Crown of Ashes

by Addison Moore

  Bree hops over in her West Uniform and screams at the sight of us. “I knew it! We got the band back together, girls!” She rings her arm around Chloe’s neck, and Tobie laughs and claps as Bree smothers her mother. “Let’s put on a little show!”

  “I don’t know about that.” For one, my safety pin is already warping under the strain of my belly. One good flip could render both this skirt and my back useless. Face it, I’m in no condition to jump and thump the way I used to. At least not yet.

  Gage comes up with both of our little skunks in tow, and as if on cue, my little white-tailed stinkers extend their arms, cooing a choir of Mama! Mama!”

  “It’s the Backseat Boys!” I edge in to collect a couple of sloppy wet kisses, and Tobie intercepts by slapping my face with a hungry kiss of her own. She pulls back those fat little hands still pressed to my cheeks. “Mama!” Her entire face lights up, and the smile quickly dissipates from my face.

  “Oh!” I force the smile to come again. My heart just shattered into a million little pieces for this precious baby girl. Life had given her Chloe as a mother, Wesley as a father. As the parent lottery goes, she didn’t exactly hit it big in either category. Yes, Wes loves her—but he’s still Wes.

  “Yes.” I nod, my heart and mind loosening to the idea. “Mama.” I take her tiny hand and place it over my heart, sealing myself to this tiny little being forever.

  “Mama,” she says it once again, far more docile. Her head rests over my chest as if memorizing the beat of my heart.

  “Well, well”—Chloe snarks—“this means war, Messenger.” She bursts out laughing, her pearly teeth glittering under the duress of the moon. “Kidding! I don’t give a rat’s ass. In fifteen years, she’ll be calling us both bitch.”

  “Chloe!” I place my hand over Tobie’s little ear. Although—if Mia’s fifteenth year of life was any indication, Chloe might be right.

  Wes comes up and gathers the masses to a large frilly pink confection, and everyone sings “Happy Birthday” while Tobie claps herself silly. Thankfully, Lex catalogs the entire event with that baseball bat lens she carries around.

  Logan comes up with Ellis and Giselle, both dressed as condiments, ketchup and mustard bottles—Giselle’s idea, no doubt. She’s started her freshman year at Host and is living in a dorm on campus—or so Emma thinks. I happen to know that both Ellis and Giselle are shacking up in one of those rodent-infested dumps his father owns. Probably the same scabies-infested ball box Gage and I lived in once upon a haunted time. It was a nightmare. The hellhole of an apartment—not living with Gage, of course.

  “You know”—Logan stands between Gage and me, slinking an arm over each of our shoulders—“I do believe this is the first Halloween on Paragon where things haven’t fallen to crap.”

  Instinctually, I glance over my shoulder at Chloe who’s working on a cheer routine with Bree.

  “I think you’re right.” Just as I’m about to exhale in peace, I spot Melody Winters making her way toward them at a decent clip. She pulls Chloe out of formation by the elbow as if she were about to scold her and is quick to whisper something into her ear.

  Chloe turns slowly until her eyes are locked with mine, hard, serious, angry as all hell.

  “What’s going on?” Gage follows my gaze, as does Logan.

  “I don’t know.”

  Bree jogs over. “Get that smelly monkey off your back, girl. You’re coming with me.” She plucks Barron from me and dumps him into Logan’s arms. “It’s time to show these kids that us old girls still got it.”

  “I don’t know who you’re calling old, Bree, but it sure as hell isn’t me,” I say, tripping over my feet, just trying to keep up with her. Nat, Lex, Michelle, and Em all gather around Chloe like chicks to their menacing mama.

  “Here we are.” Chloe steps up with that familiar I’m-going-to-filet-you-in-your-sleep look in her eye. “Yes, Messenger. How about one more cheer for old times’ sake.” Those dark eyes of hers pin to mine with venom.

  “What’s going on?” I whisper as Michelle barks for the crowd to gather around. “What lie did Melody Winters spill at your feet?”

  Chloe leans in, and I can see the rage percolating within her like a nuclear holocaust just waiting to find a home. Why do I suddenly suspect that home is me?

  Brielle jumps between us, almost landing us into the glowing Caribbean blue water of the swimming pool behind us. “All right! West Paragon class of—” she looks uneasily to Chloe and me, but we’re too busy locked in our silent standoff to answer. “Whatever! Hit it, Ellis!”

  The music shifts to an old, familiar, dare I say reliable beat that my hips swayed to what felt like a million times while I screamed my heart out for Logan and Gage, and Ellis, too, for the entire West Paragon football team as they brought us victory after victory.

  My body snaps and shakes to those familiar moves as we gyrate, scream, and shout to the delight of the boys, some of the girls, too. But it’s Logan and Gage my eyes stray to every chance I get, each one holding a precious little button-nosed boy in their arm, and my heart is full of love.

  The girls break out into pyramid formation, and I pause. Hell, I think we should all give this ode to genuflection a little post pregnant pause. Let’s call a spade a spade. I’m not the butterfly I once was.

  Chloe climbs into position and roars, “Get on, Messenger!”

  Like a reflex, my body hikes up Em’s back and lands my right knee on Chloe’s spine and left on Bree’s. The crowd goes wild at the sight of this postpartum feat.

  Now. Usually our dismount consists of me leaping to the ground with my arms held high like some Olympic hopeful on her way to gold, but at the moment the grass has about all the appeal of a thousand tiny razors pointing up at me with their knife-sharp tongues, and my knees cringe at the impact they’re about to absorb. I’d rather not find my kneecap floating near my femur later this evening. But Chloe and Bree apparently have other plans as they send me flying backward into the powder blue water that looks about as welcoming as an arctic glacier.

  My body breaks the surface like a Volkswagen through a plate-glass window.

  COLD! FREEZING!

  Oh my shit! My fingers twitch to the surface as I sink ever closer to the bottom, and one by one I watch as those old familiar West Paragon uniforms and the girls in them dive in around me like carbonated missiles. Then I see her. Chloe comes at me like the demon I know her to be, pinning my arms and legs with her own as she drives us to the bottom. Her eyes grow wild with rage as she ignites a bubbling scream right in my face.

  I know what you’ve done to me, Skyla. And I will show no mercy.

  Dear God, what have I done?

  Gage snatches her off me and races me to the surface with a laugh caught in his mouth. My beautiful husband with his dark hair slicked back, those black grease marks under his eyes only accentuate those cobalt spheres I’m obsessed with. Gage’s eyes are the only color that seems to exist on this haunted horrid night.

  “Damn, you’re hot.” His dimples go off as he lands a heated kiss over my lips. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he whispers into my ear. “This football player has a cheerleader he needs to score a touchdown with.”

  “Sounds like you’re about to make all of my jersey chasing dreams come true.” My chest bucks as I struggle to catch my breath, but it’s Chloe my eyes are glued to.

  She slithers out of the pool like a serpent and takes off into the night, dripping with water, dripping with revenge.

  What the hell have I done now?

  Dear God, I don’t think I want to know.

  I let my body sink below the surface once again, feel the air turning into bubbles in my ears. I’m frightened. I’ve been frightened nonstop ever since I’ve set foot on this island.

  Welcome to Paragon.

  Every day is Halloween, indeed.

  November comes with a tidal wave of blessings just out of reach, and it becomes painfully clear what I’ve done to deserve Chloe Bish
op’s wrath.

  “Shit,” my mother hisses as Chloe’s face stains that oversized television screen Drake has stuffed into the room as an ode to his financial empire he and Bree built.

  My heart thumps once as I switch the television off. My mother doesn’t let the expletives fly for nothing, but even she is shocked to hell concerning the fate of Chloe Bishop.

  “How does something like this happen?” she laments as Gage and I finish feeding the boys. “Anyway”—she shakes Chloe and all of her bad juju off with a shiver—“happy birthday, Skyla.” She plants one on me. “And happy birthday to you, too, young man!” She strips off Nathan’s sock and does her best to gobble up his tiny toes.

  “Careful there. He’s just about ready to take off on those cute little puppies.” I wipe his face clean as his Mee-Maw dots him with a kiss. It never ceases to amaze me that the boys look more and more like Gage Oliver doppelgangers with every passing day. I have no doubt that in just a few short years, the girls will be breaking down the door. Of course, I could never blame them. Gage Oliver is a work of holy glory—totally worthy of a few attempted break-in felonies.

  I scan the house with a smile. The balloons are up. Mia and Melissa are still working hard to put the finishing touches on all the decorations both in and out of the house. The party will be small, just family and a few friends, and the cake is homemade, something vegan and organic, a gift from Emily and Ember who helped in the endeavor. She’s quite the little chef in training.

  Gage cleans up Barron and nods me outside to the patio where the afternoon fog is already settled in the valley of the Landon backyard.

  “Happy birthday, beautiful.” Gage steals a kiss as the boys squirm between us.

  “Let’s put them down. We can’t carry them forever.” I regret the words as soon as they leave my lips. I very much want to carry my boys forever. Barron latches onto my leg and Nathan onto his father’s. “Can you believe a year ago they were still safe in my tummy?”

  “It was their last few hours of uninterrupted peace.” Gage takes a careful step back and leaves Nathan struggling to balance on his own two feet, and I gasp. Carefully, I do the same, and Barron looks up at me as if I’ve just left him by the side of a cliff, and I feel like crap.

  “Don’t move,” Gage whispers as we watch the boys to see what they’ll do next. And they do the unthinkable. Barron throws out his left foot and looks up at Gage as if asking for approval.

  “You can do it, big man.” Gage does his best to cheer him on. “It’s all you.” He looks to Nathan who’s staring up at him with rapt attention. “You, too.”

  And just like that, the boys each take a wobbly step at the very same time.

  “Oh my goodness!” Mom claps up a storm from behind and sends both boys flat on their bottoms, wailing at the top of their lungs.

  Gage lifts a brow my way. “There goes that good time. But we saw it. We got to witness our boys’ first steps.” He leans in and blesses me with that mouth, and I’m suddenly anxious to get him back to bed. Yes, moving to Emma’s backfired on us twice in one month, but I gave it my best shot. Once she started in on a dirty diaper rant that spanned three hours—I knew picking up stakes was for the better. And for the record, I did not let my boys sit in their mess. They sort of blew their poopy load once she walked into the room. A coincidence? I think not. But, in my defense, our home is just about ready. In fact, I have no clue why we can’t move in right now. It looks perfect to me. Lex has helped me furnish it with the overflow from a decorator’s warehouse in Seattle, and I now actually have a dream home behind the gates at Paragon Estates. It’s too good to be true, and on no level does it feel real. It went from beast to beauty in a single miraculous year. Plus, Gage and I are stronger than ever. Our boys are walking. The love between Gage and me blooms anew each and every day. We really do have it all.

  My gaze drifts to my gorgeous husband, and my body cries out for him. Suddenly, it feels like a damn good idea to have a thousand babies with Gage Oliver.

  The guests pour out into the yard with Emma and Barron each quick to snap up a grandchild.

  Mom drags Tad over and tries desperately to draw the Olivers into polite conversation—an oxymoron in and of itself, considering both Tad and Emma are present.

  Tad whacks Barron in the leg with his cane. “Rumor has it, I’m about to dump a couple of freeloaders in less than twenty-four hours! I’m popping the bubbly tonight. Canned beer for everybody! Who’s with me?”

  Mom is quick to smack him down like an unwanted gnat. “I said it was a surprise, Tad Landon! I should take that cane and beat you with it!” Mom is quick to drag Tad off, berating him all the way to the edge of the patio, and for a second I’m fearing she’s about to give him a firm shove off.

  Emma spins poor baby Barron away from the potential beatdown, not that she wouldn’t want to watch. Heck, that might be the most entertaining aspect of the evening, considering I shot down my mother’s offer to dress like a pasty-faced demon. It’s amazing how many times I had to shout no clowns directly in her face before she got the message that she wouldn’t be donning copious amounts of red lipstick while she overshot her mouth.

  “What’s this?” Emma looks from me to Gage as if we had some explaining to do, and he winces.

  “I was going to save this for later.” He pulls me in with that loving look in his eyes. “Your mom was helping me out with a little surprise.”

  “That usually doesn’t end well.” My hands glide down to the seat of his pants, and I cop a feel before moseying right back to his waist. I wasn’t kidding when I said Gage looked especially delicious tonight. Dear God, I hope baby number three doesn’t make his or her—or God forbid, their debut in nine months’ time. This boy has my ovaries popping.

  Gage sheds that signature grin, and I die in the sweetness of the pure joy he’s exuding. “It ends well tonight.” He digs his hand into his pocket and emerges with a shiny gold key. “We’re spending the night in our own home. Happy birthday, Skyla.” His eyes gloss with tears. Gage Oliver is radiating with elation, and right now so am I. “We’re going home.”

  “Home!” I clasp my arms over him tight and take in a breath that feels as if I’ve waited years to inhale. “Oh my God!” I jump up onto him, and he spins me with a laugh. “Gage! I love you.” I slip down in his arms until we’re face-to-face once again. “This is the third best gift you’ve ever given me.”

  He inches back a notch, clearly stymied and perhaps a bit affronted by my claim.

  “First, there was you, then our children, and now a house that we get to spend the rest of our lives turning into a home. Life couldn’t get any sweeter than this.”

  His grin widens, and the whole universe gets suctioned into those dimples that I long to worship with my tongue tonight. I’m pretty sure Gage is growing tired of all the tongue baths I’ve implemented over the years. But I can’t help it. Gage is delicious, right down to the very last bite, and tonight I do plan on biting in all the right places.

  He glances out toward the woods, and his grin dissipates a moment.

  “Hey?” I wave my hand over his eyes, and his attention jolts back to me. “Everything okay?”

  His body relaxes beneath me. “Everything is great.”

  Barron breaks into spontaneous applause, but all Emma has to offer is a scowl as if I’ve just shit all over her petunias. How is it that my mother-in-law of all people can’t seem to stand me?

  “Well, your father and I sure didn’t move in behind the gates at quite a young age,” she starts. It’s Emma’s new song. Complain and whine about what Skyla and Gage have. “And that beast of a refrigerator.” She rolls her eyes. Emma has had quite the list of complaints after inspecting my decorator choices. There wasn’t a hair of carpet that she couldn’t find ten negative things to say something about.

  I spot Mom off with Demetri while poor Tad has his head all but dunked in the punch bowl, and I’m thankful for the fruity offense because I’m sure he’d love
to play off Emma’s poor-me, privileged-you routine. Emma looks to Gage. “Your father and I decided not to install a refrigerator that cost more than a car when we redid our kitchen. It was a practical decision because we knew you’d be off to college soon, and boy were we right. Have you seen the tuition costs at Host?” She narrows her judgmental gaze my way. “Don’t act surprised in seventeen years when they’re off seeking higher education, and there’s not a penny in the pot. I’m warning you tonight. It’ll be here before you know it.” She smacks her traffic cone orange lips together and shoots her gaze to her son like a skilled sniper. “Are you sure you needed those top-of-the-line appliances? Really? The Wolf range with the red knobs? A double oven at that? Skyla”—she turns her jealous wrath my way once again, and suddenly I’m feeling moved to shove someone off the patio myself—“when was the last time you even opened an oven?”

  “This morning when my mother asked me to put Tad’s underwear on the top rack.” Honest to God, the dryer is on the fritz, and he won’t get out of the shower unless my mother warms his tighty whities.

  Emma’s face grows pale, flaccid, and sickly—a trifecta of agony that usually has the power to shut her down for a few solid minutes.

  Although—good God, Emma has a point. If the one and only thing I put into the oven this year was Tad’s underwear, we are off to one fucking bad start as far as my culinary skills are concerned.

  “But Emily volunteered to give me cooking lessons.” I look at Gage with a furious nod as if this totally justified my outrageous choice in kitchen appliances. “Lex says I won’t regret a single move I made. In fact, she said our new kitchen is so drop-dead gorgeous she’s offered to take pictures of it and submit it to Paragon Today. We’ll be house famous.”

  “Sounds like it’s bound to happen.” Gage beams with pride straight from his pores, and suddenly I wish this party were on its tail end. I have a feeling tonight is about to give our one-night honeymoon a run for its sexed-up money—in our very own home!