Chapter 9
Skyla
The dim lights cast zebra-stripe shadows across Gage’s face while he weaves through the swaying bodies, right here in Emily’s haunted house, as he makes his way over to Logan and me.
The rock music has shifted to something far too moody, a haunting melody that floats over the chatter and laughter like a ghost with a vengeance, trying to make me dive-bomb my way into Gage Oliver’s pants.
Okay, the extreme excess of teenage hormones might have something to do with that. Scratch that. It has everything to do with that. Fine, I may be addicted to Gage just a little bit, with or without any influence of hormones. But who can blame me? Certainly not Chloe.
Good thing Logan and I aren’t holding hands.
The last thing I need is to have a blowout with my husband while reliving our so-called glory days.
Actually, Logan and I have never had a blowout.
And when it comes to situations like this that concern the dimpled Oliver, Logan more or less rolls his eyes.
The air has grown thicker with each passing hour, booze and weed competing with Axe body spray and the unmistakable scent of those aforementioned teenage hormones—it’s a potent cocktail that brings back memories I thought I had long since buried.
Come to think of it, this sort of smells like Ellis’ house now, too.
But we’re not at the Harrisons’; we’re at the Morgans’, and Emily’s haunted hovel is less mausoleum and more quirky country store, if that country store sold tchotchke for witches with a dragon fetish.
Gage’s dimples dig in deep as he comes my way with his arms outstretched and eyes locked on me with an intensity that used to turn my teenage knees to jelly. And Lord Almighty, it still does in the very best way.
He wraps his arms around my waist possessively and pulls me to his chest in a way that screams mine to everyone watching. And TMI, I may have just had my second Gage-gasm of the night. Hormones. It’s what’s for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
“Are you ready to get out of here?” he asks, his breath warm against my ear. Gage holds the scent of mint, woodsy cologne, and straight-up wanting, a combo that I wholeheartedly approve of.
Logan clears his throat while looking equal parts amused and miffed at the somewhat lusty display.
His eyes catch mine over Gage’s shoulder, and he frowns.
Logan knows darn well we’re playing roles in a movie we’ve already starred in, and know the ending to, but here we are, required to deliver our lines anyway.
Sort of. I think. Oh, who knows what we’re supposed to be doing anymore?
Something to do with an anchor, saving children, and running wild in a time that long since expired like a bad carton of milk.
It’s late, I’m heavily sleep-deprived, and I’d give Chloe’s right arm for a cup of coffee right about now.
“Um, in a minute,” I say to Gage, leaning back to get a better look at his blessed by God features.
Gage’s smile turns sly and secretive, and have I mentioned he’s nothing but a ball of heated seduction? I’ll admit, there’s a teeny tiny part of me that wishes I had accidentally on purpose landed at that moment in time when Gage and I were on our honeymoon. Talk about heated seduction.
“I was thinking we could go somewhere a little more private.” His voice drops an octave, and my insides explode with heat. “You know, maybe make this night special.”
My mouth falls open as the memory crashes over me like an unexpected wave—this is that night. The night Gage and I were supposed to take our relationship to the very next sexed-up level before Marshall’s haunted rose and Chloe’s razor sidetracked our plans and my body.
I give an audible gasp as the hot-to-trot pieces fall into place.
“What’s wrong?” Gage pulls back, his eyes scanning my face for signs of distress.
“Nothing.” I recover quickly with a blink.
“I just—could you track down Brielle first? I really want to say goodbye before we leave, maybe ask for a little advice, about you know…” I shrink slightly, looking up at him with what I hope is a convincing display of teenage insecurity.
And heaven knows I had it in spades. Still do on occasion.
Gage’s expression softens, but he’s still far too hot for his britches. “Sure. She’s probably with Drake somewhere.” He lands a quick kiss on my forehead. “Don’t disappear.”
Sadly, I’m sort of hoping to. That last thing I need is Gage trying to get into my pants while Logan watches on the sidelines—again.
As soon as Gage takes off into the crowd, I grab Logan by the shoulders and shake him silly with far more force than necessary.
“Logan!” My voice comes out in a panicked whisper.
“I just remembered. This is the night Gage and I were going to you know—get horizontal, knock boots, connect like a couple of Lego pieces, go all the freaking way. He offered to gift himself to me. Not that it happened, but it wasn’t for a lack of trying. ”
“Did you say he was going to gift himself to you?” Logan chuckles at the thought as if it were hilarious.
“That sounds like Gage.” He averts his eyes.
“So, what happened in the past? How did you manage to shake him off?” Logan knows that Gage and I didn’t hit the sheets until our honeymoon.
And considering that our holy matrimony is still a blip on the horizon from this vantage point, Logan doesn’t look all that worried.
And he shouldn’t be. I mean, it’s not like I’m going to fall into bed with Gage just to secure an anchor.
But then if my children’s lives were on the line…
Again, so glad Logan and I aren’t holding hands or touching flesh in any way because when we do, he can certainly pry into my gray matter.
Logan frowns my way. “We don’t need to be touching for me to know where your mind just went.”
“Sorry.” I wrinkle my nose. “But in my defense, the children’s lives are at stake.”
He hikes a brow, and I don’t dare say another word.
“Getting back to the topic at hand,” which oddly enough is the very same topic, “Gage and I didn’t do it because your uncle had to sew my face back together after that run-in with Chloe and that rose I accidentally noshed on.”
“Only this time you didn’t swallow the rose or get your face bashed in.
” He suddenly looks disappointed by both of those things.
“Just tell Gage you changed your mind. It’s not like you’re changing history here.
It didn’t happen that night, and it won’t happen tonight.
” He says that last part as if he were imparting a decree.
And considering our current wedded union, he sort of is.
Logan pulls me in close, his eyes darkening with a delicious look I know all too well. “Besides, you belong to me now and forever.” His lips curl with delicious, wicked intent. “I say we ditch the dimpled Oliver and head over to West. How about we make some new memories?”
“What will Gage do?”
“He’ll lend himself a hand. It won’t be the first time or the last,” he says with a dark laugh. “If it makes you feel better, he’ll be thinking of you.”
“You’re a riot.” I can’t help but frown his way. “So, you want to go to West? As in West Paragon High? And do what?” I bite down on my lip because I know exactly what he intends to do. Suffice it to say, Logan will most definitely be thinking of me, too.
He tilts his head to the side. “How about we give that oversized painting of Cerberus something to look at?”
The three-headed mural of a mutated pooch that guards the gym at West has seen plenty of scandalous behavior over the years, but nothing quite like what Logan is suggesting. Okay, fine, it’s probably seen that, too. Sluts are next in line for mascot.
“I’m in.” I shrug right back, my heart racing at the thought.
Gage clears his throat behind us, and we turn around to see the so-called Dimpled Oliver looking down right ticked.
“Brielle and Drake are indisposed,” he grunts my way.
Translation: they’re getting down and dirty in a closet somewhere. Typical Bree.
Gage growls at Logan, lower than a whisper but loud enough that Logan reluctantly lets go of my hand. The tension between them crackles like static electricity, a preview of the complicated triangle we’d navigate for years to come and may never really end.
“Gage,” I say, pulling him to the side and lowering my voice. “I’m so sorry, but I’m not really feeling like my old self tonight.” No lies detected.
“What’s going on?” He inches back and inspects me as a look of concern replaces his budding irritation. Oh heck, irritation is putting it mildly. Gage looks as if he’s about to rip Logan’s head off. “Are you okay?”
“I think I just need to head back to the house.” My house as in the Landon house.
How strange it will be to set foot back there again as a resident.
As much as I’m not looking forward to Tad acting like, well, Tad, a part of me can’t wait to crawl back into the butterfly room for old time’s sake. “Would you mind giving me a ride home?”
His lips purse as he checks his phone. “Actually, my dad just texted. He asked me to stop by the cemetery to make sure the security system is set.” He glances at Logan.
“You mind giving her a ride?” Gage glowers at Logan as if every secret the two of us are currently harboring was suddenly laid bare.
Gage does have the gift of knowing, but it’s never worked in this capacity.
I think about his words for a moment. I don’t remember anything about the security system at the cemetery that night.
Sure, the Oliver family owns and operates the Paragon Mortuary and Cemetery, so the request isn’t all that unusual, but the timing seems strange.
Something about Gage’s too casual tone sets off more than a few alarms in my head.
“No problem.” Logan nods, not bothering to hide his satisfaction. “I’ll make sure she gets where she’s going, safe and sound.”