After some delay, we buried Earl Waites next to Ahiga Segany. His tombstone marked the date of his death and the death of my virginity.

I was starting to mourn the latter.

It took me a handful of tries to get the hang of it (pro tip: you need to stop psychoanalyzing it) but once I did, my God, I was insatiable.

It was enough to make me question where the line for high sex drive ended and nymphomania began.

And I adored having sex with Jake. I loved the way he made me feel, loved the things he did to me, loved the things he let me do to him. I loved the smooth warmth of his skin and loved the touch of his rough, calloused hands.

Hell, I was pretty sure I loved him.

So why the long face?

Well, in the beginning, I think Jake loved having sex with me too. But as things became more frequent, I sensed him pulling away, the act becoming less and less intimate, leaving me to spend way too much time worrying that he was getting bored of me, that maybe it was true that boys lost interest once the thrill of the chase was over.

There were some other things that weren't adding up either. For one, we never did anything besides have sex. No dinners, no movies, no dates.

There were no public displays of anything, nothing but perfunctory hellos and goodbyes when we ran into each other. Hell, there were no private displays of affection, no cuddling or kissing after sex. No, we just kind of disengaged and got dressed. Jake never initiated it, and while I wanted to, I was afraid of seeming clingy and desperate. Oh, there was that one time I'd tried and he'd stiffened and moved away. That put a real damper on any future attempts.

Lastly, we never talked about anything serious. Burying his father, for example. I'd brought the subject up a few times, questioning the delay and wondering if I could help, but he'd shut me down every time.

At the end, it turned out that Carson Beaudry had taken care of all the arrangements, via Mr. Duval. I didn't understand why Jake couldn't have just told me that, but at the end of the day, I guess it was frankly, none of my business.

So basically, all the signs were pointing down, but I kept telling myself that I was reading him wrong, that I couldn't expect him to be considerate of my neurosis with all this other chaos in his life.

Anyway, more than two hundred people showed up to Earl's graveside service, which was a surprise. Mom and Buck came, as did Peyton and Charlotte. Billy even brought Shana over, though they stayed in the truck and watched from there.

I came with the Harris' but didn't join them at their seats. I waited for Jake.

He came late, alone, and positioned himself at the back. I shouldered my way to his side and stood beside him. He smiled, but it was tight.

Throughout the ceremony, Jake never once looked at the casket. He stood stoically, his eyes glued to the Cypress tree just above the gaping hole in the ground.

Halfway through prayers, Karen Teller, a colt starter, elbowed her companion and whispered in her ear. From there, the murmur spread, growing more frantic with each passing second until all the bowed heads were lifted and looking at something behind me.

I turned too.

A woman, tall and slender, made her way up the sloping hill. She was overdressed, both for the occasion and the weather, wearing black everything - blouse, skirt, pantyhose, heels, and purse. She even wore a little black pillbox hat, complete with a mini veil. I didn't know who she was, but if she was going for dramatically glamorous, she sure accomplished that and then some.

She held herself like a queen, managing it all the way up the incline in her stilettos without stumbling once.

Behind her, a late-model Lexus idled.

The priest cleared his throat loudly and with great reluctance, the crowd returned their attention to him.

I side-eyed the lady as she took up beside me.

From up close, her clothes weren't as fine and luxurious as say, Abigail Bishop's. They were also brand new, judging by the remnants of the price tag barb peeking out near the zipper of her skirt.

She noticed me checking her out and her bright red lips curved slightly. Without taking her eyes off the priest, she lifted her veil and tucked it into her hat.

I gasped.

All this time, I'd thought Jake looked just like his father. But he didn't. Not as much as he looked like his mother.

She turned her eyes, which were the exact same shade of green as his, to Jake.

My head did an Exorcist spin.

Jake's eyes got so big that it would've been comical had it not been for the circumstances.

Blindly, I reached for him, grasping his hand in mine.

But he shook me off, turned, and walked off. Moments later, an engine roared, and I knew he was gone.

Jeanine whatever-her-last-name-was-now sighed and placed her veil back over her face.

I didn't know what the hell I was supposed to do, so I turned my attention back to the ceremony.

"Well, aren't you just a chip off the old block." she said, amusement tinging her sultry chuckle. Her voice was husky and throaty, and well, kind of like mine.

"Funny how the two of you should end up together. History repeats itself." She paused. "Of course, he's not married."

My head started to pound.

Oh, Brandy.

Once the service was over, the crowd broke and the guests made their ways back to their cars. And everyone, I mean everyone stared at her as they passed.

She held her head high and bore her Scarlett Letter with dignity and grace, refusing to flinch or cower.

I couldn't explain why, but I remained standing by her side until the last of the people shuffled away, leaving the two of us alone.

Jeanine snapped open her clutch. As she did so, her bracelet rustled down her arm, and I could see where part of the gold plating had rubbed off. On her left hand, she wore a plain wedding band.

She pulled out a card and held it out to me. "If he changes his mind and decides he wants to talk to me, please have him give me a call."

He. She didn't even say his name.

"Take it," she urged.

I didn't. "Why?  Why are you even here?"

My words and all the accusations behind them came as a surprise, I was usually so much more reserved around strangers.

Jeanine sighed, allowing some of her bravado to slip now that we were alone. Her shoulders slumped and her face relaxed, revealing faint crows feet around her eyes and deep grooves around her mouth.

This was no Southern Belle, but a Steel Magnolia, a woman who'd weathered more than her share of storms.

She produced a pack of Virginia Slims (menthol) and offered me one.

I shook my head.

She lit up. "Listen darlin', I don't know."

I'm not your darlin', I'm not your anything.

She stared at the casket wistfully as she exhaled. "I did love him, you know. With all my heart. He was the love of my life."

I said nothing.

"And there's a difference between giving up, and knowing when you've had enough," she said.

Who cares about you and Earl? You left your baby!

"You didn't just walk away from your husband, you left your son. Jake."

My my, we've gotten so judgey.

I braced myself for retaliation, but she only looked bemused, and entirely unoffended. "I did what I had to do. I needed to start over, and to do that, I needed the money."

Why would Earl give Jeanine money for Jake? To keep him around so he could treat him like shit?

"No, not from Earl." She laughed softly, as if she were caught up in a distant memory. "When I left, he and I were up to our eyeballs in debt. That's what happens when your husband takes out payday loans to keep up with his bar tabs."

"I don't understand."

But she wasn't listening to me anymore. With a faraway look in her eyes, Jeanine tapped the filter of her cigarette against her lip, staining it red. "He was right, of course. What was I going to do with a child? I was twenty four years old, no job, no education, no family, nothing to fall back on. I couldn't take him with me." She turned her attention back to me. "The world isn't a kind place, and you'd do right for yourself to seek shelter when it's offered."

"Who gave you the money?"

She glanced at me and frowned, as if I were a complete dimwit. "Beaudry."

Carson Beaudry?

With a flick of her wrist, she carelessly tossed her cigarette to the ground. "Why am I having this conversation with you? You're much too young to understand anything about life. One day, though, maybe you will."

Never.

She took my hand and folded her card into it. "Have him call me."

Hips swaying, she left me there and headed for Earl's casket. She stared at it for a while before lovingly running her palm across the polished surface.

Then, she knelt and murmured to it  before pressing her lips to the wood.

But no tears. No regrets.

She didn't acknowledge me on her way back to her car. She simply drifted by, leaving a trail of Chanel Number Five in her wake.

By the time she reached it, the man in the driver's seat had hobbled over to open the door for her. He was old. Like way old, white hair, death's-door old.

After she left, I spent forever trying to find her cigarette butt to make sure it was out. Then, I headed down the hill myself.

***

Refreshments were served at Beaudry's mansion after the service. To no one's surprise, Carson Beaudry himself, was nowhere to be seen.

But Jake was there. Miguel had his hand on Jake's shoulder, gripping hard, his head bent as if he sought eye contact. Miguel talked. Jake listened, but said nothing.

I wanted to get Jake alone so we could talk about his mother, but he probably needed Miguel's wisdom more than he needed my meddling. So I let them be and mingled.

Brandy had gone home, but Buck was taking full advantage of the open bar. He flagged me down and told me that Gunnar had been arrested. DUI and possession, so he'd likely serve a year. That was good news. He'd also wanted to know if I wanted to move back in with them. I did, but politely declined. I wouldn't do that to the Faith and Daniel. They were counting on me.

Buck kept talking nonsense, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from Jake.

What was he thinking? Feeling?  What can I do to help him?

I got a nasty dose of reality when Charlotte approached Miguel and Jake. She placed her hand on Jake's forearm and moments later, Miguel walked away.

I snatched Buck's cup from his hand and downed the contents, Gin burning down my throat.

Charlotte and Jake put their heads together.

"Buck, please move."

"What?"

"Get up! Please! I need to sit down!"

Unnerved at my outburst, Buck scrambled to his feet and let me have his chair. "You feeling alright? You want me to go fetch you some water?"

"More Gin," I said, shoving him to the side because he was blocking my view. "Please."

Charlotte and Jake continued to talk, nose to nose. No, that wasn't true. Jake was doing the talking (and a mile a minute at that) while Charlotte listened, her demeanor full of concern and empathy, looking one hundred percent human. They sure looked intimate as he bared his soul to her.

Snatching the cup Buck offered me, I finished it in one big gulp. Then I made some lame excuse and wandered off.

A while later, Peyton found me stress eating at the banquet table.

He put his hand on my elbow. "You okay?"

Swallowing the something-wrapped-in-bacon that I'd been chewing, I nodded.

Where was I with Peyton? Oh right, naked Charlotte had scared me off of visiting him last week. I snorted.

And you just fell right into her trap. Didn't you?

"I didn't know you'd be here," I said.

"I knew him when I was a kid. He was kind to me."

"Uh-huh." I grabbed a mini quiche and shoved it in my mouth. I wasn't a big fan of Blue Cheese but I swallowed it anyway, choking when some of the flaky bits went down the wrong pipe. I beat my fist against my gut.

Peyton left to get me something to drink and my eyes flew back to the devoted twosome.

Jake was still talking and he seemed very agitated, looking into her eyes as if he were imploring her to understand. Charlotte was acquiescent, nodding along with her hand on Jake's chest, right near his heart.

I shoved another quiche into my mouth.

Peyton lifted a glass of water to my eye level and wiggled it.

Chagrined, I gave him my full attention.

"They're just friends, you know," he said.

Who used to fuck.

But maybe Peyton didn't know that. Either way, this wasn't a conversation I wanted to be having with him. Not now, not ever. It just didn't seem right, on multiple accounts.

Speaking of, the last time I saw him I'd been a virgin. It was absurd, but I absently wondered if he could tell that I wasn't anymore by looking at me. If so, did it change he way he saw me at all?

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked.

It should've been you.

My heart twisted when he grinned, but I pulled myself together and forced a smile.

He looked worn out. Beat to hell, really. And there was a small smudge of blue near his temple.

"Are you doing okay?" I asked him.

"Do I look that terrible?"

"You've looked better." I licked my thumb and rubbed at the smudge.

"If anyone else did that, I'd be completely grossed out."

"Sorry," I said, pulling my hand back. I hadn't even realized I'd done it. Also, it hadn't come off and I couldn't stop staring at it.

"No, I'm sorry I blew you off all last week," he said.

I'd texted him to hang out a few times, but he'd made excuses. "It's okay."

"Do you want to go to dinner tomorrow night?"

I nodded. "Yeah, let's."

I was so busy staring at Peyton's temple that I didn't notice Charlotte until she was tapping on his shoulder.

"Jake and I are going to the lake, maybe take the boat out."

I don't know how I managed to keep my shit together. She just had to announce that in front of me to rub it in my face, right?

"Did you guys want to come?" she asked.

I blinked. Another curve ball.

Peyton looked to me so I shrugged.

"Jake's gonna meet us outside. Let's go," she said.

On the way out, we nearly ran into Beth coming out of the bathroom, drying her hands on her shorts.

When she looked up and saw us, her face crumpled, and she looked like she was about to burst into tears.

I stepped toward her to ask her what was wrong, but she turned her back and quickly disappeared into the throng of people.

***

Jake stopped dead in his tracks when he walked out of the house and saw me sitting in Peyton's car. But he recovered quick.

Caught you red handed, didn't I?

It should've been satisfying, but I was already regretting okay-ing this. The shuffle of seating arrangements had been awkward, but we ended up with me in the front seat and her in the back.

And then her and Jake in the back.

Cute.

We drove to the lake in silence.

The row boat was a two-seater and of course, Peyton didn't do water. So Charlotte and Jake ended up taking the boat out, leaving me and Peyton lounging by the shore.

I mean seriously. Was this real life?

Peyton read, laying on his side. I sat beside him and watched Jake row Charlotte around the lake.

"So Jake's mom," I said.

"Yeah, crazy she'd show up."

"Did you know her? What was she like?" Thing was, I was fascinated by her.

He shrugged. "I mean, I don't know, I was a kid. She was just another adult to me. Lottie knew her better."

"Charlotte?"

He nodded. "Jeanine used to give her piano lessons."

"Oh." In all fairness, I guess it made sense for Jake to talk to Charlotte about this over me. At times like these, old friends with history between them were better than new ones.

Like me and Peyton. "I think Earl had an affair with Brandy," I said.

Peyton looked embarrassed so I said it first. "I mean, I know Brandy pretty much had an affair with every man in town, but still, maybe it was something that mattered."

"Why do you say that?"

"Just a feeling I got." After hesitating for a bit, I told him about the conversation that Jeanine and I had.

He shrugged. "Either way, it's all water under the bridge at this point, right? He's gone, she's married, your mom's engaged. People move on."

"People really make a mess of their lives, don't they?"

Look at us, what is this? What are we doing?

"You're allowed to make mistakes Layla, it's just life."

I stared at him. There was no way he knew about my regrets about Jake right? But I couldn't help but think that he did. And if he knew it was going to be a mistake, why didn't he stop me?

My legs started to tingle from lack of bloodflow, so I straightened them and accidentally kicked his arm in the process.

He winced.

His arms.

I'd forgotten all about the bleeding Alice had mentioned. Ugh. My short-term memory was getting to Dory's level - I needed to take some brain boosting herbal supplements or something, maybe some Gingko Biloba.

I placed my hand over his.

He wore a long sleeve Y-shirt, buttoned all the way to the cuffs and long Khakis. I'd thought it was just Peyton being Peyton, dressing properly for a funeral.

But maybe it was more than that.

Keeping my gaze on his arms, I undid the buttons on his cuffs and slowly pushed up his sleeves.

He stiffened, but let me.

It was bad.

Deep gashes marked his golden skin where she'd clawed at him, over and over again, along with deep half moon marks left behind by her fingernails where she'd dug into his flesh.

Most of it was scabbed over but the skin around the wounds were puckered and angry, swollen and red.

I ran my fingertip over one, wishing I could rub it away. Tears filled my eyes. This was his pain. "Where else?"

He squinted and looked off to the lake. The boat was barely a dot on the horizon now. "Stay away from Lottie, Layla." I knew the words were difficult for him to say. "Promise me."

"Where else?"

There were faint marks on his neck as well.

Because I knew he wasn't going to answer me, I reached over and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt.

"Don't." But he didn't move away.

This psycho hell-bitch.

It was more than just scratches on his chest (though he had those there too) but she'd bitten him, leaving behind teeth imprints ringed blue and yellow around the edges. "Peyton!"

His expression was pained.

With shaking hands, I kept unbuttoning. More scratches, more bites, each more vicious than the next. One of them had swelled to a size of a plum. "Peyton, you can get real bad infections from human bites-"

"It's fine. I had them looked at."

When I started touching the wounds on his chest, he took my hand in his and brought it to his lips. He kissed my fingertips before releasing it. Away from him.

"She was off her meds. It's handled now."

I buried my face in my hands and bawled.

This was going to be for the rest of his life.

"Send her away, Peyton! There's gotta be some place you can send her!"

He smiled, making light of the situation. "I did, to Canyon. Remember, home's New York for us."

I hated them. Charlotte, his mom, all the people leaning on him. It wasn't right and it wasn't fair. He was all alone in this, with no one to share his burden with. What was he supposed to do? Bear it all until it gets to the point where he throws himself off a cliff?

And what about you, Layla?  Instead of helping him, you believed Charlotte and let her scare you off .

Some friend.

"This isn't right. I'm sure there are places where she could go, where people can help her-"

"She is being helped. I can't send her away and forget about her. She's my sister, I love her."

I cried some more, my heart breaking at how trapped he was, how bound by his love. "Is there anything I can do to help you?"

He looked away, one hand absently buttoning up his shirt. "You do help. You've always helped, just by being you."

When I wiped my tears and looked at him, his expression was impassive, his profile stern and imposing. At that moment, he looked so adult. It was something I'd been noticing of late, every time I saw him, the final remnants of the boy fading away to reveal the man.

So serious, so sedate. But I got it. There really wasn't much to smile and laugh about in his world.

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