His voice came out quiet, almost impossible to hear over the loud sounds of the Kentucky night. “I don’t want to see this happen to your family.”

“Still, it must feel like some sort of justice, right? After what I did to you.” She knew her words were slurred, but she was beyond caring.

“That’s not justice,” he said. “I’m not the monster you think I am.”

“No,” she agreed. “That’s me.” Her shoulders shook as she cried against the glass, and she felt him move closer, heard him pick up her keys from the ground.

“Why are you still here?” he asked.

“Sylvia asked me to stay and…” A sob escaped her lips.

“Hey,” he said, voice soft as he rested a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay? She didn’t hurt you, did she?”

Addison turned to face him, the world spinning with each step. She tried to catch herself, but she missed and pitched forward right into River.

“Damn it,” she murmured into his chest.

His grip was gentle as she tried to right herself.

“You shouldn’t be driving.” He looked down into her eyes, hands on her shoulders. “Let me drive you home.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Addison said, the tone of her voice uneven. “You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” River said. “And I certainly don’t want you to end up dead somewhere in a ditch.”

She could feel heat rolling off him. She wanted more than anything to collapse into him. But he pulled back and lifted a cardboard box full of his things. He really was leaving the distillery. He steered her away from her Bronco and toward his car. After putting the box in the back seat, he pulled open the passenger door and helped her in.

“Are you sure? Maybe you should call someone to come get me. Or just leave me here,” she said. “I know what I did to you…”

“What’s done is done.” He started up the car. “Let me get you home.”

“Why? So my family can remind me I ruined everything?”

“They won’t stay mad at you forever.”

“But you will,” Addison said.

He glanced at her in the dark. “I’m not mad,” he said. “It hurts to be with you.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to get into this right now.”

River rolled down the windows as he followed the Old Yarrow Highway. Fireflies flashed in the darkness, winking like stars. Tonight, they reminded her of the gloom, which reminded her of the Bonners, which reminded her of herself.

Addison couldn’t handle the silence.

“If I were a real Haywood, we’d probably still be together. You’d be working at the grocery. The shadow garden would be fine.”

“You’re not making any sense,” he said.

Haywoods could take away pain. But a Haywood mixed with a Bonner? What did that make her?