“I thought I’d open the shop,” I say, meeting Dan’s gaze in the kitchen. He’s eating toast at the counter and I’m staring into my coffee.

I woke on the couch before it was light and set about cleaning up. At some point while I was in the kitchen, Dan must have taken himself upstairs.

The atmosphere is heavy, but I’m telling myself it doesn’t matter. We’ve been friends long enough it shouldn’t matter that we had desperate heartbroken sex after his father’s funeral. We could have had sex numerous times over the last decade or so and it wouldn’t have been any different.

He munches slowly, his gaze flitting over me.

“Have you thought about what you’re gonna do with the shop?” I fill the silence in the room.

His head shakes. “No. I cancelled all the booked appointments.” His searching glance is demanding and I sigh.

“Listen, I’m sorry about last night.” Despite what I tell myself, I feel like an apology is due. I had sex with my best friend.

He puts down the crust of his toast and steps off the high stool. “Most girls don’t cry after I’ve fucked them, Faith.”

Shit.

“You knew I was crying?” I can’t meet his eyes as he steps closer.

“Don’t use me again. I’m sorry that arsehole broke your heart, but don’t use me.”

I grab his T-shirt, not allowing him to move away. “I didn’t mean use you, it wasn’t like that. You weren’t exactly pushing me away. You were using me just as much.”

We glare at one another, but then I let a sigh out and turn my clutch on his T-shirt into a hug, sliding my hands around his waist and pulling him into me. “I’m sorry, Dan. Yesterday was so hard, I guess I just wanted...”

“Comfort?”

I nod but don’t speak.

He lowers his head and kisses the tip of my nose. “I needed it, too.”

Relief floods me. “So, you aren’t mad?”

“Maybe just a little that you didn’t have an orgasm.”

I shake my head and smile. “I never have an orgasm.”

“Really?” I might as well have just given him the keys to the cookie jar.

I can’t believe we are going to talk about it over coffee, but strangely since last night, I feel even closer to him than ever. More than friends now. Something even safer. “You know why.”

“Not even with His Lordship?”

I flush. “Can you not call him that? You know Eli wasn’t like that.”

Dan raises an eyebrow. “Really, are you defending him now?”

I think of Eli and all the sex he’s probably having with socialite Sienna Richards. Pre-wedding sex. “No, I’m not defending him.”

“Did you have an orgasm with him, though?”

My cheeks flame. “Not talking about it with you, Dan.”

His warm brown eyes harden for a moment but then he shrugs.

It’s best to change the subject, move away from what happened last night. It was a mistake for both of us. Just a dark need in the moment, nothing more. “Fancy coming to the shop with me and seeing if we can get some walk-ins?” I smile, trying to be my usual self. It’s like I’m acting in a terrible daytime soap. “I feel like inflicting pain on the opposite sex.”

Dan shakes his head. “You are one sadistic bitch.”

A loud laugh blasts from my lips. When did anyone laugh in this house? When did I even laugh? Not since I was with Elijah and he was promising me everything but giving me nothing.

“Come on, let’s do it.” I gulp down my coffee.

I need to keep busy. Now the funeral is over, I have nothing left to organise. If I’m not busy, then I may well have too much time to contemplate the mess I’ve made of my life. I’ve walked away from my degree. I’ve walked away from the offers I was receiving of continuing the art project on television, and I’ve walked away from all access to materials and resources.

So really, in a nutshell, I’ve walked away from everything.

I’d better earn some money so I can start again.

I can always start again.

Dan’s fingers catch mine, tethering me to him. “Are you staying here? What’s going on, Faith? What about your flat in London?”

My gaze is blank and I shake my head. “Honestly, Dan. I just don’t know.”

A small smile curves his mouth. “Okay. I’m glad you’re back though.”

“Me too.”

It’s good to be here. The music blares through the speakers and the door is open, the late August air filtering into the shop. It’s bright, alive, and the shop is gaining interest from a group of guys who are all standing outside watching through the windows.

Dan is cleaning. The place needed it, and I am sketching ideas as I lean over the counter. My hair is up, my ink on display. The woman I really am with no reason to hide behind long sleeved blouses and oversized clothes. This is me. Black vest, short denim cut offs and more ink than a sailor.

This is what home is. This shop, Dan’s tuneless humming I’ve been listening to for years. The only thing missing is Al.

If I keep my eyes focused on the pad, and the pencil in my hand, I can almost forget the fact that a couple of weeks ago I spent hours inking a blue ying and yang onto Elijah’s perfect back.

I bet he regrets that now.

I wonder what Sienna thought when he stripped off for her, ready to claim her once again and saw the permanent tag I left on his skin.

May he rue that day forever. The day I trusted him with my past and believed we could be something.

“Hi,” a voice interrupts me, and I look up to find a blonde guy in his late teens watching me at the counter.

“Hi.”

He can’t be eighteen. His face is so smooth, still round with youth. He’s also sunburnt to fuck.

He stares at me expectantly and Dan’s tuneless hum is replaced with a chuckle. 

“Can I help?” I prompt. He’s focused on my skin which swirls with patterns and secrets.

“Uh, yeah I want a tattoo.”

I raise an eyebrow and drum the pencil on the counter. “Have you had one before?”

“Uh, no.”

“Do you have a high threshold for pain?” I don’t normally ask this question, but it’s funny to watch him blanch under his sunburn.

“Of course, I’m tough, me.”

A smile to myself. Of course you are, buddy. “Do you know what you want? Big, small? Mummy’s name, that kind of thing.”

He flushes and from the corner of my eye I spot Dan shaking his head. I’m glad him and I can still be like this after our momentary blip last night.

“I want a bulldog.”

My groan nearly makes a verbal appearance. “Really?”

Dan steps up, big and dominating, dwarfing the youngster. The poor guy cringes with Dan’s approach. “Faith, if he wants a bulldog, you should give him one.” Humour sparks in Dan’s gaze.

I shake my head slow. “If it’s what you want, then that’s what I will do.”

Like I haven’t done a hundred of the bloody things over the years. “Can I see some proof of age?”

He hands me a card which tells me he’s just turned eighteen. “Are you sure?” I ask, all jokes dropped. “It lasts forever, right?”

“Yeah, it’s cool, let’s do it.”

“Where do you want it?” I know what he’s going to say before he does.

“On my shoulder.”

“Yep, I figured.”

“It’ll be two hundred.” This should make or break his decision. Really, I could do it for one fifty, but he wants it on his shoulder which makes him a twat, so I’m charging him extra.

His friends are still waiting outside, watching their mate talk to the girl with tats. “Do your friends want to come in?”

He looks almost relieved and turns to wave them in. I wonder which one he will beg to hold his hand in half an hour’s time.

“Come on then, let’s get you settled.”

I guide him to the leather chair and settle him before prepping my work station and then washing my hands and pulling on gloves with a snap.

He almost jumps out of his skin when I wipe his shoulder with a antibac wipe. A flinch jogs my hand when I touch him with my pen. “It’s a biro, calm down. I need to sketch first to make sure you’re happy with the size and position.” I concentrate on the job for a few minutes. “What’s your name?” I ask when I’m nearly done. He’s sweating already and the machine isn’t even on yet.

“Chris.”

“Go look in the mirror, Chris, and then let me know if you want me to go ahead.”

He slips out of the chair and I grab my bottle of water and gulp some down. It won’t take me long; it’s easy money really. You never know, maybe his friends will all want something too and I can leave the day with a nice boost to my bank balance.

He’s talking to his mates, so I zone out and gaze through the window of the shop at the passers-by. Summer isn’t over yet and Brighton is still packed with shoppers and holidaymakers. It’s not the kind of place you go for a two-week holiday, but lots of people come here for days out. Only a short distance from London, it’s basically London by Sea.

“Admit it. You’ve missed it.”

I glance up to meet Dan’s gaze in the reflection of one of the mirrors. “Some bits.” I shrug.

I’m watching Dan, and my attention is partially focused on Chris and his mates, so at first, I don’t notice the face watching me through the window. But when my focus sharpens and I bring my attention around, my heart almost stops. It’s the one face I’ve run from; the one I left to escape. Aiden, my once almost stepbrother, is staring at me in surprise. And I’m guessing my face is almost as shocked because for a split second we just stand and watch one another.

He destroyed me. Aiden abused a young girl who once used to trust him. Yet here he is walking through Brighton without a care in the world. I leap from my stool and storm for the door. “Get the fuck away, you pervert.” I scream. My chest is tight, my lungs struggling to inhale air.

Fractured memories reel through my mind as his lips turn into a smile. “Pleased to see me, Faithy?”

A rising stream of vomit threatens to work its way out of my mouth and onto the pavement. He should be behind bars, I know that.

I watch him saunter away as my pulse thuds.

“Faith, you okay?” Dan is there, his arm around my shoulders as he squeezes me into his side.

“Yeah.”

I can’t help but think of Elijah and his work prosecuting sexual predators who abused a woman and made her take her own life. I can’t help but think of Lewis, that woman’s son who I left abandoned as I ran away from Elijah and Bowsley Hall after Elijah stood on that stage and announced his engagement. And I can’t help but think of what Elijah said when he told me I should tell the authorities what happened... nor the way my own father didn’t believe I was telling the truth of what had gone on under his roof.

“I’m ready.” Chris looks at me with expectation as he settles back in the chair. My hands shake and sweat tingles along my palms.

My gaze settles on Dan in alarm. I can’t ink someone now.

This has never happened before.

I’m always in control—even when I’m not.

“Breathe.”

“I can’t do this. I shouldn’t be here.” My head shakes, and tears start to build. What was I thinking coming back?

Dan’s hands slide along the bare skin of my shoulders, distorting my ink with his touch. “This is your home. You should be here. Don’t let Aiden or anyone else tell you otherwise.”

I breathe. Then I breathe again. My gaze falls on Chris who’s watching from the chair, and I nod. “Yeah, I can do this.”

“Course you can.” Dan smacks me on the arse, his hand leaving a sting through my shorts.

“Ow!”

He wiggles an eyebrow. “Don’t make me do it again.”

I giggle and step up to my first customer. “Ready?”

Chris skin fades to a terrible green as I switch on the machine and the buzz fills the air. Funny how that one sound can make one person feel sick and another feel at home.

I grin up at his friends. “Who wants one next?” They all lean in and watch as the pen touches his skin and one bead of sweat rolls down Chris’ head, swiftly followed by another and then another.

***

THE DAY’S DONE. I’VE made six hundred, which isn’t bad at all. Not that I need the money desperately, but it’s always good to know I’ve gained something.

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?”

Elijah’s sister steps into the studio while Chris scampers around the new arrivals.  I say new arrivals because behind Tabitha, with his face wearing its usual cynical mask is Lewis. The two people I ran from ten days ago without even a goodbye.

“What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“I need your help.” Tabitha’s face blotches with mottled flushed spots and tears spring from her lashes.

“Okay.” I’m floored, not sure what to say or to whom. Why is there a Fairclough here? I left them behind.

“I’m pregnant.” She starts to sob, her chest heaving while my own stomach plummets. That’s why she’s here. Where do you go when you’ve messed up? You go to the one girl who’s messed up more than anyone else.