Chapter 17
Skyla
The narrow opening to the butterfly room feels like crawling into a secret world, and it is exactly that.
I pull myself through the sliding panel behind my closet and emerge into the thimble-sized space that’s become my sanctuary more times than I can count.
The familiar scent of old wood mingles with something faintly floral—jasmine maybe, the ghost of my own perfume from all the times I’ve hidden up here.
And a single bare bulb casts everything in warm amber light, making the electric blue paper butterflies pinned to every inch of the walls look like tiny sapphires against black velvet.
The soft vinyl floor with its silver flecks welcomes me like an old friend as I settle cross-legged in the center of the room.
It’s like sitting on a piece of the galaxy, which sounds poetic until you remember that Gage picked out this flooring specifically to make me feel like I was surrounded by stars.
Sweet, romantic, and completely unfair considering the mess we’re currently navigating.
My heart does that fluttering thing as memories wash over me—stolen moments with Gage, whispered conversations with Logan, the weight of secrets, and the warmth of being understood. This room has seen it all, absorbed every confession and kiss like some kind of emotional blue-winged sponge.
I reach out and touch one of the butterflies near my shoulder, and for a split second, it flutters to life, wings beating against my fingertip before settling back into papery stillness.
The magic of this place seems to respond to emotion; it always has.
And right now, I’m a walking disaster of guilt, confusion, and enough teen angst and emotion to turn a Canadian forest into a swarm of winged creatures.
That expression on Gage’s face when he caught Logan and me kissing plays on repeat in my head like a bad movie I can’t turn off. The stoic way he held himself together, the forced politeness—it was worse than if he’d just punched Logan in the face and called it a day.
I pull out my phone before I can talk myself out of it. Do you want meet up? There’s so much I want to say to you.
The response comes so fast, I’m pretty sure he was already typing.
Where and when?
I can practically feel his eagerness through the screen, and my heart flutters and skips.
Even when he’s hurt and trying to play it cool, Gage jumps at the chance to fix things between us.
It’s one of the things I love most about him and exactly what makes this whole situation so impossibly complicated.
I text him right back. How about right now in the butterfly room?
I don’t even have time to set my phone down before the air in front of me shimmers as Gage materializes as if he’s been waiting his whole life for this invitation.
And sweet heavens, he looks good enough to make me forget I’m a happily married woman with an entire gaggle of kids and a very complicated relationship status.
Gage is a Levatio, and one of the faction’s many hidden talents is teleportation. It’s an awesome gift to have when sneaking into your girlfriend’s bedroom—or butterfly room, for that matter.
His dark hair is still damp from a recent shower, falling in loose waves around his ears that make my fingers itch to run through them.
He’s wearing a West High sweatshirt that hugs his shoulders in all the right ways, and his freshly scrubbed scent mixes with his natural warmth, that makes this small space feel even more intimate.
“Well, that was fast,” I say, trying for casual and missing by an overeager mile.
“Teleportation does have its perks.” He settles onto the floor across from me, those cobalt eyes doing that thing where they seem to see straight through to my soul. “Though I’m pretty sure I broke a few traffic laws on the way over.”
“In the celestial realm of instant transportation?”
“There are rules, Skyla. Very important celestial traffic patterns,” he teases as his dimples dig in deep.
A flirtatious Gage is the very best kind.
“Ah, yes—wouldn’t want to cause a fender bender in the space-time continuum.”
“Exactly.” His mouth curves in that almost-smile that always makes my pulse stutter. “The paperwork alone would be murder.”
We share a quick laugh.
The butterflies around us begin to stir, responding to the electric tension crackling between us. It’s always this way with Gage—easy, electric, downright ecstasy through and through.
One by one, those delicate creatures lift from the walls in a cascade of electric blue light, their paper wings catching the amber glow from the bulb and transforming it into something magical.
Soon, the entire room is alive with fluttering sapphire wings, and it feels as if we’re sitting inside a living kaleidoscope.
“Showoffs.” I can’t help but smile as they dance around us.
“They always did like an audience,” Gage says, watching a particularly bold butterfly land on his shoulder. “Remember when we first discovered they could do this?”
“You mean when you discovered you could bring them to life, and I discovered I was dating someone with superpowers that transcended time, and space, and the prettiest blue butterflies? Yeah, that was fun.” I press my lips tight.
“You made these with Chloe,” I point out, trying to tamp down the smile begging to take over.
“They were dead with Chloe. They’re alive with you.”
I know for a fact they fluttered the first time they were pinned to the wall, but that was because it was Gage who was making them come to life. He’s right. Chloe is nothing but a walking corpse herself. And thanks to my blood, now she’s a walking, talking, breathing corpse, too.
Gage’s expression grows all that much more serious, and I can practically see him gathering the courage to say something. “Skyla, about earlier—”
“Gage—”
“No, let me say this.” He reaches for my hands, his fingers warm and steady against my own.
“I know what I signed up for. Pretending to be with you, to keep the Counts from offing you or Logan. Then our feelings grew real, and so did our relationship.” He sighs as if the words he just spoke were anything but true anymore.
“I know this whole situation is complicated and weird and probably breaks about fifteen different natural laws. But watching you with Logan tonight...”
His voice cracks just a little, and it’s as if someone is squeezing my heart with a vise.
“I can’t help it,” he continues. “I know I’m supposed to be the understanding one, the guy who’s okay with this arrangement, but I’m sorry I’m not that noble. I’m greedy, and I want all of you.”
The butterflies flutter that much more frantically, and I feel tears pricking at my eyes because this is Gage being completely honest with me, no walls, no pretense. I’m terrified of what might come next.
“If you only knew what the future holds,” I whisper, trying to give him yet another glimmer of hope.
He gives a little laugh that’s far more sad than amused. “And I do. I marry you. I don’t know how or when, but I trust my visions.”
He’s shared them with me before—flashes of us at the altar and wedding rings, of us together in holy matrimony, of a future that feels both impossible and inevitable.
They’re part of what keeps us both sane during moments like this—or at least they did when I didn’t know a thing about the future myself.
But I’m not her. I’m not even the girl he thinks he’s talking to.
“I know,” I say softly. “I trust your visions, too. But knowing and living it are two different things. And we do get to live them. In fact, I’ve already—”
Before I can say anything else, he’s pulling me into his lap, his arms circling around me as if he’s afraid I might disappear.
When his lips find mine, it’s desperate and hungry and full of everything he can’t say out loud.
I melt into him because this is Gage, my safe place.
This is the person who sees straight through all my walls and loves me anyway.
My arms wind around his neck, and for a moment, I forget everything—forget about light driving and complicated marriages and the fact that I’m technically Logan’s wife right now. There’s just Gage and the taste of mint on his lips and the way he holds me like I’m something so very precious to him.
The butterflies around us pulse brighter, their blue light washing everything in an ethereal glow that makes this feel like a moment stolen from a fairy tale.
But reality has a way of crashing the party. And ready or not, here it comes.
I pull back abruptly with guilt hitting me like a bucket full of ice water. “We can’t—I mean—”
“It’s complicated,” Gage finishes, but he doesn’t let go of me entirely. His hands rest on my waist as his thumbs trace small circles that make it hard to think straight.
“That’s the understatement of the century.”
The room continues to glow around us as the butterflies cast spastic shadows on the walls, and I try to find words that won’t completely break his heart.
“Even though I know things are going to be great and perfect for us someday,” I gird myself for what comes next, “I think we should take it slow for now.”
And just like that, I’ve eviscerated myself. It felt like hell to say those words, and twice as hard to mean them.
“How slow?” His frown is immediate, and adorable, and completely heartbreaking in every single way.
“Like really slowly,” I say with a sigh that comes from somewhere deep in my chest.
Gage does not look impressed.
In fact, he looks as if I just told him Christmas was canceled indefinitely. Around us, the butterflies begin to lose their luster, their vibrant blue wings fading to a duller shade as they respond to his disappointment.
He stares at me for a long moment, those blue eyes trying to read every thought in my head. Finally, he takes my hand and brings it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles that makes my heart ache.
“Actually, Skyla. I came to say the very same thing.” There’s a morbid sadness in his eyes that makes me wonder if this is true. “In fact, I think maybe we’re better off as friends. I hope you didn’t mind the goodbye kiss.”
My lips invert as I swallow a gasp.
And then he’s gone, disappearing in that shimmering way that always leaves me feeling like I imagined the whole thing.
“Gage, wait!” I call out, but it’s too late.
The butterflies drop from the air one by one, their wings losing all color as they fall to the floor like tiny paper corpses.
I pick up one of the fallen butterflies, its wing crumbling between my fingers, and my heart aches for Gage in a way that makes it hard to breathe.
It seems the moment love stops fighting for itself, everything magical turns to dust.