Elysian (6 page)

“Don’t count on me. Gage is in the hospital.”

“Suit yourself. It’s your place.”

“The Gas Lab is
not
my place.” God knows I’ll be avoiding any association with the questionable establishment the ‘rents saw fit to gift the male Landon species with. It’s going to reek of dirty socks and Chloe—plus there will be an entire assortment of breast milk cheeses, enough said.

“They used your inheritance to fund the operation.” He gives a greasy smile, and I turn to Mom to deny this bullshit. A: I have no inheritance, and B: Mom would sooner sell Beau to the gypsies than secretly fund a bankruptcy in the making with my non-existent funds.

“Now, Skyla—don’t freak out or anything,” Mom commands from over her bare breast. “We didn’t qualify for a loan, and Tad didn’t think we should borrow from
friends
.” She shoots him a beady-eyed stare. I know damn well the monster she’s classifying as a friend happens to be Demetri, the Fem who gave my father a firm shove into the afterlife by way of fire. How she can consider him a friend after what he did is beyond me. I think Lizbeth Landon takes “forgive and forget” a little too damn seriously.

Her eyes round out as if Ethan just spewed the entire gospel.  

Shit.

My father left me money, and my mother handed it over to a couple of morons to burn as fuel to heat their coffee with.

“I’m not going to freak out.” I take an even breath. “I’m simply going to sue you until you return every red penny.” My lips cinch up with the scent of litigation still fresh in the air. I drop my plate in the sink and get the hell out of the room.

Emma and Barron hate me, Ellis is still in pieces, and I’ve just threatened to sue my own mother for an undisclosed amount of money. 

Something tells me this is just the preface to a very long, drawn out, complicated-as-hell senior year.

Only one thing can get this day—this
year
—back on track.

And that’s Gage and his beautiful, beautiful smile.

The streets of Paragon have been swept clean from the storm. It cleansed us from all of the sins, the grime, that summer brought. The war is over, and the world is new again. Now if only we could have the conclusion to the matter, know the resolution, we could go on with the rest of our lives comfortably and in peace. Per usual my mother holds all of the cards. She knows the future and yet holds back the details like secrets too rich to unveil at once. I want to shake her down, wrap my hands around her neck until she spits out exactly what I want to know and, oddly enough, it’s not regarding the faction war or anything to do with the sword of the Master. It has everything to do with my heart and where it lands—who I might destroy in the process. 

Logan called and let me know Gage is home. They discharged him an hour ago. He’s just getting settled.

I pull into the Oliver driveway, but it’s the Harrison house across the street that catches my attention.

God. Ellis’s parents must be going insane right now. I’ll have to go over later and explain to them how their son landed in pieces and is currently under the mercy of Ezrina, a rogue Celestra who couldn’t care less if the Counts live or die.  

But for now, Gage waits inside, and I’m not letting another second separate me from the boy I love—one of them anyway.

I run up and give a brisk knock over the door.

How is it possible to love more than one person? I mean
really
love—like reach into the pit of your soul, can’t survive without them kind of love. And how is it possible that Marshall has wrangled himself into this category as well?

The door swings open, and Logan beams his magnificent smile.

“I missed you,” he whispers wrapping his arms around me, dropping a quiet kiss on my forehead, but I don’t stop him. Last night brought us closer than we’ve been in a long time.

“You just saw me two hours ago,” I smile up at him. Spending the night in Logan’s arms was pure bliss, a topic I’ll be sure to avoid once I see Gage.

“Doesn’t matter,” Logan says, walking me through the entry. “You could leave the room, and I’d miss you.”

I inspect him like this, his forlorn smile, the glimmer of pain locked in those sunset-colored eyes. His words are laced with far too much grief for this early hour, and it fills me with a sense of dread over what he might truly mean by
I missed you
.

We head into the family room where Emma and Barron are seated with Giselle. I look across on the opposite couch, and there he is—Gage. He looks heartbreakingly gorgeous, his neck wrapped in white gauze as if he were simply wearing a turtleneck.

“Gage!” I run over, and he rises to meet me. He circles his arms around my waist and peppers my face with kisses in a rather brazen, passionate show of affection.

I never thought I’d see you again.
He winces as he says it.

“Are you OK?”

“I’ve got a mean sore throat.” He presses out a dry smile, and his dimples explode as if they were greeting me all on their own.

“Don’t talk,” I plead.

“The doctor says its fine,” Emma says it stern, layered with attitude geared at yours truly, no doubt. “His vocal cords weren’t harmed.”

“Chloe came by last night,” Gage whispers. His features harden when he says her name—as they should, she tried to kill him.

“What?” I glance back at Emma and Barron, his self-imposed bodyguards.

“I couldn’t sleep on that chair.” Emma shakes her head defensively. Her hair is spun up in its signature chignon, and her lips are smeared with that same orange cream she thinks suites her best.

“I saw no danger.” Barron looks to Gage. “What happened?”

“She rambled out an apology.” He pulls me onto the couch and continues to secure his arms around my waist as if we were still together. “She said something about saving Ellis and how she’s going to make things right for us,” he rasps. “That we’ll be together just like we were destined to be all along.”

A huff of laughter streams from me. Chloe and Gage will never happen, not in any universe, in any carnation. She’s a daydream believer all right, the worst kind because she’s not afraid to slit our throats to prove it.

“Sounds like the war did nothing to shake her delusions,” I say.

Giselle sits up indignant by what her brother just revealed. “Did you remind her she tried to kill you? That she
did
kill Logan? That girl is a beast. She belongs in a cage. Do her parents know the vile creature they’re raising?” Just seeing Giselle riled up is a treat. She’s actually brought more life to Emerson Kragger’s body than it had when Emerson herself was occupying its feminine frame. 

“The Bishop’s are clueless.” Logan sighs before reverting his attention back to Gage. “What else did she do?”

I wouldn’t put it past Chloe to try and get down and dirty with Gage while he was convalescing from the injury she inflicted. She’s stupid and twisted that way.

“She crawled right up in bed with me until I gave her a good shove. I believe her parting words were, ‘you’ll pay for never loving me.’”

“Sounds like a country song.” I shrug. The truth is I don’t give a rat’s ass who does and doesn’t love Chloe Bishop. “Senior year starts tomorrow.” I give a gentle squeeze to his ribcage. “We only have one more year of tolerating her, and then we’re free.” I don’t believe it for a minute, but I like the pretense.

Gage shoots a look to his parents that could melt ice.

“Skyla?” Emma clears her throat. “I believe I owe you a severe apology.”

Logan clued me in on the drama that went on.
Gage pulls me in, filled with remorse.

“No, it’s OK.” I shake my head. “It was a horrible thing that happened, and, ultimately, it was because of me.”

“Not, so.” Barron dips his chin. “Skyla, we were under a great deal of stress.”

“Just cut to the chase.” Gage rasps it out a little louder than necessary.

Barron glares over at his only son a moment before recomposing himself and acquiescing with nod. “So sorry, Skyla. You’re every bit a member of this family. Forgive our behavior. It was without excuse.”

“And on that note”—Giselle stretches her arms to the ceiling as if to distract us from the topic at hand—“school starts tomorrow. It’s my first day.” She bites down on a smile.

Considering she was killed at three, it’s her first day of school
ever
. I hope she’s got enough of Emerson’s brain left intact to get her through junior year.

“We need to shop.” Emma jumps to her feet and ushers Giselle out of the room in a flurry.

“Excuse me”—Barron rises—“I’ve a mountain of work waiting for me at the morgue. Congratulations on attaining your goals in the faction war.” He tips his head. “I hope the outcome is in your favor.” He leaves the room, quiet as a whisper.

I look to Logan and Gage seated by my side, and a shroud of guilt looks as if it’s coating them from the inside. The Olivers are most certainly keeping secrets from me. Gage knows something. Logan has been acting strange since we’ve returned to Paragon. I’m pretty sure neither one of them is about to pony up with the vital information I’m looking for.

“I need to run up and take a shower.” Gage smolders into me like he’s just sent an invitation to join him. “Come to my room.” He ticks his head toward the stairs and pulls me up to my feet.

Logan cuts us a sharp look as we stride past him.

A month ago Logan wouldn’t have blinked if this scenario played out, but the rules have changed, hell the entire game has changed. We’re onto the championships, and it’s time to put an end to all this madness.

I wish it were over.

I don’t like this one bit.

***

Gage’s bedroom is clean and neat, immaculate to the point of military precision, and a part of me wonders if Emma’s a bigger part of this equation than I give her credit for.

Gage showers while I lie over his bed, taking in the scent of his pillow, sweet and comforting. I wonder what it would be like in a world with just Gage and me, no one else to lay hold over my hormones on the side. I think it’s becoming painfully clear that I could never cut either Logan or Gage out of my life entirely, and already I know Marshall will never leave. It’s funny how Marshall, my newly named spirit-spouse, has settled into the fabric of my life, and I’ve accepted him, perhaps more so than either of the Olivers that vie for my attention. Marshall just feels like family, like he’s already a part of me.

The pipes squeal and twist as the water shuts off, and a moment later Gage steps out in a vat of steam with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

“All dressed up and nowhere to go?” I tease, propping myself on my elbow to afford a better look. Gage is cut to precision with striations that ripple across his abdomen, strong as steel.

“
Oh
, I’ve got somewhere to go,” he says it low, most definitely seductive, and a mild panic surges in me.

Gage swoops in and lands beside me on the bed with dew from the shower still beading over his chest. He beams a wicked smile that lets me know it’s game on and Logan had better watch his pretty boy back. Gage is in it to win it, and I’m not sure how much fortitude I have to stave either one of them off.

A strong knock emanates from the door, and Logan steps inside without waiting for an invite.

I sit up so fast I knock into the headboard and set off a clatter.

Logan openly glares at his underdressed nephew. “You don’t waste any time.” He flat lines, pulling out the chair from the desk and taking a seat as if he were settling in to watch the show.

“What?” Gage reaches over and slinks on a T-shirt. He jumps into a pair of sweats so fast the towel drops to the floor rather ingloriously.

“You said something last night that made me think.” Logan nods over to me. “Something about the pendant.”

“Yes. You told me to get it. You were emphatic that now was the time.”

“That’s what we have to do.” Logan presses into me with his gaze. “Sooner than later, we need to secure that pendant.”

“Why now? What’s the rush?” It’s been in Chloe’s possession the entire livelong year she’s been resurrected. 

He shakes his head. “I don’t have the answer, but I know someone who might.”

“Marshall?” For some reason, whenever I need a solution, a savior, Marshall pops to mind. A warm tingle envelops me as if he had heard and sent his approval.

“
No
.” Logan is less than impressed with my go-to answer. “My grandmother.” A smile digs into his cheek. “I think we should go back and talk to her. I’ve been wanting to for a while now, and I think this is a good time.”

Logan’s grandmother. I think about this for a moment, Logan has been less than enthused about light driving right from the beginning. He did take me to meet his parents once.

“I’m in,” I say.

“Me, too.” Gage glides an arm around my shoulder.

“Just Skyla and me.” Logan never wavers his gaze from mine.

“Whatever,” Gage gravels it out. The row of x’s on his neck move and wiggle as a show of his disapproval.

“Speaking of Skyla and me,” Logan gives a slow blink. “How are we going to do this? I see you one week, he sees you the next?”

Shit. This is the exact conversation I was hoping to avoid, like forever.

“Um…” I swallow hard unsure of what’s about to pop out of my mouth next. “I’m thinking we hang out as friends, and maybe now and again we go on dates.”

Gage sweeps his gaze over the bed. He looks as if he’s lost the race before it ever began. “How long do you think you’ll need?” His brows dip as he chews the inside of his cheek.

I know what he’s thinking, what they’re both probably thinking. They’re afraid I’ll drag this out for a small eternity, and one year will turn into two, and soon we’ll be locked in some strange three-way union that will ultimately lead to some seriously bad reality TV or a felony. Well, maybe that’s not what they’re thinking, that’s what
I’m
thinking.

“
Dude
,” Logan reprimands. “Give her some space. Take all the time you need, Skyla. It’s only senior year. We’ve got the rest of our lives.”