Page 11 of Joey

“Thanks for having me.”

“I’m just about to dish up. Go wash up, and it’ll be ready.”

Ethan led the way to the small downstairs bathroom, letting Joey wash his hands first. “I promise, they’re harmless,” he whispered. Joey didn’t relax. Had he made a mistake in asking?

They settled down at the table, side by side, and Joey stood again to shake his father’s hand.

“We don’t stand on ceremony here. Tuck in,” his dad said.

They hadn’t even picked up their cutlery before his mother said, “So, Joey, what do you do?”

Joey froze for a second, then smiled. “I’m a tattoo artist.”

Ethan stared at his plate, tucking that titbit of information away for later. His dad, however, perked up. “You are? How fantastic! I have a few tattoos myself. Got them when I was a hot-headed twenty-something, but I still like them now.”

Joey smiled. “I’m glad you do. There are far too many people who regret them.”

Alan nodded. “I can imagine most of those are the ones who chose their designs unwisely.” He chuckled, and Joey joined in. Alan nudged Bridget. “Do you remember me telling you Richard had his wife’s name tattooed on him?” Bridget nodded. “He’s trying to get it removed now they’ve got divorced.” He snorted. “Even more expensive than the tattoo itself.”

Alan asked Joey about the tattoos he did, and it seemed to be a topic Joey didn’t mind talking about. Until his father asked whether Joey worked for himself or owned a business.

Joey hesitated before answering. “I have my own business in London.”

His mother seemed to hear the reluctance in his answer, and she focused on Ethan. “How’s Christi doing with that woman at work?”

Ethan smiled at her, trying to thank her with his expression and not his words. “She’s struggling. I keep telling her if she’d stopped antagonising the woman, she’d stop trying to take her clients, but she won’t listen. Hopefully, it won’t matter soon. She nearly has enough for her deposit.”

“That’s good. I can’t believe she’s nearly there. She’s done so well.”

Ethan nodded. “She has. With all the problems she’d encountered at that salon, I didn’t expect her to stick it out.”

Bridget laughed. “She’s stubborn if nothing else.”

“That she is.”

The conversation continued, but Joey remained mainly silent unless a question was asked of him. Ethan’s parents kept the questions to mundane topics that didn’t ask for personal information, and Ethan watched Joey slowly relax throughout dinner. Ethan helped his mother clear the dishes when they’d finished, leaving Joey and Alan talking about tattoos again.

“He seems nice, sweetie.”

“He is,” he said, filling the dishwasher.

“How long have you known him?”

“A few days,” he hedged.

He could feel her eyes boring into him, so he stood and leaned back against the counter. “I don’t know him that well, Mum. But there’s something about him… Something happened, and he won’t talk about it, so I’m going to help distract him until he can deal with it.” He shrugged.

“And when he goes back to London,” she murmured, and he could see the worry on her face.

“Then he goes back, hopefully, strong enough to deal with it.”

Bridget stepped closer, cupping his cheek. “You are such a generous soul, Ethan. Just be careful with this…” She tapped the left side of his chest.

Ethan nodded. He would do everything he could to protect himself—and his heart—during the time Joey was with him. He knew Joey wouldn’t stay there forever, and London wasn’t exactly down the road. It was two hundred and fifty miles away. A good six-hour journey if he didn’t take any breaks. Not that he’d checked or anything.

They said goodbye to his parents, and Ethan drove them back towards the centre of town. “Would you like to go out for a drink? We could call Christi and Kole to join us.”

“Kole?” Joey asked.

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