“I know giving the card to Cain, on some level, makes it seem like I agree with Logan about the cards being fated. But coming so close to those Wanderers, then getting out of the desert and focusing on The Lovers, it reminded me of my favorite thing Gran Flo always used to say when we did readings. The tarot is meant to be fluid. There is truth to be found in the cards, but you must interpret the truth for yourself. The thing mostly everyone gets wrong about every spiritual system is the idea that there’s just one truth. Wouldn’t that be easy?

“So, really, disagreeing with each other doesn’t mean we’re choosing sides. It’s probably better that we disagree, because it just means we get to see more angles of the same fundamental thing.”

I take a few moments to digest Chase’s words. Once I have, I nod—but not because I think he is completely correct. Really, Chase is saying a version of what Cleo did in the diner bathroom, but this time his actions directly affected me. Part of me still isn’t really okay with the way he handled things with the Prince, but I’m hoping some actual sleep and distance will change that. Another part of me believes splitting the middle doesn’t count the way Chase hopes it does, but I don’t want us to spend our last few weeks together arguing. So I stuff these feelings down and hope they will also disappear with time. And I muster a smile for Chase, who has tried so hard to express himself just now.

“You know, you’re really annoying when you get all ‘much older soul’ on us,” I say, meaning some of it.

“Lies,” Chase laughs. “But actually, we can thank Gran Flo for that one, by way of this mysterious Perilli guy.”

“Yeah, okay,” Logan says, turning to wink at me. “But Chase, who do you love more, me or Amelia?”

I force a laugh, this time for Logan’s sake. “Very funny.”

Not funny at all.

“Easy,” Chase says. “I obviously love Cleo most of all.”

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I’m not sure this reaction is entirely fair, but holding the half-ripped Prince of Wands in my hand, part of me needs to blame someone for its destruction.

“I know you, Amelia,” Chase says, turning in his chair to face me. “I could tell how conflicted you were. You care so much about other people and about Gran Flo’s cards, I knew either choice would have torn you up. But mostly I know if you thought giving Cain the card was the right thing to do, you would’ve stopped me.”

“That’s not the point,” I try, knowing this is probably exactly the point.

“It’s not my fault Cain ripped the card, Amelia,” Chase says quietly.