Page 68 of Soulless Saint

I shook my head, unsure I did catch his meaning. Or maybe just wanting to know.

“Well that one chick he’s been boning for a couple months now—I think her name is Felicia—she always wears one of those little flight attendant looking scarves for a few days after Sunday nights at their place.”

A stone sunk heavily in my gut and I didn’t understand why the mention of her made me bristle with something that was definitely not jealousy. That would be stupid. Not to mention insane if what Toby was telling me had any truth to it.

“I’ve noticed ligature marks on her wrists, too.”

My traitorous cunt throbbed, imagining my own wrists bound tightly, lifted high over my head as Hardin ravished me.

“Hardin scares the shit out of me,” Toby continued, snapping me out of it. “But I can’t say I wouldn’t let him tie me up and have his way with me if he were so inclined.”

Toby sighed before linking an arm with mine, using his other hand to guide our near full cart toward the front of the store. “Why are all the hot ones straight?”

I pushed down the lump in my throat and shook off the flutters vying for dominion in my belly. Leaning into Toby, I bumped my shoulder with his. “Not all the hot ones.”

Toby smiled at the compliment. “Have I told you I love you today?”

“It won’t hurt to remind me.”

“Love you, boo.”

I laughed, hurrying him to the checkout line that seemed to have only grown in the last five minutes. “If we’re late for the morning rush, Kate’s going to double our rent.”

* * *

Outside of Death Before Decaf, a group of students crowded the entrance, whispering and talking animatedly among themselves.

“Shit. The morning rush started hella early today,” Toby was saying, towing me along as we rushed down the street. “You got the espresso machine? I’ll do the smoothie station and sandwiches.”

We hit the densely crowded ring of students and Toby began to shove them from our path. “Move people, if you want your coffee we need to get through here.”

I apologized, knocking into several shoulders as we squeezed our way through and stopped dead once we were inside the ring.

“It’s her,” someone said behind me, but everything else after that faded into background noise as I stared down at the thing that had everyone gathering outside the cafe. They weren’t lined up to go inside at all. They were spectators at an art gallery.

Bold colorful lines slashed the sidewalk at my feet and I stepped back, recognizing long dark hair and light brown eyes. She stared up at me from the cement, a graffiti version of myself surrounded in strokes of neon blue and purple and green.

The Becca painted on the cement had a dangerous glint to her hard stare. Her jawline was sharper. Her lips downturned, but not in an unattractive way. Just in the way they always were. But there was no mistaking who it was.

Below the portrait, curving around the base of my neck like a collar were two words.

Forgive me?

And off to the side, just below the question mark, was a symbol I recognized. It was the same symbol tattooed into my best friend’s back, running along the line of her spine. The Saint emblem. A fleur des lis with the tip elongated to make a dagger.

My hand flew to my mouth as something in my chest twisted.

Hardin drew this.

Numbly, I knelt to the cement, putting my hand to the paint. It was dry, but still tacky. He’d probably stayed up half the night to paint it. And after I teased him for not talking to me. For not apologizing.

I wasn’t sure if he was the asshole here anymore. Or if I was.

“Ho-ly shit,” Toby was saying. “Was this who I think it was?”

When I lifted my watery gaze to Toby’s, he shook his head. “All right, that’s enough,” he shouted at everyone standing around the cafe’s entrance. “You’re all in violation of the fire code. Unless you want coffee, go the fuck about your business, yeah? Go on, scat.”

I kept my eyes cast downward, feeling way too many eyes on me as the crowd slowly dispersed and Toby dragged me inside.

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