Page 62 of The Fate Factor

“Orrr,” I say. “It could be a very big warning that none of this is real.” When I say it out loud, my stomach sinks like a stone. I absently drop Kate’s half done braid.

This is why I never let myself believe in Nana’s readings. Getting my heart set on something that could blow up in my face was something I’d already learned not to do. I didn’t need to seek out more opportunities to get my hopes up.

Kate reaches back to tie the braid I’ve left dangling, then shifts so we’re shoulder to shoulder. “Do you honestly believe that? After everything?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if it matters at this point. You just said I could have changed the whole thing by leaving that night. What if I changed something else?”Something I already had my heart set on.

My body sags. That’s the thing of it, right? The thing that had me running away from him on the beach, my hands clutched over my heart as if I could keep it safe from the reckless path I started down. If one thing has changed, then it’s possible that whatever I saw between Jamie and me has too.

I’ve had three glimpses of what I took to be the future, and so far only a couple of minor details have been right. I started to tell myself that, despite the dwindling evidence, it wasn’t reckless to believe in it because Iwantedit to be true.

And I should have known better. That’s the trouble with letting yourself want things. It has the dangerous side effect of making you forget all the reasons it won’t work. You pack your kid up and take her on a road trip to chase a man you had one night with. Or you hop in a van you bought on Facebook Marketplace for three-hundred-dollars and probably some weed, drive to California, and end up with completely foreseeable engine trouble because you never thought past the wanting part.

I mean, what if I did let myself fall for Jamie’s adventures and carefree smile and careless hair? Then what? This is a short stay, a sabbatical to find what I need to fix my life back in Connecticut. What am I even doing?

It’s not that it didn’t occur to me that I was exploring this connection with Jamie here, a place I’m only staying temporarily. I just truly didn’t have much faith in it at first. And then I was caught up in it. Believing that the little things I likeso much about him were messages from the universe. But there were never any directions past this feeling in my belly. Never any safety net like Colin suggested. In the real world, where magic doesn’t exist, it was never going to work. I was never going to have him.

“I tried to listen to the universe, Kate, but I’m not going to drive myself to the bottom of a lake because the signs say there’s something there. This tattoo thing is a warning that I need to do what I came here to do and go home.” My voice cracks on the last word, and something sharp spears my chest.

Shit.

Kate grabs my hand and squeezes. “You wanna know what I think, Noel?”

I sigh. “I’m not sure.”

“Well, too bad. I think you’ve been so busy looking for cosmic signs, that you’re missing the ones right in front of you. You’re disappointed, babe. When you came here, even that was hard to muster. That has to tell you something.”

I consider that, that maybe the way I miss himisthe sign and I’m ignoring it.

But it’s also entirely possible that you can find a sign for anything you want to be true if you’re gullible enough.

The fact is, whether magic is real or not, I have no proof I can count on it to be on my side.

“I am disappointed,” I tell Kate. “I’m disappointed in myself. This has been too much from the start. I’m still me, just three hours north.”

She stares at me for a longer than a comfortable amount of time, then nods. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yup. Whatever you say, Noel.” Kate gets to her feet and heads down the hall. “It’s your life.”

“Where are you going?” I call from my spot on the floor. “Since when has it ever been ‘Whatever you say, Noel?’”

“Did you get rid of Nana’s stuff under here?” she asks, voice muffled, and I shake my head, picturing her on her knees, pawing through the plastic containers beneath the sink.

“Are you serious right now?”

“What? You seemed like you wanted to drop it, so I’m dropping it, and like I said, sleepover rules apply. Bingo!” She comes back holding a small storage cube and a quilted glass bottle with a bubble sprayer, spritzing her wrists. “It smells like her.”

I swallow down a lump. “Are you trying to make me cry, because it’s not going to take a lot.”

“Of course not. Unless you’re willing to admit you want to cry and then we can dissect that.”

I shake my head, and she plops down beside me. I reach for the bottle, spraying my cleavage while Kate dives into the makeup. It’s been over a decade since we’ve touched this stuff. The gaudy lipsticks probably expired a decade before that, and neither of us would be caught dead in this color eyeshadow palette as adults. Kate pulls out a glittery blue and waves it like a taunt.

“Fine,” I tell her. “Do your worst.”

She laughs evilly, but I’m grateful for the distraction when she presses her fingers to my eyelid, holding it closed. I want to sink into the comfort of this memory even if it takes me a whole package of makeup wipes to clean my face at the end of the night.

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