Page 160 of In Somnis

I open my mouth, only to immediately close it

“Besides, I have an old soul.”

I give him the look. The one that is supposed to communicate that I am a grown adult, he is almost a child, and this conversation has a ceiling.

“I also know my way around dicks,” he says, entirely unintimidated. “Venus in retrograde taught me plenty.”

“Jasper.” I slap his arm. “No.”

“Okay, okay, fine.” He rubs the spot with theatrical suffering, though his smirk doesn’t go anywhere. “Something else. Universe, help us out here. Something other than phalluses.”

He shuffles too fast, with too much confidence, and the entire deck launches itself out of his hands and explodes across the kitchen floor in a cascade of illustrated cards, skidding under the counters and fanning out across the tiles as if the universe is making a point.

Jasper goes very still, closes his eyes, and exhales, his cheeks turning pink.

I look at the chaos of cards around our feet. “And what does that mean?”

“Probably that you need to get your shit together.”

“Well, if that’s not the truth,” I mutter, crouching to help him gather them.

We collect the cards, and I’m almost grateful for the task, when Jasper says, “You know what I’ve been thinking about lately?”

“I genuinely never know what you’ve been thinking about.”

“Nevan’s cards.” He stacks a small pile and taps them evenly. “I’ve been reading for him for a while now. And there’s this pattern that keeps coming up, this… energy, I guess, around connection. Around someone who comes from somewhere else. Someone who brings something he doesn’t have…” He pauses, eyes flicking up to mine as if he’s checking whether I’m following, or maybe whether I’m ready to hear the rest. “It’s interesting.”

I keep my eyes on the floor. “Jasper.”

“I’m just saying. Hypothetically. If I were to pull cards for two people together⁠—”

“Jasper.”

“… which I’m not doing, I’m just thinking out loud.”

“You’re not thinking out loud, you’re pitching.” I hand him a stack of cards. “And I’m telling you, with all the love in the world, to pitch it to someone else.”

He takes the cards and looks at me with those eyes. “You didn’t say it was a bad idea.”

“Goodnight, Jasper.”

“That’s also not a denial.”

“Sleep well.”

I stand and press my palms flat against the counter’s cool surface, thinking about how I’m here for Tessa. That’s the whole reason. Tessa is stuck somewhere between sleeping and waking in a room across town, and I drove three thousand miles to get to her.

Instead, I’m standing in a kitchen at eleven at night while an eighteen-year-old reads my tarot, and I try not to think about the temperature of Paul’s hands or the exact way Ridge’s voice drops when he says, “sweetheart” like it’s a verdict.

This is grief. Grief makes you do things. Stupid things. Things that feel enormous and significant when really, they’re just the mind trying to fill the hole someone left behind.

I’m not losing it. I’m just sad. I’m just…

The kitchen door swings open, and Nevan comes in with his easy smile and his oversized hoodie, his hair slightly disheveled from wherever he’s been. My entire nervous system does something embarrassing and immediate.

Fuck, I think. All of this.

“Is this guy bothering you?” He jerks his head at Jasper.