Ethereal (17 page)

“I don’t want to be in there. I want to be out here. With you.”

I look past his shoulder into the street. No sign of a car, not one single headlight going in either direction. A warm breeze wafts by, and the strong scent of eucalyptus fills the air.

“You know, I kind of have this thing going with Logan, and…” I let my gaze fall as his body moves closer to mine. I can feel the warmth radiating from his skin, hot as a fever.

“If I’m going to marry you one day,” he says rather dreamily. “We’re going to have to do this…”

It’s an explosion of emotion when his lips connect with mine. A love song, and every glorious sunset I’ve ever seen all rolled into one. We write a poem with the dull ache of our passion.

I snap back to reality and push back hard. He flies back a good three feet surprised at how he got there.

I make a beeline for the front of the house where I find Logan talking to Michelle and Lexy.

“Hi.” I try not to sound winded—like Gage’s kiss didn’t leave me breathless.

He takes a hold of the back of my neck.

White noise! White noise!

I try and focus on my breathing, the stars—his eyes.

I need to be with Michelle tonight. I’m getting very close.

My heart sinks like granite.

“I guess I’ll see you around.” I say maneuvering myself into the throngs of bodies.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Jealous

I can’t stand watching him with Michelle. Why does he care so much about a stupid diary when it hurts me?

Gage follows me around like a puppy—an apologetic puppy who thrives on my attention.

“You know he’s just using her, right?” I motion over to the two of them sitting by the roaring fire. Michelle has her arms around Logan’s midsection, and he’s caressing her neck. “He’s just listening in.” I say.

Gage doesn’t appear too amused.

“I would never do that to you.” There’s something sincere in his tone and I wholeheartedly believe him.

“Why does he want this diary so bad anyway?” I whisper.

“He thinks it has some vital piece of information.”

“To what? Get her killers?”

He shakes his head.

“You know what they say about a fool?” He whispers.

“What?” I don’t like how he’s comparing Logan to a fool. He looks noble, like a king sitting over there. He has a glow about him that outshines the fire.
 

“Give him enough rope—he’ll hang himself.” Gage seems rather proud of his euphemism.

We watch as Michelle pulls his face down and kisses him full on the lips. He doesn’t thrash around or toss her in the fire, instead he pulls back with a sickening loving expression on his face that makes me want to go over and knock both of them into the fireplace myself.

“He’s gone too far.” Hot angry tears burn the insides of my lids. I look around for signs of Drake or Brielle, but don’t see any. They’re probably rolling around in Lexy’s bedroom. Brielle’s not too shy when it comes to things like that. “Take me home.”

“Sure.”

The air outside has condensed a thin layer over everything. It leaves a fine mist over my skin and hair as we make our way over to Gage’s truck. A black one to Logan’s white, and easier to get into.

I’m so pissed I’m seething. I can’t see straight, partially due to the tears I refuse to let fall. I push them away with the back of my hands.

“I don’t really feel like going home.” I haven’t even been gone a full hour. If I get into trouble now I don’t think any of this has been worth it. Tears shoot out the corner of my eyes, rapid fire. I can’t seem to get a hold of myself. I start in on a full-blown sob into the palms of my hands, shaking like a freaking baby.

Gage pulls over and kills the ignition. He snaps off his seatbelt, then mine.

“Come here.” He pulls me towards him, and hands me a tissue from out of small box sitting on his console. “Look!” He marvels tracing the tail of a shooting star with his finger.

I wish I felt for Gage what I feel for Logan. I thought Logan and I had some stronger than steel impenetrable bond. I was already insanely attracted to him before I knew we were both Celestra.

I snuggle into Gage a little deeper.

One great thing about Gage is he doesn’t have the ability to know what I’m thinking. I don’t have to infiltrate my brain with whitewash to get through a tough moment with him. It’s a huge relief on many fronts.

He picks up my hand and inspects it.

“Are you sizing my finger?” I tease.

“No that’s your other hand. I’m looking for trail marks.”

“I don’t think I got any scratches today.”

His chest rises with restrained laughter. He holds my hand up to the moonlight streaming through the window. It looks pale, far too thin and fragile to be mine.

“Trail marks have to do with time travel. They’re white dots that bleach into your skin. No one knows why they appear, they just do.”

“Sort of like a passport.” I muse joining him in examining my hands. “Is that one?”

Gage turns on the overhead light. “Son of a gun. It is.” He hardly breaks out the enthusiasm when he says it. “Where’d you go?”

“I don’t have a clue. I don’t remember anything.”

“You must have went somewhere. Think.” He gives a gentle shake.

“Look there’s another one.” I say perfectly surprised by this revelation.

“You really get around don’t you?” His dimples ignite on either side.

I reach up and turn off the overhead light. I don’t want to think about how gorgeous Gage is, when the one I really want to be with is doing who knows what with Michelle so he can get his hands on paper—
paper
.

“How’d you like the kiss?” He asks.

“It was all right.” I give him a playful shove. Before I can say,
don’t do that again
, his lips are covering mine. I don’t back away or split his tongue in half with my teeth. I just let it happen. I don’t feel half as guilty as before. A part of me wants to indulge. This might be the very last time I kiss him,
ever
.

It goes on for long stretches of time. We don’t tire—just keep roaming around exploring, running our tongues back and forth, making lazy circles, figure eights.

Deep in my heart it doesn’t feel right, like I’m cheating on Logan with no diary to gain from the whole experience. But I know it really doesn’t matter. Relationships are fickle. I’m just fooling myself into thinking someone like Logan was going to stay with me exclusively. So what if he called himself my boyfriend? So what if I thought he really was. What do I know about love anyway?

A thunderous knock on the glass startles the two of us to attention.

Logan.

Gage opens the door. I’m not sure whether he gets out or Logan yanks him into the street, but a fight erupts. Full throttle kicks to the balls—
punching
. I see blood and I don’t know where it’s coming from.

A pair of headlights stream over the two of them before slowing down. It’s the minivan. I grab my purse and get out. I walk by their brawling bodies without once urging them to stop. I want Gage to beat the shit out of Logan. I hope that kiss hurt him as much as it did when I saw him with Michelle.

I get into the minivan and slam the slider door shut.

“Go around them.” I tell Drake.

And he does.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Insurrection

I can feel my cell vibrate in my jeans as soon as I get back into my bedroom. It’s Logan. If he thinks I’m going to engage in some lovelorn conversation until the wee hours of the morning—I glance up at the clock. It is the wee hours of the morning. I pick it up on the third ring.

“Make it quick.”

“I’m sorry. Will you accept my apology?” He sounds hurt and sincere and incredibly sexy, but none of that rectifies the fact I can’t get the visual of his lip-lock with Michelle out of my mind.

“No.” I flick my heels off with a thump. “I’m just being honest.”

“I wouldn’t ask anything else.”

I listen to the sound of his breathing until I feel hypnotized by the rhythm. I turn off the lamp next to my bed and lie under the covers with Logan tucked next to my ear in the dark.

“I wish I was with you. There’s so much more I want to say.” He whispers.

I hold the phone away while I sniff back tears.

“I made you cry.” The anger in his voice resonates across the line. “You don’t have to forgive me. I don’t think I can forgive myself.”

It crushes me to hear him say that. I heave a ragged breath into the pillow.

“Did you get the diary?”

“No.”

“Are you done with trying?”

Nothing but silence.

“I guess I have my answer. Listen, I gotta go. Tell Gage I said hi, would you?”

I hope it hurt.

                                                        
***

My mother has decided as a just punishment for losing track of my sisters I’m to play the part of the family scullery maid, forever.

I wash the stone floors in the kitchen and dining room with a mop and boiling hot water—literally boiling. She has me don a pair of black Wellies she dug out of the garage, and has me heat the teakettle. Once it begins to scream from the pain, she instructs me to drizzle the scalding liquid all over the floor and scrub the crap out of it with a mop that’s missing more than a few dozen threads. I’m beginning to think my mom is missing more than a few dozen brain cells because I don’t see a darn of a difference on the blotchy brown floor.

“Mom?” I make sure the girls are outside before I continue the conversation.
 

“Mmm, hmm?” She doesn’t look up from her crossword puzzle.

“Did you know that something terrible happened to a girl that used to live here?”

Her head shoots up. She folds over her crossword and leans in.

“Yeah, hun I do. It’s part of the reason we were able to afford this house to begin with.”

I stare over at her speechless. If it weren’t for Chloe ending up at the bottom of Devil’s Peak I wouldn’t be standing here today. Fire sale.

“I also heard it was haunted.” She sounds a little too exuberant over the subject.

I’d hate to burst her bubble by letting her know it was probably just a bunch of Fem’s running around trying to kill people.

“I wouldn’t go sharing any of that with your sisters.” Her lips make a perfect O as they run in through the backdoor.

“I’m trying to boil the floors here.” I shout after them.

“You were always the funny one.” Mom scrunches her nose over at me.

“I thought you were the funny one.” I say. She married Tad, didn’t she?

“Tell me about this boy you keep sneaking off to be with.”

I freeze mid swipe. Does she mean sneaking off as in last night?

“His name’s Logan.” I swab the floors with long, clean strokes. “His parents died when he was young, and he lives with his aunt and uncle, one cousin the same age.” I leave out the part about me kissing the both of them, and how I think I might have accidentally fallen in love so quickly, absentmindedly.

“You really like him don’t you.” It comes out a fact.

I shrug. The last thing I want to do is cry on my mother’s shoulder over what happened last night.

“You’re so young Skyla. And beautiful!” She rises in her seat when she says it as though it were an epiphany. “There are so many fish in the sea. Don’t settle for the first one that catches your eye. Play hard to get. You should be.”