Page 76 of Tears of Ink

I brush all thoughts of Eli Fairclough out of my mind and instead turn to my first love: art.

We did it. Hell did we do it. Somehow the eight of us created single-stemmed blue flowers using wire and wrapping around the edges of our blue glass squares. Back-breaking work, but those kids left proud at the end of the day. When we’d finished, we hung around outside for a while, absorbing the late afternoon sunshine while Jennings brought us some cool drinks. It was nice, they are a great bunch.

In my glass studio now sits nearly a hundred blue glass flowers. I created some green leaves which I baked this afternoon, and then I had a rather amusing try at blowing some small glass beads. I’ve lost the knack of it though so I ended up—after I’d been laughed at by Dylan for ten minutes for not knowing “my shit”—deciding to roll the balls and bake them, too. It’s not the exact effect I wanted, but it will suffice.

Now I’m exhausted and soaking in the roll top bath in the wet room. It’s heaven under the bubbles, sipping a glass of wine I asked Jennings to locate me as I made a hasty exit from the dining room.

“Faith.” There’s a gentle rap on my bedroom door.

I sit up in surprise, water flooding everywhere. “Crap.”

“You okay?”

“Yes,” I call back to Elijah. I recognise his voice instantly—well, my body does. My stomach tightens and a dull ache spreads in the pit of my belly. I thought he would have been back hours ago. “Hold on a minute.”

“I’m sleeping on my feet out here, don’t rush on my account.”

I grin as I step out onto the slippery floor, taking extra care not to slide over and bang my head— now’s not the time to aim for a concussion.

Wrapping a towel tight around my body, I unlock the door and peer outside. “Did you check for nosy grandparents?” I tease, but he doesn’t seem to find my joke funny and slips quickly inside.

He’s in a blue shirt and navy suit trousers, the slim fit shirt tucked into the trim waistband. There’s no tie in sight which is a shame because it would have made the picture in front of me perfect.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were bathing.”

“Bathing?” I giggle. “You’re so funny.”

He glares and sits on the edge of my bed. I stare closer at his face. He looks exhausted. Faint purple rings hollow the skin around his eyes, and that favourite blue of mine isn’t shining quite as bright. “You look exhausted.”

“It’s been a long day.” He lifts his face and meets my concerned gaze. When he motions me forward, I don’t hesitate. He wraps his arms right around my waist and rests his head on my stomach. I smooth my hands through his short hair, mesmerised by the light tickle the short strands create against my palms.

“What happened?”

He pulls away and tugs at the edge of my towel.

“Hey,” I scold and back away. “Talking, you promised talking.”

“I suggest you get dressed then because my brain is seriously incapacitated by you in that towel.” The heat of his stare is almost palpable as it slips across the patterns on my skin.

“I’ll get dressed.” Turning for my cupboard where I’ve just randomly thrown my clothes, I pull out a pair of small sleep shorts and a camisole. I wiggle into them, tugging them against my damp skin. When I turn back around his gaze is burning bright.

“Truthfully, I don’t know if that’s helping.”

“Hold on.” I grin and root back through my pile of belongings until I pull out a spotty dressing gown, which I quickly slip over my shoulder and tie at the waist.

“What is that?”

“My dressing gown.”

“Take it off. Take it off right now.”

Unable to repress my laughter, I slip it back off and then turn to him expectantly. “Now talk.”

C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - T W O

I can’t get a grip of what’s going on. It seems I’ve gone from being single and never wanting to have more than a one-night-stand, to cuddling and talking in the dark. Part of me wants to ask Elijah what’s going on, but the other part of me realises that if I find out it might scare me, will make that flight instinct take to its wings and I’ll ruin whatever this is before it starts. And I think I want it to start… and right now that’s the best I can aim for.

So I’ll settle for sitting cross-legged on my bed in the room he painted for me and listening.