Series: Shame On You Series by Willow Winters
Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51495 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 257(@200wpm)___ 206(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
Turning though, there’s another story to tell.
The other side of the studio is similar, but it contains completely different things. A slim shelf holds several decks of tarot cards. Colorful crystals glint on another shelf. There are glass bottles and candles everywhere. It feels much warmer than the art side, and I’m drawn to it.
There’s another long table parallel to the art station, but this one is a warm wood, lower with dainty chairs in gray velvet on either side and a matching sofa that’s tufted.
“I could read your cards,” Aria suggests as she lights a candle at the center of the table. She moves around the space, putting down her wine glass and picking up a silver tray. An expression of concentration crosses her face as she gathers candlesticks and some kind of oil from one of the shelves.
Just then, the door closes behind us, once again startling the hell out of me.
“Addison, have you met Braelynn?” Aria asks a bright-eyed younger version of herself. There’s a softer look about her face, though, and she’s a bit more petite.
“Now I have,” she comments and offers a beautiful smile. “It’s nice to meet the woman Daniel’s been telling me about.” My eyes widen slightly and she adds, “I’m Daniel’s wife,” as if that’s the part I couldn’t put together. And not that I’m concerned about what she’s been told. I’m curious how she met Daniel, but I don’t want to ask. What if the story is so different from mine that it only adds to this nervous feeling that won’t let me go?
Her dark hair falls in gorgeous waves as she comes in and takes the seat on the end easily. “Are you doing a reading? I want to read, too,” Addison says, her voice peppy. Reading tarot cards…my mother never liked tarot cards. I have a feeling she wouldn’t much like this room at all.
Aria’s at another one of her shelves, gathering some rocks for the tray. “Do you like crystals?” she asks.
I’m not sure if she’s talking to me or Addison for a moment. Then I realize they’re both waiting for my answer. All eyes on me.
“I do,” I tell them both. That’s the truth, anyway. “Crystals are very pretty.”
The one thing I remember about my great-grandmother were all her minerals and gemstones. She had shelves of rocks, more than Aria that’s for sure. When she passed, I was only left one. A dark blue one that I lost at some point in middle school. I keep my story to myself although I nearly tell them.
“I have these for you.”
Aria crosses to me and puts one of the stones in my palm. It’s smallish and a smooth oval shape with rich earth colors and a hint of blue flash to it. “This one is a que sera,” she tells me. She goes back to one of the shelves on the wall and opens a drawer beneath it. Aria takes out another stone, then brings it to me.
“And this one is called an Irish Hag Stone, don’t mind the name…it works. They help you live soundly and sleep soundly.”
“An Irish Hag Stone…” It’s a gray rock with a whole in it. “To help me sleep?” I question. I wish I could keep the skepticism out of my voice, but I can’t. It's just a river rock.
“I do have something stronger.” Aria doesn’t sound offended. “We call it sweets, and it’s not a rock…but its side effects might not be good for you right now.”
I swallow hard. Aria’s talking about my mental state, and she’s just used the name of an old street drug.
Addison leans closer to me and gestures for me to take a seat. “Even if it’s all in your head, it’s in your head, and that’s what matters sometimes,” she says, her tone gentle.
“We’ve all been through hard times, Braelynn.”
Aria positions the tray near her elbow, picks up a deck of tarot cards, and shuffles them. She holds eye contact with me as her hands move. “I need you to know we’re here for you. Whether it’s wine and venting or a distraction”—she holds up the cards—"or anything else.”
“We’ve been through it,” Addison says, nodding along. “You should know you have us.”
“I might not be Carter Cross, but I am a Cross.” Addison nods to that, too. “And I want you here.”
I almost ask her why—why do you want me here? But I bite my tongue.
Aria smirks as if she can read my mind. “You don’t have to ask me. You can ask the cards.”
Declan
Almost 1:00 a.m. and I haven’t been home.
We came straight to the club even though it’s the last place I want to be. Someone here is a fucking rat. I know it. Hell, it could be every fucking one of them.
The private back room is dimly lit, cigar fog billows from the bar, pool balls smack together, and chatter fills the space.