Page 17 of Bear’s True Mate

How had she known my name?

“Maribel’s readings are always insightful. Go on,” Eleanor said with a smile. “What could it hurt?”

I should have said no. After all, I didn’t believe in tarot, and I definitely didn’t believe that the wind had been whispering my name to her.

How else had she known my name, though?

The thought nudged at me, causing goose bumps to prickle across my skin. This was why I stepped toward the chair she’d motioned to and sat down. Maribel didn’t introduce herself further. Instead, she shuffled her cards and then held the deck out to me. “Cut it into three piles, then stack them back together into one.”

My hands moved before I’d fully decided to cooperate, and I followed her instructions.

Once I was finished, she took the deck back and flipped the first card onto the table. A woman stood blindfolded and surrounded by swords stuck into the ground around her. She looked trapped.

That couldn’t be good.

I leaned forward in my chair. Even though I might not fully believe in such things, I was still curious.

“The Eight of Swords,” Maribel said, her finger tracing the edge of the card. “You believe you’re trapped, but look—the swords aren’t touching her. The blindfold isn’t tied. She could walk out anytime. The cage isn’t built by the one who hurt you, child. It’s built by your fear. You’re free, but you don’t believe it yet, do you?”

My hands went cold in my lap. I wanted to say something—argue, deflect, make a joke—but my throat wouldn’t cooperate. She’d just described the last two years of my life in a few sentences, and I hadn’t told her a single thing about me.

She flipped the second card. It was of a figure walking away from a bunch of cups.

“The Eight of Cups,” she murmured. “You’ve already left. You’ve already walked away from what was hurting you. All that emotional hurt and trauma you were enduring. That took courage.” She paused, tilting her head to one side like she was listening to a voice I couldn’t hear. “But running from and running toward are different things. Right now, you’re still running from. The cards say it’s now time to decide what you’re running toward.”

Running toward? Like there was supposed to be a plan beyond getting out?

I didn’t have one. I had a rental, a book deadline, and a suitcase. That wasn’t running toward anything. That was just me hiding in a prettier place.

She flipped the third card. It was of a knight on horseback, holding a golden cup.

“The Knight of Cups,” Maribel said, a smirk creeping across her face. “Romance is approaching. Not the kind you write about, child—the real kind.” She tapped the card. “This knight follows his heart. He leads with what he feels, not what he thinks. He doesn’t always say the right thing, but what he offers is honest.” Her eyes lifted to mine. “The question isn’t whether he’ll show up. He already has. The question is whether you’ll let him in.”

My stomach flip-flopped. Nolan popped into my head, but I pushed all thoughts of him away. After all, she couldn’t be talking about him.

Could she?

She gathered the cards slowly and then took a sip of her tea. “The hardest part isn’t finding someone safe,” she said, her voice dropping low. “It’s believing you deserve safety.”

“Thank you,” I finally managed.

She nodded once and then stood to walk away.

I sat there for a moment, thinking over everything she’d said. The reading had been eerily accurate. I couldn’t deny that.

“You okay?” Eleanor asked.

“Yeah. Just soaking in what she said.” I smiled.

“Maribel does that to nearly everyone she reads for.”

I stood and headed to the shelf with the baskets of sea glass. A blue one caught my eye, and I plucked it from the basket. It was smooth, light, and fit in the palm of my hand.

“Good choice,” Eleanor said from behind the counter when I stepped to the register. “Sea glass is special. The ocean takes something broken and turns it into something new. Sort of symbolic, don’t you think? You’ve already survived rough waters, and now you’re becoming the you that comes after.” She winked.

I smiled and left the shop in a daze.

Main Street looked the same as it had forty minutes ago, but I felt different. I felt like someone had reached inside my chest and rearranged things without asking. I walked past the shops without seeing them, turned down the road toward the beach, and followed the shoreline back toward the duplex.