Expel

by Addison Moore

  “I agree,” I take up his hand. “I’ll help you figure out who you are and what’s going on. I’ll carve some time out just for the two of us. You can come up to the butterfly room or something.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” He presses his lips to the back of my hand quickly working his way up my arm with a string of aggressive pecks.

  “Right,” I say, plucking myself free. “Let’s hurry and get those clothes Gage needs because I’m dying to bring him home.”

  “Yeah.” He relaxes his forearm over the top of his head completely disinterested. As of last night he hasn’t even seen Gage yet. “Go on, get out,” he instructs. “Have my dad take you. I gotta run a quick errand.”

  It’s pouring outside—an entire waterfall heaves itself from heaven. By the time I hit the front door, I’m more thoroughly saturated than I would have been if I jumped in the swimming pool.

  The door swings open and I expect to find Emma or Dr. Oliver, but I don’t—I find beautiful, glorious Gage.

  “You’re home,” I say, stunned.

  Gage glows. His smile shines, draws me in with those deep-welled dimples, makes me want to dive inside of one and never come out.

  I wrap my arms around him careful as if he were made from eggshells. I’m deathly afraid I’m going to crush him, send him back to the hospital by way of my intense affection for him.

  You can’t crush me. I’m more than fine.

  “You heard me.” I bite down on a smile. I haven’t given any blood to Gage since Wednesday, and I thought for sure the effect would have worn off by now. Not that I was miserly with my plasma, I offered—God, I begged him to drink me down like a platelet slurpee but he refused to suck me dry. He’s altruistic that way, and plus, he prefers me alive unlike Pierce Kragger, Holden’s evil twin, who would suck the marrow from my bones if I let him.

  “And, you’re soaking.” He pulls me in and gives a brief look of irritation over my shoulder. “What’s up with Logan?”

  “Said he had a quick errand to run.”

  “Skyla!” Emma comes in and offers me a hug. “I’ll get you a towel.”

  “I’ll lend her a pair of sweats,” Gage is quick to offer.

  “Thank you,” I mouth, still entranced by his ability to look so alarmingly healthy and normal which for Gage translates into unstoppably gorgeous.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” Dr. Oliver pats me on the back. “Gage insisted on surprising you. Where’s Logan?”

  “He said he had something to take care of,” I say.

  Dr. Oliver purses his lips. You can tell he wants to say something, but he’s holding back.

  “Gage,” he starts in stern, “you’re not to overexert yourself. Your teachers have supplied a small amount of homework, but other than that, I want you resting in bed until Monday. I’ve had you transferred back to West.” He gives a devilish grin.

  “You did?” I lunge at him with a hug. “Oh, Dr. Oliver, I love you! How in the world did you pull that one off?”

  “Chloe mentioned her parents petitioned the school and had her expulsion revoked,” He looks to Gage. “Soon as I heard that, I marched right down to principal Rice’s office and demanded they let you in as well. Considering you were nowhere near the incident when it occurred she agreed. No more weaponry at school,” he holds a stiff a finger in the air.

  Gage holds his hand up like a boy scout. “Never, I swear.”

  “And, for God’s sake, you mustn’t put yourself in a stressful situation. You had severe pneumonia for the last eleven days. Your lungs are still weak. It can exacerbate at any given time.” He turns to me fully. “Skyla,” he says, with a seed of disappointment, “I trust you to leave Gage out of any potentially stressful situations.” He presses his chin to his chest, awaiting an answer.

  “God, no. I would never do that. I mean I will, you know, leave him out.” I think everyone in the room knows full well stressful situations and I seem to go hand in hand. This is going to be a challenge of an apocalyptic order.

  Emma returns with a towel still holding the heat from the dryer and wraps it around my shoulder, warm as L.A. sunshine.

  Dr. Oliver’s phone goes off and he casually inspects it.

  “It’s Logan. He’s dropping his truck off at the shop—he’ll need a ride.” He looks up perplexed. “Second time this week.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Emma offers. “I have something at the cleaners that needs to be picked up.”

  “Let’s get you into some nice dry clothes,” Gage pulls me upstairs by the hand.

  It’s just going to be Gage and I, alone, for the first time in weeks.

  Chapter 13

  Put Your Hands on Me

  Gage Oliver’s bedroom is spacious as a ballroom—immaculate enough to perform surgery in. Two of my bedrooms could easily fit inside, if not three, and I could never be as organized as Gage.

  The lights flicker—a violent rattle tests the durability of the glass as the windows tremble.

  “Wild weather,” I say as he kicks the door shut gently with his heel. He pulls me in, fresh from the shower, his breath cool from toothpaste.

  “I don’t want to talk about the weather,” his eyes darken with lust, and he indulges in a kiss that stretches past eternity.

  “I missed you so bad,” I shake my head, before pressing in another round of searing kisses.

  “Let’s get these wet clothes off before you end up with pneumonia.” He lifts my sweater off and it falls to the floor with a heavy splat. My skin tingles as his hands glide up over my back in an effort to warm me.

  A hard thrash of branches whip against the glass—sounds like a beating is taking place, like some horrific creature with exceptionally long nails is trying to claw its way inside.

  “I like hearing your thoughts,” he gives a dull smile, his eyes still glazed over with passion as he unbuttons my jeans.

  “Then you need more of my blood.” I would gladly give Gage an infusion nightly if he wanted. Siphon off a pint and let him keep it in the fridge for reserves.

  “No,” he whispers, pulling down my zipper. “I’m happy just being with you. I would never take advantage of you like that. Like this maybe,” he rides the zipper up playfully, “but not like that.”

  “You wouldn’t be taking advantage of me,” I say, covering his hand and riding my zipper back down. “I want you to have it. It’s a gift.”

  “Nope, won’t take it.” He kisses the tip of my nose.

  “You could get yourself up,” I smile at the inflection, “to one hundred percent. Fortify yourself in everyway—and as much as you try to hide it, I noticed you had a limp.”

  “That’s because I have a slight fracture on my pelvis.” His dimples invert with the admission. “It’s nothing. Not bad enough for surgery.” He nods over to a crutch in the corner. “I just need to keep the pressure off or they threatened to re-break it.”

  “What? That’s barbaric!”

  “That’s how they fix it. Sometimes you need to break something to fix it, let it heal the right way.”

  I blink into him stupefied by the profound wisdom he’s just imparted. But, still, not loving the analogy. I don’t like the idea of anyone breaking Gage even if it is to fix him.

  “Sometimes I feel that way,” it comes out far more maudlin than I want it to. “Like Paragon is breaking me in order to heal me in all the right places.” I think of my father and wonder if healing is ever possible when death is involved. Even if I can go back and see him, it’s not quite the same.

  “Hope I’m not breaking you,” he gives a tender kiss to the base of my neck.

  “You could never break me. You’re rebuilding me from the inside out. You heal me in every way.”

  “And you quite literally healed me.” He holds my gaze intently as he says thank you with every parcel of his being.

  Gage peels off my jeans. I step out of them cold and wet as he runs his warm hands over my thighs.

  “Let me start the shower for you—
you’re freezing,” he heads into the bathroom and the pipes squeak. “Sweats are in the first drawer to your right if you want them.” He emerges, drips his gaze over me slow as molasses. His face flushes with heat, burns the apples of his cheeks as he gives the glimmer of a wicked smile.

  I pull open the drawer by the window and the branch of an evergreen gives a spastic wave as though it were trying to get my attention. I peer outside for signs of Nevermore, Ezrina, or anything sinister, but all I see is Logan’s letterman jacket, pooling with water in the dirt. Something tells me Logan won’t mind. He’s officially traded in his jock wear for cock wear. I’m not even bringing up the topic of Logan around Gage because that for sure is a stressful situation, not to mention the fact Logan hasn’t even seen Gage this past week. It’s clear they have very real issues even if Gage doesn’t seem to be aware of them. And the last thing I want to do is put a damper on the moment because of Logan’s inability to maintain his manners.

  “Shower’s ready,” Gage folds his arms across his chest and watches me walk across the room, scantily clad. I try to maneuver my way over seductively, instead my foot slips out to the side causing an unnatural and, might I add, unattractive gyration as I try to right myself. Gage lets out a little laugh before reeling me in like a fish.

  “I’ll never be sexy. I’m nothing but an accident prone goofball.”

  “You’re the hottest accident prone goofball I’ve ever met. And, I think you’re damn sexy without even trying.” He rips a molten kiss off my lips and walks me backwards into the bathroom. He hikes me up on the sink and wraps my legs on either side of his hips. We lose ourselves in a wild sea of kisses that inspire the lights to flicker like a seizure until they finally give under the strain and go out all together.

  Outside lightning sizzles its radical fluorescent blaze, thunder growls its complaints. It’s as if a war rages on the other side of these walls.

  “The faction war,” I pull back, forcing Gage to trail kisses down my neck. “When you and Logan were hit, I was shipped off to the ethereal plane,” I pant.

  “What?” He comes up for air, perplexed.

  “I had one of the discs Marshall gave me, and I forfeited the region to the Counts.”

  “Why?”

  “I needed to be with you. You were bleeding and Logan was dying. There was no way I was going to fight without you.”

  “Time would have froze,” he says it almost as an afterthought, then shakes his head. “I would have done the same.” His cheek slides up on the side. “It’s OK. We just need to be really careful with those other two discs. You have one with you?”

  “My jeans,” I motion back to his room.

  “Hop in the shower, I’ll hold onto it until you get out. I have a feeling we should never be without it again.”

  I lean in—indulge in one last explorative kiss as though I were a cartographer mapping out the landscape of his mouth for the very first time. If there’s one thing I never want to be without, it’s Gage.

  He pushes me in by the small of my back, rounds out his hands as low as the sink will allow. He picks me up and I anchor myself around him as he gives a gentle spin. It’s bliss like this kissing Gage like a carnival ride. I never want this moment to end.

  A loud clap of thunder detonates, rattling the windows, the house, every infrastructure on the island, and I leap off Gage in a panic.

  I may never have wanted that moment to end but it sure felt like Mother Nature did.

  More thunder, another fit of violent lightning.

  I tremble into Gage.

  I’m pretty certain it means something.

  I’m just not sure what.

  Chapter 14

  The Marriage Mirage

  In the morning, rain continues to pummel our world like a tidal wave of grief. I don’t remember it ever raining like this back in L.A. If it did it would be a newsworthy event with apocalyptic implications, but here on Paragon nobody bats a lash. A river could form in the middle of town, and the residents would simply take up pontoons.

  Downstairs, Tad whistles away like he’s on top of the world, scrolling over paperwork from Althorpe, the marketing firm he works for—volunteers at, whichever.

  “Look at you,” my mother beams. “Early bird gets the worm.” It’s weird to see the two of them happy for a change. I’m not sure I like her happy with Tad, but I suppose it beats waking up and finding her coffee klatching with Demetri, any day.

  “I have cheer,” I swing open the fridge and pull out the OJ.

  “Outside? In this weather?” Mom leaves her mouth open to punctuate her disbelief.

  “In the gym. Chloe’s a real drill sergeant about things like this. She’s serious about bringing the All State trophy back to West. Spring break is just around the corner.”

  “Oh no,” Tad shakes his head. “No more school outings where you have the potential to boot someone into kingdom come.”

  “But it’s going to be amazing! Archery swimming, horseback riding—” It’s a real tampon commercial.

  “No,” he flat lines.

  “Tad,” Mom swipes the smile she greeted me with just moments before completely off her face, “I thought we decided we weren’t going there just yet.”

  “What do you mean just yet?” Not that I want to revisit the fact I killed Kate, like ever, even if it was an accident.

  “Dr. Booth is coming next Tuesday,” Tad gets back to his musings. “He’ll detail it out for you then.”

  “Great.” I like Dr. Booth. He’s Levatio like Gage. I’d let him detail out just about anything for me. In fact, if he weren’t happily married, I’d totally love to see him detail out a relationship with my mother.

  The window behind Mom looks as if it’s melting from the early morning downpour. Mom reaches up, snatches the calendar off the wall, tosses it across the room at Tad like a Frisbee, grazing him in the temple.

  Geez. She’s pissed, and she’s not even hiding the fact. I don’t know whether to be amused or frightened at the sorry state of their relationship.

  “See anything familiar slated for the near future?” She snaps.

  Oh, I so know what this is about. Their first anniversary is coming up. I’ll never forget that day because I officially declared it I Hate Tad Landon day.

  “New moon tonight,” he says it banal as though he were merely reading off a grocery list, not at all like one Count informing another of the next big sacrificial shindig to brighten up their weekend. I wonder who the next altar meal will be? Sprinkles?

  “Not that,” she gives an audible huff of disappointment.

  “Valentine’s Day?” His chin tucks back an inch. “What, are we teenagers? I already said I was taking you out to that Italian restaurant Ethan bankrupt us at a few months back. I even got you one of those candy hearts with the frilly lace thing glued around the box.”

  Boy, I’ve met Fems that were more romantic just before they intended to rip my flesh off and eat it.

  “Well, I’ll be looking forward to that glued box o’ goodies,” Mom doesn’t bother hiding the fact she’s miffed. “I’ve gotta go get ready. I’m meeting Demetri for coffee. He wants my opinion on a box of antique jewels that belonged to his grandparents. Skyla, he wanted me to relay that you can start your community service whenever you feel emotionally ready. He’s very understanding of the fact things haven’t been easy for you lately.” She runs the cool of her hand over my cheek.

  Things would have been a whole lot easier on me if he hadn’t killed my father to begin with.

  “Great.” I dig into my reserve of fake enthusiasm. “I’ll start, like—” never. “Whenever I feel up to it.” Again—never.

  “Oh, and,” she turns with a finger in the air, “Mr. Dudley is putting together a community garage sale to benefit a new nonprofit organization he’s started called Army of Angels. All of the funds go straight into the Community Center. Isn’t that terrific?”

  “He’s an angel all right,” I can’t help but avert my ey
es.

  “You can be sarcastic all you want,” she starts, “but he showered us with concern while you were away. He went as far as saying he felt a fondness for you that he didn’t share with other students. He really likes you, Skyla.”

  “Oh, he does,” I affirm. He proves it every time he indulges in one of his lust-driven kisses.

  Mom exits the room to spiffy up for her rendezvous with Demetri I-killed-your-father Edinger. I speed over to Tad and flip the calendar over to the end of April and dart my finger on the death date of the Messenger family.

  “Your anniversary,” I refrain from punctuating the fact with the word, moron.

  “That’s the event coming up?” He swipes the calendar from me and flips backwards. “That’s three full months away.”

  “It’s two, and she probably wants a real vacation out of it, not some jaunt in the woods that requires an umbrella and a bear trap.” Crap. That’s really what it’s going to be like if he hauls us off to the backwoods of Paragon. And no TV or Wi-Fi? I’ll be lucky if the Fems come out to play. I’ll need them for basic entertainment.

  “Vacations are overrated,” he gurgles out his protest.

  “Some people think marriage is, too.” I didn’t want to go there, but he forced me.

  “And you think your mother is one of those people.” He gives a nod of disapproval.

  I shrug. “We’ll see how much attention she puts into her appearance for her meeting with Detective Edinger. Will she wear four-inch heels, and a hot little dress in the middle of a category five hurricane? Or downshift into who the hell cares what I look like mode because I’m happily married to the man I love wardrobe? Her accouterments will reveal it all.” God, I hope Tad is picking up on my verbal cues because I’m pretty sure this is the last time I’m going to do him a solid and give ample relationship advice where he and my mother are concerned.

  “Your mother loves me. She would marry me again in an instant.”

  “Prove it.”

  Chapter 15

  Affair in the Air