There's a MATURE version of this chapter for those of you who would prefer to read that one. If you follow, you should be able to see it. 

Earl Waites took a shotgun to his mouth on a sunny Saturday morning.

Amber and I were in Buck's kitchen, failing miserably at frosting butterflies onto her cupcakes when Buck strolled in, smelling like a whole lot of pot.

He slumped into a chair and plucked a cupcake off the tray. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you mean?" It wasn't the first time I'd come around to visit since I'd moved out.

"Guess you haven't heard then. Your boyfriend's daddy just offed himself. A real shame too, he was a real cool cat back in high school."

Buck said something more but I couldn't hear anything over the blood rush in my ears. Snatching his car keys off the table, I broke into a run.

"Hey hey hey! C'mon I've got places to be! Layla, get back here!"

But I was already out the door.

***

Two sheriff cruisers and an ambulance were parked in front of Jake's house. Mr. Duval stood at the front door with his arms crossed, shaking his head at one of the deputies. He looked up as I slowed, and kept his eyes trained on me even as he continued to answer the other man's questions.

Jake's truck wasn't in the driveway, but there was a black body bag, lumpy and bumpy in the shape of Earl's body.

He really did it.

Once the initial shock faded, my heart ached at the sight.

Just the other day, Earl had been sitting in that house, if not well, then at least alive. And now, all that was left of him was a sad heap of bone and flesh, bagged up to be discarded.

Earl Waites hadn't been a nice man, but he didn't deserve this. Not after leading such a difficult, broken life.

Dear God, please receive his soul, remember this man when he comes into your kingdom. Amen.

Jake. I had to find Jake.

As I was about to hit the gas, one of the cruisers backed out, revealing Earl's truck.

I slammed down on the brakes and stared. There was so much blood congealed on the windows that the whole thing looked fake, like a cheesy prop used in a B-grade detective movie. But it wasn't, was it? This was real. On its own accord, my hand moved to roll the windows up, as if the horror was somehow contagious, as if I would be tainted by it from breathing its air.

Had Jake seen this? Had he found him?

Taking a deep breath, I tore my gaze away and forced myself to drive on.

Well, at least he'd had the decency to do it in his truck. Maybe I was being selfish, but I breathed a sigh of relief. Because the whole drive over, I'd been picturing myself on my hands and knees, drenched in Earl Waites' gore, scrubbing away at the floors and the walls of their house, and combing through the carpet to pick out chunks of brain and bones.

Because I'd have done it for Jake.

Please please please let him have been spared the nightmare of seeing this.

When I finally found him, he was in the old stables, in a stall beside Satan's. Jake sat against the wall with his guitar, plucking off random chords.

He looked okay.

Breathing hard from all the running around I'd been doing, I braced myself against the door and stared.

What am I supposed to do?

Oh, Jake knew I was there, the sunlight cast a long shadow of my body across his lap, but he didn't say or do anything to acknowledge my presence. Obviously, he wanted to be left alone, but that was just too bad. I walked in and sat beside him.

He didn't look up. "Do you want me to play?"

"Okay."

So he did. He played "Desperado".

It was very fitting, but depressing as hell, because Earl Waites had drawn the Queen of Diamonds and never did manage to come to his senses did he?

I don't now why I felt the need to whisper, but I did. "Did you see?"

"Yeah, I saw."

My blood ran cold, all the hairs rising on my arms. I scooted closer to him until we were touching from shoulder to ankle. "Are you okay?" It was an inane question, but for what it was worth, I genuinely cared about his answer.

"Yeah, I'm okay."

But he still wouldn't look at me. Keeping his gaze on the guitar, he finished the song and started it up again.

To be completely honest, I'd been worried sick that Jake might've done something crazy, Earl Waites' cruel taunts about all the men in their family turning out the same echoing in my ears. After all, suicide did run in families. Or maybe after a while of living life a certain way, it became a self-fulfilling prophecy.

It didn't matter. Jake was right here, and he was okay. I watched him for a little bit, then nuzzled my nose against his neck, breathing in the scent of him. Comforted by his nearness, my blood warmed back up. Wasn't that something? Me taking comfort from him when I should've been the one giving.

But he smiled, so I did it some more. Then I pushed his guitar away and crawled onto his lap.

"I thought you wanted me to play."

Curling up against him, I pulled his arm around me, and held it there. "I'd rather you talk to me."

"About what?"

"I mean... I guess whatever you want to talk about."

He slid his hand under my shirt.

I smiled. "Is this how we talk now?" But I didn't stop him either. He could do whatever he wanted, as long as it made him feel better.

He buried his face in my hair and traced lazy circles against my ribcage with the pad of his thumb.

"Are you sad?" I asked.

He shook his head. "He wasn't much of a father, you know that."

"Shocked?"

"It was a long time coming."

I held my palm against his cheek. "Brandy's not much of a mother, but I'd still be sad if she died."

"That's only because you're sweeter than stolen honey." He licked a trail up my neck and ran his hand up my thigh.

Taking his face between my hands, I turned his face to mine. "Jake, look at me," I said, holding him there until he finally lifted his eyelashes.

He was relieved.

It was a bittersweet moment.

"It's okay, really. Good for him for putting himself out of his misery, I can't imagine living like he did for that long. Can't say that I blame him either, I probably would've done the same."

"You're not going to end up like him!" I was so adamant when really, I had no way of predicting the future.

"I know."

I jerked his chin up, forcing him to look at me again. "You're not. I won't let you."

He smiled and winked. "Okay."

I frowned. Why don't you believe me?

He stared at me with an incomprehensible expression on his face. Maybe he was confused, maybe angry, I really didn't know. I stared back, trying to hide the sorrow that I felt for him, but that was most likely a big fail.

Suddenly, he grabbed me by the back of the head and kissed me, hard and deep, until I had to turn my head away, gasping for breath. His hands snaked under my bra and he lifted his hips, pushing himself up against my butt. "Take your shirt off."

Well, okay, this was a little inappropriate, and talking about his feelings seemed like the healthy thing to do, but who was I to judge him? The first thing I did after my daddy died was eat pancake after pancake until I threw up from it. I'd felt so empty.

I helped him get my shirt off.

He didn't look at me as he worked on my shorts, desperately focused on the zipper, as if whatever answers he was looking for were hidden behind them.

Now, I didn't know about answers, but distractions? Yes.

I had things that he liked.

Staring at the top of his head, my heart broke for him. Like I said, Brandy wasn't much of a mother, but it still meant the world that she was around. Jake was now all alone in the world.

No, that wasn't true.

Jake had me.

I didn't know if I was ready for this, but I asked him anyway. "Do you wanna have sex?"

He looked up at me. "Yeah?"

I nodded.

"I know it's a pityfuck, but I'll take it however I can get it. Because if I don't get in you soon, I'm pretty sure I'm gonna blow my brains out."

I cringed at his dark humor. "It's not a pityfuck."

He didn't answer me. Instead, he smiled and kissed me, sweetly this time, which made me smile too. And so we closed the door to the outside world, forgetting about all the brutal nastiness of reality and drifted into a world where it was just him and me, where we were safe to do whatever we wanted to do, if only for a little while.

He got right down to business. By then he was an expert at getting me ready, so it didn't take long. He knew just what I liked.

Keeping a death grip on my hips, he lifted his to and fumbled with his jeans.

I chuckled. "You don't have to hang onto me like this, I'm not gonna change my mind."

He grinned, but didn't let go. "I've heard that from you before."

"Come on, Jake I'm not changing my mind." To prove my commitment to this, I reached for his fly and undid it, then helped him out of his pants.

I can't believe I'm gonna lose my virginity on a stable floor. What the fuck.

We didn't even have a blanket to lay on. Nope, he just put his shirt down on the floor and lay me down on it. And on the way down, I met Satan's eyes.

Great, and Satan's gonna watch.

Once I was on my back, Jake rifled through the pockets of his jeans. I folded my arms around my stomach.

Watching him put the condom on kind of felt like I was at the doctor's office, waiting for the nurse to prepare the shot. I'd always hated that part, that dreadful anticipation, so I drummed my fingers and focused on avoiding eye contact with Satan.

"Ready?"

Please don't make me regret this.

I nodded.

But it's okay if you do.

He'd shown me so much kindness and it wasn't like Jake was the kind of boy you could forget anyway.

We stared into each others' eyes the whole time, but not in awe as our souls merged or anything like that. No, we were sizing each other up, me, wondering if he was going to leave once he got what he wanted from me, and him probably wondering if I was going to make him stop because it hurt too much.

Yes, it hurt, but nothing I couldn't handle. No, it didn't do anything for me.

When it was over, it took him a little bit to catch his breath. When he spoke, he did it into my shoulder without looking at me. "You're just laying there counting the rafters aren't you?"

"Sixty four across."

He let out a strangled moan. "Wow, this is a whole new low for me."

Laughing, I fisted up a handful of his hair and lifted his head so that I could see his face. His cheeks were flushed pink and he looked adorable, good enough to eat. "That was terrible," I told him, barely able to contain my laughter. "Really truly awful, Jake."

He grinned and gave me an quick peck on the lips. It was an affectionate gesture that warmed my heart and made me feel closer to him than anything else we just did.

"But I'm still the best you've ever had."

I laughed. "You are."

"Well, now that you're broke, you'll enjoy the ride next time."

"You keep talking to me like I'm a horse and the only thing you're going to be riding is your own fist."

He smiled, his eyes getting droopy. "You're so good to me, Layla, I'll make it up to you. Anything you want, all you have to do is ask."

Fall in love with me.

And when we stared into each others' eyes that time, I sure he could see how vulnerable I felt, so I quickly looked away and forced a smile. "Get off, Jake, you're sweating all over me."

***

"I don't understand, why is there so much blood?" Jake paced circles around me, pale and freaking out.

I didn't either. I'd always believed that all that riding would've taken care of the hymen thing but apparently they really meant it when they said everybody's different.

"I don't know! Just because I have one, doesn't make me an expert on all things vagina!"

I started to panic too. Obviously, I was no stranger to this kind of blood, but I felt queasy and sick, flashbacks of Earl's truck flaring in my mind. Oh wow, was that happening to him too? Was he getting extra traumatized because of this?

I looked up.

Stricken, he kept looking from my bloody thighs, to his. Then, he pulled his shirt out from beneath me, turned it inside out, balled it up and shoved it between my legs, pressing hard.

"I'm pretty sure pressure isn't going to staunch anything. It's not that kind of wound."

"Do we need to go to the hospital?"

"No, it's fine."

He ran his hand down his jaw, looking stressed.

"Take it easy, Jake. I bleed a lot more than this every month."

"Yeah, but I'm not the cause of that."

"Have you never had sex with a virgin before?"

"Yeah, but she didn't bleed like this. What the fuck Layla!"

I tried to keep my temper in check. This wasn't my fault! Now I was pissed off on top of feeling uncertain about everything. I grabbed my shirt and pulled it over my breasts to cover them up. "Stop yelling at me!"

"I'm not yelling at you!"

"Where's my bra? Find my bra!"

He picked it up and handed it to me. "What am I supposed to do?"

"What do you mean what are you supposed to do?"

He pulled his jeans on. Zipped up. "I have to check it. Let me see."

"See what!"

He pointed at my crotch. "I have to make sure it's not all torn up or I don't know, maybe something got dislodged."

"No! Are you kidding me?"

But he was already down on his knees in front of me. "C'mon, it's not like I haven't seen it before."

Stupified, I stared at him.

"What if you bleed out and die?"

He pushed me down onto my back. If his daddy hadn't just died, I never would've let him do it. But as things were, I let him spread my legs apart again.

And that's how Jake followed up a not-what-I'd-imagined-it-would-be first time with an amateur pelvic exam. He actually used the flashlight on his phone and prodded around with his fingers. So ridiculous. So mortifying. Very memorable.

"I think it's okay," he said, sounding relieved. "Nothing's actively bleeding."

Even Satan snorted at that.

In silence, we finished getting dressed and sat in the barn together until nightfall. We spent some of the time talking about random things and the rest of it listening to the guitar.

The topic of Earl Waites, however, was closed for good. He just wouldn't talk about him. Not then, and not ever again.

"No matter what or who it is, you have to forget about the how-we-weres and move on."

In hindsight, it was cold as fuck and kind of scary that Jake had that in him, that ability to turn his back on something and move on like it didn't matter, never looking back.

As for sex, he didn't walk away. Just the opposite, we couldn't get enough of each other after that night. No, that wasn't true. He refused me for a while, insisting that we give my vagina sufficient time to - and I quote - "unfuck itself" before we did. But after that, we were all about it.

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