“Why?” he asked.
“I don’t know. It’s just one of the rules. One of the things Revelare women know.”
“And what else does a Revelare woman know?” he asked.
“That crescent moons are for making wishes and curses, but a waning moon is for breaking them,” she said, trying to scare him off with talk of magic. It didn’t work.
“What else?” he asked, leaning over her shoulder to watch as she used a rolling pin to flatten the cold butter into thin flakes.
“River water is for moving on and seawater is for healing. Storm water is for strengthening or, if you’re feeling ambitious, curses. Water that falls as lightning strikes will cause disaster sure as a cracked mirror or walking under a ladder.”
She didn’t know why the words were coming out. She’d never talked to anyone about this, other than Gigi. Seth had never wanted to hear it. Raquel was never in the kitchen long enough. It was like her words needed a home, and Jake was the front door. She blinked rapidly, shaking her head and trying to find her way out of the fog that he produced in her brain anytime he was near her. She reached for the bottle of vinegar.
“I like watching you in the kitchen,” he told her.
“Why? I’m a disaster.” She frowned, her eyebrows inching together suspiciously, and she eyed the countertop, which was already in disarray.
“True,” he said, and laughed, a low rumble resounding in his chest. “But you’re so focused. Everything you do has passion in it. I used to tease you about being dramatic, but … it suits you.”
His words echoed through Sadie, and she leaned into them. Looking straight ahead, her eyes were on level with his chest. They trailed up and caught on the column of his neck. Further up, the strong line of his jaw. She didn’t have to look at his eyes to know he was staring at her lips. She felt it. Felt the burning glance seared there until she finally connected their gazes. He took a ragged breath. They weren’t even touching, and she could still feel him. The ghost of him pressed against her. Every line matching up. Fitting perfectly. And she knew he remembered it too. Could tell by the way his eyes darkened, the pulse in his throat hammering erratically.
He was going to kiss her. Every warning sign that had been blaring in her head like sirens went quiet. He smelled the same, woodsy and bright, and she wanted to bury her nose in his neck, but he didn’t move. His hands curled into fists at his sides, and every line in his body went taut. He wanted it—she knew he did. But he was holding back.
“Jake,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, taking a step back. “There’s something about this kitchen. It …” he shook his head as though trying to clear it. His eyes were dreamy as he looked at Sadie. Like she was a promise. Water in the desert he longed to quench his thirst with. But he didn’t come closer. “I know you wanted time. And space. I’ll go.” But he waited a moment before turning. His eyes begged her to tell him not to.
The words formed themselves in her mouth, but her lips wouldn’t open. With the space between them, her brain started working again. She had gotten comfortable. And being comfortable with Jake meant her guard would be down. She knew where that would get her. Straight into heartbreak number three. Gigi was worth more than her temporary happiness. Family over everything. That’s what it came down to.
She finished the chocolate pecan pies, making sure that none of her tears fell in with the Karo syrup.
The pie was barely in the oven when a lancing pain burned through her chest, as though an invisible hand were squeezing her heart. She gasped for breath and coughed a moment later when the pain vanished. When she could breathe again, the smell of smoke had her running out to the garden.
She shuddered as, before her eyes, all of the plants along the edge of the fence shriveled and died.
They were nearly charred in their blackness, with a sticky, tar-like substance clinging to some of the remnants. A pungent aroma painted itself across her skin, her eyes watering. The ruin stopped just past the fence line, at the thin, towering stalks of dill, planted for the express purpose of keeping out malevolent magic. But they’d sacrificed themselves in the process.
Years ago, Sadie had laughed when Gigi instructed her to plant the herb in abundance. After all, what kind of garden needed that much protection? But as they had planted under the soft, deep light of a Flower Moon, Gigi’s eyes had continually flitted over her shoulder, past the gate, to the stars. She’d crushed a moon blossom under her left heel before picking all the herbs for a protection talisman.