Shit.
I’ll never forgive myself if Ellis isn’t back to his dysfunctional self by midnight.
A crowd has amassed under a giant eucalyptus, just shy of the corral where a pack of long-necked llamas look on.
“Skyla!” Mom intercepts me, clutching at baby Beau as if both their lives were in peril. They’re not, but it’s going to take a lot of heavy explaining for me to relay that so I don’t bother. “I’m taking the girls and going home.” Her eyes round out in horror as she takes me in. “God, you’re hurt!”
“I’m fine. I need to find Logan and Gage.” I dart past her. Tears blur my vision as I struggle to keep up with Brielle. Dear God, what about Logan? A primal scream begs to rip from my lungs as the entire world spins out of control.
I plow my way through layers of people with bodies rubbing up against me, shoes treading over mine. The slight scent of blood and fear fills my nostrils, and suddenly it feels as if I were right back in that damn war.
“He’s this way,” a rather calm voice emits from the house.
“It’s
you
,” I say, accusingly—Candace Messenger, the angel of my discontent. “Fix this mess!” I demand. “Put Ellis back together like a jigsaw puzzle and heal Gage.” That last part comes out far more child-like than anticipated.
“I did fix this.” Her eyes expand as if she’s taken aback at the balls I have to speak to her this way. “I left blood on your hands, so the simpletons of this island can surmise what they will—not to mention Emma already has her suspicions about you.” She draws a bleak smile as if that last jab directed at Emma was more sarcastic than it was factual.
“You left me looking like the murderer?”
“Yes, Skyla. One good psychotic episode can explain it all.”
An entire alphabet of curses gets lodged in my throat. “I don’t want to be blamed for a psychotic episode! You’re a psychotic episode!” Soon my entire life will be summed up as a psychotic episode.
“You’ll regret speaking to me that way.” She turns toward the ebony curtain of night and heads toward the woods.
“Don’t walk away when I’m talking to you,” I say it sharp and clear, leaving her without excuse. “Fix Ellis, Logan, and Gage. I fought your damn war, now you fight mine.”
My mother turns around, burning with anger—the promise of an execution fresh in her eyes. Her face is a perfect resemblance to mine, such a close second it feels as though I’m arguing with a mirror. If ever I wanted to kick my own ass, here it is—my golden moment.
“You should kiss the ground I walk on for the things I’ve done for you.” Her jawline redefines itself in anger. “And, by the way, that was your
damn
war, Skyla. Don’t you forget it.”
A loud clap of thunder trembles over Paragon, and she’s gone, just like that.
Then a beautiful sight emerges. Logan. He shines as bright as the moon as he stoops low to the ground with Emma and Barron next to him. A swell of relief swims through me. Logan looks every bit alive with his head most assuredly attached. He glances up, and the impression of a depleted smile twitches on his lips.
The three of them huddle over a familiar broad chest.
Shit.
“Gage?” I scream, pushing Brielle out of the way as I dig through the crowd.
Dr. Oliver looks up at me pissed to hell. His eyes steady over mine as though he were confronting a felon. Emma has her head bent into his chest, sobbing into him as she pours out all her grief.
“No, no, no.” It streams from my lips as a new level of panic flies through me.
There he is—my sweet angel with his eyes closed peacefully. He looks as though he’s sleeping. His raven-colored hair lays in heavy contrast to his pale skin. A crimson scarf lies tucked beneath his neck, and it takes a moment for it to register it’s a bloody T-shirt Barron holds tight while trying to stave off the bleeding.
I drop to my knees, weak, afraid of what this might mean.
Logan slips his warm hand behind my neck and pulls me in.
“He’s breathing.” He looks into my eyes so intently it takes all of my strength to break the spell.
“Gage.” I bend over until my face touches his. He can’t die—he
can’t
. “Wake up.” I shake him by the shoulder, but he doesn’t move. His eyes remain sealed as if he’s closed them for the very last time. An ambulance saws its way over with its high-pitched wail drilling through the night. “Wake
up!
” I shrill it into his ear, and his eyes flutter.
“
Enough
,” Emma roars. “You have caused far too much drama for this family already, young lady.” She slits the words through her teeth, and the crowd gasps.
“Emma,” Barron says it low, without conviction.
“No, she’s right.” I swallow hard, picking up Gage’s cold, limp fingers. “Chloe did this,” I whisper, trying to defuse the blame, but I know where it really lies. In the end, it was me he was trying to protect.
“It was
you
he went to war for,” Emma gravels as if she were belting out a metal song. I look up and take her in, wild-eyed, the sting of heartbreak etched in her face. Emma looks as if she could gut me with her fingernails if I so much as breathe in her son’s direction. “And now you’ve all but killed him.”
A group of EMTs storm the area and descend in our direction.
“Skyla, it’s best if you give us some space.” Barron takes in a breath. His chest expands as if he might tackle me on his wife’s behalf. “I agree. This is where we draw the line. It’s enough.”
“Enough for
you.
” Logan growls in his brother’s face. “Gage did what he wanted. Nobody held a gun to his head. He fought that war for Skyla because he loves her. That boy would die for her.”
“And now he just might,” Emma hisses with rage as saliva glosses her lips.
A barrage of medical equipment rolls in and I’m swept back. A group of men in uniform check Gage for his vitals while asking Emma and Barron an entire slew of questions.
I glance over my shoulder to find Chloe and Nat receiving medical attention—their sutures being tended to by medics with an overzealous lust for their new patients. Chloe holds out her scrapes and bruises, showing them off like prizes she worked hours to attain. She looks over at me and gives a black smile. Chloe is all games—murdering people like it’s a side hobby. She knows what she did to both Logan and Gage, and yet she has the balls to look at me—to gloat.
Demetri Edinger shows up on the scene like some demonic dark knight, ready to pretend to save the day. He gives a shrill whistle, and the crowd startles to attention.
“Remain calm.” He spins in a half-circle, his long black trench coat drips like a dress. “If you’re injured and in need of medical attention, please stay put. There are more ambulances on the way. Emergency medical workers are on the premises to assist those who require treatment.” He narrows his steely gaze on me. “Or in the event you need a shoulder to lean on. I’m always here for you.”
A breath gets caught in my throat. Demetri I-Killed-Your-Father Edinger just might have bigger balls than Chloe Bishop, and here I thought that was impossible.
It’s becoming clear he sees a Celestra victory in the cards, and it has him shaking in his cloven-hooved boots. Demetri wants to be a shoulder to cry on for all of Paragon, especially me. I’ll give him something to cry about, both
him
and Chloe.
Gage is whisked onto a gurney, and I’m quick to follow.
“I’ll go with him,” I say, racing alongside the medics toward the front of the property.
“Are you family?” asks a dark-haired EMT, holding an oxygen mask to Gage’s face.
Emma pushes me back just as they begin carefully loading him into the gaping mouth of the ambulance.
“No—she most certainly is
not
family.” She climbs into the back of the truck without waiting for an invitation.
“
Gage
,” his name wails from me as I snatch at his fingers. They slide him in and shut the doors with a pronounced finality. I spot Barron getting into his sedan and rush over. “Wait!”
“Skyla.” Logan hooks me in by the waist, stopping me from jumping into the passenger seat.
“Barron, I can fix this!” I shout. “I’ll give him my blood.”
A few stray people turn in my direction. For the most part, all of Paragon is draining from Marshall’s estate.
Barron stops shy of getting into his sedan and speeds his way over.
“No, Skyla, you can’t.” It comes out more than a little curt. A knife couldn’t have hurt less. “Gage gave strict orders should something like this occur, he’s to receive nothing from you.” He crimps his lips. “Emma and I are opposed to it as well.” His features remain hard as flint. I’ve never seen Dr. Oliver so ticked off before—for sure not at me. “Gage will come through this on his own. And when he does, we’re going to have a serious discussion about the safety of your relationship. These past few months have shaved years off Emma’s life. This madness has got to stop before somebody ends up dead.” Barron spears Logan with a look before reverting his pissed off aggression back at me. “I would tell you to proceed with caution, but we both know what good that would do.” He stomps off to his car and backs out in haste, nearly mowing down a group of people from East.
An eerie clown’s head bobbles from his rearview mirror, mocking me as Barron speeds the hell off of Marshall’s property.
“Shit.” I bury my face in Logan’s chest.
“It’s OK.” He blesses the top of my head with a kiss.
“Logan, what happened?” I pull back and examine him as the moonlight washes out his features. I run my fingers over his neck, and it’s unscathed, unharmed in every way. “Are you all right?” He looks remarkable, save for the blood on his hands, and I’m assuming that belongs to Gage.
“I’m fine. I was taking the baby back to Brielle, and the next thing I knew Gage was stumbling in front of me.”
“Something’s off.” I shake my head. “I have my cuts, Chloe and Nat—Gage and Ellis…” I’m afraid to go there—afraid I’ll jinx the entire situation and Logan’s head will fall off, right here in the driveway.
Logan gives a slow blink. His chest expands as he fills his lungs with a never-ending breath.
“I found Ellis,” he whispers, pulling me in. “I hid him under some brush until I could get Dudley.”
“Marshall said he was taking him to the Transfer.”
“God, Skyla.” He holds me so tight it’s hard to breathe. “Let’s get to the hospital.” He plucks his keys out of his pocket, and his truck chirps to life. “We’re going to get Gage back on his feet whether my brother likes it or not.” He pulls his lips over the side of my cheek, slow, filled with a resolute sadness. “Everything is going to be all right.”
“That’s for damn sure.” I squeeze my grip around his waist. Only something deep down inside of me knows that nothing will ever be all right again.
Rain beats down over the island as Logan and I speed over to the Paragon hospital. It’s as if the ax had fallen and declared summer officially over, leaving both Gage and Ellis with their lives in the balance.
“Last time,” I say it without warrant as Logan parks the truck in haste.
“Last time, what?” He reaches over and pulls me in with his warm, strong hands. Instantly I feel safe. Logan is the calm in the storm, the anchor in an angry torrential sea that’s doing its best to sweep my sanity away.
“Last time I put anyone in danger.” I lose myself for a moment watching the rain fall in sheets over the windshield. “Emma is right. I’m nothing but a burden to you and your family.”
“Hey”—he pulls me in, brushing his lips soft over my cheek—“I promise you, Skyla, that’s not what she meant. She’s not thinking clearly. Besides, both Gage and I would do anything for you. And”—he pauses lifting my chin gently with his finger—“we did what we set out to do. We beat the Counts.” A heavy look of sadness weighs down his expression. “It’s all over.” Logan sweeps my hair back with his fingers and pulls me in as if we were about to say goodbye. “Let’s get Gage the hell of out here, and we can figure the rest out later.”
I nod into the idea while taking in his clean scent, memorizing how his rock hard body feels pressed against mine.
I know exactly what things are in need of figuring out, and, unfortunately, the burden of those choices lies directly with me.
***
Logan and I duck into the ER and dash room to room until we find Emma and Barron speaking with a group of nurses.
“They’ve got him in surgery.” Barron hardens his gaze over at me. “They think his vocal cords might be severed. There’s a damaged artery on the left side of his neck.”
Shit. Gage—his beautiful voice. I’ll die if I don’t hear it again. A surge of heartache pumps through me, and I wish I were the one in surgery. Although, I’ll take a quiet Gage over a dead one any day. Not to mention, the severed artery sounds far more dangerous.
We wait hours for them to finish up and wheel him back to recovery. Then another half hour before they’ll let us see him.
Logan and I have discreetly decided it would be best if Gage had a Celestra-based infusion, ASAP.
“You’re going to distract them,” I say. It comes out more of a question than a command. I glance around for something knife-sharp to slice myself with. I’m still wearing these ridiculous sky-high heels—the dress with its shivering filaments as if a thousand jellyfish had to be sacrificed just to create it and knowing Marshall, they were. “I need something to cut myself with.”
Logan flips his keychain around until a tiny blade protrudes from the multi-use tool dangling from the end.
“I don’t want your blood on my hands.” He pushes out a quiet smile. “Just enough to touch over his incision.” He shakes his head. “Don’t turn this into a bloodbath.”
We enter the recovery room, and Logan joins Emma and Barron as they speak with the doctor.
This isn’t Gage’s first rodeo. He’s been laid out in the hospital a time or two, and it consistently has to do with me, well, because of
Chloe
to be exact. But deep inside I know I’m the root of his troubles, everyone’s troubles.