Page 26 of The Fate Factor

His shoulders fall. “This time is different.”

“Why?”

“Because this is either the moment I prove myself or the moment they all find out I’ve never known what the hell I was doing.”

For a blip of insanity, the desperation in his voice almost stalls my exit.

Almost.

Swallowing, I remind myself this is all conjecture, hopes and wishes. I’m sorry he feels this way, but he has no idea if I can help him and we definitely don’t have enough data to be sure it won’t hurt. “I’m not your guardian angel, Jamie, and I didn’t come here to be your personal fortune teller.”Why the hell did I come here?

“Okay, maybe not,” he says. “But there’s something here, right? You said this has never happened before or since, so it has to mean something.” He leans across the table, pinning me with a serious stare. The first crack in hisque sera seravibe. “Don’t you want to know what it is?”

Aren’t you the least bit curious?

Goosebumps prickle up and down my arms. I try to rub them away but it’s no use. “I told you that night was terrifying.”

“I know, but you also told me you don’t have much control over it either way, so what’s the harm? We’ll be friends, spend some time together. If it works, great. If not… well, no pressure.”

No pressure. Right. He’s asking me to summon some vague breadcrumb from the universe after he already admitted he made a huge life decision based on the last one. A huge decision that seems to have worked out well and now he’s looking for an encore. That’s the definition of pressure.

Sure, I’m sitting in his bar that he supposedly only has because of me, and I once had a vivid, alcohol-induced daydream where I imagined what he might look like naked with startling accuracy. But I’m not going to read him again. I have no reason to believe I even can. It was a terrifying experience that happened to be acosmic boon for him. He won that encounter and he needs to drop it for both of our sakes.

“Thanks but no thanks, Jamie. I’m going to pass on being your human Magic 8 Ball.” I grab my purse and push out of the booth, pausing to gulp the last of my beer because it’s really good and I need to settle this buzzing nervousness in my chest. “I appreciate the drink,” I say, smacking my lips with finality. “See you around.”

“Noel.” He moves to stand, probably to follow me like he did last time, but lucky for me, he’s a little slower, what with being in the ER last night.Reckless.

I make it all the way to the front door, sweet escape just inches away, but when I push against the metal bar, someone grabs it at the same time from the outside and I nearly stumble forward.

“Sorry,” yet another man in a flannel shirt says, stepping to the side, but it’s the wrong side and I still can’t get by. We do this weird little shuffle dance which gives Jamie enough time to catch up.

Jamie reaches above my head, holding the door, and I’m suddenly caught in a forcefield of body heat and salty cologne. The man on the other side takes my freeze-frame as an invitation to go first, and once he’s done an awkward slide past us, Jamie pivots so he’s standing in front of me, body squared.

“Noel, please just wait.”

“I’m sorry. No. I can’t.” I duck under his arm, but it’s a tight fit. Carelessly,stupidly, I press a hand to his chest as I slide by. And that’s when it happens.

It hits me hard enough to make my head snap back, a picture. Him. Me. A lot closer than we are now.

Instinctively I clap my hands over my eyes, but that only plunges me deeper. Behind my lids, I see the two of us. On the porch at Nana’s. I’m on Jamie’s lap on her old wicker loveseat, my knees bracketing his thighs. It’s raining outside, asummer rain, hot and sticky. The strap of my dress falls off of my shoulder, and his T-shirt is soaked through like we’ve been caught in it.

I trace the outline of the logo with my index finger. It’s a vintage Peaks Island Summerfest shirt. I tell him I used to go there with Nana. There’s a hole in the shoulder seam and I push my finger through it. His skin is hot. Damp. And then we’re kissing.

He’s laughing against my mouth, then he calls me baby.

I hate that term of endearment.

I absolutely do not hate it when he says it.

“Come on, baby,” he says, his eyes sparkling with mischief and a sweet familiarity I find jarring. I don’t know this man, but here, I do. Here, when he slides his hands beneath my thighs, excitement flits through my veins.Want. It’s a feeling I haven’t experienced in so long, and I wish I could gather it up and bring it back here to the dimension my actual body is in.

I lock my fingers behind his neck, and he stands with my legs around his waist and…

Like a fist closing, the vision squeezes around the edges, shrinking to a pinprick of light, and it’s over.

I look up at Jamie,realJamie, and my eyes roll back before… “Shit.”

eight

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