Page 24
Story: Blood and Buttercups
He waves me off, and I go upstairs and step into the master bath off my bedroom. I take one look at my reflection in the mirror and decide I should have chosen death. I lookawful. My skin is pale, and I have dark bags under my eyes. Plus, my hair is a little greasy, though hopefully Noah couldn’t tell since it was up.
I take the quickest shower known to man. After I’m dressed, I brush my teeth without throwing up.
It’s disconcerting how much better I feel.
Because I don’t have time to dry my hair, I pull it into a French braid and even brush on a little blush and a few swipes of mascara.
I’m not going to win any beauty contests, but I look better than I have in days.
When I step into the kitchen where I left Noah, I find it empty.
Strangely disappointed, I return to the living room. Did I take too long? Did he decide to leave?
The pregnancy test lies on the couch, right where Olivia left it. Horror washes over me, and I race forward, stashing it between the cushions. Thankfully, Noah isn’t here either.
Did he see it?
I end up finding him in the entry, standing next to a console table, frowning at a framed photo in his hand. He glances at me, silently taking in my new and improved, not-quite-dying look. He returns the picture to its place next to the lamp. “Are you ready?”
My eyes stray to the photo, and my stomach tightens. Kevin and I were in St. Augustine, and a woman offered to get a picture of us together. I’ve taken all the others down. I’m not even sure why I saved this one.
The police are still looking for his killer, but the culprit seems to have disappeared like smoke in the night.
I went to the funeral. Kevin’s family didn’t know what to say to me, and I didn’t know what to say to them. Their son was a piece of work, but I didn’t want him dead.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I tell Noah, pulling my purse off the coat rack by the front door.
I follow him to his SUV, feeling a pang of guilt when I pass the dead flowers in the containers by the walk.
“Did you ever hear from that guy who left you stranded at the gas station?” Noah asks when we’re on our way to my doctor’s office.
The casual mention of Ethan makes me shiver. True to his word, he hasn’t tried to contact me. I don’t know what to make of it.
“No,” I say.
Noah nods, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Are they going to miss you at the store?” I ask, glancing at his shamrock green T-shirt. It doesn’t suit him, and yet it doesn’t detract from his extreme hotness either.
“I called to let them know I’m taking the rest of the afternoon off.”
“Sorry,” I murmur, wondering why he’d bother to do that for me.
We arrive at the doctor’s office not too long later. I step out of the SUV, frowning when Noah does the same. “You don’t have to wait. I’ll have my brother pick me up when I’m finished.”
“Do you want me to leave?” he asks, his tone a little too neutral.
I shift my purse strap higher on my shoulder, acutely uncomfortable. “Only if you want to.”
“I’m fine.” He walks toward the door, and I hurry to keep up with him.
6
“How are you feeling, Piper?”Dr. Granger asks when she steps into the room. She’s in her late forties, with blonde hair she wears in a clip. She’s nice, but a little intimidating.
“Better after I ate the steak,” I admit.
She nods, looking satisfied. “We’re going to run some blood tests to determine what’s going on, but first, let me take a look at your neck.”
I take the quickest shower known to man. After I’m dressed, I brush my teeth without throwing up.
It’s disconcerting how much better I feel.
Because I don’t have time to dry my hair, I pull it into a French braid and even brush on a little blush and a few swipes of mascara.
I’m not going to win any beauty contests, but I look better than I have in days.
When I step into the kitchen where I left Noah, I find it empty.
Strangely disappointed, I return to the living room. Did I take too long? Did he decide to leave?
The pregnancy test lies on the couch, right where Olivia left it. Horror washes over me, and I race forward, stashing it between the cushions. Thankfully, Noah isn’t here either.
Did he see it?
I end up finding him in the entry, standing next to a console table, frowning at a framed photo in his hand. He glances at me, silently taking in my new and improved, not-quite-dying look. He returns the picture to its place next to the lamp. “Are you ready?”
My eyes stray to the photo, and my stomach tightens. Kevin and I were in St. Augustine, and a woman offered to get a picture of us together. I’ve taken all the others down. I’m not even sure why I saved this one.
The police are still looking for his killer, but the culprit seems to have disappeared like smoke in the night.
I went to the funeral. Kevin’s family didn’t know what to say to me, and I didn’t know what to say to them. Their son was a piece of work, but I didn’t want him dead.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I tell Noah, pulling my purse off the coat rack by the front door.
I follow him to his SUV, feeling a pang of guilt when I pass the dead flowers in the containers by the walk.
“Did you ever hear from that guy who left you stranded at the gas station?” Noah asks when we’re on our way to my doctor’s office.
The casual mention of Ethan makes me shiver. True to his word, he hasn’t tried to contact me. I don’t know what to make of it.
“No,” I say.
Noah nods, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Are they going to miss you at the store?” I ask, glancing at his shamrock green T-shirt. It doesn’t suit him, and yet it doesn’t detract from his extreme hotness either.
“I called to let them know I’m taking the rest of the afternoon off.”
“Sorry,” I murmur, wondering why he’d bother to do that for me.
We arrive at the doctor’s office not too long later. I step out of the SUV, frowning when Noah does the same. “You don’t have to wait. I’ll have my brother pick me up when I’m finished.”
“Do you want me to leave?” he asks, his tone a little too neutral.
I shift my purse strap higher on my shoulder, acutely uncomfortable. “Only if you want to.”
“I’m fine.” He walks toward the door, and I hurry to keep up with him.
6
“How are you feeling, Piper?”Dr. Granger asks when she steps into the room. She’s in her late forties, with blonde hair she wears in a clip. She’s nice, but a little intimidating.
“Better after I ate the steak,” I admit.
She nods, looking satisfied. “We’re going to run some blood tests to determine what’s going on, but first, let me take a look at your neck.”
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