Chapter Eleven


Broken Glass and Jonquils

“I hate you, Bryony,” Eddie said.

It absolutely wasn’t true, and Bryony wasn’t there to hear it, but it was good practice.

Eddie stormed up the street away from Pike Place. He was looking for a bar, or a club, or somewhere he could duck out of sight and brood on exactly how much he desired to dislike Bryony. She with her wide eyes and sorrowful ambiance. He would find her one day in pieces, or not find her at all, and which would be worse? It was like the time—

“Eddie Warshouski, I brought you some flowers. Now why don’t you like me?”

Bryony offered the flowers to him as if they were a sword. He had never felt so threatened by jonquils before. He took a step back, nearly falling off the curb, and this made him angry.

“Why are you following me?” he demanded.

“I told you, I brought you some beautiful flowers.” Bryony shoved the flowers into his face. They smelled divine, or at least they would have if Eddie sniffed at them, but he didn’t.
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