in what appears to be the kitchen, long, wavy gray hair falling over her shoulders, dressed in flowy scarves, crystals glinting everywhere.
Jasper follows my gaze and jumps to his feet. “Oh! My mom’s awake. Let’s ask her. She knows everything about tarot, like, scary amounts. Fair warning, though, she has Alzheimer’s. So she might be… weird.”
Ah, shit. He says it with the ease of someone who’s had to explain this too many times.
This poor kid.
He’s too young to make that sound normal.
Great. Now I feel guilty and empathetic on top of wildly confused.
“Jasper, it’s fine.” I shake my head quickly. “We don’t have to—”
Too late. He grabs my wrist and tugs me toward the house, exactly like I dragged him across the street yesterday. I sigh, letting him pull me all the way inside the house, which smells like incense, old wood, and something floral I can’t place.
“Mom,” Jasper says brightly, “This is my new friend—”
He falters, then throws me a bemused look.
Haven’t I told him my name yet?
But at least he knows your whole backstory, Lenny.
I clear my throat. “Lennon.”
His face lights up. “Mom, this is Lennon. Lennon, this is my mom, Seraphine.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, offering a small smile. “You’ve got an amazing son.”
Seraphine smiles back, but her gaze drifts past my face, unfocused, and something tight cinches around my heart. Jasper is still holding my wrist, grounding himself as much as me, and I hate that he has to brace against this kind of absence.
“Mom.” He clears his throat as he lets go of me and holds the card up to her. “I pulled this for Lennon’s future, but I don’t know what it means. Do you think you could help? She could really use some direction.”
Seraphine’s eyes drop to the image, and for a beat, her face goes oddly blank before she takes the card from him.
A beat later, her head snaps up, and her blue eyes bore into me, much clearer and more intense than before.
She steps right into my space, so abruptly that I startle, then lifts the offending card right in front of my face.
“Lennon…” she says with a smile. “Your time is up.”
A chill runs down my spine. “I… what?”
“Mom,” Jasper says, a warning in his tone as he steps toward us, but I can’t tear my eyes from Seraphine.
“Time’s up,” she repeats, and her smile turns into something almost pleased. “But don’t…” Her expression suddenly slackens, the intensity draining away as her gaze drifts past me again. “Don’t step into the light.”
“Okay, okay,” Jasper says as he gently puts an arm around his mom, steering her toward the couch.
Fear keeps me frozen right where I am.
“That’s enough, Mom.” He throws me an apologetic look. “She’s… she didn’t mean—”
“Watch out for the light,” Seraphine mumbles, and that’s when I reach my limit.
My heart is galloping, and air buzzes in my ears as I back toward the door. “I’m sorry,” I whisper as I open it without looking, but when I turn to flee, I slam straight into a solid wall of a body.
“Whoa, hey—” The wall catches my elbow to steady me. “You running from something or toward something? The technique needs work either way.”
I catalog the paint-splattered jeans and hoodie before my gaze finds Nevan’s. For half a second, there’s something raw in his expression—something exhausted and lost—but then it smooths over so fast I almost think I imagined it.
“Mom scared her,” Jasper offers helpfully from behind me.
With Nevan towering in front of me and the creepy vibes behind me, I’m feeling more like a trapped animal. When I’m about to give up all social niceties and make a true run for it, Nevan mutters to himself, then steps aside, leaving an opening for me.
“Come on,” he says, and I take his offer immediately.
He guides me back to the swing with a steady hand on my arm. When my breathing evens out enough for my eyes to focus, I realize I’m staring directly at Nevan’s crotch. I avert my eyes as he wraps a hand around the rope above mine and squats in front of me, close but not crowding.
His fingers have green and blue paint smudges. Is he an artist?
I glance at him, and with him this close and at eye level, I see there are dark circles under his eyes I hadn’t noticed before.
That isn’t one-bad-night tired. It’s older than that.
I know what old tired looks like.
“Breathe,” he murmurs, and his voice has gone softer, gentler. “You’re okay.”
I do as he says, pulling in a shaky breath. He smells like paint, cedarwood, and something sweet—cinnamon and sugar, maybe—and the combination is oddly grounding.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt. “I upset your mom.”
He blinks, then huffs out something like a laugh. “Yeah. You kinda have that effect on people.”
It’s meant to be a joke, I can hear it in his tone, but my bottom lip doesn’t get the memo and starts trembling.
“Shit. I’m sorry.” He lifts a hand toward my face, stopping just short of touching me. “Please don’t—”
“I’m fine,” I lie, offering a smile. “Tell Jasper I’m sorry. I should go.”
“No.” It’s firm but not harsh. His hand settles on my shoulder, gentle pressure keeping me in place.
“Stay for a minute. Please. I need to…” He rocks back on his heels, paint-stained fingers running through his hair.
“Look, I-I owe you an apology. For yesterday. The crystal thing.” He glances toward the house, jaw working as if he’s choosing his words carefully.
“It was my mom’s. From back when she was still…
.” He exhales a short, humorless laugh. “Well, she was never exactly normal.”
“Oh,” I breathe out.
“And I was already having a weird day. The chef quit, we are short-staffed, and then there’s this girl I’ve been making some questionable life choices about.” He grimaces. “Which does not excuse my behavior. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m sorry.”
My fingers curl around the chain at my throat. “I can give it ba—”
“No.” He shakes his head. “Keep it. Please. Jasper gave it to you for a reason, and he doesn’t do anything without a reason, even if that reason is the vibes told me to.”
I smile. “He said it helps with nightmares, and apparently it does.”
“Oh, really? Even better. Lord knows somebody in this town should be sleeping well.”
“You’re not sleeping well?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“I’m fine,” he says with a practiced smile.
Was that how mine looked when I told him the exact same thing moments ago?
Huh, so we’re both doing that.
“Just busy,” he continues. “Running an inn, making sure Jasper doesn’t accidentally summon a demon with his tarot cards, you know. The usual.”
I take a moment to look at him, the mess of dark blond hair, the shadows under his eyes that the grin is working very hard to distract from, and I shake my head.
Yeah. We’re both liars.
Probably because neither of us has someone to call us out on it.
“I’m sorry I called you an asshole,” I say softly.
He frowns in confusion. “You didn’t.”
“I did,” I admit. “In my head.”
Nevan snorts, and a real smile breaks across his face. “Well, I definitely deserved it.”
He stands and brushes off his jeans before offering me his hand and pulling me to my feet.
“Your mom said I’ll die soon,” I admit when he lets go of my hand, half exhaling the words.
“Oh, yeah?” he says, cocking an eyebrow. “Well, if I got fifty cents for every time she told someone that, I could actually afford to fix the heater in Room 3.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“Maybe not, but statistically, you’re doing great. She told me I’d die young in my sleep at least a dozen times growing up. Said the cards showed darkness, tragedy, all that fun stuff. Now I’m almost twenty-seven and still waiting for my dramatic ending.”
He says it like a joke, but not all of him sounds convinced.
Despite everything, I huff out a relieved laugh.
“See?” He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing my cheek for a second. “You’ll be fine.”
The gentle touch makes my chest ache, but then he seems to realize what he’s done, surprise flickering in his eyes as he drops his hand to his side.
Yeah. He definitely didn’t mean to do that.
Nevan looks away, eyes distant as we stand there, and I take in the freckles across his nose, and the faint dimple that appears when his mouth shifts like he’s thinking something through.
He swallows.
And I can’t help but watch his throat work, and then he turns back, chin dipped.
Our eyes lock before I can pretend I wasn’t staring.
His are a soft gray, reminding me of early mornings before the world has committed to being awake yet, suspended light where everything is still possible and nothing has gone wrong yet.
I look away first.
“I know I fucked up yesterday. And I know I didn’t exactly make a great first impression with the whole… kicking you out of my kitchen thing.”
“It’s fine—”
“It’s not,” he cuts in gently. “You were helping me, and I repaid you by being a complete dick about a necklace that isn’t even yours to feel weird about.” He runs a hand through his hair, and I catch more paint smudges on his knuckles. “I’m sorry. Really sorry.”
He called me out on my lie before I could even finish saying it.