Lexy glares over at Skyla as if she could deck her. “He’s discussing things right now in the event your blonde highness hasn’t noticed.” Lex turns her full attention back to me, batting her lashes in yet another fruitless, flirtatious endeavor.
But as much as Lexy wants to impress me, she’s just taken my affections down a very dark corridor. “You may never disparage my ex-wife in my establishment again.”
The room clots up with an uncomfortable silence. I’m not sure anyone knows what to do with the fact I’ve just scolded Lexy as if she were a child, and I’m too busy trying to assess if I’m actually sorry to apologize. I’m not so sure it ends there.
“Yes, sir, Logan Oliver.” Lexy’s eyes grow wild with what looks to be admiration. If telling her off was meant to send her packing, it backfired. Lexy swoons toward me as if I’ve just cemented myself in her tiny demented heart. Just another thing that exemplifies the fact I can’t get a thing right if I try. “What can we do to help? You need a demo crew? We’re there. You need emotional support sitting by a nice warm fire? I’m there. Anything and everything. Our time, our bodies, our worlds are at your feet.”
Another round of stunted silence crops up, only this time it’s attributed to Lexy’s bizarre outburst.
“I know.” Lexy’s arm spikes into the air as if we were back in school. Although, I can’t recall a single class in which Lexy was so eager to participate. “We’ll throw a party!”
Bree gasps as if it were the best idea. “A goodbye to the bowling alley bash!” Brielle is always quick to board any crazy train that has the remote possibility of a good time. “We practically grew up in this place. We need to give it a proper sendoff.”
The room fills with a light buzz before Lexy clears her throat. “We’ll do a theme party, something retro.”
“Great Gatsby!” Michelle is suddenly onboard. “All the guys can sport zoot suits and submachine guns.”
“No guns.” I grimace at the thought. With all the feds crawling up my ass, I’m pretty sure high-powered assault replicas aren’t the best idea.
“Logan hates that idea,” Lex is quick to reprimand.
Skyla bites down on her lip as if she’s about to cry. “I’m going to miss this place.”
“It will be back. And it will be better. It’s only leaving temporarily.” I swallow hard because a part of me feels as if we just took a sideline and we were suddenly talking about ourselves. It’s selfish of me to think so, considering the fact I love her husband just as much as she does, sans the sexual nature.
Laken raises her hand to her chin briefly, and I nod to her. “How about an ’80s dance? That was sort of a wild decade, and the music will be fun. Not that I should have any say in it but—”
Bree huffs so loud I half-expect her to lunge across the room and deck her. “Darn right you shouldn’t have a say in it. This is for the true people of Paragon, not some outsider who’s been around for like five minutes.”
“Bree,” I bark so loud my voice manages to echo on a loop. “Laken and Coop are family. Get along or get out.” There. I’ve asserted my bullish authority twice in one day—making me feel and look like twice the asshole I was five minutes ago. I glance to Skyla, and she gives a furtive nod.
Bree’s face slaps pink. “For your information, we are family, Logan Oliver. We may not be blood, but this island and all of its milkshake muddy waters are running through your veins just like they are mine.”
A part of me wants to correct her. There is not a damn thing running through my veins these days other than the dangerous affection of Candace Messenger. But I offer a kind smile to my old friend instead.
“Yes, Bree. We are family, indeed.”
“So, why isn’t Chloe here?” Brielle demands. “She’s family, too, you know. I can’t stand the way everyone’s ostracized her for the last five years—and for what? For getting herself kidnapped? No one has ever treated her the same since she’s come back.”
Half the room turns to stare at Brielle Landon, nee Johnson. It’s as if nothing that’s happened in the timeframe she’s allotted has truly penetrated her mind. Bree has her own truths, and she sticks by them. She never had to exonerate Chloe of a damn thing because she never believed in anything other than some fantasy version of her.
Lexy growls at Brielle for me. “Chloe isn’t here because Logan hates her guts. Everyone basically hates her, and if you need a bullet point reminder on why—catch me when I have a free twenty-four hours because that’s how long the list is. Logan Oliver can’t stand the witch. That’s enough for me, and that should be enough for you. And for the record, I hate her, too.”
A dull smile rides on my lips. Lexy doesn’t hate Chloe. She’s merely saying it to impress me, and in truth it might be working. Letting the bowling alley go has left my ego severely bruised, and anyone who wishes to stroke it is welcome.
“For the record”—Skyla raises her hand a moment before wrapping it back around that beautiful baby in her arms—“I don’t mind Chloe so much.” Her mouth contorts unnaturally as she says it because it’s a bald-face lie, and we all know it.
Brielle slaps her hands together. “About damn time my besties pull it together!”
Shit. “An ’80s party it is.” I take a deep breath. “Any of you are welcome to commandeer it.”
“I’ll be in charge.” Lexy demands more than she asks. “How’s a few weeks sound? Maybe middle of March?”
“How about the Ides of March?” I say it with a nod. “It sounds appropriate.”
Lex gives a deafening clap. “Set your calendars, bitches. This is going to be one party you will never forget.”
The baby in Gage’s arms starts to fuss, and one by one the small crowd settles into conversations amongst themselves.
Liam comes over and clasps his hand over my shoulder. “You know I’m in. This is our endeavor.” He winces. “I’m not stepping on your toes, though. I’m still one hundred percent behind this decision. The bowling alley is your baby. I’ll settle for the title of silent partner. Just keep me in the loop.” He frowns out at the bodies before us. “Maybe ahead of everyone else next time. Besides, I’m starting to line things up for myself.”
“Such as?” I hope to God Ellis hasn’t hit him up to run his impending hookah parlor.
“Construction. Oliver Construction. I’ve been taking night courses ever since I came back. Hopefully by the end of spring I’ll have my contractor’s license.”
A part of me breathes a sigh of relief that he is in no way certified to help me out at the moment. I’m counting on an entire host of certified professionals to piece this place back together—and quickly at that.
“And I’ve already got my first job.” He holds out his arms expectantly, and I can’t find it in me to break my brother’s heart. He laid down his life so I could have mine. His sacrifice was something far nobler than anything I could ever comprehend.
“You bet, man. I’m sure you’ll turn this place into a sight to behold.” I’m not sure I meant that as a compliment.
“Not this place. Dude”—he winces as if I’ve lost my ever-loving mind, and relief pools in me—“Gage wants me to help renovate his house. It’ll be a good hands-on learning experience for me, and I’ll get a chance to bond with our little nephew.”
I glance over at our little nephew with his refrigerator-like build, that babe in his arms. Our little nephew is all grown up and has turned into one upright man. My stomach sours because I pray to God he stays that way.
“Sounds like an adventure. Hey, everything going good with Miller?” Liam and Michelle Miller have had a tumultuous on-again, off-again relationship ever since he’s come back to Paragon just about two years ago.
“She’s good.” He frowns over at her as if she’s not. “She’s a little wild. She’s not one of us. I always thought I’d marry a Faction girl. I think that’s the missing link in our relationship. I want to talk to her about things, but every time I try, she says it’s just fables and fol
klore. She thinks her friends are in some weird cult. She doesn’t get it.”
“I’m sorry, man. Maybe over time. And if it makes you feel better, there are some of us who still feel the same way she does.” Tad Landon comes to mind. I’ve never met anyone so full of disbelief in all my life. I know for a fact when a Nephilim offspring is that disbelieving, they water down their powers due to a lack of faith.
Michelle purrs to Liam with the curl of her finger, and he heads over to her with his tongue wagging. He might be unsure of her as a whole, but he sure is pussy-whipped.
Brody and Brookelynn stride in, shaking the rain off their bodies like a couple of huskies. Bree squeals and screams at the sight of her sister.
“Just in time! We’re making plans!” She bounces over to them as if we were in the throes of a party—one that celebrates the demise of my business career.
I glance over to Gage because I know that he’s patiently waited to find out what Brody has to say about the Winters, and they both tread over to where I’m standing.
“How’s it going?” Gage looks nervous as if Brody Bishop were about to deliver a grim diagnosis.
“I’ll take this one.” I pluck the baby out of his arms, and instantly I know it’s Barron. Skyla mentioned that the boys now have distinct personalities, and I agree. Barron is far fussier, far more agitated and alert. But when he pins those cobalt blue eyes of his onto yours, it makes it feel as if there isn’t a care in the world. Barron has the ability to soothe me as if he’s silently letting me know everything is going to be okay. It’s ironic, though, when Gage touched Barron for the very first time, he had a strange vision, a flashback to when Demetri threatened him—that if he left the Barricade, the one that he loves would turn against him. Gage was terrified it was Barron who would pledge to Demetri one day. That the curse Gage himself brought onto his family would fall on his precious son, and now he’s taken that curse upon himself. And as far as I know, Skyla and Gage still haven’t spoken about it. Her anger has been set to simmer for all of these weeks, two months and counting. They hardly speak, and Gage has spent every single night since the christening back in his old bedroom at Barron and Emma’s. Enough is enough I say. This beautiful family is begging for restoration whether or not Skyla realizes it. That is the direction in which they are headed.
I nod Coop over, and he slaps me on the back. “Sorry about the tough day, buddy. What’s going on?”
“Brody is about to fill us in on this woman who’s been hanging around with Demetri.”
Coop gives a knowing nod. “The one whose daughter came back to life at the morgue.” He glances to Gage.
“So, Dominique Winters—” Brody shakes his head. Those dark brows of his lay over his eyes like a hedge. The same way Chloe’s do when she’s too deep inside her wicked head. “I did a little digging—talked to Luke Jenson. I grew up with the guy. He’s the Winters’ next-door neighbor. He says the old lady is batshit. He said she had a major heart attack about seven years ago.” Brody does a quick visual sweep of the three of us before leaning in. “They wheeled her out of there as good as dead, but some nurse kept pumping oxygen into her—CPR. Forty-six minutes later, they covered her with a sheet.” He snaps his fingers, and both Gage and I jerk back. “She woke up. Came home like nothing happened. That’s when she started to act erratic.”
Gage glances to me. “How so?”
“Building shit. She’s been tacking on rooms to her house ever since she came home.”
“What do you mean tacking rooms onto her house?” For the life of me, I can’t figure out why I haven’t heard of this woman. Paragon isn’t all that big. “You mean, like Winchester mystery mansion action?”
“Exactly.” Brody looks from Gage to me. “Except it all makes sense. No doorways or stairways to nowhere. She lives in that mega-hovel with her daughter and two sons. Melody, Asbury, and Cash. I’ve seen Mel over at Host a few times. Cash”—Brody glances past the two of us, boring a hole through the wall with a ripe hatred for the guy. Brody starts to stalk off, and I catch him by the arm. I can hardy pull him back. Brody is built like a wall.
“What about Cash?” I hiss so fast it sounds like a threat.
Brody wipes down his face as if this entire endeavor both exhausted and pissed him off. “It’s stupid. I found out this afternoon he’s dating Carly. I went over, and she was there. It just brought back some memories. Made me think of someone I hadn’t seen in a while.”
“Carly Foster?” Gage tips his head back, trying to keep track of where Brody is leading the conversation.
“Yes.” Brody cuts a quick look to Brookelynn from across the room. “We had a son, years ago—Carly and me. He’s about six now. I wasn’t ready to step up to the plate back then. He was taken to New York and raised by her dad, as her brother. His name is Lucas.” His entire body sags, and my heart breaks for the guy. “I gotta go.” He makes a beeline for Bree and her sister, and we don’t stop him.
“What was that about?” Skyla breezes right into the empty spot he left between us, but neither Gage nor I are eager to fill her in on the details. “Ah”—her eyes light up like stars—“more secrets to keep from the blonde ditz. I get it.” She shrugs, rocking Nathan in her arms.
“Not true.” I swallow hard. I can’t do it. I can’t keep another thing from the woman I love.
“You mind if I talk to you alone for a minute?” She nods toward the kitchen, and Gage takes off without saying a word. It feels awful—gut-wrenching to witness as this fissure in their relationship gets wider and wider.
“Don’t tell me that wasn’t awkward.” I pull Barron to my shoulder as I lead her back toward the pizza oven, farther still until we hit the opened door with a view of the fog eating away at the forest that lies behind the bowling alley. “I can shut it if you want.”
“No, it’s fine. The boys are bundled.” Nathan spikes his arms up one by one, punching thin air, and Skyla pulls up her sweater without thinking twice. Her full breast drops out the bottom of her bra, and Nathan twists his head into her until he hits home. But that large pale moon of a nipple is still visible, so I force my gaze to stray anywhere but there.
“I can’t believe I’m still nursing.” She huffs a dull laugh. “I mean, I love it. God, I’d have twenty babies right now if I could. It leashes me down a bit—the nursing. But it doesn’t hurt as much now. Thank God I’m not cracked and bleeding anymore.”
“Bleeding?” As horrified and concerned as I am for her, a part of me demands to run to another subject. But I don’t. This is Skyla. My ex-wife. Hell, my wife. And if she wants to discuss bleeding nipples, then so be it. “I’m sorry you went through that.”
“It’s fine now. My mother and her maternal superpowers really did come in handy. But I’m thinking about quitting.” She blinks back tears as she looks to Nathan’s anxious suckling. “I feel terrible, Logan.” Her voice cracks. “I’m a failure. But I’m desperate to get my body back. It’s selfish. I want to nurse, but I miss things. It sounds stupid, I know.”
“Not stupid at all. Like what kinds of things?” I’m sure her freedom is one. It has to be tough feeding the boys for a majority of the day.
“Like...beer.”
“Beer?” I hike a brow at the idea. “You don’t drink beer, Skyla.”
“I know”—her voice pitches to a wail, and the waterworks start full force—“and now I can’t even start if I wanted to.”
A quiet laugh rumbles from me. Barron stirs to life and grabs ahold of my ear with all his little might. “Come here, Skyla.” I pull her in with Nathan carefully sandwiched between us as Barron turns and reaches for his mother. I lean in and steal a sweet kiss off her cheek, catching a tear with my lips.
“Damn hormones.” She wipes her face clean just as Gage and Ellis head over.
I take a step back and hand Barron to his father.
“Everything okay?” Gage offers a mournful smile to Skyla, but all she offers is a quiet nod.
Ellis and Giselle
come up, and we all take a step out under the awning as Paragon’s wintery breath puffs by. “So, what are you going to do with the rest of it?” Ellis wraps his arm around Giselle as they take in the forest haunting the landscape. Fog billows off the top of the evergreens like smoke.
“Rest of what?” I’m only mildly curious about anything Ellis has to say. Most of the time I’m mildly alarmed.
“The land.” He nods out toward the forest. “I went to the city, and you own these woods, dude.”
I glance to Gage. “I’m pretty sure my land ends where my feet stand.”
Ellis shakes his head at the idea. “That might have been true once upon a time, but about ten years ago the city granted you the next thirty acres.”
“Thirty acres?” Skyla, Gage, and I say in unison, and the sound of our collective voices sound sweet, downright lovely.
“That’s right.” Ellis sniffs the air. “The city map says that it butts up right against the gates. All these woods are yours to do as you wish.”
“To do as I wish?” My mind swirls with the possibilities. My father, my mother. They would have loved this. Land. Soil. Something they could get their hands dirty with. “What do you mean the city granted me the acreage? I’m pretty sure the people at the planning department aren’t allowed to gift land as they see fit.”
“Dude”—he gives me a light sock to the arm—“I found out they were rectifying an error. When your dad bought this place, he got more than he bargained for. He just didn’t know it. Some damn clerical error that they cleared up for you.”
Clerical error? I glance to the sky, and a quiver of lightning illuminates through the fog. Yes, I suspect Candace Messenger is at the bottom of this thirty-acre clerical error.
“So, what’s it going to be?” Ellis slaps his arm over my shoulder. “Apartment buildings? Condos? A high-rise? Dude, you can parcel off the units for millions.”
I can’t stop staring at those evergreens, at that forest of possibilities. “No apartments, condos, or high-rises.” I shake my head, still dazed at the thought that all this might actually be mine. “I’m thinking a farm.”
Crown of Ashes Page 21
