Page 26 of Vampires and Violas

Piper: And you didn’t run the other way?

Noah: I hunt unstable vampires for a living. I can handle a support group.

Though I would rather spend the rest of the meeting talking to him, I set my phone screen-down on my leg and wait for Colin to finish. Eventually, the conversation moves on. This time, to family issues.

“I just don’t know what to do with the blood while we’re camping,” Jennifer, a woman in her late thirties, says. “I can’t just stick it in the cooler, or my parents will be asking some serious questions.”

“Have you considered talking to them about your illness?” Marilyn asks gently. “You’re allowed to tell your immediate family.”

“They’ll just blame Carter,” Jennifer sighs.

“Your husband?” Marilyn asks. “Why would they do that? He had nothing to do with you contracting the disease.”

“They blame him for everything.”

I zone out while Jennifer talks, my mind wandering to my own parents. Eventually, I’m going to have to tell them, too, and it’s not going to go over well.

Since I don’t have a husband they dislike, they’ll blame my business. (You would have never met the vampire if you hadn’t been at that market every week.)

They’ll blame my diet. (You weren’t eating enough protein, and your immune system was too weak to fight off the virus.)

But mostly, they’ll blame me. (You shouldn’t have gotten in a car with a man you barely knew.)

And though I’ll argue that bad things simply happen sometimes, part of me will wonder if they’re right.

These are all worries to share with the support group—that’s the point of these awful meetings after all—but when Marilyn asks, “Piper, do you have anything you’d like to talk about this week? Any wins, concerns, or thoughts?” I shake my head.

“Not today.”

Marilyn frowns a little, like she doesn’t think I’m as well adjusted as I try to portray. But she doesn’t press further, and I appreciate that. Maybe she figures I’ll share when I’m ready.

No one else has anything to add to the discussion, so she wraps up the session, reminding us we’ll meet at Dylan’s place next week. (Yay.)

As we rise, Ashlyn asks me, “Do you mind if I say hi to Noah real quick?”

“Go ahead,” I say, even though she’s already heading toward the kitchen.

Dan leaves immediately, but everyone else lingers to chat. I join Cassian, Marilyn, and Jennifer.

“Please consider telling them,” Marilyn says to Jennifer, speaking of her parents again. “You have to take blood for the rest of your life. It will only get more difficult if you try to hide it.”

“I’ll think about it,” Jennifer promises, and then she thanks me for hosting, tells everyone goodbye, and leaves.

When Marilyn is pulled into another conversation, Cassian says to me, “I think that went well.”

“Yeah,” I say, my eyes on the kitchen. More people are leaving, but Ashlyn is still in the dining room with Noah.

“Did you have a good time?” he asks, doing his best to distract me from my brooding.

Giving in, I turn my attention to him, shooting him a droll look and making him laugh. Suddenly, he drapes his arm over my shoulder, tucking me close to his side.

“What are you doing?” I scowl up at him. “Do you not remember the conversation we had before the meeting?”

He suddenly lets out a boisterous laugh, though I didn’t say anything funny.

“What’s wrong with you?” I demand.

And then I notice Noah and Ashlyn standing under the kitchen arch. Noah’s eyes are on us, and he looks…miffed.

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