The stone boasts of my final countdown. That number has etched itself inside my eyelids. A round number that essentially is useless because it doesn’t let us know if it were seconds, weeks, months, or years we were dealing with—but the options are whittling away rather quickly. Even if it were years, it still doesn’t give me nearly enough time to spend with those Ilove.
I slap Skyla’s favorite cologne over my neck, pull on my old sweats that Skyla claims she can’t keep her hands off because they’re soft as rain—her words, not mine—and check myself in the mirror while combing back my hair. I would do anything, alter myself in just about any manner to have Skyla accept me, keep me, beg me to stay. I’d morph my features to match Logan’s if I knew it’d pleaseher.
I sharpen my gaze in the mirror and will myself to do just that. A slow stretching, a warming of the flesh, and just like that, Logan Oliver is staring back atme.
“Son of a bitch,” I whisper and close my eyes, demanding my own features fall back into place. No sooner do I open my eyes than there Iam.
Yes. I am no longer a Levatio of humble, low standing. I am Demetri Edinger’s son, a Fem through and through, my mother’s own blood nearly insignificant to my cellular structure. I glare at myself amoment.
There is one solid truth I know for sure. Skyla could never hate me as much as I hatemyself.
The room, my inglorious reflection, all dissipate in a powder blue fog. I’m deteriorating, evaporating, heading to Skyla’s house old school—via teleportation. Ah, those old Levatio days. How I do missthem.
Skyla’s room—our bedroom, materializes around me in blinks and seizures. Bed or closet, bed or closet, this far in the game I usually have my destination mapped out, but at the moment my head screams closet—do not blink to life next to her naked body. But my heart, my balls, they both scream for me to do exactlythat.
The warmth of Skyla’s body, the cushioned down of that all too soft mattress we’ve completely broken in—it seems my heart and my balls won out. They usuallydo.
Skyla rolls over and her eyes blink open like that of a doll, a quiet click. Those pale sky born eyes burn over my flesh and sear me with theirwrath.
“Why are you here?” Her breath warms me with its minty scent, and my lips twitch to something just this side of a smile. She didn’t claw my eyes out, so that right there has to be a pretty goodsign.
“I belong here.” It might be bold of me to say so, but it’s true. It takes everything in me not to run my fingers through that blonde mane of hers. Skyla’s hair is an entity all toitself.
Her mouth opens before compressing shut tight. The moon washes over her features, and Skyla glows like an emergingsunrise.
“You’re so beautiful.” My finger traces over her cheek, smooth as velvet. Skyla is perfection, quite literally, thanks to her mother. Candace Messenger ensured her daughter’s beauty, her sparkle, that spitfire that loves to cork to the surface more often than not. I’m in love with her, with each and every facet of the jewel that lies besideme.
“Smooth.” She reaches up and catches my finger as if insinuating that my words, mythoughts, were catering to her ability to read mymind.
“Every word is true asGod.”
She gives a slight nod, her lips bowing to the tip of my finger, and I close my eyes a moment with that simple kiss. I can’t help but note the fact she’s still wearing her wedding ring, and everything in me soars withhope.
The boys squirm and grunt at the same time and begin in on a choir of quiet brays. Skyla reaches over and picks up Barron, and I scoop Nathan into my arms. Her blouse falls open as she lays Barron to her breast, and I give her Nathan so he can latch on as well. Skyla doesn’t prefer to feed them at the same time. She likes the one-on-one experience, but at night when she’s bone-tired, she gives in and lets them take all they want so she can catch a decent wink before the sun cracks thehorizon.
I scoot in close and brazenly wrap an arm around her, landing my palm over Barron’s warm head of hair. My other hand lands over Nathan’s back, and I soak in the rhythm of this beautiful family God has giftedme.
“I want to say my peace.” The words swim around the room like a hauntedwhisper.
Skyla looks up, the whites of her eyes flashing with a refreshed level ofrage.
Her hand shifts from Barron’s side, landing her finger over my lips. Even in this repressed light, Skyla is an undeniable work of art. I can’t drink her in fast enough, her perfect bow tie lips, the full curves of herbody.
“I love you,” I say before playfully biting down on her finger. “I promise, I will never be your enemy.” My eyes linger over hers as a morbid sorrow blankets the room. “I will love youforever.”
Tears moisten her eyes, cutting through the moonlight like shards of glass. “Getout.”
And there it is. I knew those words were coming. With Skyla, you either feel the love or not—and tonight she’s decided to unceremoniously give me the boot. I lean over and place a kiss to each of the boys inturn.
“Merry Christmas.” I lean in to kiss her goodbye, and she turns away, landing my lips to the edge of her jawline. “I’ll see you at my parents’ house.” I flick her ear gently with my finger, and she flinches with a frown already pointed my way. “We’re taking a picture as afamily.”
And Ileave.
* * *
“Areanimation?”My sister’s eyes bulge with delight at theidea.
It’s ten after three, the time my mother deemed a perfect hour for Christmas dinner, and she’s already scowling at me from across the living room because Skyla is holding up her party. I don’t really see the problem. There’s not much of a party—just Liam, his main squeeze, Michelle Miller, Ellis and Giselle, me and nobody. I asked Logan to head over to the Landon house and help bring Skyla and the boys over, but that was over an hourago.
