“Measures for me?” I stop cold, my anger catching up with me once again. Ahava might be the most peaceful locale I’ve ever been to, but its heavenly patina is quickly wearing off. “I’m sure he took great measures to have my husband murdered on the anniversary of his birth. Oh, the pleasure Demetri will get celebrating that day each and every year. My God, it will be a holiday for him.” I take a few bold steps forward, my breathing so rapid I can’t catch a decent breath. “You let this happen!” I scream at the top of my lungs, and the world around me warbles like a ripple in a still pond. And then it hits me where I’m standing. “Where is he?” I glance around at the empty expanse. “Gage?” I shout, running to my left, toward the Transport, and a few angelic beings hardly pay me any attention. “Gage Oliver!” My voice booms over paradise like a siren song, and yet not a soul bothers to look my way. In the distance, I see the Elysian Fields and the memory of landing there with Logan pierces me as if the pain of losing him were new all over.
I stagger back to my mother, weary, exasperated beyond recognition. “Thank you for giving me Logan back.” My arms fall over her shoulders. She’s my perfect height. In all of her vanity, she didn’t buy herself an inch to symbolically set herself above me. No, she chose equality. She chose to clone herself in every single way.
“You’re welcome. My features do become you.” Her lips pull tight, no smile. “And you’re also welcome for Logan.” Peace sweeps over her features at the mention of his name. But Gage, she does loathe him. She won’t even speak of my sweet husband.
Without processing the thought, my fingers grip the circumference of her neck. I may not be able to kill her, but much like my mother, I am totally into symbolism.
“Skyla,” she barks, but I choose to ignore her. Those Sectors she cavorts with step forward in haste as if there were a true situation to monitor. They would be correct.
“Give back Gage,” I grit each syllable through my teeth, through the blur of tears as my fingers squeeze so tight, I feel as if it’s her head that’s about to snap off next. “You have changed things for me, Mother. You have accommodated Logan through life and death.” Her eyes bulge unnaturally, her face explodes a bright cherry pink, and I’m so amused by the theatrics. Her nails claw at my hands and leave knife-sharp lines, each bursting with a thin crimson line, and then I realize why she’s going along with it. She’ll take the pain so long as I keep the scars. She’ll forget about it once I’m gone, but she’ll make sure I wear the pattern of her affection over the fabric of my flesh for years to come.
I release her with a shove. “If you don’t give me back my husband, you don’t have a heart. At least not one for me.”
Paradise warps around me, quick and dirty, twisting like a tornado. The ground shifts beneath me as the universe goes black, then light seeps through the darkness as a spray of miniature stars appear around me, a dark sapphire floor, thrones of gold, but this isn’t the throne room. No, I’ve been here before. I look up to see my mother and her cohorts, the Sector twins along with Rothello all seated a notch above the rest. This is the Justice Alliance, and I get the feeling court is in session. What swift justice my mother weaves when her pretty little neck is in the bounds.
“Skyla Laurel Messenger.” My mother openly scowls at me, her neck pristine and paper-white, my scars still bleeding.
The velvet night surrounds us as hundreds of millions of stars press out into the distance, but the true light emanates from the holy beings before me, my mother with a gavel in her hand, the brightest. My eyes scour over the faces of the heavenly hosts. I’ve found myself in front of the Justice Alliance before, but their faces, I couldn’t pick them out of a lineup if I wanted. They all share the same calm, serene nature, four men, three women. Their skin glows with an unearthly brightness softening their features, sheltering them from me. But as calm and serene as they all appear, I’m boiling with rage, still so hopped up on my anger, my grief, I want to ravage them all. I think I could take them. My desire to have Gage back has strengthened me in all the wrong ways.
A flicker of light from my left catches my eye, and my mouth falls open as the little girl from the woods appears, her hair fanning around her like a long golden halo. The girl with the horse stands shoulders back and prideful, the glimmer of hatred in her eyes. That’s one unique attribute to paradise—you can internalize everyone else’s emotions, you can smell them, taste them, and this is a toxin that sits on my tongue like battery acid.
“Who is she?” I demand of my mother without tearing my gaze from the little demon.
“She belongs to me,” my mother hums the words softly. “Skyla,” my mother sings my name out with a techno vibe. “Pay her no mind.”
“Like you paid no mind to the stone? The number was seven.” Everything in me aches just to speak it. “Your word was written in stone, and you are not a liar. You will not be mocked.” I glance around to those sullen faces seated on the thrones, nothing but indifferent affects. “She promised Gage seven! Seven years? Decades?” A few chuckle at that last ones. “He was robbed. My mother is not a liar.” I look back to her. “You will gift him his remainder. Return him to me this night.”
“Come now.” She beckons me forward, and I force my feet to obey her. “That is for another time, and I assure you the matter will be addressed.” She lifts her nose to the air, her eyes still pinned on mine. “I forgive you for your act of barbarism on my person. You are in the throes of an assault. You must recognize the danger. And let not passion be your master.”
“She won’t do it.” A tiny frame steps out from my right, and I fill with relief at the sight.
“Sage!” I bolt over, and she holds a hand out as if to stop me before I have the chance to embrace her. She takes a full step back, assuring me of the fact she wants no part of me. “Where’s your father? Where’s Gage?” I collapse my arms around her, not giving her a say in the matter, and my entire body sings as it presses over her precious being.
“He’s with me.” She frees herself from my hold. Her eyes widen with the hint of mockery. “He’s mine now, Mother. You can’t have him.”
My heart pierces with a pain so sharp it resonates through my body, setting all of my nerve endings on fire. I turn my head just enough to see the mystery girl glaring at me once again. For some reason, it doesn’t feel safe to turn my back to her. Not here, not anywhere.
“She’s chosen sides.” Sage presses her tiny hands to my chest, and I scoop one up and kiss it. She retracts it from my grip and lands a slap over my cheek so crisp and loud it resonates over the expanse like thunder. “And so have I.”
My heart races. I can’t catch my next breath as my fingers try to comfort the sting.
Sage sharpens those Gage-blue eyes over mine. “I’m so sick of you pining for my father. So sick of him pining for you.” She leans in, those miniature features of my beloved husband exude an alarming amount of disdain for me. “Do you want to know how to succeed in this battle?” Her delicate features don’t betray her glee. She’s strong and in charge, an emotional duplicate of my mother. “I’m going to tell you the secret because I don’t believe you can do this.” The hint of a smile comes and goes. “Does this frighten you? If I even remotely believed you were capable, I would never divulge this to you. You are my enemy. Stop stumbling in the diversion of this perverse adoration toward my father. Only in that will you find your victory.”
The air stills around us as I take in her words. A dull laugh bumps from my chest. “Stop loving Gage?” I hardly dare to whisper the words. I’m almost amused. “I can never stop loving your father. It’s not possible. It will never happen.”
“She can’t save you,” Sage says to my mother. “She won’t win.” She looks past me at that blonde demon still shooting her hate-filled beams my way. “She chooses love.” A dark laugh strums from her, and soon the entire congregation joins her, loud and disquieting with their hearty chortles.
My mother glowers at me, disappointed in me for turning her i
nto a laughing stock.
“It’s not over.” She sounds her gavel, and the room shatters like glass. It sends me crashing onto the downy softness of a dark still space as my bedroom forms around me.
“Sage hates me,” I whisper. She hates Celestra. I glance over, and the moonlight exposes the boys’ cribs as empty. No sooner do my feet hit the floor than the shadow of a man steps out from the closet.
“Skyla.” His voice is swollen with grief.
I recognize that frame, the moon bleaching out his features a pale blue, his eyes the color of an angry sea.
“Gage!” I lunge at him, plant my lips over his and wrestle him to the bed, pull his body on top of mine just so I can feel the weight of him, drink it down like wine as he presses the very air from my lungs. I hold his head to mine and lash my tongue inside his mouth like a beating. He twists his head and presses his lips to my ear instead.
“You know who I am.”
His words pull the pin on that grenade that’s been rolling around my heart for the last few weeks, and a viral pain sweeps through me.
Wesley.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
I knew the moment my lips met with his and I tried to deny it. I’m far too greedy for any memory of Gage, and whether I like it or not, Wesley is a walking memorial.
My arms remain leashed around his body as he rolls to the left, Gage’s side of the bed. “I was with the Justice Alliance. I just came back.”
“Are they calling for me?” The moonlight exposes the look of worry in his eyes, and my heart yearns for my sweet husband.
“No, but they will.”
He gives a single nod, his grief as palpable as mine. “I’m worried about Laken.”
“I know,” I whisper. “Did you sleep with her?”
He glances down at his chest, and my heart breaks for Coop.
“I know the secret to winning this war we’re embroiled in,” I whisper, and his entire body stills. “It was told to me, and I don’t think I could do it. Let me be the first to assure you that if the shoe were on the other foot, you couldn’t either.”
“Could my brother?”
I swallow hard, trying to contemplate it. “I don’t know.”
“Well, then he’s the wild card, isn’t he?”
Here I am in bed with Wes, and he’s right. It’s Gage who is the wild card. He has been all along.
Christmas Eve on Paragon is pure magic. The entire island basks in the glory of the high holy day, starting immediately after Thanksgiving—and if we’re being truthful, it’s more like Halloween. But this season has been dipped in the mire of grief, and not even the scent of freshly baked sugar cookies has the power to perk me up. I’ve spent the last week with Logan, and only he and his newfound glory can pull me out of my funk. We spent hours sitting in the back of his pickup pretending to star gaze while we gazed at one another. He came over one night and parked in the woods next to the house. Mia has been nice enough to keep an ear out on the boys for me. But I couldn’t look at the stars. My eyes were sealed to his beauty. My hands pressed to his face like a blind woman trying desperately to memorize his features. Those lemon-yellow eyes, that perfectly straight nose, high-cut cheeks, and lips that love to smile for me. I ran my finger over his teeth, and it made me giddy to feel each and every bump. That hair, my fingers dug in deep and never wanted to let go. As painful as it is waiting for Gage to come back, I am basking in the glory of having Logan—the real breathing version back on Paragon. Logan is back, and now if I can only get Gage to return, life can resume with a modicum of normalcy. Gage is mine, and I am his. Our children are the seal placed over our hearts. We are inseparable. And one day soon, we will laugh in the face of death. In the face of Demetri and the Fems.
By six o’clock on Christmas Eve, Mom’s holiday party is just about in full swing. Brielle, her mother Darla, and sister Brookelynn are all gathered near the fireplace in the living room laughing it up with—oh my God. I recognize that dark hair, those familiar devil may care—because she is her spawn—eyes.
“What’s Chloe’s mother doing here?” I ask no one in particular, and my own mother pauses on her way to the family room.
“I invited the Bishops. Glendora and I are fast friends after she brought in the lion’s share of customers the day of the craft festival. We’re thinking of making it a seasonal event. We both made a killing.” She swipes her fingernails through the air as if she were about to claw me.
“That doesn’t surprise me. The Bishops specialize in murder.” In fact, I’d be willing to bet my mother picked up her newfound clawing tick from the witch’s incubator.
She’s quick to wave me off as Mia and Melissa stride by, parading the boys around the party like two little princes. My God, they are gorgeous with their backlit blue eyes and to die for dimples. One day soon they’re going to break a lot of little girls’ hearts. It’s their destiny, much like their father’s. However, tonight, considering the way they’re dressed, they won’t be bringing anyone an ounce of pain. They’ll make them laugh—and not in a good way.
Before I can properly reprimand my mother for the ridiculous costumes she’s stuffed the boys in, my attention is snagged by two wiry redheads with witch-like cackles. Dominique and Melody Winters stand speaking to Melissa, along with Melody’s tall, gangly brother, Asbury. And I can’t help but note my stepsister’s hand is draped loosely over his back. Are they a couple? Is this something new? Did I know this? For the life of me I can’t keep track of Mia and Melissa’s boy toys, thus the predicament of not knowing who Mia’s fiancé is. I frown over at the motley crew. Melissa has no business schmoozing with wickedness.
Mom coos and claps as my sisters stride on by with Nathan and Barron. “Aren’t the boys adorable?”
“They’re something,” I quip. My mother insisted on dressing them as elves in bright green—well, let’s be honest, dresses, complete with lime green tights. If Gage weren’t already dead, he would die right here on the spot. He might have even insisted on an immediate divorce and full custody. To be honest, I wouldn’t contest it. But in the fog of grief, at some point in my deepest, darkest misery, I greenlighted those leprechaun ensembles. “Oh, I almost forgot!” She gives my shoulder a firm squeeze. “Demetri says he’s got a special surprise for you tonight.”
For the briefest of moments, I get my hopes up, but then, this is Demetri we’re talking about. For all I know, he’ll lop off the boys’ heads next.
Mom’s entire affect fumbles right along with mine. “Still no word from Gage?”
“No, Mother. Death can leave a bit of a communication gap in a relationship.”
“Oh, you.” She rolls her eyes to the ceiling, clearly exasperated with all of my morbid ramblings. Demetri has assured my mother that Gage is on private assignment and shouldn’t tarry much longer. As much as I too would love to believe Demetri’s delusions—and to an extent I do, I see right through them with reality. And why in the hell is it so hard for my mother to accept the truth from me, anyway? No matter what the situation, my mother’s compass for truth points directly to Demetri—a man who, by the way, is not her husband. Speaking of which, Tad has already donned the requisite Santa suit which changed the course of his life last year. His left arm still suffers from a bit of a contracture, but he stoically put on the fire retardant suit my mother picked up brand spanking new just for him. That thrift shop find may have been a fire hazard, but it was Demetri who burned Tad to a crisp for me as a Christmas present. Who are we kidding? We all know that private Landon BBQ was all for him.
Mom and I part ways just as the doorbell rings, and I open it to find Emma and Dr. Oliver, still somber with heavy eyes and hands full of fresh baked pies. It seems so unfair to be expected to bake anything after you lose your only son, but my mother begged and begged, and here they both are—Dr. O in mourning and Emma glaring at me as if I were the next person she’d like to see go up in flames.
“Merry Christmas,” I say in lieu of hello, and we e
xchange the niceties the holiday insists upon, a kiss on the cheek, the briefest of hugs.
Dr. O leans in and whispers, “Do mind the fact she’s completely inconsolable. If you could spare a charitable amount of mercy this evening, it would be your gift to me.”
I frown at him. I’m always damn charitable to this woman.
“Of course.” I give a peaceable smile as they walk on by, and right behind them are Michelle Miller and Logan’s brother, Liam. Everyone knows Michelle’s obsession with Logan simply bled over to his brother when she couldn’t have the real deal.
“Miller.” I nod as she and Liam bounce by wishing me a merry Christmas.
“Hey”—Liam steps back—“you need to talk to Logan. The Bowling Barn is ready to go. We can’t keep those doors closed forever. Every day we’re not up and running, we’re losing money. I know that Gage’s death has been hard on him, but it doesn’t change the fact we’ll be broke in a month if he doesn’t get the machine moving.”
“Pronto.” Michelle claps her hands in my face. “Chop-chop.”
“Watch it,” I’m quick to scold her. “This is an attitude-free fun zone in the event you haven’t noticed. Just because you’re dating Liam doesn’t make you the queen of the Oliver castle.”
Her hazel eyes light up like flames as a smug grin takes over. “I will be if I have my way, my soon-to-be sister-in-law.”
Soon-to-be sister-in-law? Holy heaven, I pray it’s wishful thinking. But then she and Liam do seem to be quite serious. I suppose stranger things have happened. Who would have thought that both Michelle and I would one day become official Olivers? If someone would have whispered this to me way back when, I would have battled her for both Logan and Gage. I’m greedy that way. But I’m more than fine with her chaining herself legally to Liam.