I close my eyes, picture Ocean as he stood in front of me in his tiny kitchenette, bright eyes flashing, soft lips parted. How he looked when he asked if I find Jason pretty. When he told me he’d show me what he likes.
What he tasted like. What his scent was.
Who is he, deep inside? What made him so sad and angry? What don’t I know or can’t begin to guess?
I shuffle the cards again, cut the deck three times, spread three more cards.
Show me.
I flip the first card and stare at the Five of Cups. My hand shakes a little as I put it back down and stare at the young man standing in an empty landscape, facing away, surrounded by the discarded cups. His shoulders are hunched, his head bowed. He looks so heartbreakingly lonely.
I know what this card means. Regret. Unhappiness. Despair. Something that is lost.
Is this what you want to tell me? He’s alone and unhappy?
What about me? What should I do? Worrying at my lower lip with my teeth, I flip the second card. The Eight of Swords.
A girl, blindfolded and bound, surrounded by a forest of swords.
Denial. Imprisonment. Isolation.
So what are you saying, cards? I’m being blind?
Come to think of it, isn’t this the question I’ve been asking myself already? If I missed something? Is this my answer?
A heaviness is settling on my chest. I flip the last card and place it in the middle of the other two.
The Magician.
I start to laugh. I push away the three cards, scattering them, and lean back, still laughing, a little hysterically.
New beginnings. Adventure.
Okay, okay. Fine. I’ll call him. Just to see what he has to say.
PART II
Chapter Eight
Ocean
“You should’ve told me,” Jesse Lee mutters, pacing up and down, wearing a rut into my thin carpet. He gestures at Jason who’s dozing on my sofa, the blanket wrapped around him tightly, only the top of his head showing. “I had no idea he was so sick. Why didn’t he want you to tell me?”
“Said he didn’t want to worry you.” I’m rubbing my hands over my face for the millionth time in the vague hope I can rub away the tiredness. Fucking hell, I was up all night, trying to bring the guy’s fever down. I keep finding myself dreaming where I’m sitting, jolting awake with the sensation of falling. “He’ll be fine.”
“Yeah.” Jesse finally stops the goddamn pacing and perches on the coffee table beside me. He looks like hell—a mirror image of myself, I’d wager.
He spent most of the night here, too, from the moment I called him in barely suppressed panic until we brought Jason back. We then hovered over him until we were sure he wouldn’t need another trip to the doctor’s.
Nothing like seeing a guy in the throes of a seizure to break down your cool. Kids get seizures with high fever. The elderly. Not young men like Jason. But Jason was already weak from a variety of other problems and malnutrition, apparently.
I shudder.
Amber was here as well, only left a couple of hours ago. Jesse drove her to her apartment and came back to keep vigil with me.
“Fuck, I’m sorry about this mess.” Jesse grips the back of his neck. I bet it’s stiff, like mine. “Amber said to move him to her place. She’ll ask Kayla, but it’ll be okay. God I wish we’d moved into our studio already.”
“It’s okay, man,” I tell him. “Let him stay here, get well. I’ll be out of town over the weekend anyway. If you can check on him, then the couch is his.”