Perfect Love

by Addison Moore

  “You’re making one fucking huge mistake.” Gage speeds over with his leg buckling each time he takes a step. “Think about it.” He tries to pull me in by the elbow, but I yank loose. “Dude.” He’s begging me with those deep, knowing eyes. He’s begging me one last time to do it.

  I pull him in hard by the shirt.

  “This is my business. You got that?” I grit it out just this side of killing him and sending him to paradise first. “You fucking mind your own.” I walk him back a step before giving him a hard shove into the water and watch as he sinks to the bottom of the pool. “Skyla.” I wince as I say her name because it might just have sailed through my lips for the very last time. “Stay here. Take care of him.”

  “Where are you going?” A viral fear takes over her features as if she already knows on some level.

  I glance back at the house with its upturned furniture, the drapes pulled down, the couch looks as if it’s capsizing right into the living room floor. Emma is going to shit a brick when she sees what we’ve done to the place. There’s no way I’m hanging out.

  “I’ve got a few things I need to do,” I whisper into Skyla, just shy of touching my hand to her cheek.

  Gage bobs up and down in the water while panting into the night.

  “Take care.” I step in and land my lips over hers. I can hardly feel her. It’s as if this entire world has already started to unravel, and I’m experiencing it like a memory. I look into her beautiful, glowing eyes as they reflect the stars. “Remember I’ll always love you, no matter what happens.” I touch my thumb to her cheek and take in her beauty one last time. A grievous smile plays on my lips, and I hate it. I hate that I can even think to smile when I know this might be the last time we lay eyes on one another.

  I take off for the house and snatch my keys off the counter before jumping into the truck. I start the engine and roll down the windows to let the fog seep inside.

  “What the hell happened?” Skyla’s voice carries from the backyard just as clear as if she had whispered the words into my ear.

  “Water’s warm,” Gage says a little more cheerful than I would have pegged him for after what just happened.

  A dull laugh rattles from me. He’s already there, back to flirting, back to begging Skyla to choose him. Maybe that’s the validation he needs—for her to be officially Team Gage before I make my final exit.

  “It can’t be,” she counters. “It’s freezing out.”

  “I left the heater on. It’s like a Roman bathtub,” he shouts to her. “All right, you can help me out.”

  A moment of silence beats by then a splash ensues.

  Well played, Gage. You’ve got Skyla right where you want her.

  “You are so in trouble,” she screams.

  The sound of water being sloshed disrupts the night.

  “Oh yeah?” His voice echoes over the landscape. “Come here.” The air clots up with silence. “Breathe, Skyla.”

  It’s quiet for far too long, and I’d bet good money he’s covered her mouth with his.

  Fuck.

  I stare out the windshield, in a daze, for a small eternity.

  Maybe I should tell her. Maybe I should drown Gage in the process just for the hell of it.

  “I need you to breathe, Skyla.” His voice tunnels up into the sky like a love song.

  “I need you, too,” she says it far more guarded, quiet in comparison to his romantic proclamation. “What was the fight about?”

  “That’s Logan’s deal,” he says it soft, and in that moment I know he’s not going to betray me. “It’s senior day tomorrow.”

  “The last day before winter break.” She goes along with the change of subject as if she weren’t even that interested in what I might be keeping from her. “Tell me you’re coming to class. I’d hate for it to be just Marshall and me.”

  “I’m not,” he whispers. “In fact, I’m heading to Host tomorrow afternoon. I’ll be back in a few days. It’s a football thing—coach wants to see me in action.”

  Host? I know for a fact this is bullshit. If he’s going to Host, it’s because he can’t stand the thought of not telling her. He needs some metric distance to make sure it doesn’t happen.

  “I want to go.” She sounds panicked.

  Maybe she will go. At least that way when they hear of my passing, they’ll be together, and Gage will have to comfort her whether he wants to or not. I don’t have any doubt he wants to—it’s just that he wishes I would make things easier by filling her in on the tragedy in the making. Although, I’m not sure it would make anything easier in the end.

  “You’ll be busy.” Gage says it morose, dripping with grief. “Do what you have to do, Skyla. It’s okay. I already know what happens.” A beat of silence slices by. “I love you. I’ll love you always and forever. Nothing changes between us. You’ll always be special to me.”

  Tears glide down my face. If I can’t hold Skyla every day until I’m old and grey, I want Gage to do it. I felt his love for her every time he kneed me in the gut. Gage and I were warring for a lot of reasons back there, and every single one of those reasons lead right to Skyla Messenger. Gage is going to love her. He’s going to be her husband. He’s going to make love to her night after night, and a part of me is cheering him on. Fate may not have dealt me a fair hand, but no matter how much it wrenches my gut, it doesn’t mean I’m not happy for Gage.

  “Are things going to change?” Skyla’s voice swims like a fish through the night.

  “Everything changes.”

  Everything changes. Gage pegged it just right.

  I back out of the driveway and head for the hills, to the bowling alley to be exact. My life has become a storm. I’m the curator of all this pain. All of the damage will be of my own making. When and if I do reach heaven, I know for a fact there will be no peace. Not without Skyla. There could never be.

  Gage and Skyla are going to have it all. It’s just one more tough pill I have to swallow before I leave this planet for good.

  I’m glad it’s Gage—my friend—my brother.

  I love both him and Skyla.

  And I wish them nothing but the best.

  2

  The Death of Me

  The next day, as the sun sets, the anemic number of patrons turn in their shoes and head for the exit. It’s an hour to closing, and there’s not a soul left in the bowling alley. I’m pretty sure my soul doesn’t count, since it’s all but officially been claimed by the reaper. I’m just this side of a ghost—haunting my own establishment.

  The sound of footsteps making their way over eats up the silence, and I turn to find Dudley’s ugly mug headed in this direction.

  “Go away.” I pull out the cleanser and start disinfecting the shit out of the shoes lined up on the counter. I usually hold my breath to avoid the vapors, but I don’t bother. Instead, I inhale vats full of the toxic crap because there just isn’t enough time for me to incubate some good, old-fashioned lung cancer.

  “Senior rally is in just a few hours.” He spits it out as if he were my keeper.

  “Have fun. I hear if you sit near the front, you can get a nice glimpse up the cheerleaders’ skirts. Rumor has it, Chloe has been known to forget her kick-pants. I bet she’ll have on a thong just for you.”

  His cheek slides up one side. His chest thumps with the idea of a laugh. “You, of all people, know that’s not the cheerleader I’m interested in.”

  I stop short of assaulting him and stare at him up and down. Dudley is tall as a door, eerily resembles myself, and I’d have a jealous streak a mile wide if I thought for one minute Skyla would actually leave me for this clown. Then again, he gets to hang out on the planet, just like Gage, long after I’m gone. Looks like the clown gets the last laugh after all.

  “Why do you look so much like me?” I pull up a rag and begin wiping down the counter as if it were the most important task in the world.

  “I believe the more accurate question is why do you look so much like me?”
His brows peak, and, for a moment, I want to shake the answer out of him, but it’s useless, he won’t give it, and I’m tired of throwing punches.

  “You’re lucky because if I were in a better mood, I’d kick your Sector ass.” I buff the granite counter until I can make out my reflection. I had the old chipped stuff replaced back when I had that kitchen fire. It was when the Counts were still trying to burn Skyla alive, and now that very thought sends chills up my spine because I won’t be around anymore to protect her.

  “Why so morose?” He leans in, landing his elbows on the granite. “Having a bad hair day?”

  I glance up at him, perturbed. Dudley has a way of getting under my skin like nobody’s business.

  “Death makes me moody,” I grunt. There are no truer words.

  “Get over yourself”—he growls it out just this side of a threat—“and get to that senior rally. I want both you and Ms. Messenger where I can see you tonight. Something is amiss. That cow in the sky has notified me to keep on alert—says my services will be needed later.” He looks around as if he were suspicious of the bowling alley all of a sudden.

  That cow in the sky happens to be Skyla’s mother.

  My heart jumps around in my chest like a caged monkey because a part of me wonders if I’m the reason his services will be needed.

  “I have three more days.” I get back to scrubbing that countertop until it gleams like a son of a bitch.

  “Three days can be an eternity if you spend them the right way.”

  I look up and hold his gaze heavy as stone. He knows something. He’s yanking my chain, trying to get me to bite.

  “I plan on doing them right.” I toss the rag over my shoulder and walk over to him. “I’ve got a cot in the back—enough pizza to clog every artery in my body—oh, wait”—a dull smile rides on my lips—“there’s not enough time to give a damn.”

  “Self-pity gets you nowhere.” Dudley bears his tired eyes into mine. “Have you told her?”

  “No,” I bark it out because I’m not in the mood to relive last night’s argument. Gage has been rattling around in my head all day long. I buried my phone in the office so I wouldn’t have to look at it in the event he’s been bombarding me with a shitload of messages. And for that matter, I’m artfully avoiding Skyla as well. As much as I don’t want to hurt her, I don’t think I can fake happy around her either.

  “Very well.” He pulls on a pair of leather driving gloves.

  “That’s it—very well?” I’m not sure if I’m pleasantly surprised or pissed, both perhaps.

  “How you choose to spend your final hours is your bidding. No doubt she’ll be upset either way, not much you can do to alleviate that pain.” He pauses to reflect while staring at the kitchen. “Of course, a long goodbye might be mildly satisfying to someone like Skyla. Women seem to enjoy clinging to the ones they love, and she certainly feels that way about you.” He cuts his serious-as-shit gaze to mine. “What are you waiting for?”

  “Proof.” There, I said it. “I don’t believe for a minute this is the end of our story. Skyla was meant to be with me, not you, not Gage.” I believe it, but it’s like fighting an uphill battle over iced terrain with a million pounds of dynamite strapped to my back. “I feel hopeless.” I didn’t mean for that last part to slip out.

  “You’re far from hopeless.” His features soften. “Eternity waits for you. Once you enter paradise—”

  “Don’t you get it?” I shout, whipping my towel across his chest. “It will never feel like paradise until Skyla is right there by my side. And the fact that I’m looking forward to the day she dies like some love-sick teenager makes me feel like shit!” My voice echoes off the walls. It makes the pins rumble until the entire bowling alley thunders.

  He winces at me before straightening like he’s got some pole stuck up his ass. “It’s not death that’s the curse, it’s the separation.” My heart goes numb just hearing those words because, holy hell, Dudley is right. “Death has already been defeated, Logan. You’ve nothing to fear. You’re simply walking into another room. Skyla will catch up to you before you know it, and then you can party like it’s 1999—propose to one another over the lake, again and again, or whatever it is you do to express your exuberance.” He heads to the exit, then pauses and twists back into me. “I’m sorry you’re in such pain.” His eyes moisten, and I know he means it. “This too shall pass.”

  And with that he disappears in a plume of fog.

  This too shall pass.

  It sounds like the battle cry of a dying man.

  It is.

  The bowling alley is officially closed, and I take to the task of scrubbing the shit out of the pizza pans. I know full well they’ve been seasoned with the oil we spray them down with until they look like copper, but I’m determined to return them to their stainless state. Sort of the way I wish someone, anyone in the universe, would take me aside and scrub me to my living state when I actually roamed this earth as a card-carrying member.

  “Who do I have to sleep with to get some service around here?” A light voice bleats from behind, and I freeze.

  “Skyla,” I mouth her name, and it feels like heaven. I turn into her before picking up a dishtowel and wiping myself dry.

  “You shouldn’t say stuff like that.” It comes out sadder than hell as I let my eyes sweep across her beauty. She’s fresh-scrubbed with her hair swept back in a ponytail, and she’s wearing her cheer uniform from West. I’ve always liked her this way best. There’s something about that hot schoolgirl look that only Skyla can pull off, and she looks sexier than hell in the process.

  “Relax, I’m teasing,” she says it slow and measured, a hint of irritation layered just beneath her words. “You know”—she steps in and cinches me close by the belt loops—“it hurts to think you wouldn’t want me like that.”

  My eyes ride over her features, her perfect straight nose, her full lips, those cheeks that arch to heaven, and I want to weep.

  Her warm breath touches over my mouth, and it’s only then I notice she’s on her tiptoes, gunning for a kiss.

  “That’s not what I said.” A painful smile tugs at my lips.

  “So, what were you and Gage fighting about last night? He said it was up to you to tell me.” She’s trying to keep cool, but her eyes glower into me as if she’d like to be the first to rip me a new one. “I’m getting kind of tired of you keeping things from me.” She latches those silver eyes over mine and doesn’t let go. Skyla knows I’m keeping something from her. Gage confirmed it, and now I’m forced to stare down the barrel of truth.

  “I never kept anything from you to hurt you.” My voice cracks just this side of tears. I take in a lungful of air and try to pull it together. “I think you should get back together with Gage.” I hold her gaze a moment, and she doesn’t flinch. “You guys are probably a better fit.” I pick up a stack of dripping wet pizza pans and start filing them in the storage compartment under the sink.

  Silence clots up the air, and, in my experience, that’s never a good sign.

  I didn’t want to hurt her. I didn’t want her to be angry at me, or hate me, and now I’ve effectively done all three.

  “I think we’re a pretty good fit.” Her voice shakes when she says it.

  I look up to find the look of hurt ripe on her face. Her eyes throw poison arrows at me, and she’s all but ready to grab a butcher knife. I can tell.

  Fuck.

  I give a brief smile before getting to the task of wiping down the counters.

  “Would you stop?” Skyla pulls me in by the wrist and forces me to look into her eyes, desperate and pleading.

  I drop the dishtowel and hold up my hands.

  I give.

  I let Gage beat the crap out of me last night. I don’t see why I shouldn’t let Skyla have the same opportunity. Maybe that’s how I’ll spend the next three days—letting those I love kick the shit out of me.

  She swallows hard as tears swell in her eyes.

  “W
hat’s this ‘be with Gage’ bullshit? What if I want to be with Logan?” she shouts it out like a verbal assault.

  “Skyla.” My face pinches with grief watching her heart bleed out over the two of us all because I was arrogant enough to have carved my name across it. I should have never pursued her. As soon as she told me that Gage had a vision of the two of them getting married, I should have backed the hell off. “I don’t think you can ever be with me.” There, I said it.

  “But what about the visions?” Her forehead wrinkles. Her lips tremble.

  I know she’s talking about our visions—the ones that are proving to be useless.

  “I don’t know what they meant.” I match her tone as I swallow back tears. “I could have been in a Treble or visiting from paradise. All I know is that I’m not the one for you.” Skyla shakes her head as if she won’t accept it. “He is.” It thunders from me, sterner than necessary.

  “That’s not true,” she spills the words easy as oil.

  “A Treble can’t last forever.” I close my eyes. How did we ever get here? “I talked to your mother last week.” And there it is. Now she can surmise where this conversation is headed, and we can call a truce. Skyla knows damn well her mother is synonymous with bad news.

  Her face bleaches out. She looks like she might be sick, and now I wish Gage were here to comfort her. God knows I can only bring more misery.

  “Is this what you and Gage fought about?” She shakes her head because she already knows the answer. “What did she say?”

  I pull her in and ride my hands over her back, the look of grief rife on my face. There’s no escaping my death now. Before, with Skyla in the dark, it was as if we could both leave it on a good note, and now here we are, stuck in the pit, in the mire, unable to move from all of the trauma I’ve somehow inflicted.

  “Skyla, you’re just wasting your time with me.” The words break through that painful knot sitting in my throat like they needed to. I meant every single one. “I’ll be the last person to toy with your heart.” I swear it.