His dark hair is still damp from a recent shower, falling in loosewaves around his ears that make my fingers itch to run through them. He’s wearing a West High sweatshirt that hugs his shoulders in all the right ways, and his freshly scrubbed scent mixes with his natural warmth, that makes this small space feel even more intimate.
“Well, that was fast,” I say, trying for casual and missing by an overeager mile.
“Teleportation does have its perks.” He settles onto the floor across from me, those cobalt eyes doing that thing where they seem to see straight through to my soul. “Though I’m pretty sure I broke a few traffic laws on the way over.”
“In the celestial realm of instant transportation?”
“There are rules, Skyla. Very important celestial traffic patterns,” he teases as his dimples dig in deep.
A flirtatious Gage is the very best kind.
“Ah, yes—wouldn’t want to cause a fender bender in the space-time continuum.”
“Exactly.” His mouth curves in that almost-smile that always makes my pulse stutter. “The paperwork alone would be murder.”
We share a quick laugh.
The butterflies around us begin to stir, responding to the electric tension crackling between us. It’s always this way with Gage—easy, electric, downright ecstasy through and through.
One by one, those delicate creatures lift from the walls in a cascade of electric blue light, their paper wings catching the amber glow from the bulb and transforming it into something magical. Soon, the entire room is alive with fluttering sapphire wings, and it feels as if we’re sitting inside a living kaleidoscope.
“Showoffs.” I can’t help but smile as they dance around us.
“They always did like an audience,” Gage says, watching a particularly bold butterfly land on his shoulder. “Remember when we first discovered they could do this?”
“You mean when you discovered you could bring them to life, and I discovered I was dating someone with superpowers that transcended time, and space, and the prettiest blue butterflies? Yeah,that was fun.” I press my lips tight. “You made these with Chloe,” I point out, trying to tamp down the smile begging to take over.
“They were dead with Chloe. They’re alive with you.”
I know for a fact they fluttered the first time they were pinned to the wall, but that was because it was Gage who was making them come to life. He’s right. Chloe is nothing but a walking corpse herself. And thanks to my blood, now she’s a walking, talking, breathing corpse, too.
Gage’s expression grows all that much more serious, and I can practically see him gathering the courage to say something. “Skyla, about earlier?—”
“Gage—”
“No, let me say this.” He reaches for my hands, his fingers warm and steady against my own. “I know what I signed up for. Pretending to be with you, to keep the Counts from offing you or Logan. Then our feelings grew real, and so did our relationship.” He sighs as if the words he just spoke were anything but true anymore. “I know this whole situation is complicated and weird and probably breaks about fifteen different natural laws. But watching you with Logan tonight...”
His voice cracks just a little, and it’s as if someone is squeezing my heart with a vise.
“I can’t help it,” he continues. “I know I’m supposed to be the understanding one, the guy who’s okay with this arrangement, but I’m sorry I’m not that noble. I’m greedy, and I want all of you.”
The butterflies flutter that much more frantically, and I feel tears pricking at my eyes because this is Gage being completely honest with me, no walls, no pretense. I’m terrified of what might come next.
“If you only knew what the future holds,” I whisper, trying to give him yet another glimmer of hope.
He gives a little laugh that’s far more sad than amused. “And I do. I marry you. I don’t know how or when, but I trust my visions.”
He’s shared them with me before—flashes of us at the altar and wedding rings, of us together in holy matrimony, of a future thatfeels both impossible and inevitable. They’re part of what keeps us both sane during moments like this—or at least they did when I didn’t know a thing about the future myself. But I’m not her. I’m not even the girl he thinks he’s talking to.
“I know,” I say softly. “I trust your visions, too. But knowing and living it are two different things. And we do get to live them. In fact, I’ve already?—”
Before I can say anything else, he’s pulling me into his lap, his arms circling around me as if he’s afraid I might disappear. When his lips find mine, it’s desperate and hungry and full of everything he can’t say out loud. I melt into him because this is Gage, my safe place. This is the person who sees straight through all my walls and loves me anyway.
My arms wind around his neck, and for a moment, I forget everything—forget about light driving and complicated marriages and the fact that I’m technically Logan’s wife right now. There’s just Gage and the taste of mint on his lips and the way he holds me like I’m something so very precious to him.
The butterflies around us pulse brighter, their blue light washing everything in an ethereal glow that makes this feel like a moment stolen from a fairy tale.
But reality has a way of crashing the party. And ready or not, here it comes.
