branded (phantoms mc #2)

four: in which she races to oblivion

"Thirsty for the chemistry,Like a Junkie " -Kill Paris (feat. Nevve & Monstre), Junkie

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Maya Ford was the epitome of I've-been-through-ѕhit-but-I've-dealt-with-it. Just being in her presence for a few minutes was enough to absorb her good vibes and make my day seem a little less ѕhitty than it was.

"So," she began, handing me a glass of ice-cold soda before plunking down beside me on the leather couch, "how've you been?"

I took a long sip of my drink before answering. "Good. You?"

Scrutinizing me with luminous grey eyes, Maya pushed her curly hair out of her face and over one shoulder. "If you were good, you wouldn't skip Sunday night poker at the clubhouse so that you could babysit my kids with me," she pointed out.

"Hey," I said sharply, "I love your kids."

The look in Maya's eyes softened. "I know, but you seem really down, Cat. I'm not used to seeing you like this."

"I think I hear Keegan crying—"

"The baby monitor is right here," Maya said, gesturing at the silent monitor that was standing on the coffee table. "Try again."

I wasn't going to try again. I huffed out a breath that I hoped conveyed how pissed off I was that she wouldn't let it go. Couldn't a girl just want to escape all the ѕhit in her life by inserting herself into someone else's life?

"Do you think you could get me a beer instead?" I muttered, fully aware that I sounded like a grumpy toddler, and that it definitely wasn't fair to Maya. She had three kids already.

Lila was her oldest, and only girl—so far. Michael, named after her father, had followed shortly after, and Keegan was only a few months old.

Maya was opening her mouth to reply, when Lila ran into the TV room where we were, screaming at the top of her voice that her doll was broken and that her mother needed to make her better. She was gonna be a ball-buster when she grew up, no doubt. Lila was the cutest four-year-old ever, but as one of her four godmothers, I was definitely heavily biased. Chubby-faced with dark curls and huge, grey eyes that were permanently filled with mischief, she looked exactly like her mother. I felt a sharp pang in my chest and forced it away.

"It's broken, Mommy!" she wailed again, holding up a headless Barbie doll for Maya to inspect.

I laughed, remembering how I used to decapitate my dolls as a kid just for kicks. I was a twisted little ѕhit. "It isn't broken," I reassured the little girl. "Just temporarily decapitated."

Lila looked at me like I was talking gibberish, which, to her, I probably was.

Maya shook her head at me, lips twitching. "I'll fix her, baby. Mommy's a nurse, remember?"

"Doctor!" Lila demanded, shaking her head repeatedly. "Barbie needs a doctor."

"She makes me feel so inadequate sometimes," Maya joked, pressing the head back onto the plastic doll's skinny neck. She handed it back to Lila. "There. All better now. Did you say hello to Auntie Cat?"

"Meow," I said on cue, curling my fingers into claws, and Lila grinned up at me, missing teeth and all, meowing back before speeding back out of the room and back to wherever she had been playing.

"Twenty minutes before bedtime, Lila!" Maya called after her. She returned her gaze to me. "You still want a beer?"

I sighed. "Not really. The soda's fine."