Page 8 of Hunters and Hydrangeas

“It’s just a lot easier to be a vegetarian than a carnivore. I never thought about how limited meat-eaters options are.”

“You say that, but you haven’t even tried snake yet,” Noah jokes.

I grimace, the thought truly repulsive. “I don’t want to eat a reptile.”

“What about an amphibian?” Max asks, just to be ornery. “I’ve heard frog legs aren’t half bad.”

“Nor am I eating a frog,” I deadpan.

Olivia’s eyes brighten like she’s had a sudden epiphany. “You like fish, though. You even ate it occasionally after you went full vegetarian.” Again, she looks at Noah. “You guys can eat that, right?”

“We can,” he says, “but how is a fish any better than a frog?”

“Spoken like a born and bred Coloradan,” Olivia laughs.

“I do like fish,” I say, realizing she’s right. Just because I have to eat meat, doesn’t mean it always has to be cow, pig, or chicken. “And I don’t even have to worry about mercury anymore, so I could eat it for every meal if I wanted.Sharkeven.”

Noah looks baffled. “Do you like shark?”

“I have no idea. I’ve never tried it because of the mercury thing.” I pause. “And because I don’t really want to eat a shark.”

Noah laughs, shaking his head.

“I need to take my blood,” I announce, heading back toward the stairs. “Just lock up when you’re done, okay? Thanks again for running my stand tonight, Livi.”

“Night, Pip,” Max says.

It doesn’t escape my notice that neither of them seems to be in a hurry to leave.

Noah follows me into the house, and then into the kitchen, smiling to himself as he watches me try to psych myself up to take my blood.

I take my time choosing a juice glass, and then I retrieve my prescription from the fridge. Bracing myself, I pour it slowly, making sure I don’t add too much. After I return the cap to the bottle, I stare at the liquid chemical concoction.

In the time all this takes me, Noah has already downed his buffalo blood and chased it with water to rinse out his mouth. “Just chug it,” he urges. “One go and done.”

I huff out a breath and pick up the glass.

It’s getting harder, not easier. It’sreallygross straight.

“You know, you might find an animal source to be a little more palatable,” Noah suggests—and not for the first time.

“Nope,” I say, knowing I’m just being stubborn at this point. “Eating meat is bad enough. I’m not drinking blood.” I wrinkle my nose at the scarlet liquid in the glass. “I mean, notrealblood.”

“Okay,” he says soothingly. “Then…bottoms up.”

I gulp down the thick, cold, slightly congealed not-blood, nearly gagging before I swallow it. Then I smack the glass on the island counter, victorious.

Noah offers me his own glass, refilled with water, which I happily accept.

“I miss smoothies,” I tell him once I’ve drained the water, heading toward the living room. “I need to brush my teeth and get this taste out of my mouth.”

He’s quiet, which isn’t weird for Noah. But itfeelsweird this time. It’s a heavy sort of quiet—like there’s something on his mind, but he doesn’t want to say it. I look back before I reach the bottom of the stairs, raising my eyebrows.

“It’s nothing,” he says, which is absolutely Noah for, “It’s something.”

“Just tell me.”

He hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know that experimental drug we talked about a few weeks back?”

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