Vandal (Ashes & Embers 2)

The house I’m hawking is a small cape-style, and is very cookie-cutter with its blue shutters and matching front door. The grass needs to be cut and mail is spilling out of the mailbox, and I’m sure it’s because she hasn’t bothered with it, not because she’s on a vacation in the Hamptons. A small silver SUV is parked in the driveway. I wish I could see the backyard, but I can’t risk someone seeing me if I go creeping around back there. My veins thrum as I examine the house and everything around it. Everything that is her.

No, this isn’t stalking. Not really. I’d call this interested observation. Bright colored flowers line the brick walkway to the front door, and wind chimes dangle from a low-hanging oak tree branch, creating a soft melody floating in the breeze. A small gnome and three bunny statues surround a stone birdbath with no water in it. She likes whimsical. I bet she likes angels and fairies, and she smiles at butterflies and marvels at hummingbirds.

The only way to make someone happy is to know what makes him or her happy. Alternatively, the way to instill fear in someone is to know what scares him or her. Knowing how to use those feelings to spin a web of seduction and trust takes patience and control.

I’ve got both.

***

On my way home, I grab a monstrous steak and cheese sandwich and a six-pack of beer. I eat it in the living room and give small pieces to Sterling, who likes to supervise all things food-related. When I’m done, I wander into Katie’s room and sit on the edge of her small bed. The kitten has followed me in and walks around slowly, sniffing everything, his little ears twisting around. Sometimes my mind goes screwy and I think I can somehow undo this and bring Katie back, as if it were all a big mistake or a bad dream. I want it to be over, but it never fucking will be.

After staring at Katie’s things for a while, I take a few sleeping pills and check Tabitha’s page before I prepare to pass out on the couch. She hasn’t posted anything in quite a while, but I still check every night, just to see if she has shared any new thoughts, and today she has.

‘Whoever said life is too short obviously never endured heartache or loss, because life is too long. It’s one long, miserable day that just drags out forever. Insomnia has taken over my life. I haven’t slept in days, and when I do finally sleep for an hour or two, I have horrible nightmares. I hate this life.’

How fucking true. Life is really for the happy people.

I miss Katie more than I can put into words, but she is my daughter, my flesh and blood. I think of how I heard Tabitha crying in despair at Nick’s grave. If I had died in that crash, no one would be crying over my grave or still missing me months later. I feel oddly jealous over Tabitha’s intense love for her husband.

There’s another picture I found in one of her many online photo albums where she’s sitting on an old staircase, looking up into the camera, her huge eyes half hidden under her bangs, her small cleavage pushing out of the black dress she’s wearing. I’ve saved it to my computer so I can look at it quickly whenever I want to and fantasize about her on her knees, gazing up at me in that same way with those big enchanting eyes.

She’s stirred me.

Vandal

I throw some clothes into my saddlebags and hop on my bike, looking forward to going to the lake for a few weeks. The past three months have been torturous for me, living in my house without Katie. I need to get away from all that. On my way, I stop at the cemetery to visit Katie once more before I go, and also to check one of my foot pegs that I could hear rattling. I pull out my small tool bag and tighten it in the parking lot.

Off to my right, I hear a sound coming from the direction of my tree. I put my tools away and push my hair out of my face, looking toward the direction of the noise. Wiping my dirty hands on my jeans, I take a tiny teddy bear from my bag and head for Katie’s grave.

I can hear her crying, but can barely see her this time because she’s sitting on the ground on the other side of the headstone. Seeing her again is unexpected, but I can’t resist going to her because I’ve thought about this too fucking much to just walk away. It’s like she was handed to me.

She startles at first when she sees me, staring up at all six-foot-four of me with a small amount of fear in her teary eyes. Those eyes. Holding my breath, I wait for some glimmer of recognition, but there is none. I slowly exhale.

“You’ve got black stuff on your face,” she says, sniffling. Her voice is softer than I expected it to be.

I kneel down in front of her and rub my thumb across her cheek, smudging the stain of tears and make-up under her eye. She flinches a tiny bit and sucks in a breath.

“So do you,” I say.

I love the way my heart is thundering in my chest just from touching her warm, soft flesh. It’s the same feeling I get when I cut myself—only this is far better. This is its own heartbeat, its own breath, its own blood and fear.

I fucking want it.

She wipes at her face with the back of her hand and rips her gaze away from mine. They land on the bear I’m holding.

She nods her quivering chin towards it. “You’re holding a teddy bear.”

I turn the soft toy in my dirty hands. “I am.”

“Why?”

I glance over at my daughter’s grave. The sun is shining through the leaves of my tree and casting a ray of light onto her stone, making it glow. I take this as a sign.

I look back at Tabitha and hold the bear out to her. “I was going to give it to someone, but I think maybe you need it more.”

Her hand shakes as she takes it from me and she cradles it against her. “Thank you.” Her voice is slightly above a whisper. She swallows hard and squeezes her eyes shut. Katie would want her to have it. The bears were always meant to cheer someone up. Why not a grieving widow?

I can’t take my eyes off of her. She absolutely takes my breath away. She is so beautifully damaged. She’s wrecked. I can see it in her lifeless eyes. And now I want to fix her in the only way I know how.

I stand up and offer her my hand. “Wanna go for a ride?”

Her eyes widen and her fingers tighten around the bear before she slowly puts her small hand in mine. I pull her up to her feet and her head barely reaches the middle of my chest. She looks down at the grave and takes a deep shuddering breath.

“Yes,” she finally says, nodding a little. “Take me away from here.”

That’s all I need to hear.

She follows me to the bike and surprises me when she just gets on the back without reaction or question. I can see the defiance in her as she plants herself on the seat and stuffs the bear into her purse. She doesn’t look at me at all—she just stares off into the distance, completely expressionless. I start the bike and the engine roars loudly, but she doesn’t even jump at the sound. I tie my hair back, put my sunglasses on and turn to the side to peek at her. I don’t wear a helmet, as this is a no-helmet law state, and I don’t have an extra one on my bike for her. She doesn’t seem concerned about not having it, like most chicks are. Maybe she’s like me and is also daring fate. That’s right, we’re the ones that got away. Wanna try again?

“You gotta hold on, darlin’, or you’re gonna fly right the fuck off.”

“Not sure I’d care,” she replies, but wraps her arms tightly around my waist.

Yes, baby. Embrace the darkness with me.

I pull out of the parking lot, leaving her car and our lost loved ones behind. As the wind whips our long hair behind us, I think we both feel that this is the start of letting go.

The lake house is about an hour away, tucked deep in the mountains. I have no fucking idea what I’m doing, but her hands clasped around me as we ride along the tree-lined curvy roads ignite all sorts of dark thoughts inside me. The feel of her small thighs spread and pressed against my legs makes my cock ache.

Riding my bike has always been an escape for me—just me and the road and the wind, and nothing else. Having a chick wrapped around me, giving me a hard-on, is an invasion of the Zen I usually feel when rid

ing, but I ain’t gonna complain.

A few times she rests her cheek against my shoulder, her arms squeezing me tighter, hiding in me.

Melting into me.

The driveway is dusty and gravelly, and I take it slow when I turn in so I don’t wipe out. I park just in front of the garage and kill the engine. She takes the cue and hops off, walking around a bit to stretch her legs as I unlock the garage and push the bike in next to my hot rod. I pull my stuff out of my saddlebags and find her standing by the lake.

“Where are we?” she asks me when she hears me walk up behind her.