Bridges Burned (Going Down in Flames #2)(86)

A woman with salt-and-pepper curls wearing an apron covered in flour came into the dining room. She spotted Valmont and hustled toward them.

Bryn found herself enveloped in a pastry-scented hug. “I’m so glad you could come. Valmont speaks well of you. It’s time we met.”

“I’m glad to meet you, too. Whatever you’re baking smells fabulous. Valmont swore you wouldn’t think badly of me if I ate too much.”

“Finally.” His grandmother pulled her into another hug. “A girl who eats.”

Why couldn’t her grandmother be more like this? Guilt followed that thought like a smack to the head. Her grandmother was trying. She was just a different species. Literally.

“Come into the kitchen. Keep me company while I finish up.” She couldn’t have refused if she wanted to, with the way Valmont’s grandmother had latched onto her elbow.

“Sure.” She moved forward, and it took her a moment to realize Valmont wasn’t moving along with her.

“Valmont?” What the heck was he doing?

“I promised my grandpa I’d go grab a few bottles of wine from the restaurant. I’ll be back in one minute.”

The kitchen looked like it had been through a war and lost. Flour was sprinkled on the soapstone countertops and in some places on the hardwood floor. Canisters were open, with their lids nowhere to be seen. Dirty mixing bowls were piled three deep in the sink. Spice bottles sat with the lids flipped up, like they were waiting to be used.

Bryn’s grandmother would have been appalled, but it felt nice, cozy, lived in.

“Have a seat and help yourself to a cookie.”

She sat while his grandmother watched. This was starting to feel weird, like a job interview. Valmont needed to get back here soon. She picked a star-shaped cookie and took a bite. Bitter licorice flavor filled her mouth. Ugh. It was all she could do not to spit it out. Who put licorice in cookies?

Valmont’s grandmother turned and reached into a cabinet with her back toward Bryn. If there had been a napkin on the table she’d have spit the nasty concoction out. No drink. No napkin. She swallowed, trying not to grimace.

Valmont’s grandmother joined her at the table, giving her a mug of something steaming hot. “Have some tea, dear.”

“Thank you.” Bryn put the cup to her mouth, concentrated on cold, and exhaled frost into the mug.

“That’s a handy trick.”

Bryn sipped and smiled. Once the god-awful licorice taste was gone, she lowered the mug to the table. “My grandmother wouldn’t approve, but it’s handy to produce your own ice sometimes.”

“That’s what I need to speak with you about.”

“My grandmother?”

“No.” She gave a tight smile. “The fact that you’re different.”

Where was this going? “You mean that I’m a hybrid dragon or that I’m a dragon at all?”

“You being a dragon. It concerns me. When it comes to Valmont.” The sweet maternal tone was gone. She pointed at Bryn, like she’d caught her doing something wrong. “What’s going on between you two, I don’t approve.”





Chapter Thirty-Four


And the gloves were off. Bryn leaned back in her seat. “What do you think is going on between us?”

“I may be old, but I’m not blind. The boy cares for you in a way you’ll never be able to care for him. I want you to release him from his bond and go back to your own kind.”

“Wow. You’re more like my grandmother than I thought.” Bryn smacked her mug down on the table. “For your information, I do care about Valmont. Is the situation complicated? Yes. Do I have any idea what the hell I’m doing? No. All I know is that in the last month I lost someone I thought would always be there for me, and then I lost my parents. I’m living with people who I’m bound to disappoint because I’ll never be the person they want me to be.” Fire banked in her gut. She focused on cold to change the flames to ice. Frost shot from her nose as she exhaled. “Valmont is one of the only good things left in my life, so until he tells me he doesn’t want me around, I’m not going anywhere.” She pushed her chair farther from the table and stood. “And for the record, your cookies suck.”

The kitchen, which had seemed warm and cozy, now seemed stifling. She needed to escape, to run outside and leave this disaster behind. She turned to the door. Valmont stood there gripping the doorframe like he wanted to tear the house down board by board.

“Time for me to leave.” She brushed past him and ran out the front door. Now what? Did she head to his car presuming he’d give her a ride home? She couldn’t just sit in his car and wait. What if he wasn’t coming? What his grandmother said wasn’t untrue. Was she being selfish by holding on to Valmont?

With no other idea of what to do, she stalked down Main Street. If he didn’t come after her, she’d fly home. Damn it, why isn’t he coming after me?

And just like that, all the fight drained out of her. She sat down on the curb of the sidewalk and doubled over with her head on her knees. If he didn’t come after her…she couldn’t take one more loss. Not one more.

The sound of footsteps approaching made her raise her head. Eyebrows slammed together, lips set in a grim line, Valmont looked mad. Was he angry at her?