Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
The woman’s sitting at a round table with two stools on the opposite side. She’s wearing a long-sleeved red dress with silver embroidery. A matching silver scarf’s tied around her head, hiding a good portion of her long, wavy red hair. Large gold hoops swing from each ear. Pretty much what I’d expect a carnival fortune teller to be wearing. There’s no crystal ball on her table, though. Just a thick, dark-red velvet cloth and a deck of Tarot cards still in the box.
I plop down on one of the low, red velvet stools and Hayden sits on the one next to me.
The woman stretches her arms across the table with her hands up and lifts an eyebrow at me. After a second of hesitation, I rest my hands on top of hers. She gently wraps her soft, warm fingers around mine.
“What do you seek to know, Molly?” she asks.
Her skin’s smooth and unlined. She’s younger than I’d expect. Maybe my brother’s age? But she speaks with the attitude of someone much older.
Wait, how’d she know my name?
I open my mouth to ask, and she shakes her head. “Focus on the question.”
“I don’t know.” I tilt my head toward Hayden. “She made me come in here.”
One corner of the medium’s mouth lifts. “At your age, I assume it’s about a boy.” She closes her eyes, her face settling into an impassive mask. “Ah, two boys. Interesting. One you love deeply who broke your heart. And the other one you like but…” She stops, thank God. “You still love the first one. There was a misunderstanding? You were embarrassed very publicly. Betrayed.” Her carefully groomed eyebrows pinch together. “So much guilt.”
Whose guilt? Griff’s or mine?
Her accuracy is so damn freaky. Did Hayden set me up?
The woman opens her eyes. Even under the odd lighting inside the tent, her blue-green irises shine like sea glass, staring straight through me.
“Holding onto all this unresolved anger and shame is much like sitting in the middle of a fire and hoping those who wronged you are the ones who will get burned,” she says. “Tell him the truth. All of it.”
This isn’t fun anymore. I yank my hands away from her voodoo table, praying it breaks whatever psychic connection we’ve established. “Thank you for the advice.” I shoot a glare at Hayden. “It’s your turn now.”
The medium smirks. “Follow your heart, Molly.”
“My heart is unreliable,” I mutter.
Not deterred by my super-specific reading, Hayden happily lays her hands on the table and the medium takes them.
“You’ve begun a new path recently,” the woman says, closing her eyes again. “But you don’t feel like you’re where you belong?”
I stare at Hayden. Is she having trouble adjusting to college?
Hayden blushes and averts her eyes.
“You worked hard to get there,” the woman continues. “And even though it’s a sacrifice for your parents, you are worthy, Hayden.”
The medium opens her eyes. “That’ll be twenty dollars, each.”
I pry open my wallet and peer into the almost empty cash slot. “You should’ve gotten the money upfront,” I joke, handing over a twenty.
She winks at me. “I knew you were good for it.”
Hayden pays her and we both hurry away from the table. At the tent flaps we stop and share a look.
“We never speak of this,” she says.
“Deal.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Griff
Molly spent the night at Hayden’s after the carnival. Did she always plan to stay there or was it to avoid me? Whatever the reason, I left a surprise on her bed. I’m hoping she sees it before she leaves.
I keep busy raking leaves, taking care of the pre-winter yard maintenance Remy won’t have time to get around to. The dull aches in my shoulder and knee keep reminding me not to get carried away.
Around one o’clock, Molly’s car pulls into the driveway.
I glance over as she steps out wearing a hot-pink, velvet tracksuit with a red sequined heart on the front and pink flip-flops so small, her toes hang over the front.
Our eyes meet and I bite my lip, trying to hide my laughter.
“Don’t you dare say anything,” she warns, her voice carrying through the backyard.
“What in the early 2000s Legally Blonde are you wearing?” I manage between chuckles.
“Shut it!” Ignoring my amusement, she pulls a bag out of her back seat, then rips off the flip-flops and tosses them inside.
I rest my rake against a tree and hurry to help her.
“Want me to take that?” I lift the heavy bag out of her hands and catch a glimpse of her balled-up black velvet dress and boots inside.
“My beloved boots betrayed me last night.” She lifts one foot, showing me the large Band-Aid across her heel.
I wince in sympathy. “Ouch. You all right?”
“I’ll live.”
I follow her into the house.
In the kitchen, she takes the bag from me. “I need to sort this stuff and then pack to go back to campus.”