Page 53 of The Fate Factor

Nerves start to percolate in my belly. “That’s what you want my help with? That’s a really big deal, Jamie.”

“The last one was a really big deal too.” He grins at me but I don’t return it. “Look, I wasn’t even going to tell you. I don’t want it to freak you out.”

“Kind of late.” When he said he had a decision to make, I hadn’t given it much thought, but I can see now that was a misstep.

Though, I suppose he’s right. The last decision was a big deal too, but he didn’t ask for my help with that one. It was an accident that I even saw what I saw. And the question he did ask, about Becca, well, I don’t think he ever considered the answer wouldn’t be the one he wanted.

This one, though, is huge and so is the pressure he assured me didn’t exist.

He blows out a regretful breath. “It’s just that Wes is the businessman, not me. I’m a hometown kid who likes beer. We both know I’m out of my depth.”

His jaw goes tight, and I remember what he said at the bar that night.This is the moment I prove myself or the moment they all find out I’ve never known what the hell I was doing. I’m torn between the ratcheting anxiety in my chest, and a softening at that vulnerability.

“Imposter syndrome,” I say.

“Huh?”

“It’s called imposter syndrome. It means you don’t believe you deserve to be in the place you are. Like you think one dayeveryone is going to find out you’re a fraud who got here by some stroke of luck.”

He half laughs, half groans.

“What?”

“That’s exactly how I got here. A stroke of luck. Magic. Look, I have no idea what would have happened if you didn’t tell me about the money, Noel, but I know the decisions that led me where I am weren’t born from some shrewd business sense. Your vision told me what to do. I just followed it.” He must see the way the blood drains from my face because he sighs. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make this whole thing worse for you.”

“No,” I say, wrapping my arms around my knees. “It’s fine.” Maybe I should be concerned that Jamie’s hoping for too much from this thing, but on the other hand, I trust this, or I wouldn’t be here at all. The farm, the inspiration I feel returning, the way we are after such a short time—these are dominos falling into place. I know this better than Jamie, and somehow he’s not the one who needs convincing.

“I must have spent hundreds of hours at this beach when I was a teenager,” he says, stretching out his long legs.

I tilt my head to see him. “This spot in particular?”

“The cops don’t come down here,” he says, like a list of ways to evade the local police is something everyone keeps track of.

He laughs at my prissy little, “Oh.”

“And you can’t see the fire from the road. That was important.”

“That sounds disturbingly like ‘no one can hear you scream.’”

He grins at my joke. His little mischief spot is unexpectedly romantic, and I stretch my legs out too, letting our knees brush, thinking of that look he gave me on the fire escape.

“Tell me you didn’t swim here,” I say. It’s open ocean where we are. The water is frigid.

“Every summer.”

I shake my head. “Ridiculous.”

“One might say invigorating.”

“Hmm. Well, I wouldn’t know. I swam at the state park.” It’s a cove. The water is glass and probably a good five degrees warmer for its protection.

Jamie snorts, and I swing my eyes to him. “What?”

“Of course you did.”

“What does that mean?” I kick his foot, pretending to be offended.

“Nothing, it’s just your memories sound very touristy.”

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