“You have nothing to be ashamed of. They’re cretins. They deserve to rot in hell.”
“Everyone heard what they said. I can’t go back there. I can’t face anyone.”
Tristan cupped her face, searching her watery, red eyes. “You can. All of us, we’re broken people. We’re hiding from one thing or another, we’ve got secrets, regrets. Not a person there will judge you.”
She tried to shake her head. “You can’t understand.”
“I want to understand. I do. Can we talk about this? Can we... can you just wait for me?”
“Wait for what? I can’t stay there now. I must go somewhere else where no one knows me.”
“With what, Flick? How? Where are you going to go? Why couldn’t you wait for me? You have to know I would have come to you. You don’t have to face this alone. I am right here with you.”
Her throat bobbed and she looked around. “Do we have to do this here? People are looking at us.”
Tristan nodded. “I know where we can go.”
“Not the Den.”
“No.” He took her hand and led her down a short alley. “We don’t have to go back. I have somewhere we can go that’s private. We can talk. You can rest, and we’ll figure this out.”
She hesitated. “Where?”
He met her gaze. “I rent rooms a block from here.”
She frowned. “I thought you lived at the Den.”
“I don’t. It’s too crowded. Too many people who want to be friends. I must warn you. I live on a tight budget. All the coin I earn goes towards buying back Lark Hall. It’s not a place for a lady.”
“I’m sure it’s fine.”
He threaded his fingers through hers.
“People are looking,” she said.
“Let them look. In a city this big, no one knows who we are, Flick.”
She tucked her chin down.
When they reached his lodgings, he took out a key and opened the door to the front hall. It was a rundown boarding house. Not the sort that made rules about its occupants’ behavior other than be quiet and don’t break what isn’t yours. The floors were warped, the rugs long ago sold. The furnishings were sparse and not anything he’d let her sit on. But he kept his room neat, mostly. Neat enough he wasn’t fretting about her seeing it.
They climbed the stairs, her scanning the surroundings warily. He unlocked his door, belatedly remembering the shattered glass on the floor. He led her into the darkened room.
“Wait here. I have to pick up something I broke earlier.” He led her to the sofa, and she sat gingerly.
Tristan hurried and scooped the glass into a pile with a handkerchief and dumped it into the empty basin. He went back to her, and she was chewing on her nails.
He sat down next to her. “I’m sorry about this morning.”
“It was bound to happen eventually.”
“It shouldn’t have happened like that. Or at all.”
She smiled weakly. “You don’t see me differently now that you’ve seen them? Heard their vile words about me?”
He moved closer and took her hand again. “Never.”
She huffed out a laugh. “That can’t be true.”
