I glance back at my sweet little angels. Both Eden and Jaxson look like a combination of Logan and me, golden hair, my light eyes, Logan’s pirate smile, whereas Nathan and Barron—and Sage, even though she’s in the heavenlies—they’re all doppelgangers of Gage Oliver to a T—jet-black hair, signature Gage Oliver dimples, and cobalt blue eyes that could stun a stranger into submission. Nothing but copy and paste in the most beautiful and handsome way. It’s as if I had nothing to do with their genetics, save for incubating them for a time. I swear, Demetri rigged their DNA just to mess with me. He probably filed some celestial patent on the Oliver genes to make sure they’d override mine.
Ellis Harrison saunters over with a beer in hand, his sandy blond hair slightly disheveled, his eyes lined with crimson tracks, and his signature easy-going smile settling in as he watches the kids run wild.
“Sometimes I miss the good old days,” he sighs, taking a long pull from his bottle. “Remember when our biggest problem was who was hooking up with who at my parties? When the most dangerous thing in our lives was getting detention from Principal Rice?”
“Please. You can’t be serious.” A laugh bounces through me. “You mean when people were constantly dying, coming back to life, supernatural wars were breaking out, and the factions were at each other’s throats? Need I remind you what a Fem was capable of?” I raise a brow. “Those good old days?”
Brielle tosses a marshmallow at Ellis and manages to peg him in the forehead. “Theseare the good old days. You’re just too stoned to notice.”
“That’s right,” Laken says. “We survived. We won. Our biggest problem now is whose turn it is to host the next playdate.” She kicks my foot with her own. “My house next Tuesday.”
Chloe grunts a dark laugh. “I’ve always wanted to say C U Next Tuesday to Skyla.”
“Very funny.” I avert my eyes. “And I’m sure you say it plenty andoften behind my back.” And at least once to my face. But Chloe and I are friends now. Mostly. Sort of. In a roundabout way. I think.
“Anyway,” Chloe continues, “let’s not forget why the current days are so good and golden for Skyla. She gets to decide which husband gets bedroom privileges for the night.” She stabs me with a smile as if to punctuate the dig. It never gets old with her.
“Wow. Someone has a one-track mind, and it’s not me,” I say, flicking sand her way with my foot.
Liam wraps an arm around Chloe’s waist from behind as if he owns her, and he so does. “Be nice,” he tells her with a slight laugh. Liam would be Logan’s long-lost brother, if you consider being dead getting lost. It doesn’t hurt that they look like twins, either. Chloe got lucky. “Skyla could make you clean more than just toilets.”
“Don’t tempt me,” I threaten with a smile that’s all teeth. It’s true, Marshall’s punishment for Chloe has been well maintained. For all the misery and repeated betrayal, Chloe is still my ardent housekeeper. And she’s pretty good at it, too. I’ll give her that. No one can give a porcelain bowl a sparkle and shine quite like Chloe.
She quickly mimes locking her lips and throwing away the key, then immediately ruins it by adding, “But seriously, is there a schedule?”
More cackles break out. And even Laken can’t contain herself, yet she’s quiet enough not to disturb little Cooper.
Glad to know everyone is interested in what happens at Whitehorse after dark.
“I know one thing,” Ezrina chimes in, her voice carrying that mysterious lilt that still gives me chills after all this time. The breeze picks up her auburn hair, and it rises over her head like a flame. Yes, Ezrina is solidly one of us now, and we love every frazzled, far-too-intelligent-for-our-britches moment of it. “None of us would trade these days for anything. Not even for the chance to do it all again with fewer scars.”
I do believe those are the most words I’ve heard her say all year—let alone strung together all at once.
Nev nods in agreement, his hand finding hers in the sand. Idon’t see Pierce Kragger anymore when I look at Nev. That dark hair, those light eyes, they all belong to Nevermore now.
“The scars make for better stories,” Marshall adds, appearing seemingly from nowhere, as he’s prone to do. “And better lessons.”
I still jump when he does that, and my heart drums at the sight of him, too, but I’d rather swallow burning coals than admit it.
“Geez,” I gasp with a hand over my heart. “Must you always materialize like some villain from a horror movie?”
“Would you prefer a warning flare, Ms. Messenger?” He settles beside me on a driftwood log, looking impossibly handsome in his dark suit despite the fact that the rest of us are in sweats with our toes in the sand. The fire flickers across his chiseled features, his hair shines like molten gold, and that demigod thing he has going is twice as pronounced at the moment. In fact, I think I just heard Michelle sigh in his wake. Heck, I think I heard six sighs, and one of them was mine.
“A simple hello would suffice,” I’m quick to tell him. “Besides, knowing you, the warning flare would probably spell out your name in the sky.”
“I was thinking of my full title and credentials.” Those amber eyes light up with the same wicked gleam he’s had since he was grading my papers and trying to lure me into bed at the very same time.
Michelle chimes in from across the fire, “Don’t forget to include your bedroom qualifications in that skywriting. Those are far more impressive than your teaching credentials.”
“I’m afraid that would require far more sky than Paragon has available.” Marshall doesn’t miss a sexy beat.
I’m about to deliver what I consider a brilliant quip of my own when movement at the edge of the beach catches my eye. It’s my mother—Candace, the biological one who is prone to major celestial power trips, unlike Lizbeth, the mother who raised me, who’s prone to showing up with casseroles and unsolicited advice about motherhood. Heck, she’s sort of gone pro in both of those departments.
Candace stands with Demetri near the stone steps leading up to the house. And just seeing the two of them in the same shared space sends my heart racing for a whole other reason.
Candace and I share the same long golden curls, same icy blue eyes, and the same propensity to stir up trouble. On my end, the trouble thing is accidental. On her end, it’s more or less a business decision.
And right about now, I’d say trouble has found her. She, for sure, does not look happy. Even from this distance, her celestial anger radiates like heat waves off a New York sidewalk in July. Her face is contorted in what can only be described as divine fury as she jabs a finger into Demetri’s chest.
