Don’t wait up for her? She wonders how I could stand to live in this house? I’m stunned by this strange version of the woman I love. It looks as if I’ll have to push Gage to the back burner. Skyla’s mental health comes first. She would never forget about our wedding. Or at least my ego wouldn’t let me believe that.
* * *
Ipack up Jaxson and we head out to speak with Dr. Booth. He lets me know postpartum depression could very well sponsor brain fog and tells me that I can bring Skyla by anytime, free of charge. He asked me to relay that he’s eternally grateful to her on many levels.
After that visit is through, I can’t bring myself to head back to the Landon house. If Skyla’s not there, I have no intention of being there myself. God knows I want to distance Jaxson from Lizbeth’s roving boob as much as possible.
And at the moment, I’m not in the mood for Whitehorse and the mess that waits for me there either. Those assholes who work for Gage trashed the Wonderground, that much I remember from that night.
I almost head to Dudley’s, but I’m not in the mood for his crap either. And Gage, well, I probably shouldn’t have Jaxson with me for what I have planned for that monster.
Instead, I find myself pulling into Barron and Emma’s driveway and heading on in with Jaxson in tow.
“Oh my goodness!” Emma shrieks as she spots me. She’s donned a long red dress with Christmas trees printed all over it. A sure sign she’s headed off to work at the daycare she owns and runs. “You hand that little chicken nugget right over, Logan Oliver.” She lands a kiss to my cheek as she takes him from me. “Where were you, Logan? You missed Thanksgiving. That’s not like you. Lizbeth and I were worried sick.” She leaves Skyla suspiciously out of the equation and I pause for a moment. Normally, I would have thought it was because of some outstanding hatred she still harbors for her ex-daughter-in-law, but after what I’ve witnessed, I’m not too sure Skyla was all that concerned about me.
My brother Barron, Emma’s husband, heads to the foyer, along with the little tikes, Nathan andBarron—his namesake, Gage’s twins in every way with their dark shock of hair, those cobalt eyes, and deep dimples.
“Our dinosaur is here!” little Barron shouts at the top of his lungs with excitement.
Nathan reaches up and gives Jaxson’s foot a squeeze until the poor kid squeals.
Emma swats the boys back. “Be nice to your baby brother. Let’s visit with him in the living room. We still have a half hour before we leave for school.”
“Ihatesschool!” Barron announces as the three of them head off for the sofa.
Barron, the bigger, older, wiser version, also known as my uncle on occasion, steps in. His hair is gone to gray completely—what’s left of it—his wire-rimmed glasses hang off the tip of his nose, and he offers me that affable smile he’s famous for.
“Are you okay?” he asks it low, like a secret.
I nod. “Gage held me at Eversor. Ezrina, Nev, and little Alice were there, too. Dudley helped get us out.”
“Good.” He gives a sober nod before ticking his head toward the kitchen. “Gage is here.”
A level of rage I didn’t even realize was in me infiltrates my bones. I take a step in that direction, and Barron shoves a hand in my chest.
“No. Think of the boys. Do not destroy my home. I will not allow it.” A depleted smile flickers on his lips. “I understand you are less than pleased. Trust me, Logan, I share your discontent.”
“I seriously doubt that. No offense,” I say as I crane my neck and spot the devil himself shoveling a forkful of pancakes into his mouth. “It looks as if he’s enjoying breakfast. That’s more than I would let him do in my home.”
A dull grumble of a laugh expels from him. “Be a bigger man.” He slaps me on the shoulder. “You already are, my brother.”
He starts off for the living room, and I pull him back. “Do you know anything about postpartum depression?”
“I’m a mortician. I know plenty aboutpostmortemdepression.” He takes off, and I take a moment to get my bearings.
It’s true, Barron and Emma own the Paragon Cemetery and all of the mortuary services that go along with it. But Barron has always been one of the smartest men I know. Although, his lapse in judgment when it comes to allowing the beast he raised to come back under his roof alarms me. My gut detonates with the thought. Gage is family. That will never change. I would never disown my boys, and I do count all three as my own. I love Nathan and Barron as much as I do Jaxson. Somewhere along the line, Gage disqualified himself as their father in my eyes.
My feet carry me in the direction of the devil, and yet every molecule in my body is begging not to go.
A few choice greetings filter through my mind, but none of them make it past my lips.
Gage looks up at me before draining the rest of his milk. His dark hair gleams under the duress of the kitchen lights, and he looks every bit the same as he ever has. If someone told me this was a scene from ten years ago, I would have believed them. Gage surrounded by piles of pancakes, with enough eggs, bacon, and hash browns to feed that wicked army of his.
I fold my arms across my chest in an effort to leash my fists. That fight-or-flight feeling kicks in, and I’ve never been one to take off.
“Morning,” he grumbles as he casts those hard blue eyes my way.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” I say. “I’d think an important guy like you has better things to do, like polish his horns.”
