Gage shoots a death stare over at him, and the two of them battle it out with nary a blink.
“I, for one”—Gage reverts his attention to me—“don’t want to miss a second with you. I know this isn’t going to be easy. I know that deep down inside you don’t want to break anybody’s heart. But I beg of you, if you know the answer, don’t put it off just to spare someone’s feelings—not even if they’re mine.”
A breath gets trapped in my throat. How can Gage say that when all of his visions point to us in the end? Then again, Logan had his fair share of assurance as well in that department. I guess it really is up to me to decide.
“OK,” I whisper. “We’ll date, and I’ll make a decision. As soon as my heart is sure, I’ll let you know.”
I bounce a glance between the two of them.
One thing I know for sure, I will never willingly choose between Logan and Gage.
Monday, the sun peers through the expanse over Paragon before veiling itself with a vat of fat, cumulous clouds, blue in nature like the Counts themselves.
I stare out the kitchen window as I wait for my bagel to pop out of the toaster.
“First day of school!” Mia shouts as if there were a shoe sale at the mall.
Drake grunts into his cereal. “Let’s see if you whoop it up next Monday when it’s just another start to a shitty week.”
“Watch your tongue.” Mom shields the baby from his father’s insanity. Speaking of Drake and fatherhood, I swear I’ve yet to see him manhandle the poor baby Count. Not that Beau is going unloved. Mom has her faux nipple locked and loaded and ready to blow fresh pumped breast milk from an undisclosed supplier.
“Tongue?” Drake sits up with a faraway look in his eye. “That reminds me, I’m thinking about a piercing.” He nods with the spoon stuck in his mouth.
I’m pretty sure another hole in his head isn’t going to do him any good.
“What in the world for?” Mom says it curt like a body ornament is where she draws the line. I can tell she’s not up for any more goofy Landon shenanigans—like selling air or
breathing
it.
“Yeah.” Drake nods into his indecision. “Emily says she likes guys with piercings.”
“Who?” Mom looks blindsided by Drake’s love life. I swear some days I think he lets a mood ring decide.
Hey
. Maybe I should try that?
“That chick that was here yesterday.” He orients her to the carnal rotation of his mattress. “We’re sort of going out.”
“Oh?” Mom’s voice rises unnaturally. “So what about Brielle? Did you break things off with her?”
Mom’s worried that Drake is unaware of the breakup etiquette required once you part ways with your baby mama. She smells a custody battle in the works, and it’s her that’s going to be on the losing end of that legal stick, otherwise known as the gavel.
“I’m sort of seeing them both,” he drones on. “Bree doesn’t care about the tongue ring. She’s good either way.” He heads for the stairs, and I block him off at the pass.
“Do
not
pierce your tongue.” I want to add, you’re a Landon, things like this never end well. I can totally see a tongue-ectomy in his future when it turns all black from the impending infection. “If Em’s so hot on piercing something, get a nipple ring.” Did I just encourage Drake to pierce his man teat before breakfast? For sure not how I envisioned starting off senior year.
“Mind your own business.” He ducks past me. “Get your own damn nipples pierced.”
I shake my head trying to evict all memory of the conversation out of my mind.
“
So
.” Mom tilts her head. “Senior year. Are you
excited
?”
“
Yes
,” I say it slow and drawn out to match her tone. “Are you excited to get two of your five children out of the house?” God knows Ethan isn’t going anywhere.
She shakes her head. “Guess what?”
“You offed Tad, and you need me to hide the body?” I’m a bit shocked that the words made it past my lips, but I’ve already discussed nipple rings with Drake, so I go with it.
“No.” She gives several hard blinks. “Demetri is having a Halloween party, and he’s asked me to take care of his arrangements.”
She says, “take care of his arrangements” as if it were code for something sexual. And, eww, because it probably so is.
“Like what? Detail the place with dead bodies?” Again we’re back to Tad, and perhaps Drake and Ethan, too.
“No, Skyla.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s just a job. After Mr. Dudley’s masquerade ball, word has got around town. I’m an official event planner now.”
I stare at my mother an inordinate amount of time.
“First, the ‘ball’ was two days ago. Second, you
are
aware that there were quasi casualties involved at last weekend’s soirée—that someone tried to play a game of Off with His Head with my sweet boyfriend, Gage?” My stomach pinches tight when I say it because, technically, he’s not my boyfriend anymore.
See? Right there is the reason I should never have broken up with him. We’re not together for five minutes, and Chloe tries to decapitate him. I’m really getting sick of her headless schoolgirl games. It’s becoming painfully obvious it’s Chloe who needs her head cut off at the root.
“I talked to Emma.” She shakes her head. “Apparently he got caught on a branch. I’ll admit there was something to be desired about the outdoor lighting, but I’m keeping a notebook of all the details, so I won’t miss any next time.”
I can’t believe my mother believes her misstep in party planning nearly cost me my boyfriend’s head.
“Be sure to add a ‘no Bishops’ clause,” I say. “Because that wasn’t a branch that nearly lopped of his head, it was Chloe.”
“What about Chloe?” Tad walks in, hobbling on a sawed off broomstick that doubles as a cane.
“What happened?” I ask, completely intrigued by his sudden geriatric condition.
“All that commotion last night sent me running for the hills, then that math teacher of yours tripped me.”
Score one for Marshall.
“Oh,” Mom balks. “He did not. How many times have I told you not to run while looking over your shoulder. It’s not safe.”
“I saw him stick his leg out, Lizbeth.” Tad contests my mother’s disbelief with a hostile fervor.
A tiny smile flickers on my lips because, on this occasion, I’m prone to believing Tad.
Mom averts her gaze once more before reverting her attention to me.
“Would you do me a favor and drive the girls to school? My stomach’s been upset all morning.”
“Sure. Hope you feel better.” I head for the stairs, and she catches me by the elbow.
“One more thing.” She glances over at Tad who’s busying himself in the kitchen. “Congratulations.” She gives a secret smile. “Demetri mentioned you won the war.”
I open my mouth ready to unleash an entire litany of expletives against my father’s killer then close it.
“It’s yet to be determined if I won, but thank you.” I mouth that last part.
“In my heart I know you’ve won.” She reaches up and secures my hair behind my ear. I can feel all of the love pouring from her, strong and viral like never before. “You and Gage are going to live a very long and peaceful life together. I can feel it.”
I offer a depleted smile.
“I hope so.”
And every part of me truly does.
***
Mia and Melissa are decked out to the nines with their mismatched Converse, their day-glow sweaters and lace thigh-highs. I’m positive Mom did
not
approve of these outfits because miniskirts that short qualify more as an accessory rather than an article of clothing.
They yap all the way to their middle school about
Gabe
and
Nate
until I finally pull up to their junior house of learning and unleash them on society.
“Sheesh,” I say as they slam the door shut behind them. Mom owes a serious apology to humanity for raising a couple of hormonal fashionistas.
I turn the corner on Saddle Drive, and Gage materializes in the seat next to me.
I let out a blood-curdling scream and cross into oncoming traffic before he takes the wheel and saves us from impending doom.
“What the hell was that about?” I shout, clutching my chest while continuing down the road at an accelerated pace.
“I wanted to surprise you.” His eyes widen as if he’s just realized it was a dicey idea at best.
“With what, a casket?” I say as my heart starts in on a livable rhythm. “And, thank you.” I reach over and tweak his leg. God, I miss touching Gage, and it hasn’t even been a week. “This is insane.” I shake my head.
“I agree. You should choose me and end the insanity.” He says it dry like he really doesn’t believe I’m going to choose him.
“Maybe I will.” God, I
hope
I will.
We pull into West and park out on the dirt extension since the main lot is already cluttered with cars. You wouldn’t think there were that many people enthused to be here this early on the first day.
A white SUV barrels in after us and narrowly misses my fender as it fishtails to a dramatic stop.
“Shit,” I hiss, killing the engine. Gage and I get out, ready to tell off the bastard that nearly took out the Mustang, and gasp in unison when the driver springs from the car.
“Morning!” Giselle bounds over and envelops us in a three-way hug.
“Who let you…Did the Kraggers…?” Poor Gage can’t even choke out a sentence, he’s so ticked.
“Relax.” Her eyebrows narrow with a look of hurt just the way his did a moment ago in the car. “Emerson had a license and everything. This is totally legal.”
“
Emerson
may have had a license”—Gage starts, trying to keep his voice even-keeled—“but you’re technically three, not sixteen, and you haven’t logged enough time as a passenger let alone a driver.”
“I’m not three.” Her jaw squares out. “You’re not the boss of me.” She takes a few steps backward and nearly trips over a branch. “The next thing you know you’ll be telling me which boys I can and can’t kiss.”
“You can’t kiss boys.” Gage shakes his head incensed she would even consider it.
A small squeak escapes her throat as she takes off toward campus.
A laugh bubbles from me as I pull him in by the arm.
“Skyla,” he moans. “It’s not funny. That’s my baby sister.”
“You’re right.” I cinch my arm around his waist. “It’s totally not funny. But I think you’re going to make a great dad someday—just not to Giselle.”
He tightens his embrace and looks down at me with an intensity that reduces me to butter on a hot L.A. day.
“I want to be a great dad.” His dimples flex. “I want to share all of those things with you.”
A swell of emotion rises in me, and I swallow back the tears that beg to surface.
“You probably already know all this.” I don’t mean for it to come out as accusingly as it does. But he does have the gift of knowing. Gage with his pale skin, his hair as dark as midnight. He stands out like a prince against the evergreens.
“I do know some things.” He swivels his hands up and down my back and exhales as if he’s waited a lifetime to do just that. “But I don’t understand everything. Sometimes I wonder if I got it all wrong. Tell me I don’t have it all wrong, Skyla.” He swallows hard as if his sanity depends on it.
“I don’t think you have anything wrong.” It comes out weak like an assurance I’m not strong enough to offer.
A familiar white truck speeds in and knifes past us as if it had a death warrant.
“And here he is.” Gage ticks his head back.
Logan jumps out of the truck and heads on over. He slinks his arm around my waist and whisks me off toward campus.
“Welcome to senior year, Gage,” he shouts over his shoulder.
I glance back, stunned to find that Chloe has materialized by Gage’s side. Jealousy rips through me a mile wide.
She walks slowly next to him as they follow along behind us.
I turn around and try to get the image out of my mind before it imprints itself there permanently.
Chloe and Gage walking side by side through life.
Now there’s something I can never allow to happen.
***
First period is chemistry with Logan, Gage, Lexy, Em, Chloe, and Michelle.
If you ask me, eight a.m. is a little too early to be Bunsen burning with the best of them, or, in Chloe’s case, the worst.
Em, Lex, Chloe, and Michelle have sealed their status as the asshole brigade as they situate themselves conveniently in the row behind us. A series of long tables decorate the class, along with stools for each of us to sit on. A beaker and Bunsen burner is located in front of each student. I’m not sure if arming us with quasi-weaponry is such a great idea. Although, how much damage can a girl do with shards of glass and fire? A smile slides up my lips at the thought of inflicting injury to Chloe so early in fall semester and before homecoming no less.
The bell shrills overhead and still no sign of Marshall. Figures. He’s up to his old I’ll-see-you-when-I-see-you antics.
“I bet he forgot.” Gage leans his head back, and his stitches stretch taut.
“That looks like it hurts,” I say gently running my fingers through his hair and bringing his head back to an upright position. “How could you walk with her after what she did to you?” I whisper in the event Logan hears and picks up on the jealous tirade in the making. “I saw her talking to you.” I may have turned around a time or two before we got to class.
“I wasn’t walking with her.” His lips stretch tight. “She just appeared. Besides she was rambling something about not being able to light drive into her future. She wanted to know if I had any dreams about her.”
A silent laugh huffs through me. “Wouldn’t she like to believe she’s the girl of your dreams?”
His steely eyes lock over mine, and my body floods with heat.
“You’re the girl of my dreams, Skyla.” His lips curve in a deliciously crude manner. “And one day I plan on giving you a demonstration on exactly what I’ve been doing with you all those lonely hours.” He cuts a quick glance over his shoulder before leaning in. “I’ve had a dream or two about Chloe,” he says it with a look of disgust, and yet I find little comfort in this.