“Dude.” Ellis shudders. “If a corpse puked on me, I’d effing puke rightback.”
“I came close.” There’s thetruth.
Dad clears his throat, obviously not as riveted by my tales of the crypt as G and Ellis. “I’ve dealt with the authorities twice this morning. One would hope they’re grilling the staff at the emergency room far more efficiently than they are me.” He glides his glasses back up his nose absentmindedly. It’s a habit of his that has always endeared me to him, and now that Demetri has put a dent in our special bond, I appreciate Barron, my true father, all that much more. “It’s as if they’re blaming me for bringing the dead back tolife.”
Mom huffs, adjusting the Battenberg lace apron tied to her waist. She’s emulating a 1950s housewife to a T tonight—long wool dress, a string of iridescent pearls floating around her neck, bright holiday red lipstick, and her hair pinched in a neat bun. My mother is a powerhouse of a businesswoman with the most successful and largest daycare center on the island. She’s a master cook, master baker, and runs a household like a boss. The only thing she can’t seem to do is find a soft spot in her heart for the woman Ilove.
“They should be so lucky we could resurrect a soul or two.” Mom scowls at the thought. “The next thing you know, they’ll be slapping us with fines for housing sick individuals against their will! And just you wait—those feds that are crawling all around the island like a small army will be knocking on your door soon enough. I’ve got a good mind to put a sign out there,do not knock lest ye wake thedead.”
Giselle chortles at my mother’s attempt at humor, and a brisk knock erupts over the front door oncue.
I half-expect it to be the feds. My mother is right. Paragon is infested with government workers forced to take a break from their own holiday festivities in search of Moser and Killion. Those two aforementioned feds were slaughtered by a hungry Spectator in the woods behind Demetri’s estate the night of the christening. As much as Coop promised to clean up the place, you have to figure it’s laced with enough DNA to rouse the suspicion of any governmentagency.
I follow my father to the door as Christmas carols dance lightly through the air. Not the raucous old-school cheerful carols of last night at the Landons’, but a far more demure instrumental version that only the discerning ear could tag as a familiar holiday tune. Everything about this house is demure in contrast to last night’s fiasco. Not that Lizbeth’s decorating skills are a fiasco. They’re bright and happy, and that’s the exact environment I’d like my sons to grow up in. My mother’s décor leans toward Christmas art deco, more of the idea of the holiday in hues of white and silver than actually any hard evidence of the jolly elf himself. There isn’t anything here that screams Christmas sans the crystal white tree in the living room. That plastic wonder is carefully festooned with enough bright red ribbons and bulbs to make up for the rest of the monochromatic holidaytheme.
Mom swings the door open with a frown, but quickly bounces a smile on herlips.
“Kresley, one of my favorite girls!” She leans in and offers a hearty embrace to the tall brunette at the door. I have never heard her reference Skyla as her favorite anything. “You do look lovely. Merry Christmas, sweetheart.Gage—help Kresley in. I need to tend to thekitchen.”
“Gage Oliver!” Kresley presses that lustful gaze of hers my way before lunging in for a hug and latching on for dear life. Kres is Wesley’s old girlfriend. She’s pretty in an aggressive pile on too much war paint kind of way. But it’s her personality that’s a solid turn-off for me. She’s a take them by the balls, hold no prisoners kind of a girl. And unfortunately for me, it’s my balls she’s after thesedays.
“Merry Christmas. Can’t breathe.” I choke out that last word exaggeratingly so, but I’d lie, cheat, and steal just to get Kresley the hell offme.
The minivan pulls up in the driveway with Logan behind the wheel, and I catch Skyla already glaring at me from over Kresley’sshoulder.
Shit. I pull away and manage to pluck myself free while scooping up the packages on the porch besideKres.
“You are a hero!” She beams. “Mellie Winters is Grayson’s roommate’s sister.” She gives a curt nod as if I should understand any of the lunacy she spouted. “And boy are you ever the talk of the island rightnow.”
Skyla comes up quickly with a car seat in her arms before I can ask what the hell that was about, and I land the packages in the foyer so I can assisther.
Kresley tags along down the porch as Paragon kisses us with an urgent peppering of light rain. “She says you gave her mouth-to-mouth, held her hand until authorities arrived, and then gave her your number. She said you gave herlifeagain. That’s incredible! Is it because, youknow, you have Demetri’s blood inyou?”
Skyla grunts as she dodges past the two of us. “I don’t even want toknow.”
“I didn’t give her my number,” I shout after Skyla and take Barron still nestled in his car seat from Logan. “Thanks, man.” I pull him in quickly. Logan smells thick with cologne, and something about that simple act of hygiene makes my stomach churn. Logan smells good, looks great, and is dressed to the nines. Skyla and I are out of bounds, so thatleaves—
“I chatted you up all the way here, man.” He slaps me over the back, and I give a wry smile as we head into the warmth of the house. It takes minimal skin-on-skin contact for Logan to read my thoughts, and yet it never seems to be on my mind. It’s a gift both Skyla and he share, along with their Celestra lineage. Skyla and Logan have always had it all in common, and the Treble Candace gifted him only seems to have brought them closer together. Skyla and I only seem to drift fartherapart.
Mom quickly excavates baby Barron from his restraint and raises him in the air, his legs still curled under him from the nap on the rideover.
I speed into the living room to find everyone on their feet, greeting the boys first and foremost. Skyla’s hair looks a bit wild the way it does when she first wakes up in the morning, and my bones ache to witness that firsthand once again. Her eyes are bloodshot, and she has bags underneath them large enough to stuff both Nathan and Barron inside. I’d do anything to lighten her load, help her out when she needs it most all nightlong.
“I didn’t give anyone my phone number,” I reiterate while attempting to pull her into a hug, but she lunges at Ellis instead. “Certainly not agirl.”
The room quiets down, and it’s all eyes onme.
“Just clarifying.” I nod toward Skyla, and my father gives an iffy thumbs-up.
Kresley clutches onto my arm, her tits trembling out of her all too exposed cleavage, and I take a full step back because I refuse to fall into the titty trap Kresley has set out forme.
“You’re talking about Mellie, right?” Kresley is still enthralled with this, I can tell. Her arms latch over mine once again as if it were simply a magneticresponse.
“Yes.” I carefully pluck myself free, my eyes still sealed over Skyla. “There was a corpse at the morgue, only she wasn’t a corpse. I knocked the gurney over, and she started to puke. The next thing I know, the paramedics are taking her back to the hospital. End ofstory.”
“That’s quite the whale of a tale.” Skyla smacks her lips, not looking the slightest bitamused.
“She was in a car wreck, Skyla.” Kresley is quick to admonish the love of my life. “Her family thought they lost her—on Christmas Eve of all nights. Can youimagine?”
