I gripped Quinn tightly and took off at a run. With each footfall, the cicadas parted for me, then settled back in behind me. They followed as I burst through the doors and into the sunlight.

Chapter 39

Kaden

Kaden watched as Irene’s pupils dilated. The bottle slipped from her grasp. Quinn grabbed it just before it could crash to the table and spill. The last thing Kaden saw before the memories pulled him under was Irene’s face contorted in fear, her lips parted.

My heart raced with nervous energy as I crossed the stage. My mother stood on the other side. Her striped dress fell midcalf, and she wore it belted at the waist. The collar, which lay open like a men’s shirt, gave her at once the appearance of authority and summer femininity. A woman who could be trusted. What a farce.

My father was nowhere to be seen.

Once I reached her, she looped her arm through mine.

“Where’s Dad?” I asked.

But she shook her head. “Where’s your brother?”

“He snuck off to give Nolan, Taylor, and Clem a taste of the honey barrels. We’ll have to kick off the memory harvest without him.”

“Typical,” she grumbled. “At least you boys are playing nice again.”

I ground my teeth. My mother knew what my brother had done, and when I’d confronted her, she’d shrugged it off like it was nothing.

“I’d like to kick things off today if that’s okay with you,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I asked the mayor.”

My mother arched her eyebrows, but she nodded. “By all means.”

Already Mayor Stokes had stepped up to the mic and was introducing my family, reminding the town what they already knew—how every year they came together to let go of their worst memories.

It would be up to me to tell them the truth.

“Kaden Bonner, everyone,” Tim said, and I slipped from my mother’s grip.

I took the mic with a sense of triumph. After that moment, things in Yarrow would never be the same.

“I know you’re all here for the tapping of this year’s bourbon,” I said.

Cheers erupted from the crowd as people lifted plastic cups into the air, then swallowed the bourbon down, and my mom stepped toward me.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” I said, “but there’s not going to be a memory harvest this year.”

My mother stopped short. The excitement in the air fizzled out.

“What’s this about, Kaden?” she whispered, disappointment and anger clear on her face.

“Our family has been lying to this town for too long.”

She crossed the space between us and grabbed my hands. “Don’t do this.”

I wanted to give some elaborate speech, to tell her what I’d learned, what I thought of her machinations, but there was only one thing to be done.