Page 278 of The Winslow Brothers

After several long moments, Cleo, the infamous fortune-teller, appears. Her distinct green eyes meet mine immediately and without timidity, and I swear on everything, my balls just about jump inside my stomach.

Fuck, this is weird.

“Don’t worry, I won’t bite,” she teases, and it’s disconcerting how this woman hasn’t aged a day since I last saw her. Beneath a velvet hood, the same mane of thick black hair hangs past her shoulders. Her eyes feel too wise. And her mouth showcases the familiar dark lipstick that my twenty-year-old self remembers. This isn’t the work of Botox or fillers or any of that shit. This is something biological—something creepy as fuck.

She gestures with her hand toward two chairs that sit in front of a table with a silk tablecloth, and for as much as I came here of my own volition, I still hesitate to follow her command.

“Oh, my favorite professor.” A confident smile that just barely lifts the corners of her lips accompanies her words. “I think you and I both know you didn’t come all this way to not ask me allthose questions that are floating around inside that handsome head of yours.”

It’s unnerving as hell that this woman knows my name.Remembersmy name. And somehow holds the knowledge of my profession.

But she’s right. I didn’t drive over an hour to Staten Island just to be a chickenshit.

On a sigh, I take a seat across from her. The room is quiet besides some kind of fortune-teller-themed soundtrack of wind chimes, and the floor almost seems as though it’s vibrating. That might be because my knee is bouncing much,muchmore than normal, but I don’t fucking know. All this feels supernatural.

Whenever Crazy Cleo holds eye contact, I can’t help but avert my gaze. I don’t know what it is about this woman, but I feel like she can see too much—like she’s inside my head.

“It’s okay.” She smiles again. “Your internal thoughts are sacred, my child. I don’t judge what I hear, and I only listen when I feel it’s necessary to help you.”

I shut my eyes for a brief moment, mentally questioning how I managed to get myself here.

Easy, bro. You paid over ten dollars in tolls. Time to man up.

I meet Cleo’s eyes again. Her hands now rest gently on the table.

“You don’t disappoint, my dear,” she says with a little grin. “I knew you’d only get better with age.”

Is she flirting with me?

If that’s the case, I can’t blame her. Iamone good-looking motherfucker, but it’s a little strange, considering all the circumstances.

“How are you and your brothers?”

“Well, they haven’t aged as well as me, but you and I both know, this face right here sets the bar pretty high.”

A soft laugh escapes her throat. “Your confidence is something to be admired, my dear.”

It’s also probably a coping mechanism, but hey, no need to get into the details of that.

Her eyes glow with wisdom, and her mouth crests up in a knowing smile. “Remington, Flynn, and Jude are lucky to have someone as invested in their lives as you are.”

Fuck me.How does she remember all this shit? Does she keep note cards and pictures of past clients? Does she have some kind of photographic memory? Or maybe she’s secretly in the CIA and is currently wearing an earpiece that has intel streaming inside her ear?

Bro, the odds of this woman being CIA are about as likely as you following in Jude’s footsteps and wanting to commit to one woman for the rest of your life.

“Go on,” she encourages. “Ask away.”

“How?” I eventually blurt out. “How did you know about…?” But I stop before I give her too much information.

“My connection to the cosmos allows me to see things that no one else can see.”

Connection to the cosmos?What a crap answer. Not only that, but it’s also vague as fuck. If her connections to the cosmos are so great, then she should knowwhoI’m asking about andwhyI’m asking and dive right into that shit.

Cleo gestures for me to give her my hand, and I falter for a moment before eventually giving in to the madness. When in Rome and all that bullshit, you know? I shouldn’t have come here if I’m not going to commit to doing whatever’s necessary.

Her long, red-tipped fingers wrap around my palm, and she stares down at where we’re connected and then closes her eyes for ten seconds. I wait impatiently for her to open them again, staring a hole right through her face until she does.

She smirks as soon as she sees the intensity of my stare. “Jude’s fate has proved to bring him great happiness, wouldn’t you agree?”

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