Page 1 of Property of Bones

Chapter One

Sunny

The bell above the door jingles and I give an extra spin in my sneakers. Yes,spin. Because why not? Life’s too short to not twirl every once in a while.

“Welcome to Marv’s Market!” I sing out as I restock the cereal aisle. “If you need a cart, they’re by the door, and if you’re looking for the meaning of life, aisle three has Pop-Tarts.”

I hear a gruff snort from behind me, and I just know it’s Mr. Marv, probably pretending to be annoyed, but we both know better.

“Miss Harper, you’re scaring away my customers,” he says, but the twinkle in his eye tells me he’s secretly enjoying every second of it.

I flash him a grin. “Only the ones who don’t appreciate a good strawberry jam filling. Those types are not our people, Marv.”

The door jingles again and in walks Mrs. Thompson, the little old lady from down the street. She’s got that determined look on her face like she’s on a mission, but the cane in her hand tells me she could use some help.

Temporarily abandoning my cart of unstocked goods, I dash over, gently grabbing her basket and offering my arm like we’re headed to the fanciest ballroom in town.

“You got a list today, Mrs. T?” I ask, steering her through the aisles like she’s royalty and I’m her personal assistant. “Or are we wingin’ it, again? I’m a pro at wingin’ it.”

“Just tapioca, dear,” she says, her voice light and full of that wisdom only old people seem to have. “But if you could help me reach the top shelf to grab it without breaking a hip, I’d be much obliged.”

“Say no more,” I say, flashing my brightest smile. “You had me at pudding.”

I take her straight to the aisle with the tapioca, helping her grab a few other things along the way. Because who doesn’t want an extra jar of honey or some chocolate chips when you’re already here?

As we pass the frozen food section, I notice a guy lingering at the end of the aisle. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing a leather vest that screams“I own exactly zero cardigans and possibly several felony charges.”He looks like the human version of a growl. Definitely not in the market for tapioca pudding.

He’s just… standing there. Like he’s either lost, waiting for someone, or plotting a hostile takeover of the frozen waffle empire. I don’t know, but he’s got that intense, world-scanning look that makes me curious and a little nosy.

“Can I help you with anything, Darth Brooder?” I ask, chipper as ever. Not really expecting an answer. Guys like that usually don’t respond to girls who sound like animated Disney sidekicks. But I like to offer anyway. “There are strawberry pop tarts two isles over if you’re looking for something life-changing.”

He just gives me this slow blink, like I’m something mildly amusing he didn’t order on the menu, then shakes his head and turns away, disappearing back into the shelves like a moody ninja.

I frown. That was… rude. But hey, it’s not my job to try and figure out what’s going on in someone else’s head. My job is to help people find pudding, and right now, Mrs. Thompson is giving me a look like I’ve just handed her the secret to eternal happiness.

“You’re a good kid, Sunny,” she says, her smile wide, and I know that’s my cue to shine a little brighter.

I spin around and give a dramatic bow. “I do what I can.”

People tend to think I’m far younger than my thirty-five years of age. I for sure don’t look it. But I also don’t mind.

I give Mrs. Thompson one last wave as she heads out the door, her tapioca pudding safe and sound in her bag.

The store is quiet again. Normal. Familiar.

But my chest feels weirdly…off. I can’t seem to stop thinking about Darth Brooder.

Probably just my attention span.

I know he’s a biker. The Iron Shadows shop here all the time. But I’ve never seen him before. I wonder what his biker name is. Death? Pain? Grimm Reaper? Mr. Broody? I’m sure it’s something to match his sparkly personality.

I shake it off and spin on my heels.

“Back to the flakes, Sunny,” I say out loud, plastering on a grin. “You’ve got cereal to charm and zero time for mysterious leather-wrapped heartthrobs.”

Even if they do look like they’ve survived three wars and hate joy and happiness.

Chapter Two

---