A Long Way Back (Unfinished Business #2) - Barbara Elsborg Page 0,85

point thinking that he could lie his way out of this.

Once the internal battle was over, Ink felt calmer, resigned.

The Uber arrived, the wheelchair was put in the boot, and Ink and Tay sat in the back. When Tay took hold of Ink’s hand and squeezed his fingers, tears soaked the bandage below Ink’s eyes. He didn’t often cry. He’d learned not to, learned the consequences, but he was crying now. He’d known loss before, but this… His heart ached.

Tay didn’t speak on the journey back, but he didn’t let go of Ink’s hand and Ink took strength from that.

Once the Uber driver had gone, they struggled back to the flat. The moment they were inside, Ink wrenched at the bandage.

“Stop it. Let me.” Tay unwrapped Ink’s face and let the bandage fall.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Tay whispered. He lifted his hand and let his fingers drift over Ink’s face. “You saved my life. You stupid, brave, idiotic, fucking, thoughtless, twatish dickhead.”

Ink managed a short laugh at that.

They stared at one another for a long moment, Ink drinking in every inch of Tay’s face which would never look the same once he’d heard Ink’s story.

“Thank you,” Tay whispered. “Thank you for being a stupid, brave, idiotic, fucking thoughtless, twatish dickhead.”

Dog was jumping up at Ink’s legs.

“Let me let Dog out,” Ink said.

“I’ll do it. You go and sit down.”

Tay was using one crutch and doing okay. Ink was happy about that. Easier to leave when Tay didn’t need him so much. Oh God, I’m lying to myself?

Dog bolted to the back door. Ink slowly made his way into the main room and sat on the couch. Where was he supposed to start this tale that shouldn’t be told? His heart hurt so much. An adult heart was the size of a clenched fist and that was what it felt like in Ink’s chest, a clenched fist punching his ribs. That clenched fist had been there since the day his world had collapsed when he was twelve, a reminder he didn’t need of what he’d lost, what he’d never have again. How stupid to think he could have Tay in his life, that he could imagine any future for the pair of them. Yet, that sneaky optimistic sunbeam had kept pushing through the blackness. Well, he was about to let the thunderstorm rage.

When Tay came back with Dog, Dog jumped up and snuggled beside Ink. Ink stroked his side, pushing his fingers into Dog’s fur.

“You want a drink?” Tay asked.

“Maybe some water, please. Can you manage?”

“Yeah, now I’m only using one crutch.”

“I don’t know where your other one is, I’m sorry.”

“It brought a terrorist down. It’s probably going to end up in a museum.”

“You didn’t have your name on it, did you?”

“No.”

Tay handed Ink a glass of water, then sat next to him. Dog shifted from under Ink’s hand, and climbed over Tay’s lap to sit farther away from Ink. How do you know, Dog?

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Tay whispered.

Ink nodded once.

“You’ll feel better once you’ve told me.”

“No, I won’t. And you won’t feel better for knowing.”

“Then…maybe I don’t want to hear.”

“If I believed I could keep it from you, I wouldn’t tell you, but you need to hear this from me before you hear it from someone else.”

“No one knows who you are. Your picture is in the Metro, but not your name.”

Ink took a deep breath, then grimaced against the pain. “My name hasn’t always been Ink Farrow. For the first twelve years of my life, it was Killian Byrne.” Ink looked directly at Tay and waited.

He didn’t know for sure that Tay would recognise the name. Tay would have been sixteen when Killian was twelve. But knowledge of what had happened in that Nottinghamshire town had gone several times around the world. Ask almost anyone in the UK if they remembered the case and they would. Who didn’t know?

“Oh God,” Tay whispered and Ink saw realisation dawn as Tay paled.

“You know what I was supposed to have done.”

Tay nodded.

“I’m not twenty-six years old, I’m twenty-four. My parents are not dead, as far as I know, but I’ve not seen them for over thirteen years. I was detained at Her Majesty’s pleasure, the normal substitute sentence for life imprisonment when the offender is a juvenile. I spent ten years locked up. First in Young Offender Institutions, then in prison.”

Ink had to force himself to keep looking at Tay. Maybe it was just as well that his body wouldn’t