Jake the Panty-Ripper (Book 1, the Phantoms MC Series)

three: in which she is a wreck at the wreck

"Life can be cruel if you're a dreamer" –DJ Snake & AlunaGeorge, You Know You Like It

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It was only after ten the next morning that I could escape my apartment – leaving Kira to enjoy her sick day under my bed sheets – and visit the Fenton family plot.

Usually, I stopped for some flowers, but I didn't think Old Betsy, my beat-up old Volkswagen, would behave if I stopped, even for a brief moment, and started again. She was stubborn that way.

I visited the cemetery on a regular basis, keeping the gravesites of my parents, my aunt and my cousin spotless and free of litter. It was amazing how many empty packs of Marlboro and bottles of liquor could be scattered in one area. Graffiti, something I couldn't do anything about, even defaced the back of my cousin's tombstone. It was nothing short of cruelty.

Today, I picked my way through the rows and rows of other Sallow County residents who had died within the past two centuries. Of course, I recognized a lot of the last names on the tombstones, and my heart ached a little at that. To be heart-sore about Bree Mason's great-great-great-great-grandfather's untimely death at twenty-four was probably stupid to some, but I didn't care. Feeling something was part of my job, part of who I was. I couldn't turn it on and off, much as I tried. I didn't want to, in any case.

By the time I got to my family's private plot on one section of the cemetery, I was a little glassy-eyed, and even more so when I saw the dark figure kneeling at my cousin's grave.

"Jacob? What are you doing here?" I asked, unable to keep the frustration out of my voice.

This was a sacred place to me and his presence here was unwanted.

"The graffiti," he said, rising to his feet. He looked at me. His lips formed a grim line, his face red with unconcealed anger. "I recognize the tags. Gonna fuck the boy up, don't worry."

I was silent. Perhaps I should've told him not to attack a little thug, on account of his previous assault conviction, but I kept quiet. Constantly seeing that disgusting word on the granite slab that bore Ella's name ate up at me every time I came here.

"Did you know I'd be here?"

Wind ruffled his sun-kissed hair, whipped at the back of his white T-shirt. "No."

I had to believe him. "Do you visit often, then?"

"Sometimes. Look, Maya, I'm gonna go now. This is your time," he said, his voice rough. "You gonna be cool?"

I thrust my hands into the pockets of the grey hoodie I was wearing, only now remembering that the old black leggings I had on had a dime-sized hole on the right knee. Yes, I was going to be cool.

"Every time I see you, I'm reminded of Sharon and Ella," I heard myself whisper, and because the sun is hidden behind a big silver cloud and a slight breeze is blowing, I shiver. "The parts of me that think of your mother, those parts make me smile inside. Sharon always made me smile, even when she wasn't okay. But the parts that think of my cousin... Those parts want to claw your heart out and howl at the moon."

I didn't know why I'd said that. Maybe it was because, while the cemetery always made me so achingly sad, it was also where I felt the safest. My home was here because my entire family was here. All of them. Their bodies were beneath me and their spirits watched me from above. It was enough to make the desolation diminish.

Pain flashed in Jake's eyes. I felt something then – maybe remorse – but it was gone just as quickly as the emotion I saw in Jake's eyes fled. He turned away from me, his eyes focused on Ella's full name indented in the flat slab of granite. Maybe he had once loved her. Maybe he had once thought about making a future with her, a family.