Elysian (45 page)

“I’m glad you came.” I wrap my arms around him. All of the sadness Logan feels, that heavy load of grief he hauls around each time we’re together, I feel it now with Gage.

“I was sort of hoping you’d let me dance with you. It’s homecoming. Senior year. No do-overs right?”

“Right.” I can feel my cheeks filling with heat, a slow spreading smile wants to break free, but I hold it back, easy as restraining a herd of wild horses. I take up his hand as Gage gently presses into my waist, and we sway to a rhythm all our own. “So what did Marshall say to you tonight? Did he upset you? He can be such a moron sometimes.”

“Mmm.” His chest vibrates over mine. “All the time.” Gage tilts his head into the idea. “But, no, he didn’t upset me. In fact, he sort of did the opposite. I guess you could say he comforted me.”

“He did?” Now I’m dying of curiosity. God, what if Marshall led him into some pornographic art exhibit staring Gage and me?

“He said everything would work out for the best. Then he suggested I dive into the hotel swimming pool and forget to come up for air.”

My mouth falls open. “I’m so going to smack Marshall the second I see him.”

“I’m teasing.” His dimples flutter as he imprisons a laugh. “The first part is true. He said a few other things, and that’s when I made the decision to take off.”

“
So
, are you going to tell me what any of those things are?” I say it measured trying to convince him to do exactly that, but I have a feeling it’s not happening.

“I will.” He dots my forehead with a kiss. “Later, like much later—graduation maybe.” He gives a little laugh, and those expressive ditches in his cheeks excise into his flesh. Gage is so mind-numbingly handsome. My heart aches for us—breaks for us.

“Graduation, huh?” I moan at the thought. “It seems like a million years away. But I’m going to hold you to it.” I relax over his chest and listen to his heart thump, feel its vibration as it rides over me in waves. “Hey”—I perk up—“rumor has it I get to see the woman who bore me through her loins on my birthday.”

“Great, take me with you.” His features harden. “I’ve got a thing or two I’d like to say to her.”

“Testy, are we?” I’m kind of liking this edgy side of Gage.

“Call it what you like. I really do want to talk to her.”

“Yeah, well, get in line.” I relax my cheek over his chest again and listen to his heart palpitate, blow after blow. It’s funny. With Gage I can easily envision us well into the future. Gage and I lying in bed, our bodies damp from the exertion of our love, and me, repeating this very act. If Gage and I ever marry—hell,
when
we marry—I plan on ending every single day listening to the beat of his heart. There is no better lullaby than the one I’m hearing now. And what a sad thought because there’s Marshall and Logan to consider. “Anyway, I’ve got a pickle or two my mother needs to pluck me out of—at the very least, give me directions to the nearest fire escape.” I press my lips together. Great. I’ve just likened Gage to a burning building. I let out a sigh.

Maybe Brielle’s idea of sleeping with the three of them isn’t so bad. Of course, not at the same time… I shake the thought out of my head. What am I saying? Every idea of Brielle’s has craptastic written all over it. I can’t remember the last time Brielle had a
good
idea. Not to mention the fact Logan has already declared his penis a Skyla-free zone. I scoff at the thought of a sex-off to decide who I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. Deep in my heart I already know. Don’t I?

“Our birthdays are going to be epic.” Gage relaxes his lips over the top of my head.

“They are because we’re going to celebrate them together. Let’s do the party on yours this time.” I still want to forget that fiasco at the bowling alley last year when I found out Logan was a Count, and Dr. O gifted me Chloe fresh from the coffin. If I could go back in time, I’d stab her a thousand times with a cake knife until she bled out all over the floor and gave me the gift of a lifetime—
dying
.

“No, let’s do it on yours. I don’t want a big deal on my birthday. This is all about you.” He plants another hot kiss over the top of my head as we continue to sway among the glow of the butterflies.

“Well, I don’t want any big deal on
my
birthday, so I say
yours
.” I look up and hold back a laugh. “I’m your elder, so you have to listen.”

“You’re damn lucky I’m into older women.” His dimples ignite, no smile.

“Ha! That was funny, and also it was the last time in our lives you will ever call me old.” I’m shocked at how serious I sound—most likely because I am.

He growls out a laugh, and I savor the feeling of his chest rumbling against mine.

“I’d better go.” Gage sighs next to my ear, and my skin tingles with pleasure. “I love you,” he whispers. He presses his finger gently over my lip, and I resist the urge to bite down over it. “Don’t say it. I know you love me, Skyla. There’s no need. I didn’t say it to sway you. I did it because I’m going to tell you that I love you every chance I can until the day I die. I love you like fire loves oxygen, like a thirsty tree loves the rain.”

“You have a gorgeous way with words.” I shiver in his arms. Gage breathes poetry. His face alone is a poem written by God. “I bet you’ll be a great poet.”

“Nah.” He pushes out a dry laugh. “I’m thinking about writing, though. Maybe a thriller—something about a mad woman with an ax who terrorizes a beautiful girl on an island.”

“Does the girl live?” I bite down on my lower lip. It’s all I can do to keep from kissing him.

“She does.” Gage pushes out a sad smile. “She lives happily ever after, forever and ever.”

Happily ever after—
forever
.

Sounds like Gage is speaking in code, and judging by the resolute sadness written on his face, I think he might be.

“Thank you.” I lay my cheek over his chest. “I love you, Gage Oliver. You can never stop me from saying it—from
feeling
it.”

Gage changes his mind and stays, and we dance into the early hours of the morning.

In the morning, I wake up groggy and exhausted, but I know damn well if I don’t haul myself in the shower and get ready for church, Mom will make me turn my soul into Demetri before dinner.

I let the water run over my body an inordinate amount of time before toweling off and dressing in a pair of jeans and a sweater. Lucky for me, church on Paragon has about the same dress code as the public library.

“Morning Snowball,” I say it chipper as I rake the comb through my wet spaghetti-like hair.

Snowball rotates her head and promptly ignores me. I should probably let the thing go. After all, it hates daylight hours almost as much as Ethan does. Trying to make it acclimate to a normal schedule has only made it twice as ornery as the day it arrived—again, much like Ethan.

I bounce downstairs and gasp when I see my sisters at the bar.

Shit! I completely forgot they were getting down and dirty with a couple of junior division playboys. Just fuck. And I pray to God they didn’t.

They’re shouldering up next to Emily, who, sadly, I’m not surprised to see. Suspiciously both Mia and Melissa have each donned a scarf that matches their outfit.

Ethan belches, and I look over at him. It’s how I know he’s getting ready to communicate.

“So,” he squawks, “I looked into that donut shit.”

Mom and Tad exchange glances as if this is trouble, and I’m sure it is. Ethan and a deep fryer big enough to fit a full-grown man are a lethal combination.

“It’s doable,” he surmises with that stupid Landon look on his face. “But I’ll need another ten grand.”

Shit. There goes that.

“Ten grand?” Tad hops in his seat as if his hemorrhoids were misfiring. “You think money just magically appears? Where in Hades are we supposed to get that kind of cash?”

“Hock your car.” He bounces his head into the idea, and I’m betting right about now Mom and Tad are wishing it would bounce right off and save everyone the trouble of having to witness its malfunction. “You and the old lady only need one ride. I mean, we’re on an island. You can never go that far. Go green and shit like that.”

He’s got him there.

“Oh, hon”—Mom shakes her head while sifting through a stack of newspapers with scissors in one hand and the baby in the other—“no one’s going to give your father ten thousand dollars for that glorified rickshaw. We’ll have to put our thinking caps on.” Baby Beau grabs onto the scissors and tries to suckle off the tip. Mom whips out her boob so fast and jams it in his face—and, for once, I don’t object to the fake milkshake.

“And how do you suppose we do that, Lizbeth?” Tad grumbles.

“If it’s life or death for the restaurant, we’ll simply have to get creative.” Mom gets that look in her eye, and I can practically see the cartoon bubble over her head with my least favorite Fem in it.

I’d hate to break it to her, but gas and instant coffee does not a restaurant make. And I hate that Demetri is her go-to guy when the going gets financially rough. Being married to Tad practically sets her up for financial catastrophe. But thankfully, soon, Demetri and Darla will get hitched, and Mom will be forced to face the fact that she and the wicked warlock were never meant to be.

“You know”—she taps her finger to her cheek—“I have an entire box of leftover decorations I’ll be dropping by Demetri’s later this afternoon—” That no good dreamy look in her eye proliferates like an STD in the making.

“I’ll do it.” I cut her off at the pass. “I’m logging a few hours after church. I’ll gladly drop it off, so you can spend more quality time with Tad and the baby.”

“Well, OK.” Mom twists her lips in disappointment. “And speaking of babies”—she strums her fingers over the table—“I’ve already felt our new peanut give a little kick. I think we’ve got a soccer player.”

Mia and Melissa break out in a choir of
oohs
and
ahhs.

Tad jerks his seat back. “And you didn’t tell me?”

This is really happening. Mom and Tad are multiplying. I suppose it’s better than the alternative, Mom and Demetri.

Tad dives in under the table, and Mom starts in on a series of inappropriate giggles as she bumps back in her chair.

What the…?

Tad’s head bobs over Mom’s belly in an embarrassing display that I’d suggest they save for the bedroom, but I might just vomit instead.

“Come on,” he urges. “Let me have it right in the face.”

If he insists, I have a shoe that can do the trick.

“It’s sensory integration.” Mom nods over to me. “It assures the baby everything is all right.”

Everything is most definitely not all right.  

Drake walks into the room, and I smirk.

Little do Mom and Tad know that Drake is multiplying, too, and soon a plague of Landon’s will overrun the island. Hey, speaking of plagues. That dress Marlena lent me didn’t have any mind-numbing superpowers. Huh. Truth be told, I’m actually a little disappointed. I might bring this up to Marshall the next time I see him.

“Well, I’d hate to be late for service.” I snatch my keys off the counter and head toward the door.

“We’re coming with.” Mia screams as the two of them scuttle to collect their purses. I can’t blame them for wanting to escape the insanity, what with all the sexual integration and by the parental units no less.

Em strides up to me slow and impossibly bored, her curls completely crushed in the back, her eyeliner down to her cheeks.

“This came out this morning.” She hands me a folded piece of paper.

“Came out?” I balk as I open it. It’s one of her haunted scribbles.

“It’s your future, Skyla.”

“Nice to know you reference my future in the same way you would a bodily function,” I say, turning the paper right side up.

Em doesn’t crack a smile. “The analogy fits,” she gruffs and takes off upstairs.

I take a good look at the demented doodle and take in a sharp breath.

A simple pencil sketch lies in the center of the page.

It’s a close up of my face, my eyes squeezed tight in pain, my mouth wide open while emitting a silent scream.

It’s heart wrenching just to look at.

Mia and Melissa bound out of the house, and a blast of fresh morning air hits me as if trying to shake me from my newfound stupor.

I stare into the picture, straining for clues. Just what in the hell has me so damned upset?

I could guess, but I’d rather not.

***

Mia and Melissa go on and on about how cool I am for letting them “hang out” with their boyfriends all night long.

Crap. I totally forgot to bust them for sneaking boys into the house on account of the fact I had a contraband male on the property myself.

“Let’s see your necklace.” Mia leans in from the backseat.

I touch my neck, but it’s noticeably bare. I’m pretty sure I didn’t put on any bling this morning.

Melissa plucks off her scarf and exposes a collar of dark blotches all across her neck.

“Holy shit!” I jump in my seat.

“Let’s see yours,” she chides to Mia.

“Fuck,” I hiss.

Neither Mia nor Melissa flinch at my verbal indiscretion, and on the way to church no less. They’re too involved in gawking at one another’s icky hickeys to even notice I’m in the car.

“Is that what you’re accessorizing with these days?” I smart. “Glorified bruises?”

“Oh, Skyla,” Mia scoffs. “They’re not bruises, they’re kisses that linger.”

Kisses that linger.

I give a long blink and accidentally drift into oncoming traffic.

“Technically they’re broken blood vessels,” Melissa chimes in.

“You’d better not tell Mom and Dad,” Mia spits out the threat while hiding her vascular injuries with her scarf.

“Oh, so now you just expect me to start keeping secrets from our parents.” I can hardly keep a straight face when I say it. Mia can rest assured this is one secret I’m very much eager to share with our mother.

“There’s nothing wrong with keeping secrets, Skyla,” Melissa chokes out the words as if I were the last to be clued in on this moronic fact. “My mom had a secret.” She stares out the window in a daze. “Took it to her grave.”