Page 8 of A Charming Touch of Tarot (The Gin & Tarot Club #2)

8

Six of Cups…Reversed

My eyelashes flutter, and I stretch my hands over my head, hitting a hard mass next to me. I pop open one eye.

“Boo.” A woman with long, red hair is bent over me, smiling.

I screech, hands thrashing through the air as I twist and land on my back on the floor next to Nick’s sofa.

“What?” Nick flies up, bending over the side, peering down at me. “What’s wrong?”

I blink several times, trying to regain my composure. Light filters in from the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the back of his house.

It’s morning.

We fell asleep and slept through the night.

“I…I’m not sure,” I say, rubbing at my forehead, rising to a seated position on the floor. “A woman. She…”

I shake my head. “Sorry, I must’ve been dreaming.”

Clearly, there was no woman. The house is empty of anyone other than us, ghosts included.

He chuckles. “You’re a hazard to yourself. I should probably put bumpers up on your bed.”

“Ha ha,” I say, stretching once more and ducking my head so he doesn’t see the way my cheeks are coloring. I can feel it. “So…looks like we had an impromptu sleepover.”

Nick grins. “We did.” He holds out his hand, and I take it in mine, allowing him to pull me to my feet and back down to the couch. “I hope there’s more of those. Maybe next time, we can move to the bed. It’s a little more comfortable.”

My toes tingle, and a shiver races through me at the thought of sleeping in Nick’s bed.

“Are you going to turn strawberry every time I mention my bed, Lyss? We could always get it over with. If that’ll help.” The wide Cheshire-cat grin doesn’t fall from his face as his eyes sweep over me.

I choke on my own saliva. “I’m not shy. I just…”

He chuckles, shoulders shaking. “I’m just messing with you.”

“You’re awfully playful today,” I say, pulling the comforter over me—a layer of protection against Nick’s roaming eyes.

Not that I don’t like it. I do. A lot. It’s just my body is prone to cluing him in on just how much I like it.

“You make me laugh,” he says, shrugging.

“It would appear you’re back to normal.” I pat his leg, and he smiles.

“You’re my own personal elixir.” He pulls me down and places a lingering kiss on my mouth. “Want breakfast?” His husky voice washes over me and my shoulders shiver as my eyes close, relishing the way he makes me feel.

I nod, unable to use words, completely lost on cloud nine.

“I need to freshen up,” I say, moving to stand.

He points down the hall. “I have extra toothbrushes in a basket under the sink.”

I narrow my eyes at him and prop one fist on my hip. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

“Nope. But I do plan to kiss you. Many times. So hurry up, will ya?”

I lick my bottom lip before rushing off, eager to get back to kissing. I’m about to enter the guest bathroom when Nick calls down the hall, “Use mine.”

I continue toward the back of the house and his room. I was in here for only a minute yesterday, so I take my time looking around.

It’s clean and very masculine. Gray walls and black accents everywhere else. There’s not a pile of dirty clothes to be found. Then again, Jackie was here cleaning just yesterday. But something tells me that Nick isn’t messy. His sister might be behind the organization, but he maintains it.

Under the sink, just where Nick said, I locate the extra toothbrushes, overflowing in a white, labeled basket. I grab the first package and start brushing, refusing to look at my rat’s-nest hair, which will be the second order of business before breakfast.

I sigh, content with my fresh breath and prepared to work out my tangled hair, but when I look up into the mirror, the redhead from earlier is behind me, smiling like a lunatic.

“Who are you, and what do you want?” I say, grabbing at my heart and spinning around.

Her eyes are like saucers. “You can see me.”

I grab the towel from the rack and hold it out in front of me, as if it’s going to save me from the peppy ghost girl. I’m not afraid of her, just overwhelmed by her.

She’s a spirit, but not the poltergeist I’ve been seeing. This one seems a little too happy for being dead.

“You can see me,” she repeats, bouncing on her toes.

I tip my eyeballs north and nod my head. “Yes, I can see you, but how about you answer my question…Who are you?”

“My name?” she asks, biting her lower lip. “Let’s call me…Pearl.”

“Pearl?” I narrow my eyes at her. “Why do I get the feeling that is not, in fact, your name?”

She shrugs. “It is. It’s even on my birth…and death certificate. At least, I guess it would be. Can’t claim to have seen that one.”

I purse my lips, taking her in. “Do you remember anything about how you died?” I ask, trying not to come across as insensitive.

She swallows, turning her head away from me. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

Her mood instantly changes. Gone is the girl who was just bouncing around. Her posture is tense, and her arms are crossed over her chest.

I take a step forward, prepared to place a hand on her shoulder, but pull away before making that mistake.

“I understand, but if you’re here, you likely need my help crossing over,” I say, voice calm and soft.

She shakes her head. “No. I don’t. I choose to be here.”

My head jerks, taken aback by her tone. “Oh, okay. You’re choosing to stay with me or…” I let my sentence hang, hoping she’ll fill in the blanks.

“I don’t even know you. I’m not here for you,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“Then who exactly are you here for?”

She huffs, seemingly annoyed with me. “Clearly, I’m here for him,” she says, pointing out the door and toward where Nick is.

My head snaps to her face, and I run over every feature. And that’s when the truth hits me.

“You’re…Isla.”

She narrows her eyes on me, sucking her teeth. “You know who I am?” she asks, and I nod.

“Of course I do. I’ve lived in this town for many years. I’ve met your mother on a few occasions.”

The last encounter I had with her mother comes to mind, and I shiver, thinking about her less-than-friendly brother.

“I even helped Oliver cross over recently.”

Her eyes widen. “What? What are you talking about? Cross over where, exactly?”

My mouth snaps shut.

She doesn’t know. And how could she? Ghosts don’t have carte blanche to roam. Whoever they’re stuck with, or whatever they’re tied to, determines where they go and what they see.

“Have you been here ever since…”

“No,” she snaps, turning her head away from me. “For a long time, I traveled wherever he traveled. Until…recently.”

I blink, trying to understand what she’s not saying. Instead of pushing her and taking the chance of making her angry, I change the subject.

“When you said you choose to stay, what do you mean?”

She clears her throat. “I couldn’t leave him. Especially after what happened in the following months. He needs me.”

She’s referring to the alcohol and how he crumpled into himself when she died.

“I’m sorry, Isla. I can only imagine how difficult that must’ve been for you to witness.”

I mean every word, and she must recognize that, because her shoulders relax, and the deep frown she was wearing moments ago melts away. Her bottom lip trembles.

She lowers her head. “Especially since there was nothing I could do to help. I had to watch him fall apart, and it broke me.” She huffs a humorless laugh. “If that’s even possible for a ghost.”

I offer a sad smile to the woman. “I lost someone I loved too. I can’t claim to know how it’s been from your side of things, but from this side, the survivor side, it’s the worst pain imaginable.”

One eyebrow lifts. “You did? May I ask who you lost?”

I bob my head, smiling sadly. “My husband and I were in a car accident, and he didn’t make it.”

Her eyes widen, and her hand lifts to her mouth. “That’s terrible. I’m sorry…” She purses her lips. “What’s your name?”

“Alyssa. Mann. I live next door.”

“The widow,” she says, mostly to herself. “I heard Jackie talk about you when she was here yesterday.”

“That’s…nice to hear,” I admit, smiling a little too wide, considering the ghost I’m here with.

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t get too used to it. He’ll only push you away. He’s bound and determined to be alone.” She doesn’t say this to be harsh. If anything, she sounds frustrated by it.

I tilt my head to the side. “And you know this how?”

She sighs. “Nick talks to me sometimes at night. He doesn’t know I’m here, but he confides in me. Tells me his plans for the future, and how he wishes I were here to experience it all with him.”

I swallow a lump that’s formed in my throat. I know far too well what that’s like. I often talk to Garrett about my day and my hopes for the future, for me and Ava.

“So…if you know who I am…do you know that we’re…”

“Dating?” she says, and I nod. “I kind of worked that out while you slept next to him last night. Nick has never had another woman that isn’t family here.”

She looks around as if he’s nearby and will overhear. She leans in. “Listen, I’m here to help. I think you have the best chance of making him fall in love with you.”

I open my mouth to say…something, but find myself just blinking instead.

I lift my hands to stop her. “Whoa…Isla…nobody’s falling in love here. We just started seeing each other.”

She bats her lashes at me, pursing her lips. “While that might be true, I can help you move things along faster.”

My nose screws up, and I shake my head. “Thank you, but that’s not necessary. I’m happy where things are.”

“Then you need to step aside and leave him alone.”

She’s back to stiff posture and that annoyed frown.

“What’s…happened here? Why the shift?”

She bites her bottom lip. “I lied. I’m actually…stuck here.”

It’s my turn to frown. “You said you chose to stay. Now you’re stuck? Which is it?”

She groans. “A part of me needs to know that Nick will find love again. And that part of me has the whole of me,” she says, waving down the length of her body, “stuck.”

Good lord. Why does the universe feel the need to make each and every case of spirits in my life disastrous? As bad as I thought it was to have Billy tailing me, having access to Nick’s fiancée is worse. Much worse.

It feels wrong on so many levels.

“While I appreciate the confidence you have in me, I’m not on board with tricking him into love.”

Her mouth drops open, and her head shakes. “Who said anything about tricking? I’m not sure you’re the one either; I just want to help you along to see if you might be.”

My eyes narrow in on the lovely ghost, wondering what I did in this life to deserve the crazy that seems to come my way.

“Alyssa? You okay?” Nick calls down the hall. “Food’s ready.”

“He cooked for you.” She doesn’t really say this to me. There’s something sad about her words, and I want to ask, but think better of it.

I have no business knowing things about Nick’s life that he himself hasn’t chosen to share with me.

“I’m coming,” I yell back, turning toward Isla. “Look…while I appreciate the situation you’re in, I can’t help you. You need to figure out how to get all sides of yourself on the same page and move on to the afterlife.” I take a deep breath, because what I’m about to say will be hard for her to hear. “Your brother, Oliver—he recently passed.”

“I know,” she says, and my head juts back.

“But…earlier you acted like you didn’t know,” I say, confused.

“I knew, I just didn’t realize that he stuck around,” she explains. “Remember when I said Nick talks to me?” I bob my head. “He told me about my brother. Said he hoped we were together.”

I sigh in relief, glad to not have to be the bearer of unhappy news after all.

“Well…he did stick around, because he had some unfinished business with your mom.” Her eyebrows lift, and I press on. “He had money stashed that he needed her to find. I helped facilitate that.”

Her face lights up, eyes bright with a light that hasn’t been there since she first appeared. “Thank you. I…” She shakes her head, laughing lightly. “I can’t thank you enough for that.”

I shrug. “It was either help him or be forced to endure his wrath. No offense, but your brother was not exactly charming.”

She titters, covering her nose with her hands. “Don’t I know it.”

“I gotta go,” I say, motioning toward the door.

“Talk to him about the Jets. He’s a huge fan,” she says to my retreating back.

“I know nothing about the Jets. I hate football.” It’s not entirely true, but I’m not about to push this idea of matchmaking she has going on.

“Why? Football is fun.” Her voice pitches, and I smother a grin before turning over my shoulder to look at her.

I make a face. “I find it boring.”

She huffs. “Fine, then…ask him about his motocross days.”

“What’s motocross?”

Another way of pushing the idea of love out of her head. Of course I know motocross. Garrett had his own dirt bike back in the day.

She takes a step back, eyes wide. “Okay, never mind. You’re hopeless. I need to find the next contender.”

“Sorry, Isla. Better luck next time.”

She pats her heart and makes a frustrated sound.

I rush back toward the kitchen, thinking about all that I’ve just learned.

“Did you find everything you needed?” Nick asks, glancing up from the stove at me.

“Yes. Thanks.”

His head tilts, and a lopsided smile spreads across his face. “You didn’t find the hairbrush?”

“What?” I ask, patting my head and moving toward the oval mirror hanging on the wall.

Holy shit. I have a tangled mess on top of my head. I’d been so distracted with Isla that I didn’t even bother to brush my hair.

“Wow. Yeah, I got tied up. Checking my phone.” I shrug, baring my teeth in an awkward smile.

“That phone?” he asks, pointing to my cell phone that’s sitting on the coffee table, right where I left it when I headed toward the bathroom.

I lift my arm, thanking god that I have on my Apple Watch. I hadn’t looked at it once, but it’s there and gets me off the hook with my little white lie. There’s a text from Ava.

Ava

Remember the cheerleader that was drunk at the game a few years back?

My nose crinkles up as I try to recall who she could be referencing. Ava was never into Knox Harbor athletics, but Garrett took her to a game or two because there was an all-star quarterback that the entire state was buzzing about on our team. Garrett wanted to watch the kid play.

Me

Not really.

Ava

It was a big deal because her uncle was a cop.

Me

Not sure, hun. What about her?

Ava

She’s the girl that’s missing.

The one Mrs. Jenkins and the hats were looking for.

Me

Hopefully they find her.

I glance toward Nick, watching as he flips a pancake over.

“You made pancakes?”

He shrugs. “Everyone likes pancakes.”

When I don’t say anything, his face falls. “Do you not? Like pancakes,” he asks, and I smile.

“I love pancakes.”

A lazy smile falls over his face, and a sigh escapes his lips.

“Everything okay?” he asks, motioning toward my phone.

“Yeah. Ava was just telling me about a girl who’s missing. Know anything about it?”

He lowers his head, turning his attention back to the pancakes. “Yeah, unfortunately. It’s my captain’s niece. She’s considered a runaway though.”

Either way, not knowing where your child is must be the worst feeling for any parent. I would be beside myself if it were Ava.

“Her parents must be worried sick. I would be,” I admit.

“They are, but this isn’t the first time that Chelsea has run off. She always turns back up.”

Another text comes in, and I look down to see that Ava has sent me a photo. When the picture loads, my mouth drops open.

I stare at the photograph, a sinking feeling washing over me. The young woman captured in the image, smiling wide in her cheerleader uniform, is more than familiar. It’s her, the girl in red, and the grim reality crashes into me.

She’s dead.

“What’s wrong?” Nick asks, placing the spatula down and turning off the stove.

I run my hands down my face, trying to formulate words. Nick knows about my ability. He asked me to use it to contact Charlie Dunbar while he was in his coma, stuck between worlds.

So why is it so hard to answer the question?

“Alyssa…”

I look up and push down my fears. Helping this young girl find peace and move on is more important than worrying what people will think of me.

“She’s dead, Nick.”