Glass Hearts [BL]
Chapter 51: Some Things You Don’t Let Go

Chapter 51: Some Things You Don’t Let Go

The pawn shop was just off the main street, wedged between a liquor store and a barber’s with a busted neon sign.

SHAWN’S PAWN & GOLD BUYERS

Best Prices in Estrella

Yeah. Right.

A little bell tinkled when I stepped inside.

It smelled like old leather and dust.

Rows of glass cases gleamed with everything from cheap engagement rings to antique cameras, cheap gold chains, scratched guitar amps, dusty porcelain figurines, and a cracked TV played—Love Island reality show.

Behind the counter sat Shawn.

A massive man in a Hawaiian shirt that looked two sizes too small. He had thick arms shiny with tattoos...dragons, dice, a grinning skull smoking a cigarette with his long black hair.

He had a heavy gold ring on each finger and tiny gold glasses perched on the tip of his nose.

He was lazily eating sunflower seeds, spitting the shells into a Styrofoam cup.

When he saw me, his dark eyes lit up.

"Heyyy, River boy!" he yelled, raising one hand. "Long time no see. What brings you in today, kiddo?"

I swallowed hard, tightening my grip on the tote bag.

"Hey, Shawn. Uh... I need to sell some stuff."

I tried not to let my voice shake.

He leaned back, big hands folding over his belly.

"Alright, let’s see what you’ve got."

My hands trembled as I set the tote bag on the counter and unzipped it. I started pulling out the items one by one.

First, my dad’s watch.

It was heavy, gold, scratched around the edges. A real vintage piece, with a thick metal band and an inscription on the back that read:

"All My Time, All My Love. —L"

Technically the L stood for Louis. His full name was Louis Rivera.

Shawn’s eyebrows lifted as soon as he spotted it.

"Ohhh, baby. That’s a real beauty," he hummed under his breath, picking it up carefully. Turned it over, studying the engraving.

"It belonged to my dad," I said quietly. "He wore it every day. Even... even when he was deployed."

Shawn nodded solemnly. "Right, your pops. Good man." He tilted his head. "I could maybe give you... I dunno... two hundred for it."

I stared at him. "Two hundred? That’s... that’s all?"

Shawn scratched his beard. "It’s old, Ash. And the market’s slow. Y’know how it is."

That watch is worth way more. But I’m desperate, and he knows it.

He set it aside.

"What else?"

I swallowed and reached for the next piece.

My dad’s brass compass, still faintly polished, with delicate etching on the lid that read:

"Come Home Safe."

The needle still swung when I opened it.

Shawn let out a soft whistle. "That’s a nice piece, kid. Old military compass like that... hmm. I’ll give you fifty bucks."

My chest squeezed.

Fifty? For the thing Dad carried through sandstorms and jungles and God knows where else?

Next, I set down the velvet case that held my dad’s medals...bronze and silver, shining in the dusty shop light. Purple Heart. Navy Cross. Service ribbons.

Shawn blinked at them, chewing his sunflower seed slowly. He flipped each one open, his mouth tightening when he read the inscriptions.

"Bravery. Distinguished service." He looked up. "These are... uh... sentimental," he said. "I dunno if I’d even feel right buying those. Maybe I could... hold onto ’em for you instead?"

"Yes.. please. Thank you." I smiled.

"One month," Shawn nodded, then set them gently beside the compass.

I reached back in and pulled out the pocket watch last.

It was the oldest thing we had...tarnished silver, with a smooth surface engraved with my dad’s initials. I clicked it open, and my chest tightened as I stared at the tiny, faded photograph inside.

Me, a little kid in a superhero shirt. Mom, healthy and smiling, hair down around her shoulders. And Alia, practically a baby, perched in Dad’s arm, her chubby cheeks squished up from laughing.

I felt like the floor might open under my feet.

Shawn sucked his teeth, leaning closer. "Whew. Nice piece. Antique silver, family photo inside... I could probably do... maybe a hundred fifty."

I snapped the watch shut, clutching it tight.

"No," I whispered. "I’m keeping this."

He raised his palms. "Hey. No judgment. Some things you don’t let go."

I swallowed, nodding.

Shawn cleared his throat and leaned forward.

"So... for the watch, the compass, and the medals..." He trailed off, eyeing each piece again, and I saw it: that glimmer in his eyes that wasn’t just curiosity.

He knew exactly how much these were worth.

He also knew I was desperate.

"...I can give you three-fifty," he finished.

My stomach dropped.

"That’s it?" My voice came out thin.

He spread his hands. "Kid, it’s a slow market. Gold’s down. Medals don’t move like they used to. You know how it is."

I did know.

I knew he was lying.

But what choice did I have?

I needed something...anything.

I looked down at Dad’s watch. The compass. The medals he’d bled for.

A wave of nausea rolled over me.

I’m sorry, Dad. You gave your time, your blood. And all I’ve done is sell you off piece by piece.

My hands trembled as I pushed them all a little closer to Shawn.

"Okay," I whispered. "Four hundred, please."

His mouth twitched in a smile.

"Deal."

"Kid," he said, "you sure about this?"

I couldn’t look at him.

I just nodded.

Shawn flicked through the stack of bills like he was shuffling cards, lips moving as he counted. "Fifty... hundred... hundred fifty... two hundred..." He paused to separate some crisp fifties and a couple of twenties, smoothing them against the glass counter.

He was still arranging the cash when the bell over the pawn shop door jingled.

Two guys walked in, and instantly the air shifted....like someone had turned the thermostat down twenty degrees.

They were both tall, broad, wearing black leather jackets. One had a scar running through his eyebrow, and a scruffy beard. The other was bald with eyes that seemed to dart everywhere at once.

They didn’t say a word, just prowled around the shop, trailing fingers along the glass cases, knocking lightly against the display shelves like they were testing how sturdy everything was.

My eyes followed them without meaning to. Shawn glanced up from counting the bills again and muttered under his breath, "Aw, hell..."

The bald one leaned against the glass right beside me, close enough that I smelled cigarette smoke and something metallic..maybe blood.

Scar guy tilted his head, studying me. His pale eyes were small and mean. The scar split one eyebrow in half.

"What you lookin’ at, kid?" he asked.

I flinched.

The other man snorted a laugh. "Ha! The kid’s scared."

"Why’s he look so nervous, huh?" he asked, nudging Baldy with his elbow.

Baldy grinned, revealing yellowed teeth. "’Cause he knows we bite."

They both burst into harsh laughter.

My mouth went dry.

"Hey, cut it," Shawn barked from behind the counter. "Don’t scare my customers."

Baldy rolled his eyes. "Relax, Shawn. We just messin’."

Then he reached into his hoodie and dropped a velvet bag onto the glass.

"Anyway. Got somethin’ to pawn."

Shawn raised an eyebrow. "Lemme see."

Baldy rummaged through his backpack that looked like it had survived a fire.

Then, slowly, he pulled out a small velvet pouch, the kind fancy jewelry comes in. But this thing looked filthy.

He spilled the contents unto the counter...a thick gold chain,a few chunky rings, a fat silver watch with red-brown stains crusted around the links....like old blood, drying to rust, a battered leather wallet that smelled like it had been dunked in whiskey

And finally.

Something soft and pale thumped onto the glass.

My breath caught.

A finger.

A real, human finger.

Still wearing a ring.

Still smeared in blood.

My stomach cramped so hard I thought I’d throw up right there in the store.

Oh God. Oh God.

I didn’t want to believe what I was seeing. My stomach twisted. The skin on my arms prickled, heat flushing behind my ears. That wasn’t just blood.

That was fresh.

That was recent.

I wanted to run. Scream. Vomit. Something. Anything.

Instead, I stood frozen, glued in place by a terror I couldn’t name.

Because if I reacted.... if I showed I was scared, would they come after me next?

I clutched my tote bag against my chest like it might shield me from the sight. From them. From the fact that I was standing ten feet from a piece of someone who used to be alive.

Don’t look again. Don’t look again. But I couldn’t help it. My gaze darted back to the crusted blood on the watch, to the pouch, to the glinting ring.

Baldy, plucked the ring off the severed finger like it wasn’t a piece of someone, then tossed the finger back into the velvet pouch.

Just like that.

Like it was nothing.

I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood. I tried to keep my face blank, casual. Like this was... normal.

It wasn’t.

It was the furthest thing from normal.

Shawn sucked in a sharp breath beside me. Even he looked rattled.

"Where the hell’d you get all that?" he asked.

I shouldn’t be here.

I shouldn’t be seeing this.

The man just smirked, tapping a grimy fingernail against the counter like he was daring us to guess.

Scar-Brow leaned closer to Shawn, as if to whisper something. His sweatshirt shifted...and that’s when I saw it.

A tattoo curled up his neck.

A serpent, black and shiny.

I knew that tattoo.

My breath hitched. My vision blurred.

A cold wave of sweat broke out along my forehead.

I staggered back, bumping into the chair behind me. My knees felt hollow, like they might fold under me.

Omg... I knew that tattoo.

I’d seen it once before...on the hand of the man who killed Liam.

It was the same one I sketched.

My eyes darted to baldy, and my heart dropped even further.

He had it too, half hidden beneath his hoodie, curling up the side of his neck like a black whip.

It was the same serpent coiling up his neck.

Suddenly the pawnshop felt too small, the air too close.

Shawn was talking in low tones, inspecting whatever was inside the velvet bag, but I couldn’t hear a word. All I could hear was the pounding of my heart.

I tapped my fingers on the counter.

"Shawn," I croaked, my voice was literally shaking, "can I...can I have my money?"

Shawn blinked. "Huh? Oh. Right." He shoved the stack of bills toward me.

My hands trembled as I snatched the wad of cash off the counter.

"I, uh—I gotta go," I whispered.

Then, I turned and bolted for the door.

I didn’t look back.

The last thing I heard was Shawn yelling after me:

"Hey! Ash!"

But I was already outside, the bell clanging behind me as I ran out.