Chapter 41
Skyla
The Landon house sits in that eerie morning silence that only happens when everyone’s gone and the structure itself seems to be holding its breath. It’s just after ten in the morning, and the place is all but abandoned.
Outside, Paragon’s signature fog rolls across the landscape, alive and breathing, turning the world beyond our windows into something ethereal and mysterious.
The sky hangs heavy with purple-welted clouds that promise rain later, and the scent of evergreens drifts through the slightly open window, mixing with the familiar aroma of coffee and whatever Mom burned for breakfast this morning.
Logan and I materialize in the living room of the Landon house with significantly more grace than our crash landing at Silent Cove, though I still have to grab the back of the couch to keep from face-planting into Mom’s collection of ceramic angels.
Since Logan and I escorted ourselves here, we’ll have no trouble getting back on our own.
“We should visit the past more often,” Logan says, as we make our way to the family room.
“That way, I could have my way with you in the OG butterfly room anytime we want. I’m finally getting pretty good at this whole light driving thing.
Maybe I should add Master of the Space-Time Continuum to my resume. ”
“Don’t get cocky,” I tell him, as I hit the kitchen. “We still have to commit a federal crime and get out without being caught.”
“Did you say federal crime?” Logan shakes his head as he peers through the curtains at the purple-tinged morning. “You do realize federal prison terms are meant to be served in full. No time off for looking pretty. And I’m just talking about me. I didn’t have a bank heist on my bingo card today.”
“You are hilarious.” I quickly grab the mail key and peek through the front curtains to make sure the coast is clear, though the fog is so thick I can barely see the roses across the street.
“Life is full of surprises. Besides, we’re not robbing a bank.
We’re committing a mail heist. I chose this day for a reason. ”
“So, we’re tampering with US mail?” Logan tips his head with amusement. “If I recall correctly from civics class, it’s a federal offense punishable by up to five years in prison.”
“Are you trying to talk me out of this?” I ask, with a laugh. “There’s a heck of a lot of wrongs we need to right, and if a federal crime is the only way to do it, then so be it.”
“I’m impressed by your level of commitment to criminal activity. It’s very hot, in a law-breaking kind of way.”
A tiny laugh escapes me as I ease open the front door, wincing when it creaks loud enough to wake the dead. Not that it matters. We’re alone, and we look like we belong here—for the most part. The morning fog hits my face like a cool kiss from Paragon itself.
“Here’s hoping we hit the light driving timeline on the head,” I mutter, jogging down the driveway, trying not to slip on fog-slicked pavement, and quickly extract every last bit of mail from the rusty, dusty box.
I riffle through the thick stack with trembling fingers—electric bill, credit card offers, enough department store fliers to wallpaper half of Paragon—and there, wedged between a grocery store circular and what appears to be a letter from Aunt Karen, is a glossy cruise brochure featuring a couple in matching Hawaiian shirts grinning maniacally from the deck of a ship.
“Got it,” I call back to Logan through the fog, waving the brochure like a trophy.
“Excellent. Now get back here before someone calls the postal police.”
I sprint back up the driveway, my shoes pounding the wet pavement as wisps of fog curl around me like a ghost begging me to linger. My heart hammers with adrenaline over our supposed successful mail theft. I guess only time will tell. Literally.
“Mission accomplished,” I sing. “One cruise brochure, officially intercepted.”
Logan takes the brochure from my hands, examining it with the kind of serious attention usually reserved for ransom notes.
“Retirement Paradise cruise package,” he muses. “Seven days of unlimited buffets, unlimited alcohol, and shuffleboard. Unlimited food and booze? I can see how this would lead to Demetri getting his hooks into your mother. Tad is never going to leave this ship.”
“Don’t even joke about that,” I warn.
“Who’s joking? This thing is basically a gateway drug to early retirement and marital discord.” Logan tears the thing to pieces before tossing it into the recycling bin with a sigh of satisfaction. “Crisis averted. No cruises, no wanderlust, no divorce, no Demetri.”
“Hopefully.”
“Definitely. And now that we’ve successfully prevented the apocalypse through mail fraud,” Logan continues, his voice taking on a playful edge, “I think it’s time for your punishment.”
I blink at him. “My what?”
Logan’s smile turns predatory in the best possible way, his eyes reflecting the strange lavender glow filtering through the fog. “You just committed a federal crime, Mrs. Oliver. That requires some serious discipline.”
“What kind of discipline?” I ask, biting down a smile.
“The kind that happens in the butterfly room.”
“Logan Oliver, are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting that someone needs to teach you the error of your criminal ways,” he says, taking me by the hand and pulling me back toward the house. “Very thoroughly. In a room full of magical butterflies that will probably explode when we—”
“But what if I come home from school early?” I say with a laugh.
“The past version of you is at school for the next five hours, and that’s before cheer practice.” Logan pulls me close, that lusty gleam in his eyes looking far more dangerous than that dirty grin on his face. “We have the house completely to ourselves.”
“This is a terrible idea,” I tease.
“The best ideas usually are.”
“Where have I heard that before?” I muse.
The butterfly room welcomes us like an old friend, and no sooner do we seal ourselves inside than those electric blue butterflies flutter to life.
“They seem to remember us,” I say, landing on his lap as he pulls us to the floor.
“They had better. We’ve put on quite the show a time or two.” He kisses the back of my hand before trailing kisses all the way up to my neck. “This room has seen some of our most important moments.”
“And it’s about to see another one.”
He tips his head to the side and examines me with a lopsided grin. “We defeated the Counts and your mother. I think it’s time to celebrate.”
“I’ve never been more motivated to party.”
This room has always been magical, but with Logan here, with the butterflies dancing in the air like living sapphires, it feels like something out of a fairy tale.
Logan’s lips meet mine with a hunger that speaks of all the fear and uncertainty we’ve been carrying, all the desperate need to reconnect after everything we’ve been through. His hands slide into my hair, tilting my head to deepen the kiss, and I melt into him like I was made for this exact moment.
The butterflies swirl around us in spirals of electric blue light, their glow intensifying as Logan’s hands find the hem of my shirt. When he breaks the kiss to pull the fabric over my head, I’m breathing hard, and my skin feels like it’s on fire in the very best way.
“I’ve learned something important today,” I say as I land a kiss on his lips.
“What’s that?”
“Some crimes are definitely worth committing.”
“Good. Because I have a feeling this won’t be our last federal offense.”
“Probably not,” I agree with a laugh. “But at least we’ll face prosecution together.”
Logan agrees, pressing a kiss on the top of my head. “Always together.”
Some truths can only be taught in whispers among the soft flutter of butterfly wings, where love becomes a language that doesn’t need words.