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“Oh!” Ronan howls with laughter. “Would you look at that? The Lovers are in my future. I think I can interpret that one all on my own, don’t you agree?”

Playing it cool, I straighten the cards, and use the time to gather my thoughts.

I don’t want him to know the last card caught me off guard, too.

I’m not sure I like any possible meaning that card could have in this situation.

“Maybe you should let me tell you what all this means, especially since the cards aren’t always as they appear. ”

He motions to the spread on the table. “By all means, tell me my future, Miss Sheridan.”

With a roll of my eyes, I take a look to find the connecting pieces. Once I describe what each card means, I'll pull it together and relate it back to his question. I think this is going to be much more relevant than he anticipated.

“We’ll start with the meaning of each card.” I point to the one in the past position. “This is the Four of Cups, but in reverse. This suggests that you took on a new outlook on life. You stopped dwelling on where you were and decided to take steps toward your future—the future you wanted.”

Ronan sits up a little straighter, his green eyes glancing over at Bryce. I want to see his reaction, but I'm too focused on watching the doubter before me.

I move to the second card. "The Seven of Wands is telling you to take a stand.

I can't tell you what this is in regard to, only you can do that.

It's a message on how it’s time to fight for yourself and that future you decided to chase.

Push back, don't worry about the odds being against you. This is your moment."

Another glance toward Bryce and Carter has me wondering what they know about Ronan that I don't.

"That might make a bit of sense," he murmurs, but then the small smirk is back. "How about we talk about the last card?"

"The Lovers…" I trail off, trying to find the best way to describe this card. "In this instance, it could mean finding love, but it doesn't necessarily mean you've already found it."

"Well, that's good," Bryce murmurs, "because everyone who's an option is literally taken."

I bite back a grin at the idea of him not seeing me as an option for Ronan. At least he still thinks I hate him. Because I do.

I absolutely do.

"So, what does it mean, exactly?" Ronan asks, ignoring his friend.

"In this instance, I would say it's reminding you to follow your heart, but be careful to make sure you're looking at what the best option is. It can be a warning to not give your heart away too easily."

The smirk slowly slides off his face. "Oh."

"Yeah, so to sum it all up…" I take a glance back at the cards.

"I would say you made the right decision by focusing in on a new outlook and taking a chance.

In the present, you need to prepare to stand up for the things you believe in and defend them when necessary, or you run the risk of losing them and yourself.

That needs to be your priority right now.

In the future, you can start looking for romance based on good communication, but be careful not to mistake lust for love. Do you have any questions?"

He looks at the cards, like there might be some secret within them that we’ve both missed.

The crease in his forehead deepens with his frown, green eyes jumping between them all.

I’d give anything to be able to read his mind right now—figure out if he’s panicking over how relevant this reading seems. I feel like I know nothing about his life at this point.

I’m still trying to get used to this new version of him I’m being exposed to, but even I can connect the dots.

“What else can you tell me about The Lovers card?”

Bryce groans at the question. “I’m officially bored with this. We’re supposed to be having a game night, and this doesn’t count.”

Ronan waves him, and everyone else, off, but stays exactly where he is, waiting.

“What do you want to know?” The rest of our group filters out, heading toward the living room to set up the game night.

“Everything.”

“I mean, there are a lot of ways to interpret it, and it usually depends on the question being asked,” I tell him.

“Typically speaking, it signifies a perfect union, but we need to know what that union is. It could mean learning to love and accept yourself. It could mean romantically, or even, in some cases, deep friendships. If you’re focusing on your own health, it could be a reminder that your support system is here and never goes away.

It can also be related to heart health.”

“Oh, so now they can tell me if I’m going to have a heart attack?”

“Seriously?” I grab the box with more force than I mean to. “You’re the one who’s asking follow-up questions. You don’t get to be a judgmental ass.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Please continue.”

I narrow my eyes, trying to show him my dislike for this whole conversation.

“If it’s in a reading focusing on your career, it could signify that you’re entering a partnership that’s going to be great and successful.

In relationship readings, it signifies a strong bond.

It can also signify sparks starting to fly within your love life.

It doesn’t mean the person you’re thinking about is the one. ”

“And who do you think is on my mind? ”

“That’s it.” I snatch up the cards that I’d laid out and add them to the deck to put them away. “I’m done doing this with you.”

“Oh, come on, Mia,” he pleads. I get up, gathering the dishes still sitting on the island from dinner. “I’m messing with you! I just find it hard to believe you take this seriously!"

After depositing my dishes into the sink, I start washing my hands to have something to do. “As I said earlier, tarot cards are rooted in intuition, Ronan. Part of the point is to help you learn to trust your own instincts and that’s something I need to do.”

“That’s not an answer, though, is it?”

Letting an eye roll loose, I turn to face him. “The world isn’t that black and white. They help me see and find clarity with what has happened and what’s currently happening in my life.”

His brow arches up. “And what’s going to happen in the future?”

“Why does it matter to you?” My arms cross over my chest. “Weren’t you always the one talking about not shutting down what other people are into? Especially when it comes to their belief system?”

He’s clearly startled by my question and seems a little chastised. Which I take as a win in the conversation.

“Besides,” I continue, “can you honestly tell me nothing I said in that reading resonated with you?”

“I never said it didn’t!” Defensiveness is back in his tone. “But I also never thought you’d be into something like this and find merit in it. You always like to see things the way they are.”

He wasn’t getting it, and I don’t feel the need to keep repeating myself.

I don’t owe him any more of an explanation.

I don’t need to tell him how I got into reading tarot when I was forced to make decisions about where my future was going to take me.

I don’t need to tell him how reading those cards helped me cope with things that happened in the past, things that involved him.

I don’t need to keep telling him that these cards help me find comfort in the things I already know.

That they feel like they’re backing me up.

Especially when he used to tell me how staring at a black line for hours upon hours was his form of therapy.

“Well, I’m not sure you know me well enough to make that call. And sometimes people find answers in unique places. Just because what I do doesn’t make sense to you, doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to say, Mia!”

“You know, maybe that’s your problem. You say a lot of shit, Ronan, but does anyone even know what you mean? Do we know if there’s any truth to what you say at all?”

Ronan’s pale cheeks flush a shade of red I’ve never seen before. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I have never lied to you, Mia.”

“Forget it.” I wave him off. I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to have this conversation. I’ve avoided it for eight years. Why not make it a lifetime?

As I turn to leave, he reaches out, and gently grabs my arm, keeping me in place. My gaze snaps down to where his fingers are holding me, not wanting to think about the last time we were in a position like this. And I refuse to pay attention to the way my heart is thudding against my chest.

“You are not doing that, Mia,” he seethes, stepping closer.

Somehow, I know Ronan wouldn’t hold me here if I asked him to let me go.

He wouldn’t hesitate to release me, but my morbid sense of curiosity keeps me rooted in place.

“You’ve done nothing but treat me like shit since I got here.

Longer, actually. Every time I feel like we take a step forward, you go five back.

You refuse to tell me what I did, and now you’re calling me a liar? Fuck that.”

My gaze locks with his. “It’s not my job to tell you when you make a mistake, Ronan. You’re a big boy. ”

“But I don’t know what mistake I made,” he says through gritted teeth. “I can’t fix whatever this is if I don’t know what happened. Please, tell me what happened. I’m tired of this shit.”

“I don’t want an apology, Ronan.” I fight to keep my voice from raising, the last thing we need is for everyone to come in here and witness this stupid argument.

“Then what do you want from me, Mia?”

I glare up at him. “To leave me the hell alone.”

“And if I don’t want to?”

The question catches me off guard. I shrink back. “W—what?”

It’s the first time either one of us has said anything like that out loud, despite our actions obviously proving the question right. There’s still something between us. Sure, it might be sparking with relentless rage, but it’s there. And eventually, it’ll pull us together until we explode.

He takes a deep breath, and then a step closer to me. I don’t back up. I can feel his chest rise and fall. His green eyes search my face before they settle on my lips. “What if I don’t want to leave you alone?”

The question is asked in barely a whisper.

His warm breath fanning against my face with each word.

It sends a shiver down my spine, and I should walk away.

I should step back, put as much distance between us as possible, and keep it that way.

The last thing I need to do is prove he still has some kind of hold on me. That’s what I should do.

Instead, I surge forward, and he meets me in the middle, our lips crashing together in a kiss that is both passionate and uncertain.

I don’t go back to that day in the stairwell because this kiss feels different.

This kiss is us, through and through. Suddenly, I’m in my early twenties, chasing a dream with my best friend.

I’m in Charlotte, North Carolina again, staring up at swimming’s golden boy after he caught me in his arms. Things look brighter.

I’ve never known the kind of heartbreak I know now.

Everything’s possible. Nothing is without reach, including this man.

But that’s not reality.

As soon as his lips move to deepen the kiss. I pull back with a gasp. Ronan’s staring down at me, jaw slack, breathing a little heavier. Somewhere in the kiss, his grip on my arm had dropped. I take a step back. “That cannot happen again.”

Ronan follows me. “Right, I agree.”

“Ronan!” I take another step back, and he follows. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.” I’m pressed between a kitchen island and solid muscle. Except I don’t want to escape. “Completely serious.”

Everything is different about the next kiss.

Ronan’s hand is cupping the back of my neck, tilting my head toward him to angle it just right.

There’s no hesitation, as a quick swipe against my bottom lip and the small gasp I release is all he needs before sliding his tongue inside and taking control of the kiss.

Oh, my god . My fingers reach up until they’re combing the dark hair at the nape of his neck. This man is always going to ruin me.

With his other hand, he grips me tighter around the hip and takes another step closer.

There’s not a single part of our body that isn’t touching, and I feel my resolve melting away.

I don’t want to be mad at this man. I don’t want to be hurt over the things of the past. I want to know this version of him.

I want to see how he’s grown and changed.

I want to know how much of the guy I knew is still inside him and whether our lives can be entwined the same way they once were.

I want more , I finally admit to myself.

We break apart at the sound of a loud thump and laughter from the living room. Both of us are turned toward the doorway, frozen like we’re about to be walked in on, breathing hard .

Reality starts to come back into focus. We’re in Josie and Bryce’s kitchen and we just had a fight. An angry kiss between enemies might be hot in a romance novel, but in real life, it’ll complicate things. And I can’t allow for things to be more complicated.

I gently push Ronan back. He stumbles away from me, swallowing thickly, and bringing a hand up to fix his hair.

“That will never happen again.”

“What?”

I glare at him, taking a second to pull myself together. If I go out there right now, my best friend will know what happened with a single look. “Both kisses were mistakes. I’ll never let it happen again.”

Ronan opens his mouth to say something, green eyes going a little wide, but he never gets the chance. Carter enters the kitchen. He stops as soon as he enters the room, frowning at both of us.

“Are you guys good?” Carter focuses his attention fully on me. He might not know what happened between Ronan and me, but he’s more than aware of what his guy friends are capable of. And he’s not afraid to call them out. “Josie sent me in here to make sure you hadn’t killed each other yet.”

“If I have to be alone with him for a second longer, I might kill him.” I push past Ronan, purposefully heading toward the living room. “What was that thump?”

Carter follows behind me. “Bryce fell off the arm of the couch.”

I laugh, but it sounds a little strained. “Of course he did.”

“Mia.” Carter’s voice is lowered. “Are you good?”

“Fucking peachy, Carter.” The sarcasm is evident, and I know he’ll want to follow-up about it, but I don’t know what else to say to him. He doesn’t deserve my lies.

He hums in understanding, murmuring, “We’ll talk about this later,” as we enter the living room.