Celestra Forever After

by Addison Moore

  “You’re welcome.” She gives a satisfied smile over to Laken. Bree leans in hard and whispers, “So, you did it?”

  I nod as a mischievous smile breaks out on my face.

  “Baseball bat?” She gives a knowing look.

  “One he can hit a homerun with all night long,” I’m quick to confirm.

  She glances at Laken to make sure she’s still on the outs of the conversation. “On a scale of one to ten—how loud does that boy make the crowd cheer when he hits it out of the park?” It’s evident Bree is enjoying our little private tete-a-tete.

  “Ten—thousand.” A heat wave envelops me. “You know, the funny thing is, after being with Gage, I no longer want to shake anybody’s hand. I mean, I know where Gage’s hands have been—I know where my hands have been. The entire idea of people actually touching me, or, God forbid, making my food makes me want to hurl.”

  Bree shakes her head. “Only you could come away from sex with a phobia of other people’s hands.”

  “Hand to God.” I sink back in my seat. “I mean, true that.” I don’t remember any revolt of the digits after I was with Logan, but then I was too lost in grief to notice other people’s hands, let alone imagine what they might be doing with them in their spare time.

  The game starts, and we watch riveted by each well-orchestrated play. The Host Dragons are nailing this team from Oregon to the proverbial wall.

  “Coop and Gage are killing it,” Laken says. “I never thought I’d say this, but I actually wish I was down there cheering.” She looks past me, and her expression sours. “Never mind. There are some people I’m not interested in shaking my body in front of.”

  I glance back and catch a glimpse of Gage—I mean, Wes. I swear it’s going to take me forever to get used to seeing him outside of the Tenebrous Woods.

  “I’ll save all my cheers for the bedroom,” she whispers. “Coop is the only audience I’m interested in.”

  “I get it.” I omit the fact I may have inadvertently shook my body for Wes earlier today. “Have you talked to him yet?”

  She blows a breath into the fog, and a plume of white feathers unfurls from her mouth. “Logan took Coop and me into the Transfer last weekend. It was harder than I ever imagined.” She shakes her head still lost in the memory.

  It’s as if the world stops—time ceases to exists.

  “Who took you to the Transfer?” Surely I misheard her.

  “Logan.” She nods as if I shouldn’t be surprised. “Your Elysian?”

  “Oh, right.” Now it’s my face losing all color.

  “Laken.” Bree is quick to admonish her. “If you knew anything about Skyla you’d know how traumatic this whole situation is for her. Logan hasn’t appeared to her yet, and now she’s clearly in shock to hear he’s back.”

  “No, it’s okay.” A smile wobbles on my lips. “I knew he was here. He just hasn’t seen me. I mean it’s been a while.” My body goes numb. It feels as if the universe just delivered a fresh slap across my cheek, and my head is still ringing from the effect.

  “Sorry.” Laken sinks in her seat. She looks up at me a moment before touching her fingers to my wrist. If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here for you. I know how it feels to love two people—and how it feels to let one go. Wes isn’t a bad person. He’s just making bad choices. She closes her eyes a moment. At least he used to not be a bad person.

  Thank you, I mouth.

  “He’s up to no good.” She shudders, pulling her coat tight as if it were Cooper himself protecting her from Wesley’s evil clutches. “Wes just might be the most dangerous person on the planet right now.”

  A shiver runs through me when she says it.

  “That’s a bold statement.” And most likely true.

  Laken and I are lost in thought over the idea, so much so that I miss the next play.

  A violent yank to my shoulder nearly pushes me right out of the stands, and I turn to Brielle who’s screaming incoherently. All I hear are the words, Gage—hurt—the field…

  Oh God.

  Gage

  “Shit.” I spit my mouthpiece out and squeeze my eyes shut tight, trying to will myself out of my body—away from the white-hot pain.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  Coach Morgan runs over, along with Coop, and, before I know it, there’s a team huddle forming above me.

  “Can you get up?” Coach offers me a hand.

  I lift my shoulders off the grass, and that hot explosion of pain bites right through to my tailbone.

  “Not without help.”

  “I got you.” Coop tries to lift my arm, and a fierce jolt spasms through my neck, knocking the wind out of me.

  I’m too jacked up to move, let alone breathe.

  “We need a stretcher!” Coach shouts and calls for time.

  “Shit. Sorry about that.” I wish I could say it was the sack from hell that knocked me on my back, but, in truth, some of those Pee Wee kids I worked with hit harder than what I just took. I went down like a dead man, and all the other team had to do was blow me over. I’m sure there’s some guy from Tusk laughing his ass off right now at what a wuss I am.

  “Hang tight.” Coop gives my arm a squeeze. “Here comes Skyla.”

  “Gage!” Skyla calls for me. I can hear the worry in her voice before I ever see her face.

  Her hair falls all around me, creating a curtain from the rest of the world, and all I see are her tear-filled eyes, her trembling lips.

  “I’m okay. I promise,” I grunt. “It’s probably just a bruise.” At least I’m hoping.

  The coach shouts something, Skyla pulls back as they hoist me onto a gurney and ratchet it up before wheeling me off the field. The crowd breaks out into a somber applause as Skyla clasps onto my hand.

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got you!” she shouts, running alongside me.

  Dad and Mom come at me, running full steam.

  “Gage!” Mom screams as if I just had my arms hacked off. “We can take it from here, Skyla.” She doesn’t waste any time in pushing her away. “This is a family emergency.”

  Crap.

  “Skyla,” I call for her, but Mom is blocking my view of where she might be.

  The medics start in on a million questions, but I keep trying to crane my neck to find Skyla in my peripheral vision. A stabbing pain burrows between my shoulder blades forcing me to shut my eyes from the agony.

  “Skyla,” I call out hoarse. I try one last time to find her only to catch my mother with her hand outstretched to my wife. She’s keeping Skyla at an arms length, shouting something in her face and it only gets my adrenaline pumping faster. A knife-like pain jags through my skull, speeding all the way to my toes, and I’m in too much damn pain to do anything about my mother right now.

  I lay back and grit my teeth, groaning—begging my body to pass out already.

  This is bad.

  I pray it’s not my last night on the field.

  Hell, I pray it’s not my last night on earth.

  At the hospital they run an MRI and shoot me up full of morphine, tell me to hang tight.

  After what feels like an eternity Skyla appears by my side, taking my hand.

  “Hey.” I force a smile to come and go, still enjoying the slight rush of the drugs they just pumped through me. And, even though I appreciate my parents hovering nearby, I wish it were just Skyla and me.

  “You’re going to be okay,” she whispers it sweetly, peppering my face with gentle kisses.

  “Skyla!” My mother’s voice bites through the air. “He’s injured. Please give him some rest.”

  The doctor comes in and saves me from having to rip my mother a new one. Truth be told, I don’t have the voice or energy right now.

  “Gage?” A tall man hunched over himself plods forward as if he just crawled out of a casket. “I have some news.” He gives a brief glance to Skyla. “Would you prefer we speak alone?”

  “No, this is fine.”

  “Gage.” Mom steps forward
, twirling the pearls around her neck until it looks as if she’s about to strangle herself. “I think we should keep it just family for now—in the event there’s terrible news, or perhaps it’s something you might be embarrassed about.”

  “Skyla is family.” I’m quick to rise to her defense even if it did send a piercing pain down my back. If I were feeling halfway human—hell halfway angelic—I’d rattle Skyla’s ring finger at her.

  “That’s fine by me.” The doctor opens his laptop and scans the information. “It looks like you have some swelling at the base of your neck. It’s nothing too scary, just a contusion.” He grimaces. “And, I’m afraid that you have a significant narrowing of the spine in that region as well. Gage, have you had any pain, or difficulty moving that area?”

  “Of course, he hasn’t.” Mom takes up my other hand. “He’s healthy as a horse.”

  “A Clydesdale.” Skyla winks down at me, and I break out a tiny smile. My balls miss her touch just looking at her.

  “That may be”—the doctor starts—“but what Gage has is spinal stenosis. It’s a congenital condition, so there’s nothing you could have done to cause or prevent this.”

  “So, then—I’m fine, right? I’ve played football all my life and never had a problem.”

  “Not so fast.” He glances at Mom a moment. “You’ve been very lucky so far. One wrong hit and you could be staring down the barrel of paralysis. I’m afraid I can’t send you back on the field with a good conscience.”

  “Who the hell is this guy?” I glance at Dad for a second. “You work for Tusk?” It wouldn’t surprise me. “I’m fine. I play football. That’s what I do. That’s who I am. Nobody is taking that away from me.”

  He closes his laptop and makes his way toward the door. “I’m not here to take anything away from you, Gage. I’m here to try and prevent you from taking something precious away from yourself—your ability to walk.” He turns to my dad. “Otherwise he should be fine once the swelling subsides in a few days. The longer he plays, the more he runs the risk of a permanent injury. It’s not a matter of if—it’s a matter of when.” He looks back to me. “I’m sorry, Gage. I understand this will be hard for you to accept, but with the support of your family, I think you’ll be fine.” And with that piece of shit news, he walks out the door.

  I don’t think I’ll be fine. I don’t think there’s enough support in the world to keep me off that field. I give a hard sniff.

  “You guys mind giving me a minute?” I can hardly croak out the words.

  “Why don’t we get some coffee?” Dad opens the door and motions for my mother.

  “Not without Skyla,” she snips.

  Crap. I’m not in the mood to deal with my mother’s BS. Her insecurities are the least of my worries.

  “Gage?” Skyla looks down as if asking the question.

  “I’ll be fine. You mind picking me up a soda?”

  “Two hits of Pepsi, one hit of Dr. Pepper?”

  “You know how I like it.” I give her hand a squeeze.

  I wait until they’re gone before I sink into the hole that’s swallowed me down. Who knew I had hit the grass for the very last time. Football was my life for so many years. I thought maybe, in some far reaching reality, I might actually go pro. At least that way I’d get to provide a nice life for Skyla. But it’s done. I’m done. My insides buck, and I lose it. Tears sear their way down my cheeks, and I press my lips together hard to keep from all out boo-hooing.

  A brisk knock comes from the door, and I wipe down my face with the back of my arm.

  “Room for one more?”

  I recognize that voice—see his face and still don’t believe it.

  “Logan?” My body sparks back to life. A burst of adrenaline shoots through me, and suddenly I have enough energy to run a lap around the facility.

  “It’s me.” He walks over with a sheepish smile. “Dude.” He leans in and wraps his arms around me loose as if I were made of glass. “I’ve missed you, big guy.”

  “Missed you, too.” I mean every word right down to my aching bones. Logan is my brother in every way.

  “I heard what happened—actually, I was there.” He grabs a seat and scoots in close.

  “Are you back for good? Or you just messing with our heads again?”

  He closes his eyes a moment at the dig. “I’m staying. I’m helping Ellis at the bowling alley on days that you and Skyla aren’t scheduled. I haven’t seen her yet.” He blows out a breath. “Heard about the wedding.” He cracks a smile. “Congratulations. I’m really happy for the both of you.” Something in his eyes says he’s being genuine. “Don’t worry about this.” He flicks a finger toward my neck. “Skyla might be able to take care of it if you let her.”

  “No.” I close my eyes—half with relief half with self-pity. Is that really what I want? To use Skyla’s blood, her standing to bail my body out whenever I need it? “We’ll see. I’ll probably go it alone.”

  “Don’t let pride keep you off that field. I saw that game tonight. You put up a good fight.”

  “I’m not fighting now—am I?” And, by the looks of things, I don’t think I’ll ever get to fight again. I let the thought dart out of my head like a bird off to greener pastures. “So what’s new with you? Liam says you’re at Dudley’s. You okay over there?”

  “I’m fine. And where are you and Skyla living?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  “Take the house on Whitehorse.”

  “No way.” That’s the house Logan built for Skyla—Skyla and him. It’s not up for debate, there’s no way in hell I’m headed that way. “Come home. You don’t belong at Dudley’s. You belong with us.” I let out a breath. “With Skyla and me.”

  “Soon.” He taps my leg. “I’m rooting for you guys. I’m not here to interfere. Next time”—he points hard at me on his way out the door—“we’ll talk shop. Counts are up to no good. You know about Demetri’s son?”

  “Wesley.”

  “He’s a pawn, but dangerous as shit. I’m going to end the mystery of why he’s wearing your face, and when I do, I’ll be back.” He lingers by the door a moment.

  “Logan?”

  “What’s up?”

  “Don’t ignore me when I call you.” I give a weak smile. “Pick up the damn phone.”

  “Got it.” He mock shoots me, and he’s gone.

  I settle back into my pillow and close my eyes. Seeing Logan felt better than any amount of morphine—any street drug ever could. And knowing Skyla will be in my arms later feels just as great. With the two of them in my life, who needs football?

  A tiny voice in the back of my head says me.

  Logan

  A week drifts by, and I check in with Barron every day to see how Gage is doing. He’s still taking it easy, but he hasn’t missed any school which is what I wanted to hear. I know he’s got to be pretty down about losing his field privileges, hell, I feel the same way. Maybe we could start our own league—the dead and the injured.

  Liam and I are doing time at the bowling alley tonight, closing down the kitchen for the evening. We’ve got another half hour before I lock the doors then it’s back to Dudley’s.

  I spot Ellis in the corner trying to gnaw off Giselle’s face, and my stomach turns at the sight. Crap. Barron will have my balls if I bear witness to Harrison assaulting his daughter and don’t do a thing about it.

  “Ellis,” I bark. “Come here and help me knock out some shoes.”

  Liam slaps me over the arm. “Check out the eye candy.”

  I turn to find two refreshingly familiar faces coming my way. They stop dead in their tracks. Their mouths open wide as if they were about to yawn or scream, most likely the latter.

  “Holy crap!” Michelle deadpans.

  “Michelle Miller and Lexy Bakova.” I slump into a warm smile. Whoever thought they’d be a sight for sore eyes?

  They bum-rush me and offer up a tackle hug that nearly knocks me over.

  “We were starting
to give up on you.” Michelle cinches her arm around my waist, but it slides right off when she spots Liam. “Who is this side of beef?”

  “Liam—my brother.”

  “God up in heaven!” Michelle holds her breath a moment, looking a little too transfixed by my big bro. “I don’t care where you came from, but I’m glad you’re in my life.”

  “Who says he’s in your life?” Lex steps forward with her hair blunt at the base of her neck, her high-tops sit loose without laces.

  “Back off, Bakova,” Michelle says it like she means business. Both Michelle and Lexy are easy on the eyes, but neither are for me. And, by the looks of things, it’s not me they’re interested in anyway—it’s Liam.

  “Have you seen Paragon?” Michelle threads her arm in his, and Liam doesn’t protest. “I mean really seen it.” She licks her lips. Her lids hang heavy. “I can show you things most boys only wish they could see.”

  Ellis swoops in. “Looks like good old Liam is set to bag half the island.”

  Lexy looks over at me. “Who are you bagging these days, Oliver?”

  Crap. How do I explain my newfound celibate status? Celibate—even the word strikes terror in my balls. I’ve been lending myself a helping hand, but it’s going to be a long dry season until I finally get to be with Skyla again—and when I do, I’ll lose Gage, so I can’t even think about that.

  “I’m bagging the bowling alley.” True as shit. Getting screwed every time I make a deposit. I glance around at the cavernous vagina I’m still trying to keep afloat and nod. Sounds about right.

  “So you ready to do this?” Ellis slaps a hand over my shoulder as if I should know what the hell he’s talking about.

  “Do what?” Unless, of course, he’s trying to get me out of the ball-busting conversation I’m having with Lex, then I get it—and blew it.

  She gives Ellis a dirty look before turning to Liam and Michelle.