Chapter 38
Skyla
The bedroom here at the Harrison estate reeks of Chloe’s skanky perfume, far too many of her hormones gone wild, and the kind of very bad decisions that will haunt Gage Oliver for years to come—I’ll make sure of it.
And somewhere in the background, the bass from the party downstairs continues its relentless assault on my eardrums. But all of that fades to white noise as I stare into a pair of familiar blue eyes that shouldn’t exist in this timeline—not technically, definitely not here.
“Wes? Laken?” I blink a few times as I struggle to accept this version of them here.
Wesley Paxton stands there looking like Gage’s twin brother—which, technically, he is—with his dark hair, those trademark cobalt blue eyes, and that requisite hotter-than-hell body that apparently runs in Demetri’s genetic line.
How did they get here? On second thought, I don’t care.
Because honestly, at this point, I’ll take help from anyone, even if it’s Wesley Paxton—who’s part Fem, part Count, and switches between pure evil and reluctant hero depending on what day of the week it is.
Right now, he’s apparently channeling his inner knight in shining armor, and I’m not about to question it.
But it’s the girl standing behind him that makes my heart leap into my throat. One of my best friends. My safe haven for so long.
Laken’s caramel blonde locks fall in perfect waves around her shoulders, and her face holds that natural beauty that comes from being gorgeous, inside and out.
She’s wearing that gentle smile that always makes me feel like everything might actually be okay, even when the world is ending—or Chloe is doing a lap dance for Gage.
I push past Wesley without thinking, and he reflexively drops the vase. The crystal hits the floor with a crash, but I don’t care because I launch myself at Laken with enough force to knock us both backward.
“Oh, Laken, it’s been awful!” The words pour out of me as I wrap my arms around her. “Everything has changed for the worse, and now Chloe is trying to land Gage horizontal long before it’s time!”
Laken’s arms come around me, warm and familiar and exactly what I need after the nightmare this evening has become. But then my brain catches up to my emotions, and I pull back to study her face.
“Wait, which version of Laken and Wes are you?”
Laken bubbles with a laugh. “We came from the future, from the night of the bonfire. Wes and I had a very bad feeling about this.” She does her best to squint into the darkness past me, just as something shifts on the bed.
“What the hell?” Chloe riots. “I don’t care who you people are!” Chloe’s voice cuts through our reunion with the threat of a triple homicide in her voice. “I want all of you out—now!”
She bounces to her feet, standing there in her half-removed top, her perfectly styled hair slightly mussed from her make-out session, looking like one pissed-off stripper.
But it’s Gage whose reaction I’m really watching.
He’s still sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at Wesley as if he’s seeing a ghost—which, in a weird light driving way, he sort of is.
His eyes move back and forth from Laken and Wesley’s familiar features, his expression cycling through confusion, shock, and something that might be a hint of recognition.
“What’s going on here?” Gage’s voice comes out rough, like someone just punched him in the throat. “Who are you supposed to be? My evil twin?”
Gage has always been intuitive.
Wesley’s lips curve into that trademark smirk that’s equal parts charming and dangerous. “Something like that. Though the evil part is debatable.”
True, but just a little.
“Really?” Gage staggers to his feet to get a better look. “You look exactly like me. What the hell is going on, Skyla?”
“I can ask you the same thing,” I say, giving him a shove to the chest, despite the fact that I’m sort of happy to see him—especially since he’s been liberated from the wicked witch from West.
Gage shakes his head at Wes, still unable to take his eyes off him. “I feel like I’m looking in some kind of funhouse mirror.”
“Welcome to my world,” Wesley says dryly. “Though I have to say, your game could use some work. Generally, when someone is trying to seduce you, it’s considered polite to at least pretend to be interested.”
Gage’s face boils with anger as he glances at Chloe, who’s still vibrating with rage herself. “It’s complicated.”
“It’s about to get a whole lot less complicated, buddy,” I announce, grabbing Gage by the hand and yanking him my way. “Chloe, you can leave now. You’re officially dismissed.”
“Excuse me?” Chloe’s voice rises three full octaves. “This is my time with Gage! You don’t dismiss me. You wish you had the power to say those words!”
“I’m dismissing you.” Gage gives a curt nod her way. “I have the power to do it. You should go now, Chloe. I’m sorry. This was all a big mistake.”
Chloe’s entire being morphs into one big gasp.
And I’ve just morphed into one big ball of relief.
“Oh, thank God,” I say, pulling him in tight and landing a steamy kiss to his lips, and sadly, I get a mouthful of Chloe’s strawberry lip gloss in the process.
But I don’t care. Chloe and I will be sharing sloppy seconds for the next few years.
I’m just thankful that the ball is in my court now. And technically, the baseball bat too.
I turn to Wesley and Laken, who are watching this whole scene unfold with far too much amusement. “Come on, we need to find Logan.”
“Logan is at the party?” Laken asks, falling into step beside me as we head for the door.
“Everyone is at the party. This party is like a supernatural convention, except with more alcohol and fewer name tags.”
Wesley brings up the rear, shooting one last look at Chloe, who’s now standing in the middle of the room looking like she wants to set someone on fire. Preferably me.
“This isn’t over, Skyla!” she calls after us.
“You’re right,” I call back without turning around. “It’s just getting started.”
We make our way down the marble staircase, Gage’s hand still warm in mine as we navigate through the sea of stoned party guests.
The music grows louder, far more aggressive, and the air is thick with smoke and the kind of tension that suggests this evening is about to take another turn for the worse before it does for the better.
“So,” Gage says as we reach the main floor, “want to explain why my doppelg?nger showed up just in time to save you from committing assault with a deadly weapon?” His dimples dig in. “Thank you, by the way.”
“You’re welcome. And it’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time.”
“Actually, you don’t—we don’t—well, I don’t.” I spot Logan near the front entrance, talking to someone with his back to us. “There he is.”
We walk up just in time to see Drake deck him.
And there’s that dramatic turn for the worse I was talking about.
Now it’s time to turn this bad-luck charm of a light drive around.
We are going home.