“Yeah, well, it’s too late for that. I’m betting the feds have sent in people by the droves. Two of their own are persona non grata, and I’m pretty sure we’ve managed to piss themoff.”
“Evening,” a harrowing deep voice warbles from behind, and I turn to find Demetri shedding his Cheshire Cat grin as he makes his way to the stairwell where Darla Johnson, Bree’s Mom, his blonde bombshell of an ex, stands. I crane my neck and spot Mom safely on the other end of the living room holding one of the boys. Figures. Emma probably shoved Nathan into her arms once she got into the coagulated meats portion of her cookbook. It’s no wonder my mother is so obsessed with Demetri. He’s basically a coagulatedmeathead.
“Don’t let the fact it’s an old coot kind of a night scare you from coming in.” I say that out loud even though Laken and Coop didn’t have the pleasure of hearing my internaltirade.
“Don’t worry about it. We can’t stay. We’ll see you later!” Laken kisses my cheek. “We need to talk,” she whispers before trotting past Demetri. If I were smart, I’d trot right along withher.
“Skyla, Mr. Flanders.” Demetri nods to the two of us before waltzing into the Landon living room as if he were welcome, and sure enough, my mother tackles him like a three-hundred pound linebacker and douses his face. “Merry Christmas fancy Europeankisses!”
“Looks like all holy hell is breaking loose tonight,” I murmur before giving Coop a brief huggoodbye.
“We have to talk, Skyla,” he whispers ominously into my ear just the way Laken did a second ago, and I’m left to wonder if the left hand knows what the right hand isdoing.
“What’s this about?” I try to keep my voice low and even-keeled.
“It’s about Wes.” Coop’s eyes darken. “I think he stole something very personal fromLaken.”
“Like what? A lock of her hair? A contact lens?” God, does Laken even wear contacts? Who the hell knows, but I do know one thing for sure, I wouldn’t put it past Wes to steal an entire eyeball if given half achance.
Coop’s heavy eyes bear into mine, and I can feel the pain emanating off him like heat off a Transfer tin roof. “Hervirginity.”
“Herwhat?” I try to absorb this for a moment. I know for a fact that Laken and Coop have been the fornicating kind for quite some time because Gage and I once walked in on them doing the dirty deed—Coop does love Laken with an all-consuming passion. And secondly, they got hitched last summer, and they consummated that good time all over Whitehorse, the house that Logan built for me, that he also happened to penetrate Chloe Bishop in last spring. Ah, yes, good coital times. “But Laken said you were her first.” I bear hard into Cooper Flander’s desperate eyes, and for a moment it feels as if we’re both stretching to believe it. “Or at least she implied it because she also happened to imply that she never slept with Wesley.” Oh dear God, or did Wes and his constant desperation for the girl imply it? The good Lord knows Wesley’s desperation has commanded him to have Chloe morph into Laken’s likeness time and time again, so maybe that’s what this is about? Wes has clearly confused reality and the chaos that goes on in his sex lab withChloe.
Coop shakes his head, slow and dazed, his gaze still transfixed ontomine.
“The past is not always our friend, Skyla.” The muscles in his jaw pop, and he looks vexingly like Logan, a hot twin, if I may, although I’m presently pissed at Coop’s hot twin. Coop and Logan, it turns out, are long-lost relations of my dear and deviant spirit husband, Marshall Dudleyhimself.
“Thatpast!” I close my eyes. “I will hang Wesley Edinger by his jingle bells if I find out he’s manipulated his way back in time to steal Laken’s V-card.”
“Did I hear my name?” Wesley Edinger pops up behind Cooper and jolts us both tolife.
There he is, looking every bit the Gage Oliver knockoff. That midnight hair, those eyes so bright, and the dimples that beg forgiveness. A horrible grief rinses through me, leaving me thick with its aching residue. But it’s that cherub he’s holding tight, dressed in her crimson velvet dress and arms that stretch to me, that makes me melt. It’s safe to say, Tobie,OctoberEdinger has stolen myheart.
“I’ll take the baby. You deckhim.”
Wes pulls baby Tobie out of my range and dodges past the two of us on the wayin.
“Merry Christmas, Coop!” he has the nerve to callout.
“I’m going to kill him.” Cooper nods and leaves for the car, but there was something about the nonchalant way he said it, the complacent smile that ebbed at the edge of his lips that has me believing every word. I’m not convinced any of Demetri Edinger’s children could ever really die, but if they could, Wesley would be a good start in cleansing the planet of all its ills. And horrifically, Gage might be a closesecond.
I close the door, and no sooner does the latch connect than a gentle knock emits from the other end. I pop it back open only to see Wesley again, and then my tired, newborn fried brain does the Edinger Oliver math and deduces that no, in fact, this isn’t the least nefarious of Demetri’s children. It’s the most wicked of them all—Gage.
In that single moment, it feels as if an eternity slips by. I see our bumpy past, our heartbreaking future all in one swoop as I gaze deeply into his ocean blue eyes. I wonder what he sees when he looks at me. Does he see the heaven we once shared or the hell he thrust us in? Yes, everything I whispered to Chloe last night can be squarely pinned on Gage Oliver’s Italian suitedshoulders.
And it’s only then I notice the scruff has been clipped from his face. He’s clean-shaven. I almost want to laugh. He’s let Emma groom him. Worse yet, he thinks I prefer this choirboy version of him. Mr. Clean Cut. Mr. Innocent. This version would no more take a walk on the wicked side than he would drive a digit over the speed limit. Clean-shaven, licked clean, spit-shined just for the occasion to placate my good senses. Like I would ever fall forthat.
My thighs tremble at the sight of him, and my knees beg to fall to the ground in worship. Damntraitors.
“I like you better with the scruff,” I muse and ironically mean it even though my body is about to have the big O simply from that lust-riddled look he’s shooting my way. I bet that’s one of his new superpowers. Big Daddy reissued him all of his oldie but goodie Femtastic powers last night. That was one part of his rambling dissertation I did understand. The rest of it was hocus-pocus, welcome to the dark side for the most part. Gage had both abandoned and betrayed me—that much I know istrue.
Gage moves from the shadow and into the light, and then I see it and my heart thumps once with the requisite pride. A bright pink handprint stains his left cheek. The exact spot where I belted him last night in a fit of primal rage. Yes, I am damn proud of that token of my affection. My one and only Christmas gift to the boy I once would have died for. Dear God, a part of me wants to slapmyself.
He frowns, sending his dimples digging for attention, and it’s then I notice that his hair is crisply parted on the side—and no doubt licked back by hismother.
“Skyla,” he whispers in that low, achingly desperate way only Gage knows how to do. He leans in, pleading with me before he ever says a word. “Do you trustme?”
“No. Not really.” There. I didn’t miss a beat because honest words are rarely hard to comeby.
