The Fool’s butterflies. I read about them in the book. The Fool’s animal companions—traditionally a little white dog, but in the case of my mother’s deck, the butterflies—typically represent the subconscious trying to warn the Fool she’s about to fall off that cliff.
The message from today’s draw no longer feels like a call to a grand adventure. It feels like a warning. One that’s come too late.
Because now I know, with utter certainty, what I’m feeling.
Someone is following me.
Shit.Shit! Why did I ignore Dr. Sutherland’s advice? Why didn’t I remember my phone? Why am I too fucking stupid to live?
I quicken my stride, but the feeling only intensifies. I scan my surroundings. No one is around—not even a passing car—but still. I can feel eyes on me. Feel the vibration of the footsteps at my back, despite not being able to see anyone.
Taking a non-direct route, I zig-zag down another street, doubling back, hoping to lose my tail. No fucking dice—the feeling only gets worse. But I can’t stop now. I need to get to the house. The magic inside will protect me. I know it.
It feels like miles before I finally hit the driveway. I run all the way up. When the house comes into view, I sprint the last few dozen yards, not stopping until I’m on the porch, totally winded.
The front door opens for me. The butterfly takes off, and I sigh in relief, ready to collapse.
I’ve just stepped over the threshold when I see it—a shadow on the porch, a man peeling away from behind one of the pillars.
“Dizzy Lizzy,” the man says, baring all his teeth. “God, it’s good to see you.”
My stomach is in free fall.
Fucking Brendan Hayes is standing on my mother’s porch.
The fear leaks from my limbs, leaving nothing but raw irritation in its place.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” His voice is like dirty oil. All I want to do is shove him down the steps, run inside, and take a scalding-hot shower.
But the only move I’ve got left is a roll of the eyes. “I’ve asked you not to call me that, Brendan.”
“Aww, don’t be so sensitive.” He steps closer. He’s dressed in a pale pink golf shirt tucked into khakis, like a complete tool. He looks like he hasn’t slept in a week.Good.
“How did you find me?”
Now he’s the one rolling his eyes. “Come on, Dizz. You’re still using my Amazon account. The deliveries all pointed to one address.” He spreads his arms, indicating the house. Me. My all-encompassing stupidity. “Honestly, sometimes I wonder how you even managed to get this far without me.”
“I’m doing just fine, thanks.”
“Are you, though?” He takes another step toward me, but I hold up my hand.
“If you’ve got something to say, say it and get the fuck out.”
“Look, if this is about the credit card…” He sighs and shakes his head. Like,poor, dumb Lizzy knows not what she does.“I’m not pressing charges. I’m not even mad. I get it.”
“I very much doubt it.”
“Sure, you had a little breakdown. Needed some me-time. I just wish you would’ve told me. We could’ve gone somewheretogether. Somewhere…” He scans the house, judgment creasing his face. “Nicer.”
“We never wentanywheretogether. You barely wanted to be seen with me.”
“Come on. Don’t be like that.”
“This isn’t some breakdown-induced getaway, Brendan. This property belongs to me and my sisters. And if you don’t leave, I’ll?—”
“Call the cops? And tell them what, exactly?” His demeanor shifts from condescending to threatening, a subtle change but one I pick up on acutely. “That you stole my credit card? That you continue to commit fraud with it? That you used it to play a childish prank in an attempt to jeopardize my career? Not a chance, by the way. I’m being promoted.”
“Good for you. Have a nice life.”
