Expel by Addison Moore Read Free Book Online Page B

his voice wobbles. “Nothing good waits for you. We need to live it up right now. This is all it’s ever going to be for us.”
    “Did you end up in the transport?” Marshall took me there once. A Jasper cave with angels ready to send you up or down, no in-between.
    He nods. “Pushed me back down to earth. And believe you me I’m glad to be here. I really owe you one.”
    I give a little laugh as we pull into the parking lot of the hospital.
    “You don’t owe me anything. I’m just glad you’re back.” I lean over and hug him for a very long time, take in his scent, and feel his body rise and fall with each breath he takes.
    Having Logan back is a beautiful, beautiful thing.  

Chapter 9
    Just One Taste
     
     
    At the hospital, the ornery nurses let me know by way of their aggressive snarls, their barking reprimands, that it’s past visiting hours—that I can’t see Gage. I wait until they distract themselves by way of a newly discovered box of chocolate I bought at the gift shop and covertly landed on their desk before sneaking in.
    Logan volunteered to wait in the truck to give Gage and me some much-needed privacy, which I totally appreciate. I let him know I wouldn’t have minded if he went in and said hello, hung out, but he insisted.  
    “Hi,” I whisper. A thin vanilla blanket conforms perfectly over his body giving the illusion he’s a marble statue from the chest down.
    Gage smiles, his eyes are open just barely, exposing bloodshot bruises with blue sirens dotting the middle. He leans up looking very much like his old self.
    I round out the bed and crawl beside him.
    Gage takes a breath, sans the tubes. He lowers the volume on the basketball game and pats me over. He looks sleepy, but radiates his love for me, expresses it with every cell of his body.
    “Throat hurts,” he rasps out the words, brushing his lips over my cheek with a minty kiss. His skin holds the sharp scent of soap, his hair still wet from the shower. God, I hope it was a shower, not some buxom bombshell of a nurse helping him with a sponge bath.
    “I won’t stay long.” I scoot in tight next to him.
    Please, stay long—all night in fact. He kneads into my bare arm with his fingers, traces a line up to my shoulder before letting his hand fall back onto the bed from fatigue . I can’t speak .
    “Lucky for you, you don’t have to,” I press out a soft smile. “Logan is back.”
    My dad told me. Said he’s real happy to be here .
    “Yeah, well, I guess death does that to a person. He’s all hopped up on life now.”
    Thank you .
    “Don’t thank me yet.” I glance over at a pair of small metal scissors next to the comb and toothbrush on the end table. I pick them up and slit a small line up the side of my wrist, a safe distance from the blue veins that protrude from my skin like roadways on a map. A fragile seam of blood rises to the surface, cresting until it forms a wave of crimson over my pale flesh.
    “Skyla,” his voice breaks my name in two equal parts. No , he protests, closing his lids as if holding back tears.
    “Yes. I want you home, healed and healthy. I want to go to Rockaway Point with you, roll around on the black sand and log some serious time under that coral tree.”
    You remember? His dimples go off like sirens.
    “Are you kidding? I’ve grafted every one of the memories we’ve created over my heart. I remember everything about you and me.” I trace out his features with the pad of my finger. “And I want to go snorkeling with you again, watch as you make the butterfly room light up—find a hotel room that we can call our own.”
    His brows twitch in amusement. He sears me with a seductive look without trying.
    “So, if you want to get cracking on any of those good things you’re going to need to get better, fast.” I hold my wrist up to him like an offering.
    He takes my hand and gently pushes my flesh up against his mouth, seals his lips over the wound and kisses it. Gage closes his eyes