Punch, Pastries, and Poison by Harper Lin (ebook reader for pc and android .txt) 📕

easily enough to kill. The holes on the bottom were covered up with a smear of chocolate. Easy enough to notice if you look at the bottom, but why would you do that?”

“Oh God.” I buried my face in Matt’s chest. I should have told Ephy to poke the bottom. I should have told her to at least look. She could still be alive if we’d just looked at the bottoms of the chocolates.

“It wasn’t your fault, Franny,” Mike said quietly.

Matt rubbed my back, murmuring softly in my ear that it was going to be okay and that it wasn’t my fault. But it was. I knew it was. Maybe he didn’t think so, but I knew it was.

“I’m, uh, I’m gonna get out of here. I’m gonna head over to the café to start the search if that’s still okay.”

I was crying, but I felt Matt nod against my head.

“I’ll give you guys a call if I have any trouble finding Ephy’s emergency contact.”

Matt nodded again.

There was a pause and then, for the second time that day, Mike crossed the room and left while I sobbed.

Chapter 19

I had the curtains drawn and all the lights off when Matt got to my house sometime around noon the next day. He had gone in to work that morning but only after Mike’s assurances that the attacks had all been fairly passive—food or drinks left for me or someone else to consume at our leisure. There was no reason to think I wasn’t safe alone in my house. So he had gone in, but he promised me he’d take a long lunch and come back to the house to check on me.

“Franny?” he called from the doorway.

“In here.” I was in virtually the same position on the couch that I’d been the night before—curled up with Latte, staring mindlessly at bakers on the TV screen.

Matt stood in the entry for a moment, looking at me, before walking over to the window. “Let’s get some light in here,” he said, jerking the curtains open.

“Don’t!” I covered my eyes with my forearm. The light from outside was blinding.

“You’ll get used to it in a minute.” He moved over to the other window.

“No, really, please don’t.”

He turned and looked at me with his brow furrowed. “Why not?”

“I just—” I shook my head. “I don’t want them open.”

Slowly, Matt closed both the curtains. “I could turn the lights on?” he asked, moving over to the switch.

I shook my head. “No, I want it like it is.”

He came over to where I was sitting on the couch, sat down beside me, and pulled me close. “What’s going on, Franny?”

I pulled away and turned so I could look at him. “What’s going on? Someone’s trying to kill me, remember?”

“Yeah, but Mike said—”

“I don’t care what Mike said. He’s not the one being chased down by a crazed murderer.”

“In fairness, whoever it is isn’t exactly trying to chase you down.”

“No, they’re just trying to poison me.” I glared at him. “What happened to you being worried about my safety? Yesterday, when Mike was here, you were all for me closing the café and staying at home, but now all of a sudden you want to act like everything’s normal.”

Latte jumped down off the couch and slunk away. He wasn’t used to me raising my voice about anything other than the occasional yelp when I burned myself in the kitchen—or the odd occasion when he got a little too close to something dead on one of our walks.

“Franny, I—” He reached out to take my hand, but I pulled it away. “Of course I’m concerned about your safety. I just don’t think it’s healthy for you to be afraid of opening the curtains.”

“I don’t think poison is healthy.”

Matt looked at me for a long moment before pulling me close again. This time I let him.

“I’m scared, Matty,” I whispered after a few minutes. “I’m scared of what might happen to me, to you, to Latte, to Sammy and Rhonda. I’m just really scared.”

“I know.” He stroked my hair and brushed his lips across the top of my head. “I know. I’m scared, too, but I would never leave you if I didn’t trust Mike’s judgement and trust that you were safe here.”

I nodded my head against his chest.

“I love you, Franny.”

“I love you, too,” I murmured.

Matt held me for a few minutes until his stomach grumbled—loudly. Latte lifted his head and tilted it back and forth, trying to figure out what the noise was and where it came from. Despite myself, I giggled. And then Matt chuckled. He looked down at me with a warmth and softness that made me wonder why I’d ever been afraid when I knew he would do anything to protect me.

“Want me to reheat the rest of the pizza for lunch?” he asked. After Mike had left the night before, Matt admitted that he hadn’t gotten any further than knocking half the pots out of the cabinet and splashing water everywhere when he dropped the pot he was filling up for spaghetti. We ordered a pizza instead.

I nodded. “Yes, please.”

He kissed me softly before getting up. “Is it okay if I turn some lights on so I can see what I’m doing?”

Remembering the disaster he’d made of my kitchen the night before, I agreed. Twenty or so minutes later, he was back next to me on the couch, lights on, eating our leftover slices. It wasn’t the best pizza—you’re not really setting yourself up for success in that regard when you order at nine o’clock at night—but it had been edible, and it reheated well, so I was happy. It also helped that that pizza was the first thing I’d eaten all day. In fact, Matt ended up handing over his last slice after I inhaled everything on mine and he caught me eyeing his plate.

When we were finished eating, he sat and watched until the end of the current episode of the baking