“You should have told me the second you knew.” He spits it out. “I might have backed down for you.” He shakes his head. “But you’re not getting that courtesy—not now, not ever. You want to hook up with Skyla in your perverted fantasies? Go right ahead. But the only one she’ll be with in the real world is me.”
I charge and land him flat on his back, sending the air expelling from his lungs with a hiss. I clock him a good one just below the jaw as he flips me, pinning me to the carpet like a champion wrestler.
“I have never hurt you, Gage.” He pauses to dab the back of his hand against his lip and inspects the blood showboating for his attention. “I have never beat the living shit out of you before, but I’m about to rectify that.”
He brings his knee up, and I pinch my legs shut and roll before he can erase my future children from the planet. We wrestle and kick for a small eternity. Logan rattles me in the air before knocking my head against the coffee table like cracking a walnut.
The room warps in and out as I crash on the floor. I stare up the ceiling as it starts in on a slow, steady spin. Logan lands next to me, trying to catch his breath.
“Sorry, man.” He taps me on the knee.
“It’s all right. I’ll pay you back one day.”
“I thought for sure Skyla was the Celestra you said I’d be with.”
“I’m pretty sure she is.”
Logan glances over. We don’t say anything for a very long time.
“Looks like we’ve got a problem,” he whispers.
“Looks like we do.”
***
The next day, the sky rages down its special brand of fury over the island, complete with spasms of lightning that inspire the electricity to go into brownout mode now and again. It doesn’t seem to hurt business though. The bowling alley is alive with people—all the wrong people, considering Skyla isn’t one of them.
Then, like a dream, she walks through the dark hole of the arcade, and a rush of heat washes over me. The only thing that can brighten this day just walked through the door. Brielle mentioned she invited Skyla and her stepbrother down so they can hang out after her shift.
Skyla walks over to the counter where Logan waits with a smile. I watch as he takes her money and hands her a pair of shoes. She turns her body into the counter as if she’s trying to seduce him—as if there was a need.
I walk over, still out of her line of vision.
She laughs into him. “How about you take me to dinner and a movie? We’ll call it even.”
My stomach drops. Perfect. I’m sure those words will haunt me well into my dreams.
“Deal.” He shuts the register and glances back at me with the slight look of remorse. Skyla takes off and heads toward Brielle.
“You okay?” He pretends to wipe down the chrome on the rail to take the heat out of the moment. “You can split if you want.”
“No, it’s fine,” I say. “I’ll finish my shift.”
Logan pans over the bowling alley until his eyes snag on a bunch of cheerleaders from West.
“Look, I need to talk to Michelle”—he presses out a depleted smile—“see if I can get the diary.”
Logan’s been after something he believes is buried in Chloe’s diary for months—the protective hedge he foolishly gave her.
“Not a problem. I’ll distract your ‘girlfriend’ for you.” I dig in a smile and take off in Skyla’s direction without waiting for a response.
I find her sitting alone while Brielle does her best to shove Drake’s face down the front of her barely-there shirt.
“You playing?” I plop down next to Skyla and tap the shoes in her hand.
She examines me for a moment. I can feel her looking at me. That’s no platonic glance she’s giving. Something is stirring in her, and it’s all for me.
“You always this bright?” She twists her lips and drives home the sarcasm. If I had control over myself when I’m around her, I would have never told her about our impending nuptials, but a part of me is glad I did. God knows we need to start somewhere.
“I’m off in ten.” I shrug, trying to sound casual. “If you want to make it even, I can hang out.” I point up at the game board and hope she’ll let me stay.
“Whatever.” She glances back Logan, who’s busy trying to juggle three tasks at once. It looks like the entire island is draining in through the front door.
Drake spells out Count Drakeula up on the main board, and I hold back a laugh. He adds Sexy Thang for Brielle, I assume—then Skyla’s name appears. I head over and plug my name in just beneath hers. I glance up at our names together in lights—Skyla and Gage. It takes a little restraint not to add ‘forever’ just below that. That’s how I feel, though. That’s exactly how long I plan on holding her in my heart. Instead, I land back beside her and give a shy smile.
“You think it’ll look like that on our wedding invitations?” She bites down on her lip as she puts on her shoes.
Nice. At least we’re on the same page, sort of.
I blink a quick smile, sliding down into the seat. I can see her underwear rising out of the back of her jeans like a whale’s tale. She’s got a G-string on, light blue like her eyes. I sink a little lower until I can feel the warmth emanating from her skin, and my dick springs to life.
Shit. I fold my arms, trying to hide the protruding evidence, and gnaw on the inside of my cheek as she turns to face me.
Skyla locks onto me with her gaze and doesn’t let go. An entire wellspring of desire pulsates between us, and I wonder if she feels it, too.
“You’re up.” I give her foot a playful tap. Maybe by the time she comes back, I can decompress. That, or I’ll have to pull off my shirt and wrap it around my waist.
She picks up a kiddie ball, the one Bree likes because she can make it fly. Skyla shoves her fingers in the undersized holes, and the ball shoots straight up, causing it to detonate over Logan’s brand-new polished floors like a cannon.
She crouches down in embarrassment. Skyla spins slowly on her heels and takes in the three of us, amazed at her gravity-defying feat. Good thing Logan has a watertight insurance policy, because with Doctor Destructo more than likely to frequent the place, he’s going to need it.
She glances over at Emily, Lexy, and Michelle, and her face darkens as she makes her way to the ball return. Skyla boldly picks up the ball again with a little less bravado than she had a few minutes ago.
Logan springs up beside her. Usually, he tries to give some verbal cues to customers who hold the potential to jack up his flooring, but something tells me Skyla is in for a physical demonstration. He offers her the blue mother-of-pearl ball, favored by most girls, and helps her back onto the lane. He leans over her, filling in her curves with his body, and everything in me goes rigid. He could give a rat’s ass that Skyla is the one I’m supposed to be with. Although, in this case, I suppose the argument can swing both ways. Looks like I’ll have to fight a whole hell of a lot harder to make sure those visions stay on track—not sure they wouldn’t regardless, but I’m not about to sit around and find out.
Skyla laughs and sails the ball down the lane with missile-like precision, landing half the pins flat on their backs. Logan gives her a quick high-five before taking off.
And there it is. A public display of affection I was unlucky enough to be privy to. I’m sure it’s just one incident of many I’ll be subject to, and my stomach ties up in knots at the idea.
Skyla bounces back to her seat with an uncalled-for exuberance, and I’m pretty sure it has nothing to do with the task at hand. She glances over her shoulder while Logan helps Michelle with a “technical difficulty.” Michelle knows her way around this place as well as I do. The only technical difficulty she’s having is landing him on top of her, preferably undressed.
I jump up and take my turn, pretending the ball has magically morphed into Logan’s head. I nail that ball down the lane so fast and hard it lands a strike faster than a blink.
Skyla makes a f
ace before glancing over at Logan again. His name lights up on Michelle’s screen just below Lexy’s.
“I thought he was working tonight,” she whispers as I land next to her.
“He’s the boss. Always doing what he likes.” I slink my arm over her seat touching her feather-soft hair in the process. I don’t bother reminding her that I’m still on the clock myself. Skyla seems to have a hard time keeping track of details when it comes to me.
Brielle lands another strike and lets out a hair-raising cry. Personally, I think she’s trying to give Drake a sample of what she’s capable of doing in bed—not that I would know, even though I was propositioned a time or two. But Bree’s like my sister, plus she’s not Skyla.
“Congratulations.” Skyla says it low as Bree waltzes by.
Brielle looks over at Logan and shakes her head. “Is that what’s bugging you?” She makes a face. “Logan has a way of getting around. Sorry. He’s just friendly that way.”
Skyla spins into me. “Is this true?” She’s so hurt she can hardly get the words out.
Looks like “Uncle Logan” is about to artfully hang himself with his prolifically friendly demeanor.
“I try not to affiliate myself with rumors.” The glee struggles to burst from my chest. “Judge for yourself.”
Skyla glances back.
Logan has his hand on Michelle’s bare arm, trying to read her mind to end the mystery of the missing pendant, but regardless, he looks like a dick. Logan is desperate for far more reasons than I’m willing to admit. It’s more than a big deal to get that pendant back. Looks like the price is going to be a little higher than he thought.
Logan glances up at Skyla, and his eyes widen with panic. He gives a nervous wink before reverting his attention back to Michelle. Loverboy is going to have a lot of explaining to do. I sink in my seat, trying to hide the look of satisfaction blooming on my face. Extra-curricular girlfriends and hopeless explanations are the last thing a girl wants in a budding relationship. Logan’s an ex-boyfriend in the making, and I’ll be right there ready to comfort Skyla once she kicks him to the curb.
Logan and Michelle share a laugh, and Skyla’s features dim to pitch.
The curb might be a little closer than I think.
9
Logan
Picking up Steam
Rain trembles from the sky in never-ending spurts of passion. The sky itself has come down and wrapped its limbs around the island, moaning and groaning, rolling its wet tongue over every orifice until the soil quakes with pleasure.
The bowling alley is pumping. Every thirteen-year-old on the planet has descended upon us today. A popular girl from the local middle school is celebrating her gateway into the hormonal years and has invited about six hundred of her closest braces-wielding friends. Not that I mind, especially since each friend came equipped with a pocket full of dough ready and willing to land in my cash register. Nope, don’t mind at all.
“What’s up?” Gage strides in eleven minutes late, but it’s raining hellfire out there, so I don’t call him on it.
“Just hanging out.” I frown at the bounce house this place has morphed into.
“Michelle dropped by earlier. I told her you were here, she show yet?”
I pan the area. “Nope. Probably saw the parking lot filled with angry soccer moms and decided to split.”
“I asked her how things were going, and she said you two were solid.” His dark brows lift as if they’re about to fly right off his forehead.
“She wishes.”
“So how are you going to do it? You know, get the diary without lighting Skyla’s insides on fire.”
“Watch your euphemism,” I warn. He knows damn well the only way to truly kill a Celestra is by fire.
“Who knows…” He leans against the counter and shrugs. “Maybe you will kill her—where it really counts.”
I glance up at him. He’s right, and he knows it. The truth is she’s got the same power to break my heart, more in fact, to kill me quite efficiently. It already hurts like hell knowing a part of her belongs to Gage. I shake the thought away. I’ll have to squash this thing between Gage and Skyla, quick like a reflex. I don’t want to do it—I just have to.
For now, I’d better change the subject.
“I think if I ever want to see that pendant again I’ll need a supervising spirit.” I nod. “Can they change things?”
“I don’t know. But my dad says to stay away from that shit. He said once you get wrapped up in stuff like that, it could cost you everything. Just deal with it. The pendant is gone. It’s not like you need it.”
“Skyla does.”
Gage ticks his head back as his face bleaches white. The reality just hit home. It could protect her better than either he or I ever could.
“I thought you were on some quest to get it back because you knew your grandmother would die all over again if you lost it.”
“I gave her my word.” I hold up a hand. “But I thought about it, and now I want it just for Skyla.” My phone gives a soft buzz. It’s a text from the girl who stole my heart.
Where are you? I’m doing time at B’s. She’s getting busy with monkey boy. ~S
I stare at my phone for a very long time. She’s at Brielle’s. I could make up some lame excuse—saddle Gage with a thousand hungry middle-graders and spend the afternoon with my dream girl.
“Is that Michelle?” he asks, taking the helm at the register as the line snakes all the way out the arcade.
“No, it’s Skyla. Do me a favor, and try not to tell her too much about things. I want to do it myself.”
Gage pauses a good long time before answering. “Done.”
I text her back.
Work. Want to come? I can use the help. Must be a great day to bowl. What is B doing with a monkey?
“Hey, Logan?” Gage asks, while his customer digs through her purse for change. “Do me a favor.”
“What’s that?” I ask, glancing over his features, and my stomach clenches. Of course Skyla is going to fall for him and those tubs digging into his cheeks. What girl wouldn’t?
“Don’t do anything with her.” He says it low like an apology.
He grips onto me with that ironclad stare. He wants my balls on lockdown until we figure this out.
“All right. For now.” My phone buzzes again.
Trust me, I’d much rather help u. It is the perfect day for bowling. And to answer your question, rutting. ~S
I let out a laugh and show Gage the phone before texting her back.
Rutting?! You have a way with words. You should write poetry.
Funny, because I just gave that same advice to Gage not too long ago concerning Skyla. My insides pinch at the thought of them writing poems to each other and having no one to blame but myself.
I’ll save my poems for you. I promise they will not include the word rutting. Ever. ~S
Gage leans in and balks at the text.
“Rutting?” He shakes his head. “I would like to do lots of things to that body—rutting isn’t one of them.”
Rutting is my new favorite word. BTW, Gage wants me to give you a message. He very much looks forward to rutting with you.
I flash the phone at Gage so he can revel in my literary artistry. Let the poet take note.
The phone buzzes again.
Tell Gage any time. I’m waiting and coincidentally very lonely at this very moment. ~S
“Ha!” Gage barks in my face. “Now that you mention it, I can totally see myself rutting with Skyla.”
I send a quick text trying to rectify my stupidity.
Never mind. I suddenly have a great disdain for the word rutting. You must never rut with Gage. Promise me this.
Jealousy burns through me—splits my heart a mile wide.
Will you rut with others? Turnabout is fair play. ~S
Hell fucking, No.
Promise. ~S
I replace the phone in my pocket and look up at Gage. It feels like I just stepp
ed out of the lion’s den.
Gage gives the hint of a wicked smile before getting back to the customer in front of him.
I may be out of the lion’s den, but the self-proclaimed king of the jungle just so happens to be standing right next to me.
I need to slay the beast that Gage has quickly become.
I just can’t figure out how.
Gage
In the middle of the week, on a haze-free day, practice drags on for hours before the cheerleaders ever step onto the field. The coach has us running circles around each other, literally, but for the last fifteen minutes, my attention has been clearly divided. Instead, I’ve been diligently watching Skyla, following her every move as she runs and jumps in her West cheer uniform like a beautiful flame. She goes for a high kick and her ankle turns, sending her spilling to the ground.
“She’s hurt.” I meant to shout it to Logan, but Coach hears and jogs over with us.
A small circle hovers over her by the time we get there, and Coach drops to his knees to inspect it. I don’t see any sign of Ms. Richards around, so I guess that leaves him in charge by default.
“How’d you do this?” Coach barks at her like she’s one of the guys. He sticks his fingers over her swollen ankle and digs in.
“Nice method of evaluation”—she bats him away—“if this were the middle ages.”
Coach’s eyes spring open, wide as baseballs, as he struggles to his feet. Nobody talks to the coach that way, except for Skyla apparently. I twitch a smile to Logan, who looks equally amazed.
“Ice it. Stay off it for a day or two. Nothing’s broken.” He claps his hands together in an effort to disperse the crowd.
Logan picks Skyla up and strides right past me.
“Where to?” he asks.
“I need ice.” Her voice shakes. She winces with every other step he takes. You can see the pain on her face, plain as the fog.
“I know just the place,” Logan says, glancing over at me. If he thinks he’s getting rid of me, he’s wrong. I’ve already settled into her life, taken up residency, and burrowed down roots. He may as well get used to the idea of me being in Skyla’s life in more ways than one.
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