Bane (Sinners of Saint 4)

“Jesse.”

“Mrs. B is dying. Her kids don’t want to come to California to say goodbye,” she said flatly, staring out the window, flicking the glass with her thumb and forefinger.

I bit down on a string of curses. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. They said I should stop contacting them. I wanted them to come here while she was still lucid, but that’s not going to happen. Know what else is not going to happen? My going back to living with Pam. I’ve had enough of her bullshit. The only thing I really cared about in that house was Shadow, and he is gone now.”

I knew I was cooking up a disaster, considering the shit I was keeping from her, but couldn’t stop myself, anyway. “You’ll stay with me.” It wasn’t a question.

“I was thinking of asking Gail. She needs a roommate.”

“She needs better taste in music,” I quipped. “If I hear My Chemical Romance blasting from her phone one more time, I swear someone will get decapitated.”

I expected a snort, a laugh, anything. But nothing ever came. I reached to touch her thigh. “Hey. It will be okay.”

“No, it won’t. My dad’s dead. My dog’s dead. My best friend is dying. The only person I have left is you. Well, and Darren and Mayra, I guess, but they only care because they have to. One is paid, and the other is just embarrassed by his sorry excuse for a wife.”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t think Darren cared for her. If he had, he wouldn’t have pulled this type of shit. But hey, what the fuck did I know about love? A lot, apparently. For starters, I knew that it hurt like a motherfucker.

I parked her vehicle a few feet away from an old sycamore. The earth beneath it was loose and damp, easy to dig. I took out a shovel I’d picked up from the gardener’s shed from the trunk, flung my shirt to the driver’s seat and started digging. She watched my back all the while. I carried Shadow into his burial spot and covered him in dark soil, then grabbed a pointy branch and wrote down his name in the sand. Shadow Dog Carter.

“Let’s give him a eulogy.” I tugged her to my side, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and dropping a kiss on the crown of her head. “He was a good dog. He deserves it.”

She stared at the fresh pile of mud mounded under the sycamore, her chin shaking. I wanted to suck her agony into my own body until she felt better, even if it killed me. And the worst part, was, I knew I was wronging her by not telling her about my meeting with Darren this afternoon. About Artem. And still, I couldn’t see her hurting more.

“Once upon a time there was a little girl,” she started, crouching down and burying her palm inside the soil. “The girl was scared of the dark and loved Kit Kats. There were four fingers on every Kit Kat. One for her. One for her father. One for her mother, and one…” She paused. I knew she was smiling, even though she was looking down. “The girl wanted a companion, so her daddy gave her a puppy for Christmas. The girl named the dog Shadow, because he followed her everywhere. In the pouring rain and the blistering heat. He was there for her when her daddy died. He was there for her when her mother reinvented herself and decided that the girl no longer fit into the picture. He was there for her when they took her soul and all that was left behind was her scarred body. He was there for her, even though she wasn’t there for him. The girl was too scared to face the real world. To take him to the vet. To save him.”

“Jesse.”

She shook her head, a tear landing on the soil beneath her. “Why does the truth always hurt so bad?”

You tell me. I’m drowning in it right now.

When I was young and impressionable, Artem had given me a piece of advice I’d liked so much, I’d tattooed that shit onto my torso, just in case. A tribute to the man I hadn’t known would be such a magnificent part of my downfall.

Don’t fall in love. Fall off a bridge. It hurts less.

I liked it because it was funny. I’d had no idea it was also true. I picked Jesse up, and she buried her face in my chest. I wasn’t much good at comforting, but I wanted to make it as easy as possible for her.

“Give me Mrs. Belfort’s kids’ numbers,” I said.

I called them the same evening, when Jesse was taking a shower.

The next day, they were on the plane.

MY MOUTH FELT FURRY AND dry when I woke up the next morning.