“Well, that was a disaster wrapped in awkward with a side of kill me now,” I say with a sigh. My entire body aches to see Gage in this much pain.
Logan winces. “Yeah, that could have gone a hell of a lot better—if he didn’t catch us.”
“I got the feeling he knew something had happened last night.”
Logan drops his gaze to the ground. “I got the very same feeling when I got home. He was pissed. He definitely knew something.”
I turn to look at him, and for the first time, I see my own confusion and guilt reflected in his face.
This whole situation is one big hot mess—the past, the present, the future, all tangled up like a big ball of Christmas lights that you’re better off throwing away than trying to straighten.
My head spins while Marshall’s garden party continues to rage around us as if nothing life-changing just happened. And according to my mother’s light driving rules and regulations—it didn’t.
“We need to figure this out,” I say just below a whisper.
“The getting back home thing?”
“Everything.” I gesture helplessly in the direction Gage disappeared. “This whole situation with the three of us, with Candace, with whatever Marshall suspects but isn’t telling us. I have the feeling we’re walking into something much darker than a simple protective hedge.”
Logan nods slowly as the distant sound of the ghostly piano drifts from the mansion like a backdrop to our nightmare.
“Logan, what if my mother isn’t telling us everything?”
The question hangs between us like a sword waiting to fall, and I realize that somewhere between that haunted piano music and Marshall’s dark warning, the ground beneath our feet has shifted. I get the feeling we’re not just dealing with family drama or supernatural politics anymore.
The fountain continues to dance in the moonlight as the party swirls around us in all its bizarre glory, and I can’t shake the feeling that in this garden, in this moment, marks the end of something we can never get back.
But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about being my mother’s daughter, it’s that sometimes the only way forward is through the fire.
17
Skyla
The narrow opening to the butterfly room feels like crawling into a secret world, and it is exactly that.
I pull myself through the sliding panel behind my closet and emerge into the thimble-sized space that’s become my sanctuary more times than I can count. The familiar scent of old wood mingles with something faintly floral—jasmine maybe, the ghost of my own perfume from all the times I’ve hidden up here. And a single bare bulb casts everything in warm amber light, making the electric blue paper butterflies pinned to every inch of the walls look like tiny sapphires against black velvet.
The soft vinyl floor with its silver flecks welcomes me like an old friend as I settle cross-legged in the center of the room. It’s like sitting on a piece of the galaxy, which sounds poetic until you remember that Gage picked out this flooring specifically to make me feel like I was surrounded by stars. Sweet, romantic, and completely unfair considering the mess we’re currently navigating.
My heart does that fluttering thing as memories wash over me—stolen moments with Gage, whispered conversations with Logan, the weight of secrets, and the warmth of being understood. Thisroom has seen it all, absorbed every confession and kiss like some kind of emotional blue-winged sponge.
I reach out and touch one of the butterflies near my shoulder, and for a split second, it flutters to life, wings beating against my fingertip before settling back into papery stillness. The magic of this place seems to respond to emotion; it always has. And right now, I’m a walking disaster of guilt, confusion, and enough teen angst and emotion to turn a Canadian forest into a swarm of winged creatures.
That expression on Gage’s face when he caught Logan and me kissing plays on repeat in my head like a bad movie I can’t turn off. The stoic way he held himself together, the forced politeness—it was worse than if he’d just punched Logan in the face and called it a day.
I pull out my phone before I can talk myself out of it.Do you want meet up? There’s so much I want to say to you.
The response comes so fast, I’m pretty sure he was already typing.
Where and when?
I can practically feel his eagerness through the screen, and my heart flutters and skips. Even when he’s hurt and trying to play it cool, Gage jumps at the chance to fix things between us. It’s one of the things I love most about him and exactly what makes this whole situation so impossibly complicated.
I text him right back.How about right now in the butterfly room?
I don’t even have time to set my phone down before the air in front of me shimmers as Gage materializes as if he’s been waiting his whole life for this invitation. And sweet heavens, he looks good enough to make me forget I’m a happily married woman with an entire gaggle of kids and a very complicated relationship status.
Gage is a Levatio, and one of the faction’s many hidden talents is teleportation. It’s an awesome gift to have when sneaking into your girlfriend’s bedroom—or butterfly room, for that matter.
