Expel

by Addison Moore

  The fact that all Chloe Bishop ever wanted was to be worshiped doesn’t surprise me, but I doubt Ethan is the congregation she’s looking for. A greedy deity like her wants love from a pure and holy being, one that would qualify as a god himself and that just so happens to be my boyfriend.

  I nod into her.

  “I begged Ethan’s forgiveness,” she continues. “He’s going to help us with the faction war. He’s as pissed as I am.”

  “Whose side are you on?” I know damn well, where her allegiance lies.

  She reaches over, picks up my hand and closes her eyes a moment.

  I’m with the Sectors. There’s a hard glint in her eyes. We’re going to get those bastards who are screwing with our lives for sport. I always defeat my enemies, Skyla. Nobody has the last laugh at my expense. God pity the poor souls who try and mess with me. They will never see me coming. She wraps her arms around me tight. Truce?

  I gaze down at her an undetermined length of time unable to appraise the situation for what it really might be. I’m not sure what I have to lose. I still have Gage.

  Truce, I say.

  I’m hugging Chloe Bishop, and I’ve just agreed to a truce.

  Clearly, I’ve meandered into an alternate universe.

  Chapter 31

  Full Disclosure

  Gage and I drive over to Chloe’s house after pulling a shift at the bowling alley together. I love working with Gage—stealing a kiss in the office, the crazy noise infused kisses in the dark arcade, the cool lingering of his lips in the walk-in freezer.

  “Are you sure this is how you want to spend Saturday night?” He kills the engine, observing Chloe’s house through slotted lids as if it were a looming threat.

  Rain beats upon the windshield like a thousand tiny hands imploring me to reconsider.

  “I’m sure,” I whisper. “Besides, Ethan begged me to come so did Brielle. Ethan’s got something up his sleeve. He’s not as quick to forgive as Chloe believes.”

  “And why are you?” Gage smoothes his thumb over my hand, lowers his head until his brows sit low on his forehead like two ebony birds.

  “I’m not,” I sigh. “I just,” I shrug. “I think deep down inside I want to believe her. Everyone’s redeemable right? We all make mistakes, huge, horrible mistakes and in the end when we wake up to what we’ve done—most of us are sorry.”

  “Chloe doesn’t have a heart, Skyla,” he presses into me with a kiss. “And the fact yours is too big is the reason I love you most.”

  Gage and I consume ourselves in a sea of endless kisses. Time stretches out, loses its grip on us, ushers us into something eternal that we were designed for right from the beginning.

  “I love you so much,” I whisper soft in his ear. “I don’t think I could breathe without you.”

  ***

  Inside, the Bishop home holds the scent of fresh baked cookies. The dim lighting and consistent spasm of cackles give the night that Ellis-esque feel.

  It feels quasi-safe with Brielle and Drake here. Emily, Lexy, Michelle and faux Logan add a certain air of comfort to the environment. The roll call of bitchiness is complete with Nat as the honorary member, and Pierce, who has become as his namesake suggests, the constant thorn in my side.

  Michelle is joined at the hip with Logan which weirds me out because despite being Holden, in nature, he’s still staunchly locked in Logan’s congenial framework. I know deep inside that in no way what Holden does with Michelle reflects on Logan, but I can’t help but feel a stab of jealousy at the same time. It looks like Chloe was right. Holden is a lust slave to Michelle. He follows her around like a Golden Retriever, happy to fetch her every need.

  Pierce glares at me from across the room.

  I’ve been carrying that stupid cease and desist letter around in my purse to circumvent it from accidently landing in Mom and Tad’s hands. Of course Pierce doesn’t want to go to juvy over the stupid shit I accidentally did while hopped up on Michelle’s rose of terror, but then, really, neither do I.

  Holden pats him on the back as he makes his way into the kitchen. I’m sure Pierce has been apprised of the fact his brother incarnate is in the vicinity.

  I think the entire Kragger clan owes me big time, and I don’t mean by way of threatening legal action at every turn. Pierce should cease and desist his presence from my life as a thank you even if Holden’s state of being is temporal.

  I pull Gage deeper into the family room, wrap my arms around his waist and swoon into him dreamily. We’re here together at Chloe Bishop’s house of all places. It all worked out on its own. I didn’t have to sleep with Marshall to get Chloe off our backs.

  Of course, we could have done without the Mustang turning his insides to pulp and killing Logan. I’m still convinced Chloe was behind the scene of that crime. Speaking of which, I haven’t heard Gage cough all night. I bet he’s plenty recuperated for me to fill him in on the bizarre turn of events regarding his dearly departed uncle slash cousin. I hate keeping secrets from Gage.

  “Guess what?” I whisper into his ear.

  He moans into me while massaging my back. It feels so good I can melt into a puddle right here at his feet.

  “I want to talk to you later about something super important,” I breathe it hot in his ear.

  “Does this super important topic require a hotel and protection?” A devilish smile plays on his lips.

  “No, but we could talk about that, too.” I tweak my brows.

  I press a heated kiss into Gage right here in Chloe Bishop’s living room and miracle of all miracles I don’t end up with a knife in my back.

  “All right,” Ethan begins corralling everyone into the family room. “Let’s get this movie going before it gets too late.”

  God—he even sounds like Tad.

  “Brace yourselves girls,” Chloe warns as she makes her way over to the entertainment unit. “It’s three glorious hours of battleships and tanks—Ethan’s pick. He won the wrestling match.” An image of the two of them going at it bounces through my mind. “Next time, I assure you,” she continues, “the cover will be pink, and there will be hot shirtless man-candy to drool over for two hours straight.”

  “I’ll give you some man-candy to drool over,” Ethan bumps her with his hip.

  Ethan and Chloe really do look and act like a couple. They shared a soda at dinner, and she ate his pizza crust. Now they’re nauseating us with an awkward display of questionable kissing.

  “I think he’s chewing on her,” Gage whispers.

  “He is. But in his defense, one doesn’t get a whole lot of practice kissing when they’re dead.”

  “Let’s do this,” Pierce barks, wrapping an arm around Nat.

  I feel Kate’s absence most when Nat’s around. It infuriates me that Marshall used me to do his dirty work. Chloe is right. We’re nothing more than pawns on some giant celestial chessboard.

  Gage and I sit on the loveseat, squeezing in next to Brielle and Drake while Chloe dims the lights.

  The television in Chloe’s family room eats up an entire wall.

  I have to say I’m impressed with this rather odd gathering. It’s sort of a nice break from Ellis’ rambunctious affair with nary a red Solo cup in sight, which most likely implies there won’t be any puking later with the exception of maybe Brielle.

  The TV blinks, and my smiling face pops up on the screen. A sappy country song aggregates through the speakers and offensively begins twanging in our ears.

  “What the—” Before I can get the words out, Marshall ignites the screen with his lips secured over mine.

  Chloe glares in my direction. “This one’s for you, Gage.”

  An entire montage of me kissing Marshall—kissing Logan enfolds. Even Ellis is thrown into the mix with his pants down, me kneeling before him. Never mind the fact he was putting out the fire on my hand, it looks entirely lewd from the angle the video was taken.

  I’m frozen.

  A stale breath is caught in my lungs that I
may never let go. Gage sinks limp into the seat beside me. I’m too afraid to look at him, to look at anyone.

  It goes on for an eternity.

  Marshall and me, rolling around on the bed at the Pine Pole Lodge—me in my corset, his hands caressing my bare waist. Logan loving me at the bowling alley, the house, the school—everywhere a lip-lock. The lust written over the two of us could combust the room into flames.

  The music comes to a roaring crescendo, the Mustang gyrates overlooking Devil’s Peak.

  Time feels as though it’s picking up speed. My stomach does a hot revolution because I know what’s coming.

  The camera pans in a tight clear shot of Logan writhing over me, the haunted dress Marshall gave me for the winter formal, bunched in a mess around my hips. The passion on my face is undeniable. My lust for Logan burns a hole through the air, electrifies the atmosphere until the universe sizzles from our searing affection.

  A stone sinks in my chest, obliterates my heart to nothing.

  It’s over between Gage and me. What I’ve done is unforgivable.

  I glance over at Chloe in disbelief. My sins recanted for everyone to see. This was her plan, her pleasure.

  She hid the blade in her tongue—in her deceit to lure me over.

  I was the enemy, the feast, the sport—the entertainment.

  And I never saw it coming.

  Chapter 32

  The Heart of the Matter

  A stony silence fills the room. The image of Logan covering my body with his, burns bright for everyone to see. The color on the screen melts to the hue of coffee grounds before a loud pop explodes, and smoke rises from the back of the unit.

  Logan.

  He’s a little late, not to mention culpable for all this misery just as much as Chloe. Of course, I’m the biggest perpetrator of all. Chloe may have built the gallows, but it was me who provided the rope with which to hang myself. All of my most personal misgivings splayed naked for Gage to see.

  My heart tries to pummel its way out of my chest—my flesh completely numb as if it no longer wanted the job of covering such a whore of a carcass. A Mack truck could run me over and I wouldn’t feel a thing—hell, I might welcome it. I’d run in its path if given the opportunity.

  A horrible sting radiates through me, the laceration to my heart, too much to bear.

  Gage gets up, walks calmly out of the room as if he were going to the kitchen, the bathroom. He hits the front porch so fast I can’t keep up with him.

  “Gage!” I scream through the roaring downpour as I tap down the stairs.

  He turns to face me, all of the color has bleached from his skin. His eyes are wide from the aftereffects of witnessing my indiscretions, witnessing the manner in which I had been grinding our love down to powder all along.

  Chloe set up a minefield and walked our love right into it, but they were my sins. I should have fought Marshall—held Logan at arm’s length.

  “It’s not what it looks like,” it comes out inaudible, unbelievable.

  Rain falls like acid, dissolves the meaning out of any sorry word I could ever hope to utter. Even if those kisses from Marshall meant nothing, why wasn’t I reporting the offense? And Logan? How do I classify those kisses? As undesirable? Unwanted?

  “I swear to you—I didn’t initiate any of that.” It pulses from me as a desperate cry.

  “You didn’t stop it.” The words spike into me like rusted hooks.

  “Can we go somewhere? I—”

  “No,” it speeds out of him without reservation, filled with an underlying rage.

  My fingers drift to the ring he gave me, the one engraved with our special brand of forever love.

  “I don’t deserve this,” I say, twirling it without the fortitude to take it off.

  He spears me with his injured eyes, bears into me with a palpable heartbreak that shatters the infrastructure of everything we stood on.

  “Keep it.” His gaze lingers, heavy-laden with grief. The world wobbles around us as we succumb to this unimaginable pain.

  Gage makes his way over to his truck, takes off so quick a wall of water ten feet high showers the road in his wake.

  “Gage,” I fall to my knees. It’s hard to tell where the rain ends and the tears begin. My chest heaves in spasms—loud guttural cries escape from my throat. I cry—hard, bitter tears that I haven’t shed in such abundance since I was a child—since the time of my father. This was a new brand of heartache, the penalty for my sins too high a price that I could ever hope to rectify.

  I lie down in the middle of the street, let the rain consume me, cut into my flesh with its punishing bites as I try to dissolve from the planet, become my own universe. I am nothing—a detestable Sodom, begging for the fire. I could only pray to burn to launder myself for Gage. Not even an inferno could purify what I had become—filth and dross. The rain could never cleanse the pain, the shame. I lost any chance of happiness I could have ever hoped to have and sold it for a few stolen kisses, visions that I never needed, never welcomed.

  I broke both our hearts, forever.

  ***

  With the strength of a lioness, Brielle peels me off Paragon’s pavement and rolls me into her Jeep. She fills me in on the cackling that went on once I chased after Gage, lets me know they replayed it a good three times on Chloe’s laptop for all to see, again and again.

  “How the hell did she get all that? She’s a fucking witch, that’s how.” Brielle shakes with anger. You would think it was her heart that was perforated with bullets. “I’m so damn sick of Chloe cock-blocking you. This is just another ploy to get Gage. It won’t work.” The jeep picks up speed. “Chloe is the human equivalent of a Dingo, only instead of stealing your baby, she’s trying to steal your soul.”

  Something tells me she would steal my baby if she had the chance.

  Brielle is panting with hatred for Chloe. Drake stayed behind. He chose to stay with Emily. Perhaps that’s the true offense here, the reason for her white-knuckle grip over the wheel, her death glare into the blank open road.

  “Do you hate me?” I ask. It comes out childlike.

  I hate me. I don’t know why Brielle’s answer should reflect anything different.

  “What?” We swerve into oncoming traffic momentarily. “No. Why would I hate you?”

  I hiccup, sniffling back the deluge of waterworks still trying to purge themselves from my system.

  “You broke up with Logan a while ago, right?” she asks.

  Before I can nod or get into her line of thinking, an old women on the side of the road garners my attention. She wields an ax over the stump of a tree, hacking at it without regard for the monsoon that’s dousing her with its affections.

  “You see that?” I ask, twisting my neck to get a better look as we speed by.

  “See what?”

  Ezrina.

  “Nothing,” I say, taking in a quivering breath.

  “So, Mr. Dudley,” she continues, “being with him is practically a graduation requirement. They don’t let you out of West unless he sticks his tongue down your throat at least once. It’s not like you could help yourself. He’s like a drug, one hit and he’s got you for life.”

  “Right,” I say stupefied as the rain turns a putrid shade of red, douses the windshield with its crimson splendor. Oh my, God—the sky is bleeding. “Do you see that?”

  “What?” Brielle angles into the road as if trying to make out a deer, or possum.

  It’s clear she’s not privy to same weather phenomenon that I am.

  “I need to go to Dudley’s,” it speeds out of me. It takes everything in me not to text Gage and beg for help, not that he’d give it—nor could I blame him.

  “Totally.” She lifts a hand in the air. “I swear, I get it.”

  “Not for that,” I don’t bother defending myself. I’m sure Chloe will have the entire scene emblazoned in the school newspaper by Monday.

  “Oh, sure,” she doesn’t sound convinced.

  We drive
another ten minutes before pulling into his circular drive. I speed out of the car, through the salty plasma gushing from the sky and storm his porch—pound my fists against the door, ferocious like a riot.

  Brielle takes off and I’m left alone, bloodied, in the dark.

  A walloping thump ignites just above my head, shakes the mahogany, strong as an earthquake. I look up to find a newly embedded ax—the handle protruding over me like a promise.

  The porch light comes on. Marshall swings open the door and gives a bleak smile.

  The blood magically fades from my clothes, and I’m simply soaking wet, standing on his porch. Marshall plucks the ax from the door like it were a daily occurrence, common as a wreath at Christmas.

  Deep down inside I know nothing will ever be normal again.

  Chapter 33

  Heartbreak

  “I knew you’d come.” Marshall wraps an arm around my shoulder and leads me to the couch where two cups of steaming tea sit unsupervised.

  “You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you? You said so,” I hiccup the last part out in anger.

  “No, Skyla.” His face catches the light and exposes his grief. “All I knew is that you would come to me brokenhearted.”

  Marshall encapsulates me in his arms and I bleat out a stream of silent tears over his shoulder until I can see his flesh illuminate from under his shirt. Not even the pleasurable impulses that course through his body are enough to quell this desperate ache. Marshall was an accomplice of Chloe’s in the destruction of my forever. He could deny it with every good intention, but he was the constant in that horrific display of my affairs.

  “Chloe,” he breathes her name over me like a curse.