Page 11 of Tears of Glass

Dan slipped out a while back when JoAnne turned up and waited for him expectantly at the door. She didn’t talk to me, but then I couldn’t even meet her eye—not after what Dan and I did last night. I pretended to be busy, and she pretended I didn’t exist. That’s fine.

A niggle of guilt is wriggling under my skin when I think of Dan and I on the sofa last night. Do I feel bad for using him? Yes. Do I feel almost like I’ve cheated on Elijah...? Yes, although it kills me to admit it. What would he care?

I could fuck anyone I wanted and it would have nothing to do with him.

Part of me wants to.

To lose myself in the touch of others who will make me forget how it was with him. Eventually, I’ll stop thinking about his hands, his kisses, those blues and the way they could see straight to the heart of me. I need to remind myself they weren’t seeing anything. They were seeing straight past me.

He always told me he’d protect his sister above everything. Maybe I was foolish to think he’d change his mind, but that must have been the screw his mother tightened to get him to agree to the engagement.

That’s fine.

I don’t want someone who can’t fight for me.

I don’t want to think of him any longer.

Yeah right, Faith.

The bell jangles and I look up in surprise. It’s gone five and I’ve swapped the sign on the door around to closed. It doesn’t cross my mind it could be Aiden, out for revenge on the ‘rumours’ I’ve been spreading.

It’s not.

Chris is there, his back against the door. I smile and wave him in. “Everything okay? It’s not too sore, is it?”

He smiles and chuckles, his head shaking from side to side. “Not too bad. I had a few pints to get over it.”

I nod and continue cleaning. “Could be a mistake, but who am I to say?” It’s common for people to drink after a tattoo and then puke their guts up as their body goes into healing overdrive. I’d rather he didn’t puke on my floor though.

When he clears his throat, I realise what he’s come for. It’s the tats. They make men, boys—anyone with a penis—think I put out at whim. Sometimes I do. Sometimes I don’t. It depends on how I feel.

At least it did.

Until Elijah. Then he changed everything by making me feel all sorts of shit I like to keep myself distant from.

“I wondered if you’d like a drink?” he asks, and I try my hardest not to laugh. Let’s not offend the guy.

“Sorry,” I send him an apologetic look. “I’m kinda busy right now.”

“I can wait?” he adds hopefully.

“I doubt you can wait this long. Listen, go enjoy the rest of your day out, find your mates and have a good time.” There will be some girl, somewhere who’ll have had enough to drink to think rolling on the pebbles with him is a good idea.

He steps up closer, not quite getting the gist of what I’m saying. I’m not scared, though. Nothing really scares me anymore.

He touches my shoulder. “Faith. Come on.” His words are a red rag, a trigger from the past.

“Get your hands off me.” I push him back and almost knock him off his feet. His eyes widen in shock.

“Whoa! Calm down your crazy.”

“Get the fuck out of my shop.” I round into his space, dominating him until he’s almost out of the door.

It opens before we get there and I’m expecting Dan to be stood the other side, with his hulking muscles, ready to chuck this youngster out on his ear.

I stare at the face in the doorway in surprise, the wind taken out of my sails as a young bright gaze meets mine. It’s not Elijah, although for a moment the sharp blue eyes make my stomach twist into a painful knot.

“Tabitha?”