Page 49 of Blood and Buttercups

A few seconds later, another text comes in.

Montgomery: Are you all right?

Piper: I think so.

Montgomery: Are you home?

Piper: Yes.

Montgomery: Stay inside.

Okay, but for how long? I can’t hermit forever.

Montgomery: Have you taken your prescription?

I almost throw my phone.

Montgomery: Give me a physical update. How do you feel?

This guy is a lot of fun.

Piper: The text startled me a bit, but I’m doing okay.

Montgomery: Are you shaking? Dizzy at all?

I glance down at my trembling legs and don’t respond.

Montgomery: The prescription will help.

I don’t answer, but he stops texting. Filled with nervous energy, I get out of bed and start the shower.

Ethan thinks Noah is my conservator. Good—Noah is big, with an “I don’t take crap from anyone” sort of look about him. But do I really want Noah getting mixed up in all this?

I force myself to focus on things in my control—productive things. I need to work on my social media pages and website. I had to pause my subscription bouquets last month, but Olivia notified my customers, thank goodness, and only a few asked for a refund. Most requested I extend their subscription to make up for the bouquets I missed. There will be a lot of late summer orders—I’ll need extra sunflowers.

Speaking of sunflowers, they need to go in the ground.

I groan into the hot water spray, hating that I missed a month of the planting season. Thank goodness for zinnias, roses, and all the perennials I planted a few years ago. They’re going to carry me this year.

I’m just stepping out of the shower when I hear the doorbell ring.

Like an easily spooked deer, I freeze. Wrapped in a towel, water drips from my hair and down my legs, saturating the plush microfiber bathmat.

Again, the doorbell rings. I swallow, my heart racing.

It’s fine.

It’sfine.

It’s not Ethan. He said he’d leave me alone—said he has to keep his distance for a while.

It’s just a neighbor kid selling cookies or telling me she kicked her ball over the fence. It could be Mr. Droger complaining about my mailbox again, or Denise asking my opinion on flowers for her daughter’s wedding.

But it’s not a vampire.

I almost have control of my pulse when I hear glass shattering. And then my heart decides to stop beating altogether.

“Piper!” Noah yells from downstairs, sounding frantic. “Where are you?”

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