“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 Poolmade 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.
