Crown of Ashes

by Addison Moore

  I glance to the heap of rubble across the street with a plume of smoke swimming toward the sky as the forklift gathers the debris and tosses it into the open mouth of a dumpster as long and as wide as a house. I can’t help but wonder if it’s all just some metaphor of who we will become and where we find ourselves in the end.

  Late in the night, long after Skyla and Gage take off, I pace the floors of my bedroom like a death row prisoner next in line. Every now and again, I give a nervous glance out the window just to make sure the bowling alley is indeed still gone, that it hasn’t resurrected itself like some macabre nightmare. Nevertheless, I feel it there, taunting me, saying you can’t get rid of me as easily as you think. I’ve never thought of the bowling alley as some nefarious entity, more like a reminder that I’m not particularly good at any one thing. And here I’ve set out to spend a hell of a lot of good Harrison dollars to explode onto the business scene like some sort of entrepreneurial whiz. It’s laughable, achingly tragic, and it stirs a grief in the pit of my soul that I never knew existed.

  I head back to bed as Wesley Parker, Paxton, fucking hellish Edinger takes over my mind. Skyla was right. His need—his obsession to be near Laken is insatiable. And that right there is something I can commiserate with him on. I feel the very same way, only it’s not Laken that has this dead man’s blood pumping, my lungs struggling for their next breath in any way that God wants to give it to me. It’s Skyla. It’s always been Skyla. And, unfortunately for me, she is the only one who can take away this horrible pain. Yes, I will finally admit it. I am very much grieving the loss of Paragon’s one and only mediocre bowling alley, my old friend, the very extension of my father and all of his love for me. It was his wish that I have it. His provision and shelter for me.

  Wesley cured his pain for Laken by having Ezrina whip up another version, by going back in time and laying his hands on the very version he so desires. His obsession knows no bounds. His pain from losing her forced his hand. He was desperate and in need and did the only thing he could think of to quell it, to make life a little more bearable. He didn’t hurt anyone, not really. Did he? Ezrina wouldn’t force anyone to take on Laken’s likeness. Wesley didn’t force himself on Laken when he went back in time. Coop said so himself. Wes simply found a way. Not the best way. But a way nonetheless.

  A thought comes to me, and I give a depleted nod as if accepting all of the lunacy. After all, every last one of my sins is forgiven, even the ones I have yet to commit.

  My feet land on the cold hardwood floor as I stride toward the dark walk-in closet built extra-large just for Skyla’s needs—her coats, her clothes, her private things, the shoes that adorn her beautiful feet, and I keep walking. I walk through the empty space, the walls, through time and space, and straight into the past, straight back to that blessed night of our honeymoon. Not the first night. That was an exercise in exhaustion, though exhilarating, it was never-ending and rightly so. I go for the next night, where I know for a fact there is a lull in the action, and for a brief, blissful moment in time, we are tangled in one another’s arms. That’s all I need right now, all I really crave.

  And just as easy as crossing a continent, here I am, lurking in the corridor that leads to the restroom as the commotion on the bed slows to a crawl. I wait until the dismount. I have no intention on crawling inside my body while my most prominent member is still buried deep inside her. And there I go.

  I head over, the ghost that I’ve become, and fall perfectly into my form. My own spirit eases over my body like a glove, and I take one rushed breath after the other in appreciation of the cardio we just underwent. Yes, I waited until all of the fun was through before crawling into my skin and into that bed with Skyla. I don’t want to step on Gage Oliver’s parade. I’m not Wesley. I’m not rewinding time like a porn reel I get the privilege of reliving over and over.

  Skyla folds her arms over my body with a warm embrace, skin on skin, and it feels electrifying.

  Her arms pull me in, and I don’t fight it. Her naked, damp skin adheres to mine, sticky and wet. Her heavy breathing matching my own.

  Her body bucks a moment, and she takes a deep, cleansing breath as if she too just popped back into her body from some other time scape.

  “Hello,” she says it breathless, her eyes glinting in the shard of moonlight—hell, most likely early morning light falling across her face. “I know who you are.”

  My eyes widen a moment. Those aren’t words that I remember from that fated night. “You do?” A wry smile builds on my face as her tits press hard against my chest.

  “Yes, Logan”—Skyla strokes my hair back, and the act alone cools me—“you confessed this to me. You came back because you needed me to hold you. Just for one night.” Her voice grows weak as she speaks.

  “Shit.” I lean my head in the pillow. “Wait a minute. I would never tell you that.” My body freezes because I’m suddenly fearful over the thought that I may not be in bed with Skyla, not the one I remember anyway.

  “It’s me.” She pulls back and offers my chest a light tap. “I’m visiting, too.” Her finger presses hard to her lips a moment as if to stop the reprimand before it ever begins. “You didn’t have to confess anything to me. You’ll eventually tell me yourself when the time is right on Paragon.” A lone tear rolls down her cheek. “Logan.” Her voice breaks. “I’m in pain.” Her eyes close as the light catches all of the agony written on her face. “I just needed you to hold me, too.” Her limbs latch over mine as she weeps silently against me. But her mind remains stealthily sealed off, unattainable to me no matter how hard I try to read it. No, Skyla is shielding me, protecting me from some horrible truth. So horrible she left the confines of her husband’s arms to be here with me on this night of all nights.

  We spend the next few hours lost in this dreamlike state, grieving, holding on tight, never wanting to let go.

  “I love you, Logan,” she whispers it heated over my chest, and my eyes close to those perfect words.

  Sometimes all you want in the world is to be held by the one you love.

  I fall asleep to the tune of our beautiful beating hearts.

  But something horrible has happened for her to be here. It must have.

  And I wonder.

  5

  This Enemy of Mine

  Skyla

  The week blows by like wind racing across the face of Devil’s Peak, alarmingly quick and bitter. Of course, Wesley has proven impossible to locate, thus postponing his ass whipping from Cooper. And Laken is determined to initiate one herself. On the Landon front, Mom and Tad have the food in the house sealed in plastic bags while emptying the fridge into a moldy cooler. The big day has arrived in which we pump this entire oversized cabin with nerve gas and expect to return in three days as if nothing ever happened.

  All I can think about is the delicate nervous systems of my two beautiful boys. If anything unfortunate should happen to them as a result of all those toxic fumes being delivered straight into our sleeping quarters, I will never be able to forgive myself. The boys are everything to me. It’s as if life never really existed before they arrived. It’s their smiles, their deep husky laughter that warms me to the bone. They’ll be five months old tomorrow, and already they can sit up on their own, albeit while doing their best Weeble Wobble impressions. Okay, so they’re not quite stable, but they’re getting close. But my mother has assured me they are well on track as far as development goes. Emma agrees and takes it a step further by adding, especially for twins, as if the fact they arrived in duplicate had somehow lessened the odds of their developmental success. But, nevertheless, she seems impressed with the two little geniuses—and that, right there, is something we can both agree on.

  Gage comes in panting after loading the minivan to the hilt, and I hand him Barron, already winded myself. I’ve got my Host sweatshirt on, and my hair in a ponytail, all ready to go on this, our quasi-official moving day.

  “Let’s say goodbye to everyone.” I rebalance Nat
han in my arms as we head to the family room. It feels good like this with my husband by my side, our family pieced back together again. All of that horror with the bowling alley has unsettled me. It underscores the fact that yes, things can and will change. Things that I believed were set in stone for eternity were only here for a short season—the bowling alley, much like Logan himself.

  Mom jumps in front of me and snags Nathan from my arms. “Don’t you take these babies away from me!” she growls right in his face, and he begins to sputter and cry.

  “Give him back.” I take the baby from her and give a quick once-over to the kitchen, every last cabinet unsuspecting of what’s about to befall it.

  Drake and Ethan grunt their way out the back patio door with a five-foot long cooler between them.

  Bree hurdles it with a giant grin on her face as she speeds her way over. “You guys should totally stay with me! It’ll be like one big slumber party!”

  My mouth opens as I glance to Gage. “Actually, thanks for the offer, but Logan’s already gone through the trouble of getting Whitehorse ready for us.” Not to mention the fact Mom, Tad, Misty, and Beau are staying in the mobile home with them. It’s cozy, yet cold, and no matter how many times Bree tells me it’s a two bedroom, I’ve yet to find that second room.

  “Ooh!” Her brows waggle as if the fact we were staying at Whitehorse was salacious news on some level. “Just the two of you in that big ol’ house? Lizbeth”—she barks, and both Nathan and I straighten—“get ready to welcome baby number three in about nine months from now!”

  Tad limps over from the kitchen with his face contorted as if he’s just had a stroke. “Not on my watch!” He jams his finger toward Gage’s crotch, and suddenly I’m fearing for far more than my future prospective children. Swear to God, if he touches my man’s lightning rod, I will rain down hell on the Landon house the likes of which it has never seen. I’ll make sure that entire burn unit scenario he underwent last winter is looked upon longingly once I’m through. “Put a sock on it this time, would you? Or better yet, keep it in your pants! You’ve already doubled the trouble to this household. There’s no way—”

  Mom is quick to karate chop his dangling appendage, and Tad lets out a yelp. “What he’s trying to say is”—she bats her lashes at the two of us manically because she’s mortified to be married to him for once—“we would welcome another delicious Oliver baby with open arms!” She scoops up Barron’s foot and pretends to gobble it up, which only reduces him to the most adorable husky gurgles. “You have the yummiest corn niblet toes! Yes, you do!” She dives for Nathan’s feet, and he wisely retracts while laughing wildly.

  Bree bats her away as she steps in close. “You’re welcome, and your babies are welcome, too. Besides, we need to get together and plan my big night out. It’s not every day a girl gets hitched.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Drake howls as he and Ethan file back in. “I keep telling her we’ve already done this shit.”

  “Oh hush, you.” Mom all but gives Drake the finger. “You’ve already deprived us of one wedding. Don’t you dare deprive us of another. In fact, you’re welcome to have both the ceremony and reception right here at the house.”

  “No way, no how. We’ve already gone around the thorny block,” Tad barks while arranging the miniature vaginas on the table that both he and Mom are equally obsessed with as of late. “Of course, a monetary incentive could easily change my mind. In that case, the offer is very much still open.”

  Bree grunts at her bother-in-law. “Like we said, Drake and I have already paid Logan for the whole thing. Besides, if I were to have it here, I’d have to remodel this entire kitchen with top-of-the-line appliances, redo these grotesque floors, and put in marble or gleaming hardwood, and don’t get me started on the furniture. Logan’s place is already updated.”

  Something a little more aggressive than a hiccup comes from Tad as he gallops forward. “New furniture? Say, like a comfy new recliner for yours truly?” Saliva wets his lips and—dear God, did Tad just drool?

  Mom joins her shoulder to his. “A complete remodel?”

  “Oh, yes.” Brielle is emphatic as she picks up Beau, spanks his bottom, then puts him back down. “I’m talking crème de la crème, luxury all the way. That’s why Silent Cove is so perfect. Plus, Logan said he’d help hire the very same caterer Laken and Cooper used last summer.”

  Tad leans in as an anguished cry escapes him. “But, but—what about the remodel?” The cords in his neck distend with frustration. “You can even gut the bathrooms if you like. You can put in side-by-side gold thrones! Think about it, kids. His and hers flushers. Think of the toilet paper races, the beautiful bonding that an experience like that can afford you!”

  Gage and I share a grimace.

  “And on that note.” I pull Mom and her ever-present fake mole in for a quick kiss.

  Tad chokes as if he’s got a chicken bone lodged in his throat. “We’re not done here! Look at all the goodies we can hand out.” He waves over the table of mini vajayjays, and Mom and I shudder at the same time.

  Bree scoops up a handful of the tiny pink treasures with their tiny pearls embedded over that sweet spot that Gage has memorized oh so well.

  “Yes, to the goodies—no, to the venue. I’m staying strong with Silent Cove.”

  “Sorry, Pops.” Drake whacks Tad over the shoulder and brings him back to life. “I’ll catch you on the next wedding.”

  Bree is quick to smack him. “This whole thing is a pain in the ass for poor Logan to plan out. We’re not having another wedding.”

  “Not with you I’m not.” They take off, and Gage and I set out to do the same. Just as we almost make a break for it, Em barrels out of her room and knocks into Gage.

  “Whoa.” He manages to swing Barron out of the way just in time because he’s amazing like that. Gage Oliver is truly my hero. As much as I don’t like what Demetri has essentially trapped him into doing, I appreciate the fact he’d lay his life and soul down for the boys. I didn’t think I could love him any more than I already did, but I sure as hell do.

  “Where are you off to?” Em slits those aggressively bored eyes our way.

  “Whitehorse,” I’m quick to offer. “And you and Ethan?”

  “My folks’.” She frowns as if this isn’t a good thing. “Ember is scared shitless of the place, so we’re leaving her in the trailer.” No sooner does she say it than little Ember runs out screaming.

  “Mee-Maw! Tampon!”

  “Oh God.” I touch my fingers to my lips. “We need to nip that little sanitary nickname in the bud because if word gets out on the mean Paragon streets, our kids are never going to live that down.”

  Em rolls her eyes as if I’ve erred on the side of the dramatic. “She’s just calling it like she sees it.” She starts to walk off, then backtracks, poking her finger in Gage’s chest. “Get your shit together. I’d like to see my brother again one day soon.” Her slitted eyes return to me. “And, you”—she pokes her finger in my boob, and I let out a yelp—“I have a message for you.”

  A breath hitches in my throat because traditionally Em’s messages usually frighten me right out of my skin. Those prognosticating panic-riddled pattern filled nightmares have routinely led me straight into trouble—with the exception of that one time she predicted the arrival of the twins who were actually triplets—my precious serpentine butterfly. Poor Sage, all alone in the nethersphere with my mother of all people. It’s no wonder she’s a pint-sized danger to herself and others. Once things die down, I plan on venturing up there and spending some good quality alone time with her.

  “We don’t want another message,” Gage answers for me as he herds us down the hall.

  “It’s from Chloe,” she barks after us. “She says it’s time to make good on that promise or she’s bailing.”

  “Freaking Chloe,” I mutter under my breath as we hit the porch. “Will do!” I shout back and wave before Gage and I take off for the waiting
minivan and load it up with our love.

  Gage buckles in the last twin before wrapping his strong arms around my waist and landing those perfectly formed full lips to mine as we share a hot, delicious kiss.

  “You ready to have a few blissful days with just you, me, and the boys?” Those dark brows of his do a little dance, and my insides quiver at the sight.

  “I am ready to have a lifetime of just you and me and the boys.”

  “Good. Let’s move it.” He gives my bottom a light pat, and I can’t help but giggle. “Is that a naughty sign of things to come?”

  His lids hood low, those dimples of his dig in deep. “I think the very first thing we should do is get naughty and come.”

  “Ooh.” I wince. “Lucky for you, the boys are asleep.”

  “And if we’re both lucky, they’ll stay that way for hours.” He gives a gentle peck to my lips before we hop into the van.

  It’s just the boys, Gage, and me.

  I look out the window and frown up at my bedroom window because it once belonged to that gnat in my eye—Chloe.

  Yes, for the next few days, it’s going to be just the boys, Gage, and me.

  And Chloe.

  Damn her to hell.

  And if my plan works, I will do just that.

  The drive to Whitehorse is giddy with sexual prospect as Gage entertains me with the things he plans on doing to my body once we get settled. He’s convinced that the boys will nap for four days straight.

  “You are a dirty, dirty boy.” I reach over and pick up his hand as he takes the final turn, and we both gasp as that gaping hole that once held the bowling alley comes up ahead. “My God, it’s like a slap in the face.”