Page 52 of The Fate Factor

I giggle and let my weight relax into him, sighing when his arms wrap around me and squeeze the way they did earlier. “Let’s keep going.”

“You sure?”

I hold my hand out in reply, and he clasps it tight, leading us to a flat, dry spot. He sits down, and I lower myself beside him. I’ll have sand in every crinkle of this skirt, but I don’t care.

“Are you feeling better?” I ask.

“Yes. Thank you. Again. I think you saved me from permanent damage the other night on my couch.” He tips his ears to his shoulders one by one. “How did you know how to fix my neck like that?”

I shrug knowing I didn’t do much besides squeeze muscles I really wanted to touch. “Maybe I knew an exceptionally reckless man in another lifetime.”

He laughs and drapes his forearms over his knees. “Do you believe in that? Other lifetimes?”

He’s said it casually, but how can a question like that be casual when you’re staring out at the ocean with a man who you might be fated to? I mean, if you believe in psychic visions, alternate timelines aren’t a big stretch.

“I think one lifetime is enough to handle. If there are others, they’ll have to exist without me considering them.”

“I don’t know,” he says. “Sometimes one life seems like a lot. Other times, it feels like one shot at it isn’t nearly enough.”

“One shot at life?”

“Yeah. Especially when you spend so much of it with an undeveloped brain. Like if we only get ninety or so years on this ride, if we’re lucky, we should get to start with the wisdom we need to make the most of it.” He shifts his weight, and I move closer, daring to let my legs hang beside his.

“What about you?” he asks. “Maybe it’s not a whole other lifetime, but would you change anything?”

I blow out a contemplative breath. The question seems magnified through the lens of things I know that Jamie doesn’t, about us and the possibility that these visions are the result ofsome higher power giving me a chance to fix something I keep screwing up because I’m afraid.

“I had this little business a while back,” I tell him. “With my art before Nana got sick. I turned my paintings into paper goods like planners, bookmarks, greeting cards. Invitations were my biggest seller. I even have one design that was licensed for a wallpaper—poppies.”

“That’s incredible.”

I smile. “It was. Sometimes I think in another life, I’d do that.”

“Why can’t you do that in this life?”

I shrug and stare out at the water. “Savings, 401Ks, health insurance. Lots of reasons. Plus, my mother lives with me, so my finances aren’t entirely my decision.”

“I thought you said she lived in a van.”

“Mmm. For now, she does.” Until the engine dies and I run out of money to lend her.

“You shouldn’t drop it if it’s something you really want to do. When I was starting out, I bought my own insurance. Invested with a private firm. It’s doable.”

“It’s risky.”

“So is spending your life making someone else rich.”

I shoot him a look, and he holds up a hand in apology. “Sorry. I’m overstepping. It’s just a common debate between me and my brother.”

“What is?”

“The, ah, business problem I have. It’s just kind of a fight between us.”

He’s suddenly clammed up, his eyes darting away like he didn’t mean to take this turn.

But we’re here and I want to know what I’m missing in this agreement. I’m suddenly shocked at myself for not asking before, but I was preoccupied with my part. The part Jamie has no idea about. “What are you fighting with your brother about?”

He looks at me for a beat, then back out to the water. “I have an offer on the table to buy my brand,” he says. “It’s more money than I’ve ever seen, but it’s in exchange for a piece of myself, something I want to keep. Wes thinks I should do it—sell out. I don’t want to, so we’re… debating.”

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