Three Broken Promises (One Week Girlfriend #3)(2)
Author: Monica Murphy

“I’m not the only one who wants you here,” Fable points out, brows raised, a knowing look on her face.

Her statement doesn’t need an answer. I know who she’s referring to. He’d want me to stay indefinitely, but I haven’t even told him I’m leaving yet. I’ll let him know tonight.

Hopefully.

He provides the place I live, my job. He does it all with no strings attached, or so he claims. Really, I believe him. A deep, dark secret part of me wishes there were strings. Plenty of strings that tie me to him, bind us together until we’re so connected that we’d become one long word. Not just Jen. Not just Colin.

JenandColin.

No way is that gonna happen.

So if I can’t have him—and really, I shouldn’t want him, or have allowed myself to become completely dependent on him for far too long—then I’m going to claim my freedom completely.

Stupid and risky and totally freakin’ scary, but . . . I need to do it. Recent events have pushed me into doing it. My past has come calling in the form of a customer at The District just a few nights ago. He came into the bar and ordered a drink. Thankfully, I was able to avoid him and he left without incident.

This could happen again, though. Having the man there was a reminder that I can never escape my past. I don’t want Colin to know what I’ve done. He won’t like me anymore. He’ll look differently at me.

I don’t think I could stand that.

Desperately needing to change the subject, I ask, “How does it look?”

Fable tilts her head, examining the tattoo on the back of my neck. “It’s beautiful. But you’ll never really see it.”

“There’s such a thing as mirrors, you know.” I take the very one Dave is handing to me and I look into it, see my reflection bouncing off the mirror that lines the entire wall. My long hair is piled on top of my head in a sloppy bun, revealing my neck, the reddened skin, and the butterfly.

It’s a delicate sketch in gentle shades of blue and black, looking as if it could somehow flutter its wings and fly right off my skin. If I like it this much now, imagine how awesome it’ll look when the skin is healed!

“I love it,” I breathe as I hand the mirror back to Dave, who sets it on the counter beside him.

“It’s pretty,” Fable agrees with a smile on her face. “I’m proud of you, Jen. I know you were scared to come here.”

More like petrified, but now I’m proud, too. I did it. I got a tattoo and I didn’t cry or run out of the shop before big, burly Dave got his needle on me, which I was afraid I might do. Kind of stupid, to be proud of something as simple as this. If my mom ever sees it, she’ll flip out. My dad will think I’m a common gutter tramp—his words, not mine. Not that I plan on seeing them anytime soon. I don’t want to go back, and they’re not exactly welcoming me. I think they’re almost glad to be rid of me. I was a burden.

I have a feeling Colin won’t really like my tattoo either. But I didn’t get it for anyone else. Just me.

Dave’s now placing a bandage on my fresh tattoo, rattling off the care instructions in a monotone, as if he’s said this before a million times, which he probably has. He hands me a sheet of paper with the instructions listed on it and I glance it over, not really seeing the words. My brain is too occupied with these people in my life who I wish I could please but rarely do.

They haunt me, hang out in my head like ghosts I can’t get rid of. Even Colin makes an appearance there, which is dumb considering I live with the man.

Fable’s cell rings, and from the smile that pops onto her face when she glances at her phone, I know it’s Drew. I watch her step away to talk to him privately and jealousy clutches at my heart, making it hurt.

I want that, though I’d never admit it out loud, and certainly not to Fable. Unconditional love, a man who would do anything—and I mean anything—to ensure I’m happy. Safe. Secure. Loved.

If I’m being honest with myself, I’d like to have that with Colin.

He acts like he wants more, but then he always pulls back. I’ve shared more intimate moments with him than with anyone else in my entire life. I’ve slept in his bed. He’s held me close. He’s kissed me . . . but nothing beyond the sort of kiss a brother bestows on his sister’s cheek or forehead.

Confirmation that’s the only way he’ll ever think of me. We grew up together, Colin and I. Well, Danny, Colin, and I. My brother and Colin were best friends. They were supposed to join the Marines together, but somehow Danny was the only one who ended up going into the service. Then he went to Afghanistan.

And never came back.

He’s the ghost who hangs in my head the most, though he doesn’t judge or make me feel bad. Not necessarily. It’s more like my big brother reminds me that sometimes, the choices I make aren’t always the best ones. If he knew everything, he never would have forgiven me.

Also, he makes me feel guilty for having certain . . . feelings for Colin. I always wonder if Danny would approve. Would he want me with Colin? Or would he have fought like hell to ensure Colin and I never happened?

It doesn’t matter. Danny isn’t around, and Colin and I are never going to happen. No matter how badly I want us to, he doesn’t. Not really. He likes having me around. He likes counting on me being there as a sort of crutch for him when his emotions, his demons, get out of hand.

But he doesn’t want me. Not in the way that matters most. Not in the way that I want him to.

So forget it. Forget us.

Tonight, I’m giving a month’s notice to Colin. More than enough time for him to find a replacement waitress. That’s also more than enough time for me to find a new apartment, a new job, and a new life in a new city. I know exactly where I’m going, so it’s not like I’m flying by the seat of my pants and changing my life on a whim.

Well, sort of. I’ve always been an impulsive person. That’s gotten me in trouble in the past. Hopefully it won’t get me in trouble now.

Colin’s going to be angry that I’m leaving, but maybe, just maybe, the tattoo will give me strength. Will remind me that what I’m doing is the right thing. I need to go. I need to really learn how to live my life on my own, not this childish running-away shit and living out of my car like I did last time. I’m older now. Smarter. Wiser.

I need to fly and be free.

Colin

The restaurant is hopping. It’s late August and the students are back in earnest, which means The District is back in business. The bar is packed, my staff is hustling, and the kitchen is a steamy pit of never-ending appetizers, giant plates being taken out again and again, since it seems none of the customers want a full meal tonight.