“She told you not to tell me,” Addison said.

“River asked her not to,” Quinn said. “He’s back in Yarrow for the summer. He’s going to be apprenticing under Nate Bonner now that he’s completed his master’s in distilling.”

Addison laughed. It felt better than crying. First her tea leaves, then the vision in the garden, now River. Everything in Addison’s life was coming up bourbon.

Chapter 6

Quinn

When Quinn Haywood said a person rubbed her the wrong way, it wasn’t a figure of speech. It was a literal, physical sensation.

She may not have been born with the traditional Haywood magic, but she still had a sense about people. When Harper looked at her, it felt like the first spring morning after a particularly cold winter. Being around her mom gave her the sensation of the perfect cup of tea right before bed. Clem, Quinn’s stepmom, felt like driving fast with the windows down and the radio on high. And Addison, like she’d shoved her hands beneath the cool, damp dirt after a day baking beneath the summer sun.

Right then? Quinn’s hands felt like they were on fire.

She knew she should try to pull Addison back from the edge—to help her move on from River instead of focusing on how her healing had gone all wrong. But delving into the wild part of her magic was exactly what Quinn wanted her cousin to do.

What happened with River had been impossible by all Haywood accounts, which meant that Addison was the only one who might be able to help Quinn with her own problem: nightmares from the summer her father died. Over the past two years, Addison had been too fragile for Quinn to risk broaching the subject, but after her cousin’s recent tea-leaf reading, now might finally be the time to bring it up.

Addison tilted her head back against Quinn’s truck, her dark hair falling over her shoulders. She rubbed the back of her hand over her eyes and sighed. “What am I supposed to do, ignore River all summer?”

“Maybe you can figure out what went wrong,” Quinn said, “try to understand how you were able to take so much from him in the first place.”

Addison shot her a look. “What do you think I’ve been doing for the past two years?”

“Hiding in the shadow garden,” Quinn said softly.

“I have not been hiding,” Addison said, but they both knew that wasn’t true.

“I don’t blame you,” Quinn said.

“At least someone doesn’t,” Addison murmured.

“But things are changing,” Quinn said. “Your tea leaves pointed toward your magic—magic that allows you to take more than you should be able to.”

“Thank you for that reminder,” Addison said.

“What if there was a way you could test it?” Quinn asked. “To practice without putting anyone at risk.”