Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
JUNIE
“You’re taking me where?”
Leo stood in the doorway of his room at the Siren’s Rest, looking at Junie with the particular expression he reserved for situations that didn’t compute.
She was carrying a wicker basket, wearing her oldest boots and a jacket that had seen better decades, and grinning with the kind of manic energy that usually preceded chaos.
“The tide pools.” She repeated. “It’s my turn to plan a date. You did the fancy restaurant thing—”
“Which was a catastrophe.”
“—a beautiful, memorable catastrophe that ended with cheeseburgers and actual conversation—and now I’m doing the Haven Shores thing. Come on. Full moon tonight. The pools will be perfect.”
Leo glanced down at his clothes. Pressed slacks in charcoal gray. A button-down in deep navy that probably cost more than her monthly rent. Italian leather shoes that had no business being anywhere near salt water or sand.
“Should I change?”
“Nope.” Junie grabbed his hand and tugged him into the hallway. “Part of the experience. Consider it exposure therapy for your control issues.”
“I don’t have control issues.”
“Leo, you organize your white shirts by color.”
“That’s—wait, what?”
She pulled him toward the stairs. “Stop arguing and come see my favorite place in the world.”
The path to the tide pools wound down from the cliffs north of town—the same cliffs where Leo had been ambushed three days ago, though Junie deliberately chose a different route.
The night was clear, the full moon turning everything silver and shadow.
Glimmer rode on Junie’s shoulder, scales catching the moonlight in iridescent ripples.
“These pools,” Leo said as they walked, “are they magical?”
“Everything in Haven Shores is at least a little magical. But the tide pools are special.” Junie ducked under a low-hanging branch, holding it back for him.
“The town sits on a ley line intersection—that’s why witches settled here centuries ago.
The pools are where the lines surface. Raw magical energy, filtered through sea water and moonlight. ”
“That sounds potentially dangerous.”
“Most good things are.” She shot him a smile over her shoulder. “Trust me.”
The path opened onto a rocky shelf that jutted out over the water.
Below, carved into the dark stone, lay a series of pools ranging from the size of bathtubs to small swimming holes.
The moonlight turned the water into liquid silver, and even from here, Junie could feel the hum of magic rising from them like heat from summer pavement.
“We’re here.” She set down the basket and spread a blanket on a flat stretch of rock. “Welcome to the most magical spot in Haven Shores. Also, the most romantic, according to approximately forty percent of local marriage proposals.”
Leo surveyed the scene with that assessing gaze she’d grown accustomed to. Taking in angles, exits, potential threats. The instincts of a man who’d survived by being careful.
“It’s beautiful,” he admitted.
“Wait until you see what the pools can do.” Junie kicked off her boots and started rolling up her jeans. “Shoes off, Castellan. And roll up those ridiculously expensive pants.”
“These are—”
“Designer, I know. Custom-tailored. Worth more than my first car. Off.”
He stared at her for a moment. Then, with the air of a man surrendering to the inevitable, he bent to remove his shoes.
The water was cold enough to make Leo hiss when he stepped in, but he didn’t complain. Junie watched him wade into the first pool—ankle-deep, the water swirling around his rolled-up pants with a faint luminescence—and felt a surge of affection so strong it nearly knocked her sideways.
This man. This ridiculous, controlled, stubborn man, standing barefoot in magical tide pools because I asked him to.
“This one’s the Mirror Pool.” She waded in beside him. The water tingled against her skin, familiar and welcoming. “Look into it.”
Leo looked down. The surface of the pool rippled, then went glass-still despite the waves crashing nearby. His reflection stared back at him—and then shifted.
“What—”
“Possible futures.” Junie watched his face as the images played out in the water. She couldn’t see them—the pool showed each person their own visions—but she could read his expression. Surprise. Confusion. A flicker of hope.
“These aren’t real.” His voice was rough. “They can’t be.”
“They’re possibilities. Things that could happen if you make certain choices.” She nudged his shoulder with hers. “What do you see?”
He was quiet, staring at the pool. The moonlight caught his profile, sharp and classical in the silver glow, and Junie found herself memorizing it—the strong jaw, the slight furrow between his brows, the way his hair had fallen across his forehead in a way she was certain he’d never allow in daylight.
“I see a life I never thought I’d want.” His voice was rough. “A life that doesn’t look anything like the one I planned.”
“Is that bad?”
He turned to look at her. The intensity in his gaze sent a jolt through her.
“No.” He said softly. “It’s not bad at all.”
They moved from pool to pool, and Junie showed him each one’s particular magic.
The Heart Pool was smaller, tucked into an alcove where the rocks formed a natural shelter from the wind.
When they stepped into it, the water heated instantly, responding to their presence.
Junie felt the familiar tingling sensation of the pool reading her emotions, amplifying them, reflecting them back.
“This one shows true feelings,” she explained. “Not thoughts—feelings. The emotions we hide from ourselves.”
“That seems invasive.”
“It’s not about reading other people. It’s about clarity. The pool helps you understand what you feel, underneath all the noise.” She watched his face. “Want to try it?”
Leo stood very still. The water lapped at his calves, shimmering with that inner light. His expression went distant, internal, like he was listening to a voice only he could hear.
“What if the feelings are complicated?” he asked.
“Feelings usually are.” Junie moved closer until they were standing inches apart. The pool’s magic hummed around them, knowing. “What do you feel right now?”
He reached out, his hand cupping her cheek. His palm was heated from the water, his touch gentle despite the strength she knew those hands possessed.
“You know what I feel.”
“Maybe I want to hear you say it.”
His thumb traced her cheekbone. “I feel like I’ve spent my entire life walking in a straight line toward a destination I thought I wanted.
And then I came here, and you—” He stopped.
Swallowed. “You made me realize I’d been walking in the wrong direction.
The destination was empty. But this feels like somewhere I could stay. ”
Junie’s pulse was pounding. The pool’s magic swirled around them, reflecting emotions she’d spent her whole life hiding. Want. Fear. Hope. The terrifying certainty that this man had become essential.
“The pool agrees with you.” She managed, her voice not quite steady. “It’s practically glowing.”
“Is that what that is?” His gaze dropped to the water, which had indeed brightened to a soft gold. “I thought that was moonlight.”
“It’s not moonlight.” She pressed her hand over his where it rested against her cheek. “It’s us.”
The Tea Pool made them both laugh.
It was the smallest of the pools, barely larger than a bathtub, tucked into a corner where the rocks formed a natural windbreak.
The water here was heated beyond the others, steam rising gently into the night air.
When Junie dipped a cup into it and handed it to Leo, his expression of skepticism was almost comical.
“You expect me to drink this?”
“It’s the Tea Pool. It makes tea. Inexplicably perfect tea, tailored to exactly what you need.” She filled her own cup and took a sip. The flavor spread through her—chamomile and honey and comfort, exactly what her frayed nerves required. “See? Delicious.”
“It’s seawater.”
“It was seawater. Now it’s tea. That’s the magic.”
Leo sniffed his cup warily. Took a cautious sip. His eyebrows rose.
“That’s exceptional.”
“Told you.” Junie settled onto a rock beside the pool, patting the space next to her.
“Nobody knows why it works. The water becomes tea. The perfect tea for whoever drinks it. Dahlia’s convinced there’s a recipe she could reverse-engineer, but she’s been trying for years with no luck. Drives her absolutely bonkers.”
“Has anyone studied it? Scientifically?”
“A paranormal researcher from Berkeley tried in the eighties. Spent six months running tests. His conclusion was—and I’m quoting here—‘it’s magic, and magic doesn’t care about your peer review.’” She grinned. “He became a marine biologist after that. Said he needed something that made sense.”
Leo sat beside her, close enough that their shoulders touched. The solidity of him was grounding, real in a way the magical pools weren’t.
“What does your tea taste like?” she asked.
He considered. “Earl Grey. With bergamot, but different. Like the tea my grandmother used to make before she died.” His voice had gone soft. “I haven’t tasted anything like it in decades.”
A lump formed in Junie’s throat. “The pool gives you what you need. Sometimes that’s comfort. Sometimes it’s memory.”
“What does yours taste like?”
“Tonight? Like my grandmother’s kitchen during brewing lessons. Chamomile and dried herbs and the feeling of being completely safe.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “It’s been a while since I had that.”
They sat in comfortable silence, drinking their inexplicable tea and watching the moonlight play across the water. Somewhere in the distance, waves crashed against rocks. Closer, the pools hummed with their ancient magic.
“This is nothing like La C?te d’Azur,” Leo said eventually.
“God, I hope not. I still have nightmares about that wine.”
“It was a very expensive wine.”
“It tasted like regret and pretension.” She bumped his shoulder. “This is better. Admit it.”
“This is infinitely better.” His arm came around her, pulling her closer. “Though to be fair, the diner was also infinitely better. The restaurant set a very low bar.”
“The restaurant was your idea.”
“The restaurant was my attempt to impress you with the only tools I understood.” He pressed a kiss to her hair. “I’ve since learned you’re not impressed by expensive things.”
“I’m impressed by real things.” She tilted her head to look at him. “By people who take off their designer shoes and wade into magical pools because a chaos witch asked them to. By men who let me see them vulnerable.” Her voice softened. “By you.”