Perfect Love

by Addison Moore

  “You’re toying with it now whether you like it or not. I want to be with you.” She cries out with desperation while threading our fingers together.

  I want Logan in the worst way possible especially now that my mother is about to swing another sickle in his direction. I don’t know who to hate more, my mother or Chloe.

  “Hate no one.” I pull her in and hold back a smile. I know Skyla doesn’t care for it when I listen in. “You have all of my heart, all of me, and I will love you into the depths of eternity.”

  “No.” She shakes her head like a frightened little girl. “We’re going to get our happily ever after, just you wait and see.”

  There’s no way I can jump on that bandwagon. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to catch a ray of hope headed in that direction.

  “Shit.” She pushes me away and takes a step back. Skyla runs her angry gaze up and down my body as if I’ve finally done it—I’ve finally let her down. “Thanks a hell of a lot for giving up on us.”

  Skyla bolts out of the bowling alley with her cheer skirt kicking up in the back, and I savor the moment because it’s the last time I’ll see her running from me, and I know this to be true.

  As much as Skyla doesn’t want to admit it, she and Gage are going to live a great life together. I’m already as insignificant as a grain of sand, and she doesn’t know it.

  I turn on the sink and run my face under it so I won’t have to own the tears.

  But I weep like a pussy.

  Yes, I do.

  3

  Perfect Love

  The night wind whistles through a crack in the kitchen, and all I can think about is how cold it will be for Skyla at the senior rally tonight. I push the broom back and forth over the floor of the bowling alley, trying not to notice that the wood needs to be refinished.

  I’m pretty sure when my father died, he had no clue he was leaving me a legacy, and now I can’t help but wonder what’s going to happen to this place once I’m gone. Some legacy, I’ve got nobody. I suppose if Gage wanted to take over, I’d hand it to him without thinking twice—come to think of it, I’d hand him the keys to the fucking truck, every damn piece of electronic equipment I own, the clothes off my back, hell, why not. I’m already gifting him Skyla on a silver platter. Winner takes all, and the winner is Gage Oliver.

  I shake my head at the thought of my dark-haired nephew scoring the haul of a lifetime—not that he cares about anything I might bequeath him other than my girlfriend. She hasn’t been that in so long, but I’ve never had the heart to think of her as anything less. Not during all those torturous months she was with Gage, not lately while she isn’t with anyone in particular. She’ll always be mine. Gage, on the other hand, is far less of a nephew to me and far more of a brother. I wonder what he thinks of me. I wonder if he thinks of me as anything but an obstacle to his one and only obsession. Deep down I know that’s what he’s been these past two years—a barrier between Skyla and me. In my case it happens to be a reality, for him I’m nothing but a nightmare that the two of them might remember once I’m gone. I’d like to think it weren’t so, but I can only imagine the ghost of who I was will haunt them both, long into the future.

  Crap.

  I jab the broom into the gutter like I was doing any good. Wish I knew what the hell all those damn prophecies meant. I would have anteed up both my balls and bet on the fact I’d be the last man standing. It was going to be Skyla and me in the end, our beautiful child walking between us on that sandy beach just like in that vision. Our new home, our bowling alley, and we’d lay our heads to rest on our bed at night. But I guess fate had other plans. Fate can be a real bitch, and her name just so happens to be Candace Messenger. I still don’t get it, though. We had a deal—a deal with the devil.

  I was getting too close to glory. That should have been my first red flag because Logan Oliver always eats shit and dies in the end, or at least that’s the story fate has been trying to write. Fate burned my flesh in the last life, and it’s burning my heart and soul alive in this one.

  I lose.

  Gage wins.

  Simple math.

  And don’t get me fucking started on Dudley.

  A loud crash comes from the front as glass shoots through the bowling alley like sideways rain. Shit. That’s what I get for even thinking of my least favorite Sector.

  A beautiful blur moves in this direction.

  It’s not my least favorite anything, it’s a gorgeous blonde, the only one that could ever make my adrenaline skyrocket, and every part of my body stands up at attention—it’s Skyla Messenger.

  She skids over on her knees like she’s sliding into home, staring up at me as if she’s just seen the face of God, or at least that’s what my ego is feeding me.

  “You’re not going to beat the crap out of me again, are you?” A dejected smile thins out on my lips. Not that I wouldn’t take a beating from her, hell, I’d give her a whip and a bat and tell her to go to town if that’s all she were willing to give me. Love—hate, I’d take anything Skyla is willing to throw my way, so long as I can feel something from her.

  She shakes her head never taking her eyes off mine. Her tiny hand opens exposing something I never thought I’d see again in my life, at least not apart from Chloe Bishop—the protective hedge.

  Holy. Shit.

  “Skyla.” I fall to my knees and carefully extract it from her palm. This is it—The Eye of Refuge. I hold it up as the light pours through its sky blue eye, and swear to God it just winked at the two of us.

  It’s home. Thank God.

  I bring it to my lips and kiss it sweetly, soft, as if it were my grandmother’s cheek. I hope she’s looking down over us. I hope to God she sees we have it, that it’s Skyla who brought it back to where it belongs.

  “Take this, put it on, and never, ever remove it.” My fingers work with the dexterity of a magician as I place the pendant on the chain around her neck, right next to the mirrored heart I gifted her for her birthday. Here they are, the two tokens of my affection on the lovely neck of the girl I love. I pray when she looks at them she’ll always remember what we had. How my heart beat for only her. How my entire being was created for the sole purpose of loving her in this small window of time.

  “You asked me a question last summer, and I never gave you an answer.” She bats those thick lashes at me, and my insides cinch. I know exactly what I asked, and my heart stops for a moment. “My answer is yes, Logan.” That killer grin of hers takes over. “Yes, I want to marry you.”

  I blow back an inch. Sucker punch is the only way to describe it.

  This is a tragedy and nightmare all rolled into one. Looks like the universe decided to give the starving man a meal only to kill him off before he can take a solid bite.

  I pick up her hands and land my lips over them in turn. It takes everything I’ve got not to break down and cry. God knows I want to—that I’m already raining rivers on the inside.

  “That’s very sweet of you. I’m really flattered”—I give a lopsided smile—“but I can’t marry you, Skyla. You deserve better—for starters, someone who’s alive.” Words I never wanted to hear myself say. Sometimes life gives you a left hook, and you just have to roll with it, but something in my gut says hell no, fight the fuck back.

  “Logan.” She tugs at me as if this were all a game. “Please”—her eyes plead with anguish on a soulful level that words could never do—“I know everything. I met with my mother. I know, Logan.” She winces into me with grief. “I know exactly what you were afraid to tell me.” She glances down a moment. “I know why you’re hiding out in the bowling alley, avoiding the world and everyone in it. And I know why Gage chose this weekend to visit Host.” Her eyes moisten with tears. Her lips tremble because it’s too damn painful to get the words out. That’s all I’m good for now—pain of the highest order. “God, Logan, can’t you see this is killing me? Let me have you. Please, be mine. I’m begging you—Logan, be my husband.”

&nbs
p; Something in me loosens. The silver cord of pain is severed, and I let go of all the grief and accept the final ride for what it’s panning out to be—a good one.

  “You know I can’t deny you anything.” I run my fingers through her hair, soft as air. “You’ve got me. You’ve already got every damn part of me.” And there are no truer words.

  “Then say yes.” Her clear blue eyes press into me hard as flint. She’s shaking. Her open wanting has me aching for her in ways I didn’t think were possible—at least not with a sickle hanging over my head.

  I shake my head.

  If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right.

  “Stand up,” I give it like an order while holding back the smile tugging at my lips.

  Skyla carefully rises to her feet, never taking those sweet, clear eyes off mine.

  But I don’t bother getting up. Instead, I remain steadfast on my knees. I hold her hands as my lips expand in one never-ending grin and all of the agony, the defeat, the soul-blistering pain we’ve endured these last two years evaporates into smoke.

  “Skyla Laurel Messenger”—I bow into her hands and kiss them both in a simple act of worship—“will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” My Adam’s apple rises and falls as a touch of grief sweeps through me. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. I would have sworn on my life it should have been different, but I’ll take a mile from the inch fate is willing to gift me.

  “Yes!” Skyla jumps and screams before knocking us both to the floor. She lands on top of me, her chest still bubbling with laughter. Our hearts beat erratic over one another. If joy were a trampoline, our hearts were on it together at last.

  I wrap my arms around her tiny waist and bury my face in her curls before landing kiss after kiss over her beautiful lips.

  “I wish I had a ring.” The words vibrate through me long after I say them. A ring would only bring her pain once I’m gone. I shouldn’t have said it.

  “We have something better.” She plucks the protective hedge from her cleavage and dangles it between us. “Chloe gifted it to me. It’s officially ours.”

  “Yours, Skyla. It’s most definitely yours. I can die a happy man now.” I lean in until our foreheads touch and feel her warmth covering me from head to toe. “I can rest in peace.” And I mean that in every way.

  “Not yet.” Skyla lays over me until her body molds to mine, and I bury a groan in my chest because it feels so damn good. “You said I could have all of you,” she whispers, running her finger over my features. Her glowing eyes lock onto mine, and an invisible inferno ignites around us. “Give me every part of you, tonight.”

  Tonight.

  My eyes widen at the prospect. It would mean I could taste her, have her, fulfill my every desire—every damn fantasy that’s been spinning through my twisted mind for the past two years has the opportunity to come to fruition.

  What the hell.

  “Okay.” I hear myself say as a dull laugh rattles from my chest. “But only after I make you an honest woman.”

  “Yes! We can exchange vows.” She sinks a careful kiss over my lips, heated and ripe for more.

  “I was thinking something a little more official.” I may not be able to give her length of years, but I’ll be damned if I can’t gift her a wedding.

  “On a Friday night after eight? There’s not a soul who will marry us.”

  I sit up and pull her onto my lap.

  “If I remember right”—I breathe the words into her ear—“you once said you wanted to get married at the Falls of Virtue.” I’ll never forget our first trip to the falls. It was magic—it was destiny, but it was also the day I learned she’ll be marrying Gage at some point in the future. Everything about that day was bittersweet because it was the moment I knew I’d love her forever, no matter what the outcome would be, or how much it might hurt.

  “I did.” She tilts into me, her milk-white teeth grazing over her lip. “And you remember.”

  “Of course. I cherish every second we’ve ever spent together.” And replay them until I can’t take the pain, but I leave that part out.

  “Oh, Logan.” There’s a touch of grief in her eyes when she says it. “The Falls of Virtue.” Skyla’s face fills with wonder. “Should we take the Mustang?”

  The Mustang. That’s a sweet thought, and it’s just like Skyla to want to dip the moment in a memory that means so much to the two of us. I hope she loves that Mustang forever. Ten bucks says Gage trades it in for a minivan, first chance he gets. I brush the thought of Gage and his tribe of dark-haired children out of my mind.

  “I’ve got a supervising spirit that can get us there a little faster.” I turn around to find the bastard sitting on the counter. I’ve felt his stare like a lead weight for the last ten seconds. “Falls of Virtue, please.”

  I turn my full attention back to Skyla—back to my beautiful bride. Our lips crash over one another, and we detonate in a powder keg of kisses that unleash all of the pain and joy, the frustration and the ecstasy we’ve been harboring since the moment we were born. Instinctually we’ve been on this trajectory, two arrows traveling at the speed of light, we were just hitting our stride, arcing out into a thing of beauty. We were meant to be together, Skyla and me. I’ve known it all my life, and I know it more so in death—it’s the middle where things got tricky for us as they so often do.

  The bowling alley evaporates around us as we surge toward destiny.

  The Falls of Virtue wait for us—for the future Mr. and Mrs. Logan Oliver.

  The lake quivers below, illuminated with lines of dancing water as the moon lights up the night.

  Skyla and I materialize at the diving board, a granite rock that overlooks the small lake. We watch as the ferocious falls pour all of their affection into the water below. She’s still locked in my arms, safe, right where she belongs—right here with me.

  “We’re here!” She jumps up and peels a kiss off my lips. Her lids are hooded low, her full lips call to me to take a quick bite, so I do.

  Skyla is primed and ready, her body already stroking against mine with an invitation. Ours will be a honeymoon for the ages. I can feel it. I pray it lasts ten thousand years. I’d say fate owed me at least that much.

  “Indeed you are here,” Dudley booms from behind.

  Skyla turns and gasps in horror at the sight of him.

  In all honesty, I wish that was the reaction she had around him all the time. I wish she were repulsed by him, but I know it’s the furthest thing from the truth.

  A quivering breath escapes her. “I suppose you came for this.” She holds out the protective hedge as if she were making an offering.

  “That’s not why I’m here.” He strides over, glaring at me because he knows damn well what’s required of him. I try to hide the shit-eating grin that’s budding on my lips. I couldn’t think of a better way to stick it to Dudley, even if it’s nothing more than tongue in cheek at this point. We both know how things really play out. “You requested my presence?”

  “Are you…?” Skyla’s mouth falls open. She’s putting the pieces together faster than she can finish the thought. “Is he your supervising spirit?”

  I close my eyes for a moment. “We had an argument one day—”

  “It was brutal,” Dudley interjects, still needling me with those beady eyes of his. “Fists were exchanged. You’re quite lucky a mortal blow wasn’t dealt.”

  I nod into his dig because at the end of the day, a mortal blow wasn’t necessary.

  “Yes, well”—score one for Dudley—“I’m dead now, so it’s a moot point.” I cast my eyes right back where they belong, on Skyla. “Anyway, we realized we were fighting for the same team.” True story. “We both want you safe.” I don’t really mind Dudley all that much, but no need to fess up now. We’ll have plenty of time to hug it out later, on the flip side of life, and, unfortunately for me, that will be sooner than anticipated.

  “Once he committed to the Countenance on your behalf, I
knew there was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep you secure.” Dudley continues yapping as if anyone cared. “Although we haven’t always seen eye to eye,” he says that last part like a threat. “You’ve no idea how close I came to castrating him after that little stunt he pulled with the Justice Alliance.”

  “Here, Marshall.” Skyla takes off her necklace, desperate to get him to shut the fuck up. “I want you to be safe, right here on Paragon. I’m gifting it to you. It’s yours now.” The Eye of Refuge winks and glows, and my stomach wants to explode in a vat of acid in response to Skyla’s random act of kindness. The hedge is for her alone, and my heart sinks like granite just witnessing the exchange.

  Shit. This is not how it’s supposed to be. That necklace should never leave her hands.

  I shoot a look to Dudley that says I’ll knife off your balls if you accept that.

  The moon darkens to soot. A purple haze sweeps through the vicinity subtle as a tornado. A bolt of lightning touches down just shy of Dudley, and I blink a wry smile because, for a second, I thought I was getting an early wedding gift from God, himself—one deep-fried Sector. But I’m not that lucky, never have been, never will be. Instead, the pillar of light bursts to life by way of long, flowing hair that rivals Skyla’s with its beauty, glowing skin, eyes like a tiger, or demon, take your pick—it’s Skyla’s mother—Candace Messenger, herself.

  “What’s this I hear about a wedding?” Candace growls it out like a threat while her citrus-sweet scent strangles our senses.

  Skyla softens in my arms, relaxed and happy to see her.

  “For you.” Marshall is quick to kiss Candace’s ass by gifting her the hedge, and I breathe a sigh of relief because I know for a fact her mother wants Skyla to have it as much as I do.

  “Very well.” She takes it from him and examines it in the anemic moonlight. It doesn’t wink or blink or do any of its pony tricks for her. It just lies there, playing dead, and I’m half-afraid she’ll discount its worth—forget about putting it back where it truly belongs, around Skyla’s neck. “I see you’re marrying Logan.” She smiles lovingly at her daughter, and this warms me as if she had verbalized her approval of me. I guess in the end I want it. I want it more than anything because she’s the reason I’m here to begin with.