Page 39 of Yesterday I Cared
“That’s it.” I snatch up the cards that I’d laid out and add them to the deck to put them away. “I’m done doing this with you.”
“Oh, come on, Mia,” he pleads. I get up, gathering the dishes still sitting on the island from dinner. “I’m messing with you! I just find it hard to believe you take this seriously!"
After depositing my dishes into the sink, I start washing my hands to have something to do. “As I said earlier, tarot cards are rooted in intuition, Ronan. Part of the point is to help you learn to trust your own instincts and that’s something I need to do.”
“That’s not an answer, though, is it?”
Letting an eye roll loose, I turn to face him. “The world isn’t that black and white. They help me see and find clarity with what has happened and what’s currently happening in my life.”
His brow arches up. “And what’s going to happen in the future?”
“Why does it matter to you?” My arms cross over my chest. “Weren’t you always the one talking about not shutting down what other people are into? Especially when it comes to their belief system?”
He’s clearly startled by my question and seems a little chastised. Which I take as a win in the conversation.
“Besides,” I continue, “can you honestly tell me nothing I said in that reading resonated with you?”
“I never said it didn’t!” Defensiveness is back in his tone. “But I also never thought you’d be into something like this and find merit in it. You always like to see things the way they are.”
He wasn’t getting it, and I don’t feel the need to keep repeating myself. I don’t owe him any more of an explanation. I don’t need to tell him how I got into reading tarot when I was forced to make decisions about where my future was going to take me. I don’t need to tell him how reading those cards helped me cope with things that happened in the past, things that involved him. I don’t need to keeptelling him that these cards help me find comfort in the things I already know. That they feel like they’re backing me up.
Especially when he used to tell me how staring at a black line for hours upon hours was his form of therapy.
“Well, I’m not sure you know me well enough to make that call. And sometimes people find answers in unique places. Just because what I do doesn’t make sense to you, doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”
“That’s not what I’m trying to say, Mia!”
“You know, maybe that’s your problem. You say a lot of shit, Ronan, but does anyone even know what you mean? Do we know if there’s any truth to what you say at all?”
Ronan’s pale cheeks flush a shade of red I’ve never seen before. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I haveneverlied to you, Mia.”
“Forget it.” I wave him off. I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to have this conversation. I’ve avoided it for eight years. Why not make it a lifetime?
As I turn to leave, he reaches out, and gently grabs my arm, keeping me in place. My gaze snaps down to where his fingers are holding me, not wanting to think about the last time we were in a position like this. And I refuse to pay attention to the way my heart is thudding against my chest.
“You are not doing that, Mia,” he seethes, stepping closer. Somehow, I know Ronan wouldn’t hold me here if I asked him to let me go. He wouldn’t hesitate to release me, but my morbid sense of curiosity keeps me rooted in place. “You’ve done nothing but treat me like shit since I got here. Longer, actually. Every time I feel like we take a step forward, you go five back. You refuse to tell me what I did, and now you’re calling me a liar? Fuck that.”
My gaze locks with his. “It’s not my job to tell you when you make a mistake, Ronan. You’re a big boy.”
“But I don’t know what mistake I made,” he says through gritted teeth. “I can’t fix whatever this is if I don’t know what happened. Please, tell me what happened. I’m tired of this shit.”
“I don’t want an apology, Ronan.” I fight to keep my voice from raising, the last thing we need is for everyone to come in here and witness this stupid argument.
“Then what do you want from me, Mia?”
I glare up at him. “To leave me the hell alone.”
“And if I don’t want to?”
The question catches me off guard. I shrink back. “W—what?”
It’s the first time either one of us has said anything like that out loud, despite our actions obviously proving the question right. There’s still something between us. Sure, it might be sparking with relentless rage, but it’s there. And eventually, it’ll pull us together until we explode.
He takes a deep breath, and then a step closer to me. I don’t back up. I can feel his chest rise and fall. His green eyes search my face before they settle on my lips. “What if I don’t want to leave you alone?”
The question is asked in barely a whisper. His warm breath fanning against my face with each word. It sends a shiver down my spine, and I should walk away. I should step back, put as much distance between us as possible, and keep it that way. The last thing I need to do is prove he still has some kind of hold on me. That’s what I should do.
Instead, I surge forward, and he meets me in the middle, our lips crashing together in a kiss that is both passionate and uncertain.
