Celestra Forever After

by Addison Moore

  I pull it out carefully and set it to side. The ruby velvet box is still tucked safely in the back. I hold my hand out in front of it and will it to come to me. Inch by inch it jerks forward until it crashes into my palm. I’m not sure why I have this new power. Why I can do a lot of strange things lately like will things to happen by outright demanding it mentally, but I suppose it’s some far-reaching Levatio skill I’m beginning to master. My father always told Logan and I that the older we got, the more powers we could accrue, that we could learn them like learning to play the piano. And now it looks as if that’s proving true, at least for me. I pluck open the soft velvet box, and the ring takes my breath away—beautiful as Skyla—platinum with smaller diamonds outlining a larger stone set in the center. I’ve gifted Skyla jewelry before, but nothing like this. This could be life changing for the both of us in the very best way.

  My heart thumps clear into my ears, trying to hack its way through my skull with sheer enthusiasm. I can’t wait to ask Skyla to marry me. I was born to do this.

  I glance over at the phone. Logan hasn’t bothered to return my text, and a part of me is glad. I just need a little more time alone with Skyla—a little more time to make her mine.

  We’re almost there.

  I hold the diamond up to the light, and a rainbow ignites across the room like a seizure.

  We’ve almost got it all.

  Logan

  Ellis roars as he annihilates the enemy, in this case, Liam. They’re immersed in a game of Call of Duty in the middle of Dudley’s living room, passing gas, lighting up blunts like this were some frat house.

  I throw a pillow at Liam’s head with missile precision and knock the joint right out of his hand.

  “Like I said, don’t touch that shit, you’ll get hooked.”

  Harrison picks up a pillow and nails me in the face. “And I said it’s not addictive. Go ahead, Liam, finish her off. I’ve got plenty more where that came from. It’s legal now in Washington in the event your brother isn’t up on his state laws.”

  “No shit?” Liam stares down at the fat joint pinched once again between his fingers. Smoke blows from his lips as his chest bucks with a cough.

  “How’s this? You’re both shit.” I get up. “I’m heading out for some fresh air.”

  “What’s the matter, princess? Not in the mood for a pillow fight?” Harrison blocks my path with his leg. “Dude, toss off in the bathroom and let out a little steam. You’ll feel better, trust me. I do it like six times a day, and it’s just enough to pull me through.”

  Liam starts in on a never-ending laugh.

  “Look”—I start—“I’m not really interested in what you and Rosie Palm do in your spare time, which, rumor has it, you have a lot of.” I’ve seen him slacking off at the bowling alley enough to know this.

  “Come on, stay.” He beams me in the head with a pillow that I never saw coming. “We’re just getting this slumber party rolling. Don’t be a pussy.”

  “You’re a pussy,” I say, stepping over his leg. “And if I catch you passing this crap off to Giselle, I’m going to hit you in the head with something a little harder than a glorified ball of cotton.” I like Ellis, but his bad habits had better not transfer over to my niece.

  “That goes double for me.” Liam takes another hit off the joint, and his chest puffs up before filling the room with a white plume.

  “See you in a few.” I head out the back and walk down to the corral where the long-necked llamas roam free. I shake my head at the odd menagerie. Dudley’s a freak that’s for sure. There’s a light on in the barn, but not a sound comes from that direction. Maybe he slipped on a pile of shit and knocked himself unconscious? Who am I kidding—I’m not that lucky.

  I glance up at the sky as the clouds break just enough to offer a peek of the navy backdrop. The stars glitter in a cluster right above my head. If I weren’t feeling so screwed over by life, I’d try to strangle some hopeful analogy out of it, but, the truth of the matter is, I’m dead for all practical purposes, while Gage is out there somewhere very much alive and working his way into Skyla’s pants. Who knows? They might be going at it right this very moment. I squeeze my eyes shut tight, trying to pull the visual out of my mind.

  A llama sticks its face in mine, and I bat it away.

  “Crap.” I catch my breath. “You scared the living shit out of me.”

  It brays in my face with what sounds like goooo.

  “Go where, wiseass?” I glance back at the house and spot Ellis and Liam still lost in their videogame—a haze of smoke blooming around them. A noise comes from the barn, and I groan because Dudley is the last face I want to see tonight.

  “I want to see Skyla,” I whisper.

  The world quivers. Dudley’s estate warbles in and out, and, holy shit, I think I’m doing it.

  I want to see Skyla. I close my eyes. I’ve been transporting myself all over this island like the ghost I am, but Skyla is where I drew the limit—until now.

  The atmosphere closes in, heavy as lead, and Paragon wraps itself around me like a glove. I can feel myself magnetizing toward her, the universe pulling me to Skyla like a vortex I’m more than willing to fall into. I can feel my body dispersing into millions of particles, and, for a second, I imagine her inhaling me right into her being. I wouldn’t mind. I want to fuse to her flesh, become a part of her in the most intimate way. A visual of her cells and mine melding together puts a dull smile on my face.

  The butterfly room forms around me—the original one above Skyla’s bedroom.

  I choose to remain in my translucent state and linger close to the wall with the butterflies glowing right through me. They’ve been luminescent ever since Gage worked his magic and made them each light up like a blue flame. It’s weird because it wasn’t exactly a Levatio ability, but since Skyla decided not to call him on it neither did I.

  The blanket on the floor moves, and I hold my breath a second.

  Skyla emerges from beneath it, plucking it off before rolling it up and lying on it like a pillow. Her face is red and swollen. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize she’s been crying. She cradles something in her arms, and it’s not until she turns to her side do I see it’s the framed picture I gifted her on graduation—the one with Gage and me flanking Skyla like bookends during our last football game at West. My heart breaks just witnessing the event. I know Skyla’s heart is breaking, too. I’d venture to guess she’s wishing we could somehow go back, recapture all the magic—I know I am.

  I shake my head. There was so much going on that we couldn’t see we were already steeped in our glory days. Our love was ripe and new—her heart an entire fertile field. Then in one sweet burst she became my wife, and it all ended just as quick as it began. I’ll never forget those last few days, our bodies tangled in knots, hovering over Rome in a hotel suite that looked as if it were ripped right out of the pages of some romance novel. It was our time, and damn it to hell if we didn’t use it wisely.

  “Logan.” She whimpers into the picture, and her chest bucks as she sheds an entire river of tears. “Forgive me.” Her voice floats to the ceiling with the quiet plea.

  Forgive her? There’s nothing to forgive.

  “I will always love you,” she whispers.

  I hold my hand out to her. I know. I glide down beside her and brush the hair from her face.

  Skyla startles and looks right up at me.

  A body materializes into the room, stone cold from nothing—Gage.

  “Hey, you okay?” He doesn’t hesitate scooping her in his arms and planting a docile kiss over her lips.

  Skyla struggles in his arms a moment, glancing around the room with the slight look of panic. I do my best to blend in with the scenery, the butterflies lighting me up in all the wrong places.

  “I’m fine.” She melts back in his arms. “It’s just one of those nights.” Her arms clasp over him like a vice. “Everything’s changing so fast. I guess I don’t do good with change.” She sn
iffs into his neck. “Promise me we’ll always stay the same. That you’ll never leave—never die.”

  Never die. And there it is. I’ve caused her so much pain, she never wants to relive it. Can’t say I blame her. Death hasn’t exactly proven to be a pleasure cruise.

  “I promise you one thing”—he dots her face with his lips—“we’ll always be the same no matter what.”

  My heart breaks for the two of them. Gage knows better than to promise her he’ll never die. But, I guess no matter what, he’s right—they’ll always be the same. I know Skyla will love Gage forever and that she’ll love me just as long as well.

  They whisper into one another and share quiet kisses while I circle the tiny space like a cat in a well.

  I have no right to be in the room with them, ever.

  So I do the only thing I can.

  Leave.

  A few days drift by, and I decide it’s best to pluck Liam from Ellis’s chemically altered clutches. We ditch Marshall’s and head over to where I probably should have gone to begin with, the morgue.

  “My God!” Barron’s face does its best impersonation of those corpses he keeps on file in that oversized freezer behind him. He lunges at us both at the same time, and before we know it, we’re locked in an Oliver love-fest.

  I can feel Liam’s chest buck with emotion, then I begin to lose it, too. Here we are after all these years. It was Liam and Barron who fought to save me, even if it was Skyla’s mother who put the kernel of the idea in their heart. They didn’t hesitate. One sacrificed his life for mine, and the other raised me as his own—all to end my suffering.

  “Thank you, both.” I pull back and take them in. One brother aged to his prime, and the other still robed with the dew of youth. And here I am, locked somewhere in the middle. “I don’t deserve your kindness, either one of you.”

  “That because you’re a jackass.” Liam ruffs up my hair. “But we love you, man. I’d walk through a fire for you if I had to.”

  “Let’s stop while we’re ahead.” I pat them both on the back. “No more fires. No more death.”

  “Now, I wouldn’t go that far. Death keeps a roof over my head.” Barron takes off his glasses and wipes his face down with the back of his hand. “Look at you both.” He pops the lenses back on and inspects us with fresh eyes. “I’m old and haggard, and you’re both at the top of your game. Looks like I got the short end of the stick.”

  “A wife—two beautiful children.” Liam taps him on the back of the neck as if he were knocking some sense into him. “You’re a lucky bastard, Barron—always have been.”

  “I know it.”

  A murmur of voices trickle from the room behind him. They’re coming from the kitchen, that’s the term Barron uses to refer to his own personal chop shop—the room where he preps the corpses for burial.

  Barron glances over his shoulder before trying to edge us back out the door.

  “Why don’t we have lunch somewhere?” It comes from him far too animated as if he were trying to usher us out before we discovered what was going on back there. “Or perhaps the bowling alley? I hear Ellis is taking wonderful care of the facility.”

  “What’s up?” I push past him. I know for a fact when Barron starts talking shop, he’s clearly avoiding a bigger issue. He couldn’t care less what’s happening at the bowling alley. The morgue is his baby just as much as Gage and Giselle.

  I burst in through the double door, and I’m sucker punched by what I see. Gage and Chloe Bishop, hovering over a body. Then it clicks, Ezrina has taken over Chloe’s form, and that would explain why she only remotely looks like the old Chloe. Her hair is shorn close to the back of her head with long bangs in front. She’s sporting thick-framed glasses and a turtleneck with slacks. Practical brown wedges adorn her feet that I’m pretty sure Chloe Bishop wouldn’t be caught dead in. In fact, given the chance, Chloe might kill Ezrina simply for the fashion faux pas she’d accuse her of committing. Personally, I think it’s an improvement.

  “Gage.” My shoulders pull back as I take a never-ending breath. In truth, I wanted to reveal myself to Skyla first, then my nephew. But now that I think about it, Gage is as good a place to start as any. I guess I shouldn’t be too hung up over the fact he’s trying to sleep with Skyla, after all, I did.

  “Guess again.” He stands up, his chest expanding the size of the wall. “You might know me as Wesley Paxton, or, I suppose, Parker.” His eyes glint to both of mine. “These days I’m just going by my father’s last name—Edinger.” Those all too familiar dimples dig into his cheeks, and my body turns to stone.

  Edinger?

  What the fuck is going on?

  3

  The Horrible Surprise

  Skyla

  On Saturday, Barron and Emma host a pool party which is odd in and of itself for several reasons: One, when they made the last minute announcement the weather forecast was set for rain. Two, it’s now miraculously quasi-sunny—nothing short of a pool party miracle. And three, I’ve been to Barron and Emma’s home more times than I can count, and, thankfully, I’ve yet to see either one of them in a bathing suit.

  Last night’s dream still boomerangs around in my mind—Marshall and me on a horse, riding the poor stallion while riding each other. A heat wave pushes through me, and that tender part between my thighs quivers just thinking about the incredible way he made me feel. Before the wild stallion of a romp, he mentioned we were “going back” that Clara needed us again. There’s that name, and I can’t seem to place it. Clara…did she go to West? East? Hell, does she live on this overgrown rock at all?

  “Knock, knock!” Mom sings. That’s her nonsensical way of barging in. “It’s just me.” She pokes her head in before proving my point and migrating toward the bed. She gives a quick look around as if she’s expecting someone. “I can’t shake this feeling that one day I’m going to find a handsome dark-haired Oliver hanging around in his briefs.”

  God. Did she just go there? Isn’t there a law that clearly stipulates bedroom humor is strictly off limits with your grown daughter? I don’t care if I’m eighteen or eighty, I’m pretty sure I’ll never want to discuss Gage in his boxers with her. An image of just that pops into my mind, and I bite down over a smile. Hot damn, I need to see that boy in his briefs—heck, less than his briefs.

  “Not to worry. He made his escape more than an hour ago.” I’m only half-kidding and, disgustingly enough, I think she knows it. Darn these paper-thin walls. Not that we’ve done much more than kissed. Gage and I are stuck on first base, not that first base is such a bad place to be stuck with Gage Oliver. “Can I help you?” It’s obvious I’m going to have to facilitate this conversation along. It must be serious because she’s short at least one human dangling from her nipple. It’s rare she escapes the little people these days.

  “Just wanted to see how you’re doing.” She glides her hand down the back of my head, and the curls crush to my skull. My hair is so unruly in the morning. I look like a lion who’s just stuck his paw in a light socket. “Everything going okay between you and Gage?” She nods into her words as if now were as good a time to confess as any.

  “Yes,” I say it slow, measured. “Did something happen between Gage and me that I should know about?” God, I’m almost afraid to hear the answer.

  “Oh nothing, I just wondered if there was a special reason the Olivers might have invited everyone over. I mean, summer sort of melted away. Everyone is back at school—it’s practically fall. I thought maybe they knew something I didn’t—like say an official engagement that might be on the horizon.” Her eyes widen like twin clovers.

  “Well if that’s true then I’m just as in the dark as you are.” There’s no way Gage would have an ambush engagement party. It’s not his style. Not that I hope he won’t pop the question—I’d die for that to happen. I’m right there. I’m ready. I’ve thought through about a thousand could-be scenarios with each one even more romantic than the last. But, then, if we fell in a mud pit
and he asked, it would still feel pretty damn romantic. This is our time, and I can feel an engagement coming on like a cold. Not that I equate it to one—in fact, quite the opposite. I get the warm fuzzies just thinking about it—butterflies come to life in my stomach. Gage makes me feel like a giddy thirteen-year-old every time I think of him.

  “So are you okay?” She nods cautiously, and I can tell the conversation just took a turn for the Logan.

  “Yes. I mean, I’m hanging in there. He’s always on my mind. My heart still breaks thinking about what happened.” That’s putting it mildly. The truth is, I miss the hell out of Logan Oliver. Our short-lived honeymoon ricochets through my mind like a love song and one that I don’t feel bad about playing on a loop unlike those carnal encounters that Marshall is imparting—even if he does deny it. I know a dream when I see one, and those are no dreams, they almost feel like… light drives?

  Shit! I suck in a quick breath.

  “Skyla?” Mom gives my shoulder a gentle shake. “I asked if you thought you could handle Logan coming back into your life. You mentioned it was a possibility.”

  “Oh, right.” I snap to. “Yes. God, yes.” Actually, not so much. It’s going to be like knifing the wound right open. But I’d rather feel every ounce of pain on the planet than live a life without Logan Oliver.

  “Skyla.” She slips her arm around me, and I scoot over, making room for her on the mattress. “I always know when you’re stretching the truth. It’s okay not to feel ready. This is a unique situation. It’s not going to be easy. I won’t lie, it wasn’t easy seeing your father.”

  Dad passed away years ago and, thanks to some celestial rule bending, he’s popped back into our lives a few times.

  “God, I didn’t even think of how much that must have hurt. I’m so sorry.”

  “No, don’t be. He’s the love of my life, always will be. It’s just hard to, you know, see him now that I’m married to someone else.”