Beautiful Elixir (Beautiful Oblivion #3)

I
t started with a dare
…

I knew he was coming back for me. The inevitable ticking of our hearts counted down the hours until I could be his. He swore he’d wait for me. And, he did. Now that he’s in my life again, I’m not so sure I can keep him—not so sure I should. Everything is different now, an entire sea of secrets have filled the space between us, thick as the lies they are embedded in. There is nothing left for me to give him, and yet he has everything I need.

“I dare you to jump.” It was me who started this charade. I found Caleb in a tree high above the marsh, the murky lake below at uncertain depths, shirtless and tanned, his dimples approving of the situation before his smile could get there.

It took a moment for his eyes to snag on mine, and as soon as they did my adrenaline spiked, my stomach boiled with heat, my cheeks flushed. All of the classic signs of lust were present and accounted for. Whoever this boy was, I would make sure we were about to have one amazing summer.

He jumps from his perch onto dry land. Not terribly impressive, but, at least, I don’t need to flag down an EMT. It was a ridiculously dangerous dare to begin with. Most boys would have done it for me, but this one is careful, and, as he draws in closer, I can see he’s older, too—by five years? Eight?

“Caleb McCarthy.” He holds out a muscular arm. His abs are golden and well defined. I haven’t seen him around the lake before, but we’re littered with tourists this time of year.

“My name is Kennedy.” I accept his firm shake and match it with my own. “Did you say McCarthy? As in Warren McCarthy? My stepsister is dating him. He came in the mail as a part of the asshole-of-the-month-club.”

He gives a slight nod as if it’s yes on both accounts, but he’d rather not talk about it. Can’t say I blame him.

“Do you want to go for a swim?” His eyes drip down my body, raking over my bikini-bare flesh, hot as coals over a fire.

I shake my head offering my own nonverbal response.

“Good.” He takes a bold step forward, his eyes glowing like the pale western sky. “Neither do I.” His fingers brush over my cheek, sweeping the loose hairs off my face. He gives the briefest smile, his eyes suddenly drugged with ecstasy, growing heavy as he leans in close, so close.

His lips crush to mine, hard and greedy. His body sears over me, skin on skin, there is no bigger high.

A soft sigh escapes me as he responds with his own aching moan. His tongue mingles with mine, and then we’re lost in the best way possible. Caleb and I stay locked in that embrace, in that beautiful kiss with our mouths fused together for the better part of the summer, and then the summer after that, and a portion of the next. We are the lake’s best-kept secret. These kisses are a private reserve. This is a relationship born of an intimate charm, kisses in exchange for words, groping hands, lust as heavy as the summer haze. This is covert, classified, a cult built for two. We worship at the altar of one another’s mouths, lust after these combustible kisses until we collapse in each other’s arms. We draw the line at our lips, our gliding hungry hands, but we both crave something more, something deeper to sink our teeth into, something he could sink into me.

Caleb has become my favorite time of year, my favorite flavor, my favorite carnival ride. He is all I want all the time, even when he is gone.

But now Caleb is back, and he’s come to claim what’s his, but we were a forgery—a fraud in the truest sense. You don’t get to know someone too well with your tongue down their throat. And, deep down, I know I can never be laid bare for Caleb McCarthy to see.

Caleb wasn’t my only secret.

Caleb is back with those glowing western-sky eyes, that tan, fit body, those blessed-by-God abs. I don’t know how much longer I can stay away.

I have built a fortress of deceit around my world, but Caleb wants in. I wish I could warn him. I wish I could tell him to stay away—tell him that my life is a calamity, a disaster, a ruin in the making.

Caleb McCarthy doesn’t know how lucky he is to have been kept in the dark. He doesn’t know how lucky he is to not know the real me—after all, the sharper the lies, the darker the secrets.

C
aleb McCarthy is
a tangible part of my past that has come back to haunt me—
hunt
me. He’s been here for months—him watching me—me watching him. It’s a game stretched over razor wire, and both our feet are bleeding from traversing it. We are a masquerade of past secrets come to life. We have paraded around in our silence for so long, we don’t know what it means to fall in line with the crowd and be ourselves. We were almost lovers, the most desperate kind of relationship. I did love him, though. Yes, I did.

A steady stream of girls push against him all night, each one in her short party dress, her best assets on display for him to freely examine. There is no shortage of women interested in Caleb tonight, or any other night. He is in demand, fresh meat, an import, if you will, to Loveless. His newness, his novelty, makes him valuable. He glitters in the eyes of the estrogen sect. Women of all ages and stages of life cast him a lingering glance as the party rages on.

A beautiful brunette with a short dress (that might as well qualify as a T-shirt) and a pair of matching gladiator sandals (that absolutely need to find their way into my closet) whisks him into the crowd like a stowaway. Her arm slowly slips around his waist, and I frown at the tramp who openly made me lust after her shoes. God only knows what part of her Caleb is lusting after. And, yet, the party doesn’t stop at that single trashy brunette. Caleb has his choice of rainbow-colored girls with their glossy hair, and glossy lips, with their matching mani-pedis accented with tiny Hawaiian flowers, encrusted with tiny glued on jewels. The leggy blondes, the busty brunettes are out and about in aggressive force. Loveless is a bachelor’s utopia, at least for tonight.

A crisp breeze swims through my bare legs as I watch the ducks fly over the lake in a V formation. It takes everything I have to fake the jubilance I’ve been exhibiting all night. I wouldn’t dare let him see me with my guard down—the real me, with the dead eyes, who simply wants to stare at the birds. I force a desperate grin as I sway to the music, alone, just the way I like it.

“How about we dance?” A deep voice asks from behind, and I spin into him. My stomach squeezes tight. A hot pang of wild lust-fueled excitement bursts through my chest. Here it is, that constant slow yearning, that constant ache, the stirring of my soul, my heart, and my hormones whenever he’s around.

Caleb’s eyes widen a bright robin’s egg blue. Caleb McCarthy is the only person I know whose eyes change colors depending on his mood. He’s curious now, hopeful, mostly content and feeling in control, but I’m about to tear all of that away from him.

“You know”—he inches in, that devilish grin blooming on his face—“my body and yours pressed up close together, hardly moving, cheek to cheek—mouth to mouth if you’d like.”

“Really, Caleb? I’m less than impressed with your CPR-inspired pickup line.” All those summers ago it was enough. But, then, all those summers ago we were simply window dressing in each other’s lives. Fall had come, and we were off-season, but clearly Caleb is ready for something more. “How about we don’t?” I maneuver past him to where Reese and Brylee laugh their asses off over something unrelated I’m assuming. Reese has been on cloud nine ever since she said
I do
to Ace Waterman—and, Brylee, well, she’s just wasted.

“What the heck was that about?” Demi appears from nowhere with her cool, easy blonde good looks, her wary smile that says I’m disappointed in you, but I still like you. Demi is a well-appreciated asset to this lonely mountaintop town.

I glance around at the party. Lake Loveless isn’t exactly known for its early autumn bashes, but it’s the weekend before homecoming, so everyone from Yeats has come to knock a few back and appreciate the unseasonably warm weather—not to mention the discards of Port have infiltrated basecamp. That happens to be the University that vomited Zoey out.

Speaking of the skank, I scowl over at the skinny blonde. I’ve seen her cozying up to Caleb a time or two, and the thought of her warming his bed at night makes me want to hurl. Just because I’m not ready to go there with him doesn’t mean I want Zoey hopping on board for a free ride.

Caleb and I have always had the very worst timing.

I openly glare at Zoey with a growl working its way up my throat.

“Be nice,” Demi warms my ear with the words. I keep forgetting that Zoey is her sister-in-law now that Demi is married to Gavin.

“I am nice. I’m nice to animals of all sizes and cashiers. It’s humans I don’t care for.” True story. I mostly loathe the human race as a whole, save for a handful of people. I don’t really care if I’m viewed as a bitch. I probably am one, and I take no responsibility for it other than the fact that’s what my mother fashioned me to become. A bitch is a terrible title only if you allow it to be. For some girls it’s a tangible asset they strive for, a crowning achievement that lets them wield a sense of power. I don’t need the world to define me or give me permission to wield my power for that matter. I stopped listening to what the world had to say a long time ago.

“Newsflash”—Demi leans in—“cashiers are humans.”

“Not usually.”

Reese and Brylee saunter over, still high off their irritating level of glee. In the distance I spot my sorority sisters pairing up with their prospects for the night. It seems everyone has their intentions on getting laid—everyone but me.

“What?” I growl as Reese bats those doe eyes at me. Even though Reese and I are related by marriage, we share the same long, dark hair, same cool, gray eyes.

“Relax, Ken.” She gives my arm a shove, jolting me further from my Caleb stupor. “I’m just curious. I saw Mr. Right whispering sweet nothings into your ear—so give it up. What did he say? Maybe
yours
will be the next wedding bells we hear.” Reese does a little awkward tap dance as if proving her point. I find it sweet that she truly wants me to have the happiness she’s found with Ace. I find it funny that my stepsister cares so much for me while my real flesh and blood same-father-mother sister cares so damn little. I push Kam back into the dungeon of my mind where she’s been resting quietly for the last four years. I like to keep her there chained on a leash. Had my mother done her that favor long ago, she might have turned out a decent person.

The truth struggles up my throat, and I swallow it back down. “He said he was going to make Zoey scream in bed like a monkey on fire. It was just a fair warning since my bedroom window is across from his.” I cut a quick glance to Demi. “Sorry.”

Caleb has moved into the old Nicholson cabin next door. Although, to be fair, the word cabin doesn’t quite suit any of the luxury McMansions that have sprung up all along the lake. I happened to reside in one myself, along with my mother and stepfather. Reese and Ace stay over on the odd weekend, but only because his sister, Neva, can’t stand the sound of his headboard jackhammering into the wall. It is unnerving to hear your sibling fucking in the next room. I ought to know, no thanks to Reese.

I take a cool sip from the red Solo cup I’ve been nursing for the better half of the night before spitting it out over my shoulder. “Who the hell let a deer piss in my drink?”

Reese narrows in on me. “You’re the one acting like deer piss. What’s the matter with you? That boy has been chasing after you for years. You and I both know you’re more than interested. Why are you sabotaging something that could potentially prove to be a very good thing?”

I glance back at the “very good thing” and my stomach pinches tight once again. His dark hair gleams under the duress of twinkle lights, his sculpted features glow as if he were some otherworldly being, and his dark hooded brows only enhance the glory of those eyes that have the power to hypnotize entire populations. My heart slams against my chest to the rhythm of the obnoxious song blaring overhead. Seeing Caleb in this close proximity jars me, shakes my world like a snow globe exploding with beautiful, sparkling glitter. Caleb has always held a sense of magic for me. I hate that my body has such a visceral response to his.

Caleb has amassed a harem around him. A blonde touches his neck while jabbering into his ear, nonstop. That painted-on smile of hers never leaves her face. The rest of his potential concubines press against him, giving light to the fact he’s about to be overrun by an estrogen-fueled mob. All those girls are interchangeable—one body, many masks. None of them know his intimate kisses, what it feels like to have him give a heavy sigh directly into your mouth because it’s the last kiss for another eternal year. But tonight, Caleb is the center of attention. He’s the “get” of the evening—a trophy that any and every woman would find worthy of their bedroom. The very thought of this makes me want to overturn tables and sock his happy harem in their worn out vaginas.

But as much as I’d like to blame the cunt crowd for my shitty mood, Keith, and Keith alone, is the purveyor of my sour disposition. Scratch that, the aforementioned cunt crowd is still a tad vexing. It’s strange when the truth bubbles from me. I’ve told so many lies to myself, to other people, the misshapen half-truths have woven themselves into one crooked tapestry. It’s hard to distinguish one from the other anymore. When I began this maddening descent into perjury, I was frightened, but the sociopathic after effect of spinning so many deceptive webs is that sometimes I’m euphoric as they spew from my lips. People pride themselves on being good at many things. I sometimes have a sick sense of pride over how well I can remove the truth from the equation without the slightest shred of remorse.

My eyes flit across the throngs of bodies, and Keith catches my eye from across the dark expanse. The sun set hours ago, but the moon has lit up the granite hillsides like electric blue flames. My eyes drift back to Caleb. Deep down I want to believe we could have a very good thing, but, ironically, it’s what Keith and I had that has doused that flame before it could ever burn bright.

“Is something going on?” Brylee follows my gaze. “You’re not thinking about getting back together with that rat bastard are you?”

“He cheated on you,” Reese hisses, and the wind curls the words in my ear like a haunting refrain.

“Once a cheat, always a cheat,” Demi adds like a chorus round.

“I know,” I whisper, taking a step toward him like a dare. I’ve suspected Keith and his cheating ways for quite some time. It was the very reason for our string of serial breakups and reprisals. He denied and apologized, and I took him back. It was the game we played, the one we accidentally perfected. Lather, rinse, repeat. In principle it was the sad glue that held us together.

I’m not sure what happened in my life that made me think this vicious cycle was a good decision, but something about the thought of being on my own, alone, without the love of a man—which I craved more than air—it tormented me far more than the prospect of Keith’s cheating ever did. I blink back to life just as Joanna Knickerbocker wraps her arms around his waist. She was—is—one of his backseat blowjob debutants.

I don’t want Keith Stearns back. Hell, I don’t even want to remember the last four years of our tumultuous relationship. What I do want is my life back. But it’s Keith who’s chained me up, gagged me with the past and is dangling it over my head like a sickle.

Joanna touches her mouth to his ear, whispers something into it, something sexually greedy I’m sure, but his gaze is still fixated on me—his intense hatred matching my own.

Why are you trying to destroy me? I want to shout over the bodies that filter through our impromptu standoff.

We both know it’s me who is going to destroy you.

T
he party wilts
just like the pastries sitting out too long, but that doesn’t stop me from snapping up a homemade chocolate chip cookie. Everyone knows that when Warren throws a party, you’d better bring your own food—if you’re really nice, enough for a few others. And this chocolate, ooey gooey treat just so happens to be my favorite. I take a bite, and immediate regret sets in. Correction. This soggy, iced-with-night-dew confection is nowhere near my favorite. I’d spit it out in the bushes, but I’m too self-conscious. That’s a Neva thing to do. I’m too wound up in my own vanity thinking,
hoping,
like some damsel in distress, that Caleb is silently stalking me from afar.

A hand reaches out in the darkness and forces me to spin on my heels. Only it’s not Caleb’s gorgeous face I’m met with, it’s Keith.

I have to hit pause for a moment, from the inevitable trauma that’s about to ensue, to assure you that Keith is very much a handsome boy. I would never “not” love a handsome boy, being attracted to overly handsome men is a weakness of mine, and, yet, I’m not sure I ever loved Keith. I think I did. Maybe. The jury is still out on that one.

“What the fuck?” His eyes glint with rage; his lips are tight as he grunts out the words. “You leave my little sisters out of this!”

“Let go of me.” I yank myself free. “I swear to you, I don’t know what the hell you’re babbling about. I didn’t do a thing to your little sisters.” I actually care about them, and, unlike my feelings for Keith, my feelings for his kid sisters actually did migrate toward love. Petra and Kylie—both cute as a button—a couple of eighth graders that look up to me like I’m some makeup guru slash fashion goddess. What’s not to love?

His eyes expand in disbelief. “They got your
gift
. Really? A box full of dildos?” No sooner do the words seethe from him than I gasp at the horror of them. “You think that’s funny? You know what I think it is? I think it’s fucking sick.”

“
Keith
.” I close my eyes a moment trying to digest how this ever-expanding nightmare of a rabbit hole just grew deeper, darker than I could imagine. Here I am, some distorted version of Alice—some
demonic
version—falling ever so quickly into the abyss with no end in sight. “I would never do that to your sisters.”

“You are a bullshitter, Ken!” His stoned eyes bleed red as they bulge. His finger darts just shy of my chest. “You would do anything to anyone just to prove that nobody fucks with your ego. I’m going to end this shit—break you of your wild, juvenile ways. Just watch me.” He starts to take off, and now it’s me pulling him back.