Nothing could prepare me for the way my fingers shake as I hold the folded piece of A4 and stand in front of Al’s friends to read a poem. No one could have prepared me for the tears that spill openly in front of a packed congregation, or how knowing my dad is out there, sat on a pew, makes my stomach churn. My need to run fights to the death with my need to stay.

Or how I wish, no matter how much I hate him, that Elijah was here holding my hand, watching me with those blues. How just knowing he was here would have filled my limbs with strength and might have stopped my legs from shaking in front of hundreds of people. He was supposed to be here.

But he lied.

And in lying he’s stolen this final moment from Al and I. Whisking away my grief for Al and replacing it with a cold hard stab of bitterness that’s clouding my every thought. Another thing I can’t forgive him for.

Later, when the wake is in full throttle at Al’s favourite pub, and pies, sandwiches, and pints are being passed around; when people are getting more and more inebriated and showing their skin and ink, I slip outside.

My phone has been vibrating throughout the day, but I’ve ignored it since we slid into the limousine. Now, finally by myself, I take a moment and light a cigarette as I duck down the side of the pub and take my phone out of my purse.

Gerard Steers: Faith, how was it? I know I’m not your favourite person right now, but I need to talk to you. Please.

A couple of weeks ago I was so cross with my university lecturer, I swore never to talk to him again. Now, he actually doesn’t seem that bad. Funny how things change.

All I can think of is Elijah’s hands on my skin. The way he owned me. The way he made me shudder and scream his name. The taste of him.

I drag on my cigarette and contemplate the glass of whisky I’ve balanced on the windowsill of the pub. Somewhere in that glass there has got to be a reprieve from the memories and the pain they bring.

My phone goes back into my bag and I glug the amber liquid, wincing as it slips down my throat and burns its way into my chest cavity. That’s good, it will take away the ache from the ink on the flesh above my heart.

“There you are.” Abi’s head pokes down the edge of the alleyway.

I stifle my groan—I can’t seem to catch a break. I just want to be left alone.

“You found me.” I drag on my smoke and then grind it out against the wall of the alley leaving an apt big black scorch mark on the white cladding.

“You okay, Faith?”

I let out a shaky breath. The whisky burns, but it’s not quite hot enough for my liking. It’s not numbing me the way I want it to. It’s making my legs and arms nice and heavy as they rush with that wonderful buzz of alcohol, but it’s not reaching the space under my new ink. “Hunky fucking dory.”

“Are you ready to talk yet?” She comes closer and leans against the wall. Her body is relaxed but I know that expression on her face.

With a negative shake of my head I go to walk past her, but she holds her arm out to block my path. “Please stop, Abs. Come on. You know me better than anyone. I don’t do emotional overspill. So what, someone hurt me. You know it’s not the first time.” I hold her gaze. “It probably won’t be the last. What I don’t need is to air my dirty laundry and hash over it all.”

“So, Eli ended it?”

God, I wish that didn’t hurt so much. I shrug but I stop pushing against her arm. My fight wanes and a terrible pain constricts my chest.

Abi latches on to the crack in my countenance, holding her fingers tight onto my elbow. “So you broke your rule for him, hey? Did you sleep with him more than once?”

I can’t. It hurts. I shake my head and try to pull my arm out of her grip.

“Then what, Faith? Did you fall in love with him?”

A single tear slides down my cheek and she sighs, leaning forward to wipe it away with her thumb. It only makes another tear fall as I remember Eli doing the exact same thing only days ago. He promised to catch all my tears.

“I loved him.”

She nods slowly and pulls me into her arms, her lips pressing against my damp cheek. “Then what? Why isn’t he here? He loved you, I could see it from a million miles away.”

My chest, where my new ink is still burning, cracks into a million shards of glass. The glass of my broken heart. “He’s marrying someone else.”

And then I cry like I’ve never cried before.

My eyes are sore and my head is whirling. I’ve drunk a lot. A LOT.

It’s nice. I can’t feel anymore. I like it.

“Have you stopped flooding the place with tears?” Dan plops down next to me on the sofa and puts his arm around my shoulder. I sink into his familiar embrace. It’s warm, sliding over me as comforting as a favourite sweater. I don’t know where Abi, and her husband Adam are. They could still be here. I can’t see three inches further than the end of my nose.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make a scene.” This is what I think I say.

“So, he’s really marrying someone else?” A gentle pressure pushes against my hair. “What a knob.”

“What a fucking arsehole.” I sink further into Dan’s chest. “And she’s really skinny.” My fingers pluck at his white shirt, playing with the buttons. He’s a good friend, Dan. He’s always here when I need him. He’s never let me down. “And she was wearing fucking red. I mean who wears red to a summer ball? It’s not bloody Christmas.” I burp, but it’s a bit sicky and I clamp my lips shut. Dan wouldn’t like sick down his funeral suit.

Al.

A burning anger mingles with the whisky sloshing like a stagnant river in my tummy.

Dan’s fingers trail along my back. “Faith, I don’t think the dress was the problem. It was more the fact she stole your man.”

I glare, like I can still see her sashaying her skinny hips past me when she took him away and led him onto the stage.

My lashes flutter shut and I can still see him standing there waving at everyone, celebrating his engagement like he was a goddamn prince.

And I can still remember the fact he didn’t look once at me.

“How’s your tattoo?”

“Mm. Fine.” I can’t be bothered to move to have a look at it. All pain is good right now. “Where was JoAnne today? That’s her name, right, JoAnne? Or is it AnnieJo? I can’t remember. Sorry.”

Dan sighs, his fingers still trailing up and down. “I haven’t spoken to her since Dad died.”

“Why?”

My ears rush with blood, the alcohol storming through my system drowns out the silence around us.

“I don’t know.” He shifts under me, rocking me a little. Doesn’t he know I’m one movement away from hurling down his suit? “It’s complicated, I guess.”

I roll over, my head still in his lap. I’m glad the whisky is filling ninety-nine per cent of my faculties. At least I can’t notice how big the house feels without Al in it.

“Everything’s so complicated, right?” I stare up at him. “When did it all get so shit? You’re an orphan.”

Dan smiles and I reach up and cup my hand around his cheek, grazing my thumb across the fair stubble on his cheek.

Elijah has dark stubble; his hair dark and his eyes of the brightest blue.

Fuck, Faith. Stop thinking about him.

Dan’s handsome, so large. His muscles are immense and unyielding as a rock. “When did you get this big?”

I know I’m not talking sense. But that’s okay, sense sucks.

“Faith, I’ve always been like this. It’s you who ran away and left us all behind.”

I did run away. Running is what I do. It’s what I’m known for. Even Elijah knew that and I only knew him for four weeks.

Faith! Give it up.

“You know Al wanted us to get married?” The words seem to come from nowhere. I used to laugh in Al’s face when he spouted his nonsense. Dan is like a brother to me. But then I guess I’ve had my issues with brother figures. I stare off the past, calling me with its poisonous memories, almost forgetting I’m leant on Dan’s lap until he speaks again.

“Crazy old man.” Dan’s voice rumbles beneath me. “You’d drive me crackers.”

My focus stops whirling and I focus on Dan’s mouth. So different to the lips I was kissing just days ago. So different to the lips that lied and made promises only to break them. Dan’s never lied. Never broken my heart. He’s my oldest friend. The one person I can trust.

My fingers lift to the back of his neck, where I’m expecting to slide them into short strands of hair that tickle, but Dan’s longer sandy hair runs through my grasp like silk. My body, my soul so broken, flickers with a glimmer of desperation. A warm but slow dull ache unfurls in the pit of my stomach. If I could just control things again, could just get my power back then this wouldn’t hurt so much. I could move on. Be the woman I’ve always been.

Don’t do it Faith.

But I want to. I want to wash away the memories. The pain. The hurt.

I pull gently on his neck and his eyes watch me warily. “Don’t, Faith. We are both hurting. I don’t want this to be a mistake.” His voice is low, cracked and scorched, deepened by vodka and smoke.

“It’s not a mistake.”

Elijah.

His name taunts me. And a burst of a sob threatens to work its way free.

In the depths of Dan’s eyes a hardening resolve flickers and his hands slide down my face. I block the thought of thumbs holding my jaw tilting my face into a kiss.

I part my lips and wait as Dan lowers his face to mine. I wait for the tingle of anticipation in my toes but it doesn’t come.

His lips are tender and soft. They kiss me one, twice, then he pulls back, his light brown eyes carefully watching my face. We wait. Watch.

And then he kisses me again. Two old friends lost in a wild moment. His tongue tastes of vodka and a sweet tang of coke. His hands slip to my shoulders and he eases me up until I straddle his lap. Neither of us pull away.

We are no longer Dan and Faith.

We are just a kiss. A touch.

My fingers drop to the buttons on his shirt, slipping them through the small openings. My hands slide across his chest: hard, sculpted, and decorated with intricate patterns. When I reach the buckle of his belt I hesitate. His tongue is still dancing in my mouth. My eyes flicker open and find his closed.

I have one rule. Only sleep with someone once.

I had one rule until I allowed someone to smash it to pieces.

What happens to that one rule now?

“Faith?” Dan breaks his lips from my mouth, his gaze searching. He offers me a slow smile. “It’s okay, we’re drunk.” He goes to push me away. His erection is stiffening against my thigh underneath my skirt, pulsing and firm.

I lean into his neck, his warm skin smothering me in comfort. “I don’t know what I am anymore.”

He pushes me back, his eyes fierce. “You are, Faith. It’s all you are. You’re everything. To me, to Dad, to everyone who knows you.”

I wish I could believe him. I’m not everything to Elijah. He’s marrying someone else. And I want to die every time I think about it.

A tear slides down my face and I dash it away with the back of my hand. “Why does it hurt so much?” My chest constricts until I no longer want to breathe.

I’ve been hurt before. Abused. Broken.

This. This hurts.

Dan and I are so close our noses are touching, his breath on my face. Didn’t Al say we were right together? Shouldn’t I stay here where he can keep me safe and protect me? He’s always protected me since I was a child. He was the one I turned to when...

“Make me forget.” I kiss him. Then again. Breathing him in, clinging on for dear life. “Make me forget everything.”

Dan groans, his forehead dropping against mine. My need for a release overtakes every other thought. “Faith.”

“Please.” I kiss his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids. “Please.”

His hands burn through my shirt, his powerful fingers firm.

When his lips meet mine, I know he’s going to give me what I need. A steely resolve pushes him deeper and closer until our tongues are entwined, our breathing ragged. His shirt falls back as I push it off his shoulders and the heat of his skin sends a tremor through my body.

Lifting me, he shifts us until I’m lying on the couch and he’s hovering above me, his large body blocking the light of the room.

There’s no teasing and touching. I don’t want that. He pulls my skirt up and releases the waistband of his trousers, freeing himself from his boxers. With one hand he shifts my knickers aside while he leans on the other and then edges inside me. It stings a little. I’m not ready, but I need it all the same. The more it hurts the better it will be.

He pushes inside me and I move alongside him. It’s different. So different. He kisses me, but they aren’t the secret kisses I’ve been used to, the kind that’ll tell and keep secrets.

I cling onto his back, as he gets faster, deeper. Then he’s tugging at my hair. “Faith, are you going to come?”

I nod. But I’m not.

He pushes into me one last time and then collapses on me. Holding me as he breathes into my neck. “I’ve always loved you, Faith.”

He slides me over, pulls down my skirt and settles at my side, wrapping his firm arms around my middle. Quickly his breathing settles into a regular pattern and I know he’s asleep. The vodka and the release have sent him off on his first real sleep since Al died.

I cry. Tears soak into the cushion beneath me.

Because even though I know he’s with her, doing who knows what with his hands, his body, his tongue, I do still love him. I don’t know what to do with that information.

I lie awake in Dan’s arms and dread what the morning is going to bring.