by Anna Bloom
The voice makes my blood chill. “What?” I slide off the bed and turn for the door. There’s my dad. In all his bastard glory. “GET OUT,” I screech.
My skin crawls at the sight of him. My stomach lurches until I could bring up that last cup of tea.
“Faith, please wait and listen.”
Ignoring the wheezy pleas of Al from the bed, I glare at the man I used to consider my father. “I have nothing to listen to. You’re a bastard and I said I never wanted to see you again.”
“Faith, please. We need to talk. I need to ex—”
“Honestly, Dad, I don’t know how to explain this in a way you’ll understand.” I hear Eli’s gasp when I say ‘Dad’ but I ignore it. “So, I’ll go old school and tell it to you straight. Go fuck yourself. You’re dead to me, and that will never change.”
My insides tremble with rage, but I manage to turn my back on the failure of a parent by the door and bend down to give Al a kiss on his forehead. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. He responds with a simple nod but the pain in his eyes says it all.
I can’t change the way I feel even if a dying man asks me to.
I breeze past my dad and wait for Eli in the corridor of the hospice. When he comes out and tries to take me in his arms, bending to meet my eyes, I fight him off. “Stop, stop trying to make everything all right.”
“I’m not...”
“You are. You’re trying to fix me, but you can’t.”
I turn and run, desperate for the fresh air outside and soothing balm of the sea.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
His feet echo after mine along the empty pier. I don’t stop, though. I don’t even know if I want to talk. I don’t even know if I want to breathe. Finally, when I’m over the ocean I sit on the wooden edge, my feet dangling over the sea.
He sits next to me, his hands clasping the metal railing like mine.
“Do you know how many times I’ve sat here and wanted to dive in down there, to fall into the blackness and never surface again?” My words are low, barely audible over the rush of the waves.
“Why?”
I ignore his question, my gaze focused on the dark horizon. “It’s why I understand Lewis’ mum. I get what she did.”
I watch as his fists tighten on the metal pole of the railings. “You need to talk to me. At the moment all I can envision is the very worst, and it’s killing me.”
I shake my head. “I can’t, Eli.” I look up at him though unshed tears. “If I do, you’ll never look at me the same again.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ll finally realise my heart is as black as that sea. It’s why I can’t let myself feel anything for anyone.” I drop my head against the cool metal. “It’s why no matter how my stomach flutters when you knock on my bedroom door at Bowsley; no matter how much I love waking in your arms, I’ll never let myself love you.”
His head shakes. “This was never about love. You know that; it’s what we agreed.”
I’m at war with myself. With what I know and what I’ll know I’ll never have.
“But that doesn’t mean I’m not your friend, doesn’t mean you can’t talk to me,” he adds.
A tear slips down my cheek and then another. I watch the waves come and go in silence until finally I break, and with my words I know I’m going to unravel the secret spell of summer magic we have weaved between us.
Because I am darkness itself and I ruin everything—eventually.
“When I was thirteen, Dad told me he had a new girlfriend.” I shudder a breath but steel myself with a solid control of iron fisted resolution. “I didn’t think much of it. I was always with Dan—it had always been me and Dad, and Dan and Al. Life wasn’t conventional.
“I mean I know my dad used to have flings; he was always popular. But mum had never been around, and I was always his number one girl.”
Eli reaches a hand and places it on my tattoo of strength.
“It was just before my fourteenth birthday when Sandy and Aiden moved in with us. Aiden was two years above me at school. I thought it would be cool to have an older brother, kind of like Dan, but a real brother. Everything was fine. Sandy was high maintenance, but I quickly learned how to keep out of her way and keep life sweet.
“This is the Aiden you screamed about in your sleep the other night?” Eli uses gentle fingertips to pull my face to his, his eyes searching and deep in the dark.
“Yes,” I whisper. “At first I didn’t notice what was happening. It was just hugs, touches. Sometimes they would linger longer than I’d expect.”
Eli hisses a breath, but I’ve started now, and I can’t stop.
“But you know, I was a teenager, my body was doing its own thing. One Saturday night when Dad and Sandy had gone to bed, he told me to snuggle up while we watched the end of the movie. He kissed me.”
I can’t look at Eli, but I don’t think he can look at me either.
“I told him it was wrong, that we were family, but he said I was being silly and that he knew I enjoyed it.
“He felt me, down there. He grabbed me hard and laughed, told me the body never lies and that I wanted him as much as he wanted me.”
“You were just a kid.”
I shrug. “I grew up quick.” My eyes screw shut against the memories, but they are still there, etched into my memory. “So it carried on, little touches, explorations, and I was always torn between knowing it was wrong and him telling me that I wanted it, that my body was betraying me. That I was naughty and no one would believe I hadn’t led him on.”
Eli hisses, clenching the metal barrier.
“Then one day he went too far.” A snivelling sob works its way from deep within me. “I told him he had to stop, but he didn’t, he kept going and going. He groomed me to believe my body wanted it, that because I responded to his touch, it was right.” I shut my eyes to the memories, the sting of pain.
“That’s why you have the one-time-only rule?”
I nod, a jerky movement. “My body isn’t to be trusted.”
Eli shakes his head. “So what then?”
“I told my dad. I told Sandy. I’d finally cracked and let all my secrets slide to Dan and Abi. They made me believe it was wrong, that Aiden had taken advantage of me… abused me. And I knew he had. He was older, and he knew what he was doing. It’s not like I was in love with him. I hated him touching me, but my body just couldn’t fight it. He was always stronger, more convincing.” I brush away a tear. “Bloody traitorous body.”
“That’s why you have so many tattoos—you’ve been arming yourself.”
I shrug. “That or make people think I’m a certain way so they won’t expect anything from me other than what I give them—which is nothing.” My gaze flicks over him quickly. He who I’ve given everything to without really knowing it.
“So, anyway. Dad didn’t believe me. Sandy told me I was a whore, that I’d tricked her son. At first, she told Dad he had to go with her, away from the lies I was spreading, but eventually she left him. They still live here. Aiden is still walking around like he didn’t abuse a teenage girl, and my father and I don’t speak.”
“Why didn’t he believe you?”
I laugh. It’s bitter. It hurts. “By this point, Aiden had done his damage. I was sliding down a slippery path to not giving a fuck about anything. Then I slept with one of his friends. I didn’t know Aiden had told him what he’d already done with me. I thought he liked me, but then he ridiculed me in front of the school.” I point to my lightning bolt. “This was to remind me never to trust anyone more than once.” Our eyes meet. Eli broke that rule for me. “Dad heard the rumours. I was helping in the shop by then. He said I must have led Aiden on, that I’d confused myself over what happened.
“So, I screamed at him, told him he’d forced himself on me, that he’d taken my—” I stop. I can’t carry on, because that one memory burns more than the others. “But he turned around and said it was only an assault if the other person didn’t want it.�
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Eli’s mouth is open. Then he’s up off the wooden deck, pacing away, his hands in his hair, his shoulders bunched over. “Fuck!” He screams into the air, and I launch up, going to him, soothing him. Funny that it’s me calming him. “I’m going to fucking rip someone’s head off.”
And I can sense it, it’s boiling under him. His hands drop to my face, his thumbs skimming my cheeks. Lips crash onto my mouth, his tongue hot and desperate. “I want to take away every bad thing that’s ever happened to you.” The intensity radiating from his face, the deep frown etched into his features tells me he means it.
“You already have.”
“So that’s it. Aiden is still walking around, and you haven’t spoken to your dad.”
I smile slightly, but a giant wave of tears floods down my face. “And Al saved me. Took me in, believed me, and now he’s going to die.”
I sob, my tears drenching Eli’s T-shirt. His arms tighten around me, holding me so close it’s as if we are breathing as one.
“I—” he hesitates.
“You what?” I look up into his beautiful face.
His head shakes. “You’ve got me churning so many emotions, Faith. I can’t make sense of it all. You know the way I was brought up—the Faircloughs aren’t allowed to feel. We keep a stiff upper lip and live behind closed doors. Anything can happen, so long as the rest of the world doesn’t know.” He shudders a breath, his forehead dropping to mine. “But you’ve blown open all the damn doors and I don’t know how to close them again.”
And I know what he means because as he pulls me back in and tangles me tight, holds me, my heart opens up and a wealth of tears begin to fall that could wash away all my stories in ink.
Eventually, we turn back to the hotel. I hold on to the belt of his jeans and follow up him up the steps. We are silent, all words spent.
In the room he turns to me, the tip of his finger trailing down my face and along my roses. “Let me love you,” he whispers.
I nod, briefly.
Love. It’s something I don’t know. An emotion hidden from me, deep within the black of my heart. But I know I want to be with him, hold him, have him. I open my arms, so he can step in, and sweet kisses land on my lips, my cheeks, the tip of my nose.
Slowly, with more care than we’ve shown one another before, we undress. One garment at a time falls to the floor until we are two people naked and bare for each other to see. His hand slides to my shoulder, running down my arms. My body hums in response, but this time I allow it. I don’t think it’s a bad thing, I don’t try to fight it. I just let it happen, opening my heart and mind to whatever comes next. My nipples harden, and he runs his palms over them in a gentle circular motion. It links directly to the growing heat aching in the pit of my tummy.
“Does it seem crazy we’ve only known each other a few weeks?” I ask, my head falling back so he can kiss my neck.
“No. What’s crazy is I haven’t known you before.”
With his words, he lifts me to the bed and holds himself above me. There’s no wild frenzy of discovery. It’s slow and sweet and he keeps his eyes on me the whole time as he slowly fills me up and rocks me into a rhythm that has my heart pounding gently in my chest. I cling to him when I come, clenching myself around him, and when he groans my name into my ear, I kiss his neck, his shoulders, his mouth. He’s still here despite what I told him on the pier. Despite what I told him my body allowed me to do. For years I never let myself believe I was a victim. But right there and then, with his gentle lovemaking, he showed me acutely how it is meant to be. That’s how a first time is meant to be. It’s supposed to fill you up, allow your heart and soul to bloom and to leave you in a place from where you grow and develop, blossoming into someone else, someone better.
He just gave that to me.
I stare at him. Unspoken words run between us.
I allowed him to love me.
And it’s the most dangerous thing I’ve ever done.
It’s the depth of night. Morning hasn’t yet stolen its clear and bright fingers of sunlight into the corners of the hotel rooms. Eli’s breath is regular, his chest rising and falling, and I’m laid across it, my arms around him tight, my fingers playing with the light smattering of hair across his wonderful chest. But I can’t sleep. I’m thinking of everything. All the things to be lost, all the things to be found. I know I’ve got to walk away from Eli in a couple of weeks. It’s what we always said. So why does thinking about it hurt me as much as the thought of Al in that hospice bed? Why, when I think of it does all thoughts of the future and any plans I should be making evaporate, leaving me on an empty precipice of nothing?
I can’t come back to Brighton, I know that now. Life has moved on here without me, and that’s fine. I need to see what’s happening with my exhibits at the gallery. Maybe I should call them later and find out if there has been any success.
I’m dreading facing Jennifer at Bowsley, and the wicked witch. She will know I’ve done the one thing she guessed right back on that very first morning and fucked her grandson.
“What are you thinking of?” Gentle lips press against my forehead and I snuggle deeper.
“Your grandmother.”
He chuckles, his chest rocking me gently. “Not what I want you to be thinking of right now.”
I snigger. “Better than a whole host of other things.”
He wiggles down until we are eye-to-eye and his thumb brushes against my cheek. It makes my heart beat wildly. “I’m glad you shared with me.”
I nod. It’s good to be open, and honest.
“What happens when we go back to Bowsley? I don’t want to get you in trouble, Eli. I really don’t.”
His gaze is steady and for a moment he’s silent. “I don’t know.”
“What happened with your dad?” I snuggle into his side, loving the way the warmth of his skin sinks into me.
His fingers trail up and down my arm. “He was never my gran’s choice; my mother insisted on following her own path.” His voice is clipped. “He had money, but it wasn’t the right money for Gran. But Mother insisted she loved him. She got pregnant with Peter quickly—too quickly—and the marriage was rushed through before any scandal could arise.”
“She was pregnant before they got married? Wow.” I can’t imagine the infallible Jennifer ever allowing that to happen.
His fingers continue their journey. “I had a happy childhood, actually. There was always laughter. Dad was fun. He loved music, art, and drama.”
“Did he paint, too?”
“Yeah, but then slowly it all got shifted to one small corner of the house, and then eventually time was swallowed, and he never used to do anything like that. The music stopped.”
“That’s why you paint in the attic?”
“It’s not a suitable career, I told you.”
“Yet, you’ve convinced your family to open up the house to art all summer. So it’s not exactly dead is it?”
“I had to fight hard for that.”
“And it got you out of your engagement.” There’s a beat of silence that chills my stomach. “Did you ever love her, the girl you said you’d marry?”
His lips kiss my forehead again and then the tip of my nose. “Love is a luxury I’ve never been allowed. When Dad left, it all went with him.”
“And you’re that worried about Tabitha?” I know this is it. It’s her he’s staying for, like the true and honest big brother he is.
“Yes. I don’t want them to just marry her off.”
“But she’s only eighteen.”
“So? That means nothing when it comes to society and the success of the Fairclough name.”
“All this for a name?”
He nods, his lips straight.
“Yikes, it makes growing up in the shop seem like a dream.”
He offers me a small sigh.
“Do you ever hear from your dad?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No. He made his choice and left.”
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I nod. We both have parents who made choices and who hurt us with them. It’s another tangled thread that binds us together.
“I’ve been thinking.” He smiles, and it warms my tummy.
“Dangerous.”
I chuckle as he pounces on me, kissing along my tickling throat, holding my hands above my head.
“What have you been thinking?” I prompt, when I can catch a breath.
“I want you to ink me.”
The blues are dead serious.
“But you don’t have any tattoos?” He doesn’t. His perfect smooth and golden skin is flawless.
“And I want you to give me my first.”
I hesitate. I don’t do that anymore, I left it behind. “Eli, I’m not sure. You will be stuck forever with something by me on your skin that you won’t ever be able to remove.”
He kisses me, deep and hard. “And that’s exactly why I want it.”
His words slice me deep, because I know that we made an agreement, and I know our time will end. But I also know that we are both encountering emotions we’ve never experienced before. But it means nothing. Nothing at all.
Chapter Thirty
The sun is high in the sky when I sit back and admire my work. “You’ve been remarkably brave.”
He winces as he sits up from lying face down on the bed in Al’s shop. We let ourselves into Al’s home at three, not long after he asked me, borrowed his keys and let ourselves into the shop.
“That bloody hurts.”
With a roll of my eyes I chuckle and give him some space.
I start tidying, trying not to watch him as he walks to the mirror and turns his back.
He gave me free reign. Told me to do whatever I thought would be best. At first, I didn’t have a clue, but then when I put the machine on it came to me.
Eli is two people, two halves, a battle that never ends. Two desires that won’t ever meet. The man in the suit, the guy in the sliders. So I did him a yin-yang made from waves, vibrant with blues and purple instead of the obligatory black.
“What do you think?” I ask when he doesn’t say a word.