Epilogue
“Where the hell are we going?” I ask, following Noia’s confidant strut down Willow Lane.
Located only a couple of blocks from downtown Lakeside, the street certainly lives up to its name. Lined with towering willow trees, this neighborhood is small-town picturesque at its finest.
“I had an idea,” she answers, tossing Sasha, Reyna and I a mischievous look over her shoulder. “It’s mainly for book research, but I thought it would be fun to include all of us.”
When we finally come to a stop, we’re standing in front of a cute little cottage that looks like it was plucked out of a Thomas Kinkade painting, complete with creeping ivy and a wrap-around porch.
The roof slopes down over walls painted a faded, eccentric lavender. I’m surprised the roofline isn’t sagging under the weight of at least a dozen crystal wind chimes clinking softly in the breeze. A wooden sign shaped like a crescent moon, painted with peeling silver stars, hangs over the porch.
“What in the hell are you up to now?” Sasha deadpans, crossing her arms.
“We have an appointment,” Noia beams, practically vibrating with excitement. “With Madame Solis.”
I blink at her. “Is that an actual person or…?”
“She’s a psychic, Lizzy! I need to know what it’s like to get my aura read for my next heroine. I was nervous about doing this alone, so I booked a group session.”
Reyna lets out a nervous little laugh, ice-blue eyes going wide. “Seriously? A real psychic?”
“Define real,” I mutter, eyeing the slightly overgrown rosebushes sitting on either side of the porch steps. The roses themselves are some of the biggest I’ve ever seen. “Because if she tells me I’m cursed, I’m outta here.”
“Same,” Sasha and Reyna chime together.
Noia snorts. “Come on! Where’s your sense of adventure, you guys?”
“Back with Rowan. In my bed,” I grin under my breath, as we follow her up the creaky wooden steps.
Noia knocks on the front door. As it swings open, I brace myself, expecting to see a hunchbacked old lady, holding a crystal ball with a wart on her nose.
Instead, I find myself staring at a strikingly beautiful woman who looks to be in her early forties. Thick, gorgeous salt-and-pepper hair falls in loose waves over her shoulders and down her back. She’s wearing a chic emerald-green velvet duster over a fitted black jumpsuit.
“Welcome, ladies,” she says, her voice a smooth, melodic purr. “I am Madame Solis. Welcome.”
As she steps aside, waving us in, I exchange a skeptical look with Sasha, who just shrugs as she marches over the threshold.
The inside is actually quite cozy, smelling faintly of dried lavender, sweet orange, and cinnamon. Bookshelves crammed with worn books line the walls, and a massive collection of hanging Pothos plants frame both front bay windows.
Madame Solis glides gracefully toward the center of the dimly lit room, guiding us toward a large, heavily carved, round wooden table. “Please sit and be at peace.”
Easy for you to say, babes.
We each take a seat in one of the mismatched velvet chairs, where I end up next to Sasha. Wedged between Sasha and Noia, who’s practically vibrating out of her skin with excitement, Reyna looks like she’s ready to bolt for the door at any second.
A younger woman with a dark, messy topknot and thick knit blue cardigan emerges from a beaded doorway, carrying a polished silver tray holding four delicate, mismatched teacups, steam curling into the air.
Without a word, she sets a cup in front of each of us, gives a polite nod, and silently disappears back to where she came from.
“Drink,” Madame Solis instructs, taking a seat across from us. Her dark eyes sweep over our faces, lingering on Reyna’s for a fraction of a second longer than the rest of us. “This herbal blend is specifically designed to open your hearts to the past, and prepare your souls for the future.”
I stare down at the dark amber liquid. “What is it? Some sort of hallucinogenic? ” I quip dryly.
Sasha snorts, lifting her cup to sniff it cautiously. “Hmm. Smells like chamomile and honey.”
“Can you two behave for once?” Noia scolds, lifting her teacup with both hands. She takes a sip, her eyes widening in pleasant surprise. “Oh, wow. This is delicious.”
Casting a nervous glance at Madame Solis, Reyna takes a tiny, hesitant sip. “If this makes me confess my sins, I’ll never forgive you, Noia.”
Heat seeps into my palms as I wrap my fingers around the warm porcelain cup. My heart is already open to my past—Rowan made sure of that when he completely obliterated my walls and claimed every inch of me every night for the past week. And my future? It looks all kinds of bright.
It’s been a little over a month since filming wrapped in Lakeside, and Rowan is currently in L.A. shooting the final scenes for The Treehouse. Not only that, he bought a house on the outskirts of town and rebuilt a replica of said treehouse in our new backyard, surprising me with it just last week.
I still have the loft, but now I mainly use it as a studio and for storage.
If you’d told me a few months ago that my childhood bestie slash frenemie would show up out of the blue and steal my heart again, I would’ve laughed in your stupid face.
But now? Life is better than good.
Even Carter found a new girl to focus on.
Taking a deep breath, I bring the cup to my lips and take a long swallow.
As far as I know, Noia and Sasha—both recently taken off the market by two sexy, amazing men, Ryder and Jax—have both come to terms with their pasts and are excited about their futures. That still leaves a giant, terrifying question mark in regard to Reyna and my brother, Logan.
As Madame Solis sets her teacup down with a soft clink, the air in the room shifts, heavy with the scent of burning sage. Dark, knowing eyes lock onto Noia, who’s practically bouncing in her red velvet chair.
“We shall begin with you,” the psychic purrs, reaching out to gently grasp Noia’s hands.
Noia lets out a little squeak, making Sasha snort and Reyna shake her head with a grin.
“Your past is written on skin in ink by a sexy man who changed a flat tire in the pouring rain,” she murmurs, thumbs tracing the delicate lines of Noia’s palms. “Dreaming of spicy romances, living a thousand lives through your own stories while waiting for your own… book boyfriend.”
“Nailed it,” Sasha whispers.
I softly clear my throat in warning, kicking her gently under the table.
“But your present…,” the psychic continues with a small, knowing smile playing on her lips, “…is full of everlasting love. You have finally found your anchor in a man made of art and shadows.”
Of course she’s referring to Ryder Blackwood. Noia’s smile morphs into something gooey and soft.
“As for your future...” Madame Solis tilts her head. “I see a new chapter. Your family tree is about to sprout another branch. New life blooms within your aura. A tiny, unexpected joy is coming—much sooner than originally planned.”
Noia gasps, her hands flying to her mouth, while Sasha’s jaw practically unhinges.
Wait. Tiny joy?
Holy shit. Is Noia pregnant?
Mind racing, I stare at my friend’s glowing, shocked face. When Ryder finds out he’s going to be a dad, the giant, gruff and tough teddy bear will lose his shit in the best way.
“Holy shit. Are you preggers?” Sasha asks her best friend.
“I had a feeling, but…”
All of us girls squeal at the same time.
“It’s not for sure…”
“Okay, you psychos,” I sigh. “Calm down and let Noia breathe.” I glance at Madame Solis. “Who’s next?”
She shifts her dark, penetrating gaze over to Sasha, who immediately straightens her spine and crosses her arms.
“Ah, the fierce and loyal protector,” Madame Solis murmurs, holding out her hands in invitation.
Sasha hesitates only for a second before slowly sliding her hands across the table, allowing the psychic’s long fingers to lightly trace her palms.
“Your past is a fortress built of quick wit and sharp humor. You kept the world at arm’s length to protect a very tender, fragile heart.”
Pink dusting her cheeks, Sasha scoffs, “I’m a tough girl, what can I say?”
“Indeed,” Solis smiles knowingly. “But your present is warm. Your walls were finally breached by a man also marked in ink. One with endless patience. One who sees the softness inside you’ve always tried so hard to hide.”
I nudge Sasha’s knee under the table with my own. Jax definitely knocked down her walls, in more ways than one.
“However, your future...” The psychic’s brow furrows slightly, thumbs pausing.
“I see two distinct paths. One involves a sudden leap of faith involving your career—a massive risk that will test your desperate need for control. On the other, a commitment anchoring you to this town, sealed by a circle and a promise.”
Sasha’s jaw drops. “A circle and a promise? Can you be more specific?”
“All I can say is that the universe is preparing to put you at a crossroads,” Solis answers smoothly, releasing her hands and leaning back in her chair. “Which path you take depends entirely on how much control you are willing to surrender, giving you an opportunity to merge them into one.”
Leaving Sasha blinking in surprise, she shifts her gaze to me.
I swallow hard as Madame Solis’s dark, penetrating eyes lock onto mine.
“And now, the artist,” she murmurs, holding out her hands, palms open.
Reluctantly, I give in. Skin surprisingly warm, her touch is feather-light and grounding.
“Your past is painted in bruising shades of blue and fierce, fiery reds,” she begins, voice dropping to a hypnotic hum.
“A masterpiece of stubbornness, you have spent years layering sarcasm and anger over a deeply fractured canvas, all to protect yourself from a boy who not only took a piece of your heart, but fractured your soul each time he walked away.”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat.
Holy fuck.