Chapter 22 #2
She was so fucking cute.
I closed the distance and captured her mouth in a kiss that immediately seared heat through me.
I’d wanted to do this since she pulled the top down on the car and drove for hours with the wind in her hair and the sun dancing on her skin.
I deepened the kiss, trailing my fingers along her delicate jaw, my heart skipping as she pressed closer. The world tilted a little as she kissed me back, those soft lips moving in perfect unison with mine. Like we were two puzzle pieces that fit. Two magnets drawn together, not repelled.
My phone buzzed sharply in my back pocket, breaking the spell.
I pulled back in surprise, and Ellis blinked at me—her face flushed, her lips red.
I dug out my phone and glanced at the screen.
And stilled.
Jedd Myers has sent you a message…
“What is it?” Ellis asked, peering down at my phone and gasping. “Oh my god.”
Liv sauntered into the room then, a wide grin on her face as she looked around. “How cool is this motel? Look, if I can’t cross over, I could easily live here.”
Neither of us said anything, and she blinked, leaning closer to study our expressions.
“What?”
“Your friend Jedd replied to me,” I said carefully. “About the fireworks.”
Liv’s mouth opened in a silent gasp, nothing actually coming out. Then her face crumpled. Her shoulders shook as she buried her face in her hands.
“He didn’t die,” she whispered, the sound muffled into her palms. “He didn’t die. He’s alive. Alive. Alive.”
I blinked in surprise. “You were with him when you died?”
Liv didn’t respond right away. Slowly, she pulled her hands from her face. No tears—ghosts couldn’t cry, we’d all concluded—but her eyes were wide, filled with such deep sorrow that it settled in my gut like a stone.
“I know everyone I was with,” she said softly. “I just don’t remember what happened. My last… my last memory is us all driving to the club. Then I woke up next to Ellis.”
Ellis bit her lip and pulled away from me, and I missed her immediately.
“Maybe he can give us some answers,” she said gently. “When we see him. He could fill in some blanks.”
Liv nodded once, swallowing hard. “We’re so close now. So close.”
“We are,” I murmured, offering a soft smile. “How are you feeling?”
“Terrified,” she bit out, her eyes now filled with panic rather than sorrow. “I’m scared it won’t work. That I’ll make my peace and still be stuck here.”
Ellis surprised me then—approaching Liv slowly before wrapping her arms around her, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if she’d done it a thousand times before.
My heart twisted as I watched them. I’d touched Liv before and felt her cold stillness. She wasn’t solid like a living person, but she was there. Tangible in a way I couldn’t fully understand.
Liv’s eyes fluttered shut as she accepted the comfort, her arms winding around Ellis. And then the words tumbled out of me—coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once.
“Liv,” I said firmly, rifling through my bag. I found the velvet pouch, nestled beside Margaret’s remaining ashes. Turning on my heel to face them again, I held it up.
“I want to give you a reading.”
We had dimmed the lights enough to give the small space an almost ethereal glow. The faint scent of pizza hung in the air—Ellis had needed to eat to take her pills, and I’d been starving too. Liv had been floating around the Wigwam Motel while she waited for us to eat and shower.
Now, we all sat on the bed, and I held Margaret’s velvet bag of cards in my hands.
Ellis sat ramrod straight, leaning back against the wall, her wet hair wrapped in a towel.
She wore black yoga pants and a long-sleeved cotton shirt, thick pink socks on her feet.
I glanced across at Liv, who sat patiently with her legs folded beneath her, completely out of place in her clubbing clothes compared to us in our pajamas.
The velvet pouch felt heavier in my hands than usual, as if the cards knew they had a purpose tonight. I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply, and envisioned myself reaching toward Liv with more than just my eyes.
“If you’re quiet enough, girl, if you really feel it, you can touch things that aren’t flesh.”
Margaret’s guiding words drifted through my mind as I searched for Liv’s energy, chasing that prickling buzz.
It wasn’t noise, and it wasn’t exactly a vibration, but there was a charge to her presence now.
When I opened my eyes and met hers, it was like staring into the static before a lightning storm.
Her energy didn’t feel so void anymore, so cold or removed. She didn’t feel like death. She felt like movement. And I could tell she was standing at the edge of something, blinking into a light she wasn’t used to seeing. I wondered just how close to crossing over she really was.
I undid the pouch on a steady breath and focused solely on Liv. The cards slid into my hands with ease, their familiar, cool, worn weight grounding me in the purpose I carried tonight.
“Okay,” I murmured gently, snapping the deck between my palms. “I want to do a Celtic Cross tonight.”
“Yeow,” Liv said with a curl of her lip and a twinkle in her eye. “Talk dirty to me.”
I snorted. “Very funny. No, a Celtic Cross is a spread used for bigger questions. It’s about understanding where you are, what’s shaping you, and what lies ahead, along with a few bits in between. I think it’s the best spread for you.”
She nodded once, mouth pressed into a thin line, shoulders stiff as she sat a little more rigidly.
I held out the weathered deck. “See if you can shuffle them. It’s fine if you can’t.”
Her hands hovered over the cards before she tentatively took them from me, as if afraid they might fall right through.
But they didn’t. Not entirely. The deck trembled—I noticed it, and Ellis’s sharp intake of breath confirmed it—but they stayed.
And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel something deep in my stomach as Liv touched those cards.
“Intent matters,” I said softly. “So whatever it is you’re asking, Liv—put those questions into the cards. Let them carry the answers to you, okay?”
Liv nodded stiffly, her jaw tight as she slowly shuffled the deck—clumsy, but honest. When she finally felt satisfied, she handed them back to me, something fierce and uncertain warring in her eyes.
I took them gingerly. They suddenly felt much heavier in my hands. I took a beat.
“Okay, so the first card in the cross—for your present,” I said, taking the top card and flipping it over. “The Moon.”
I stared down at the image, at the shadowed pathway, the howling wolves, the light that seemed to drip in a haunting, silvery way.
Liv leaned closer.
“It’s about illusion,” I told her, tapping the card. “Uncertainty. Things being unclear. It’s fear of what’s ahead because you can’t quite see the road, but it’s also about intuition. When your subconscious speaks, even when nothing else will.”
Liv said nothing, her brows knitting together as I spoke.
“To me, it’s where you are right now,” I went on, watching her face, feeling that pulse of energy again. “You’re standing between what’s real and what’s imagined, like you’re walking through fog. And there are questions you’re still afraid to ask, and the fear that you’ll never find your way out.”
She let out a rush of air, even though she didn’t need to breathe. It was the most human reaction I had ever seen from her.
“This card doesn’t mean you’re lost, Liv,” I continued softly. “It just means the answers you need won’t come from facts but from what you already know… deep down.” I paused, searching her eyes, my skin tingling. “It’s been like that—even when you were alive.”
Liv toyed with a strand of her pink hair, her gaze locked on the card.
“The moon doesn’t give clarity,” I murmured. “It just reminds you the light is still there.”
Beside me, Ellis sucked in a small breath.
I tapped the deck and picked up the next card, placing it down without looking. It landed faceup on the white duvet, staring back at us.
Eight of Swords.
“This is where you are now,” I told her, glancing up to meet her eyes. “Your challenge. This card is about being trapped, but not by someone else. Not the world. Not even death.” I licked my dry lips, tapped the card once, and straightened my spine. “You’re trapped by you.”
Liv blinked and looked at me sharply.
“You think you’re stuck here because of unfinished business, or rules, or karma—or punishment,” I said, my voice thick, the words spilling out before I could stop them.
“But really, it’s you. Yes, you’re strapped to Ellis.
But you could’ve been strapped to anyone you gave your organs to.
You got Ellis—a vessel to help you finish things—because you weren’t ready when you died. ”
Liv stilled. Her eyes didn’t move from the cards.
“You chose to be here. You came back because of fear. Or guilt. Or the belief that you owe some kind of penance. That you don’t deserve to move on. You feel like you messed up. That you should’ve listened.”
Listened to who? I wondered, the thought whispering through my head as the words left my mouth.
“I’d still be alive if I listened,” Liv uttered—so softly, I almost didn’t hear her.
“That’s the sword at your feet you think is impaling you, but it’s not.
Your pain is keeping you frozen, Liv. So much buried pain and unspoken words you never said when you were alive.
” I glanced back down at the card, the image of a woman surrounded by a cage of swords, one she could walk out of at any time, if only she realized it.
The ropes were not tight.
The blades did not touch her.
But she stood trapped in a cage of her own making—a prison built in her mind.
My fingers hovered over the next card, the air in the teepee thick and warm. Liv remained quiet—no smart-ass comments or deflection this time. Just pure reflection on her face as she eyed the cards currently on the bed, waiting for the next one. Her knees were folded beneath her, eyes wide.