Matter of Truth, A (20 page)

“Gods, this is shitty timing,” Karl says quietly. “I assumed
that you’d at least have had some time with Jonah so far.”

I try not to cry. Or think about how incredibly hurt he
looks out there.

“How about this—I’ll give you an hour leeway to get down to
HQ. I know it’s not much time, but it’s a start, right?” He rubs at his five
o’clock shadow. “I’ve got to take Kellan back with me, though. Something’s come
up in Los Angeles, and he’s needed for a turn-around mission. He should be back
in Annar by morning, though.”

Great. Just . . . great.

“And . . . Zthane has asked me to personally debrief Kellan
during the mission, if there’s time. Being the Guard’s lead Emotional, we need
him involved. I know the timing sucks, but Chloe, over the last week, you’ve
managed to take out three Elders. These things have been trying to kill our
kind, not to mention the Métis for too long. We’ve finally got a way to defeat
them.” His words are steady yet soft.

“I know,” I tell him. The familiar sting of tears threatens
to surface, but I force them back. I’ve got to stay strong. I assure them both
that this is fine, that I’ll get down to Guard HQ within the hour, but they
don’t look too sure at my conviction. And rather than being pissed that they
doubt me, I’m pleased by their concern.

It’s a good thing, having brothers.

It’s clear Kellan is torn about
having to leave when he argues with Karl about finding a different Emotional to
do the mission. There’s this anguished look that he allows me to see for just
the smallest of moments; I think my own face mirrors his. After half a year,
this is the closest we’ve gotten to each other—only to have him leave before we
get to talk at all? But, in the end, he goes, because he knows it’s the right
thing to do. So when he and Karl head to the door, I muster my courage, trail
after them, and pull Kellan aside before he leaves. Thankfully, Karl gives us
some space.

“If it’s okay with you,” I tell him quietly, “I’d really
like to talk to you as soon as possible.”

An entire array of emotions flash through his beautiful blue
eyes—sadness, happiness, anger, worry—before he carefully schools them into the
undecipherable gaze I know to be his self-defense mechanism. I watch his right
hand pull through his hair, shorter than the last time I saw him, and try my
hardest to squelch the wish that nearly knocks me to my knees that it was my
hand touching him.

“I’ll come over in the morning,” he tells me.

I want to hug him, but I don’t. I’m too scared. He takes a
deep breath, nods his head, and tries to hide the pain in his eyes when he
leaves. And it breaks my heart, just like it always has.

“You two really do look alike,” Will is saying to Jonah when
I get back to the living room; mostly, I think, to cut through the unbearable
tension in the room.

“Really?” Callie snaps. “That’s amazing. Identical twins
typically look nothing alike.”

“Callie,” her mother admonishes, but Callie glares back and
takes a
so-there
chug of tequila.

Will outrights laughs at Callie. It’s the wrong thing to do,
because her eyes narrow dangerously.

“Don’t,” Jonah says to Callie. His hand is flexing over and
over.

Will’s head tilts to the side, his own eyes narrowing now.
“Why is it I get the wrong sort of vibe between you two? Has the incestuousness
of this lot included something between you?” The press of his hand against my
shoulder is filled with pity.

Good lords. This just keeps getting worse. Because, now
Jonah’s eyes have narrowed and I’m wondering if I ought to turn the lights on
so everyone can see without squinting.

“You’re an asshole,” Callie hisses.

Will’s furious. “Cheers. I believe it takes one to know
one.”

Astrid and Cameron are nearly beside themselves when a
full-fledged shouting match breaks out between Callie and Will. And I’ve never
been the best peacekeeper, but these people here are my family, and I can’t let
any of this devolve any further, especially since I have so little time to talk
to Jonah. I shove my body in between Will and Callie, both hands pressing
against their chests. “Will? Shut it. Callie? Same to you. Because your anger
right now isn’t with each other, and screaming isn’t going to solve anything.”

Will storms away, muttering about the need to find more alcohol
since the bitch stole his tequila. Callie’s grin is vicious as she purposely
chugs another shot-worthy swig from the bottle.

“Look,” I say to Cameron and Astrid, “I know I am quite
possibly the worst person ever when it comes to dealing with secrets and lies.
But I’m thinking you guys need to talk to your kids, either together or
separately. They deserve that.”

Astrid sniffles again, nodding. Cameron pulls me closer and
kisses the top of my head. “Always the smart one, lass,” he whispers into my
hair. And then, “You’ll be okay if Will and I go for a walk?”

The Dane boys had wanted to be here for me when I laid
myself bare. I thought that’s what I wanted, too—their love and support. But I
know I have it, whether or not they’re in the room with me or on another plane.
They’ve got my back. They love me, and that’s not going to change just because
I’ve made mistakes. And it makes all the difference in the worlds.

I nod, my face pressing into his worn flannel shirt.

“We’ll have our phones with us if you need us to come home,”
Cameron tells me. Something slams into the kitchen, forcing a sigh from him.
Another quick kiss is laid against my head. “Love you, hen.”

“Love you, too,” I whisper. And then he leaves to no doubt
drag his son out of the kitchen.

I turn to find Astrid talking quietly to Jonah across the
room. I wonder if she’s saying the same things to him that Cameron just said to
me.

“I’m pissed at you,” Callie murmurs. Her shoulder bumps into
mine.

“I know,” I tell her.

She sighs heavily. “I’m also glad you’re finally home.”

We hug, and for the first time since coming home, hope seeds
within me.

We’re sitting across from one another—Jonah on the couch, me
in a chair, and there’s a coffee table between us. In all the years we’ve known
each other, I’ve never been more nervous. There’s a lot at stake right now. But
as unsettled as I feel, I don’t hide my emotions from him. Right now, he
deserves honesty that’s one hundred percent pure, not a diluted, piss-poor
version whose purpose is to assuage my guilt rather than my conscience.

I refer to Will as my best friend, but Jonah—he’s been my
real best friend for the bulk of my life. We’ve shared more together, both in
our dreams and in real life, than most people ever get to experience. So to be
as nervous as I am makes me want to laugh, because this man has seen me naked,
knows my body as well as his own, and has held my hand through good times and
bad. I should not be so nervous—but then, I never should’ve treated him the way
I did, either. So anything that may happen today—my heart being ripped out of
my chest, for example—will be the result of my own actions.

I clear my throat and spin my index finger in a circle over
my shoulder. “That was crazy, right?”

His hand flexes against the couch arm, even though he’s
trying to radiate calm and indifference. I wonder if he remembers I’m aware of
this tic of his, that I’ll always know when he’s upset or scared or worried.
I’m glad that this, at least, is still true. “I’ll admit I didn’t see any of
that coming,” he finally says. Hearing his voice, directed at me, is the best
present I’ve received in a long time.

How could I have ever done this to him? How was I so
stupidly blind to realize what I had?

“Right?” I scratch my scalp, but quit when I realize it’s a
tic of mine, too. He already knows I’m nervous and guilty as all hell. There’s
no need to shred my scalp while I’m at it. “So.” I swallow hard. I wonder if he
can feel just how much I love him, too, if he can accept it through everything
else running through my body. “I owe you an explanation.”

He doesn’t say anything. I’m glad he doesn’t—and it makes me
wonder if maybe he’s changed these last six months, too. Because for a long
time, Jonah tried too often to take care of my needs before seeing to his own.
Old Jonah would be reassuring Old Chloe that there’s no need to explain. That
he understands, whether or not he really does.

I’m on the edge of my chair, unable to relax. My hands twist
in my lap. “More importantly, I owe you an apology. I left last year without a
single word to you. That was . . .” I shake my head slowly, refusing to break
eye contact with him. Gods, his eyes are gorgeous. “Incredibly selfish of me.
Disrespectful. And you didn’t deserve that. I know it seems like all I’ve ever
done in the last few years is apologize to you, but Jonah, I am truly sorry for
leaving like that.”

His right hand stops flexing long enough to rake through his
hair. He blows out a hard breath. It’s then I notice he’s trembling—very
faintly, but it’s there all the same.

For the first time in a long time, I wish I was an
Emotional, so I could know what he’s feeling, too.

“I was out shopping with Callie, and I realized I didn’t
have my phone. I came back to the apartment to get it, and I . . .” I can’t
seem to swallow the lump in my throat. “I overheard an argument between you and
Kellan.”

Those cerulean eyes of his, the ones I’ve lost myself in so
many times, widen in surprise and confusion.

“You two were so cruel to each other. None of us were
talking anymore, and . . .” I force another gulp. “I was so sick, Jonah. The
ulcer kept coming back. All those blinding headaches. I felt like I wasn’t able
to hold it together anymore. Between the mess due to our Connections and work,
I was—”

He’s surprised again. “Work?”

Sadness and shame washes over me. I don’t want to talk about
it, but . . . I need to. Have to. “Before you banished him, Jens Belladonna let
me know I killed two nons on one of my assignments.”

He’s quiet for a long moment. “You realize that I’m
responsible for a lot more than two deaths over the last two years, right?”

“I know.” I fight back the tears. And this is part of the
problem. He’s always had a tough time dealing with the fall-out from his
actions, and I knew it, and focused instead on my own worries. What does that
say about me? Certainly, that I wasn’t as supportive to him as he’d been to me.
It’d been all about me back then, and I hate that. Here on out, no matter what,
that’s not who I want to be anymore. “I know. It’s just . . .” My hands are
folded so tight that I fear I might lose circulation. “I wasn’t ready for that
yet. I knew someday it’d be the case, but . . . I wasn’t
ready
. I was
really resentful that I was forced to skip right over all those stages that
everyone else gets to go through, the ones that help Magicals ease into their
crafts. It felt like the moment I joined the Council, I was thrown into the
fire.” I sigh. “I know it was the same for you, too. And others. It’s not like
I was the only one. And I’m not trying to devalue your crafts, but more often
than not, it seemed like I was asked to get out there and destroy things rather
than create, and it was a heavy burden to bear.”

“Why didn’t you talk to me about how you were feeling about
everything?” He’s so sad. “I would have helped you, Chloe.”

“I know.” I’m crying, and it pisses me off, because I want
to stay strong. “I know that now. I wish I had. But at the time, it felt like
everything was spiraling out of control, and before I knew it, I was lost and
didn’t know how to get out of the maze I’d wandered into.”

One of his palms presses in between his eyes.

“And . . . the Connections . . .” My voice falls apart, and
I’m shaking all over. “It’s really hard to have two Connections, Jonah. I know
you have two, too, but—it’s overwhelming at times.” I wipe my nose. “Sometimes,
I wondered if everything I did damaged one or both of you. Like, whether me
even breathing,
existing
—hurt you. And I hated myself for it. What good
was I to anyone if I couldn’t even love myself? I couldn’t—I didn’t know what
to do. In the end, it seemed like the only solution was for me to leave. I
hoped . . .”

I finally look away. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to
not just ugly cry, especially since he’s looking at me like I’ve just killed a
whole bag full of adorable kittens and puppies right in front of him. “I
thought that maybe if I were out of the equation, you two wouldn’t be so angry
at one another anymore. So I left. I wanted to give you guys a chance at a
normal life. I just thought—” Okay. I give in. I’m totally ugly crying now. “I
know you probably don’t believe me, but I thought I was doing the best thing
for you. For Kellan. And, if I’m being honest, for me, too.”

Both palms press against his eyes now.

“I was nineteen, Jonah, and all I could see ahead of me was
a lifetime of guilt and stress. I know you two felt those things, too. How was
that fair?” I wipe my cheeks. And then I take a deep breath. My heart hammers
harder than ever. Because I finally tell him what I should have told him a long
time ago.

I tell him I cheated on him with his brother, and it
happened more than once.

Jonah’s quiet for a long time. He leans back against the
couch and stares up at the ceiling, his hand clenching in and out, and a
million scenarios play out in my mind over what he’s finally going to say to
me. How it can go so many different ways—in anger, in fury, hysteria, anguish,
or sadness. All will further serve to break my heart, because he never deserved
what I’ve done to him, never once.

I desperately want to get a tissue, but I’m too scared to
leave my chair. Because what if he leaves while I’m gone, even for a minute? So
I wipe my nose and cheeks with my sleeve and sniffle and continue to ugly cry
as silently as I can. I wait, even though it kills me to do so. I’ve made him
wait over six months. I’m willing to wait for him for as long as it takes.

He’s worth it.

Just when I start worrying I’m going to flood the apartment
with my tears, he says, still staring at the ceiling, “I already knew you
cheated.”

I stop crying long enough to gurgle out,
“What?”

He laughs quietly, but there is no humor in his pain. “I’ve
known for a long time.”

I am the worlds’ first person to exist without a beating
heart.

He finally looks at me. There is so much hurt in his face
that I wonder if coming home was a mistake. He’s in anguish, and it’s because
of
me
. “I know a lot of things. For example, I know you hid your
emotions from me for months behind some kind of shield that some hider—Kopano,
most likely—taught you how to construct. I never said anything to you about it,
because I figured you needed it and would tell me about it when you felt it was
time. My father used to use one against us when we used to live together, so I
know what one feels and acts like. I knew it had to be difficult to live with
an Emotional, and I regretted being so in tune with your feelings all the time,
but I also knew there was no way I could ever turn that part of me off—at
least, not when it came to you. I knew about the deaths you’re talking about,
but I didn’t know you knew. They were accidental, by the way. Not that that
diminishes how you feel, but selfishly, I hoped you’d never know, because I
worried it’d gut you. I knew you’d be angry with me if you found out I knew and
never told, because you hated being kept in the dark—even though I watched you
increasingly keep everyone in your life in the dark, too. Ironic, isn’t it,
that you hated all the secrets your parents kept over the years and accused me
of holding things back and you did just the same.” He blows out another hard
breath. Runs his hands through his hair, yanking the strands. His point, valid
as all hell, is painful. “I know you and Kellan . . . that something happened
in Costa Rica. And on that damn yacht he took you out on in Kauai. I knew you
were falling apart. I knew that every single one of us was self-destructing—you
with your ulcer and depression, him with his efforts to reassign his pain, me—”
He looks down at his hands. “The thing is, I knew all of this, but I didn’t
know how to fix any of it.”

I have to search for my voice. Jesus. I’d been so very
blind. “How were you self-destructing, Jonah?”

He stares out of the window on the far side of the room,
silent for a good twenty seconds that leaves me even more anxious than before.
And then—“Did you know that sometimes my brother and I release memories to one
another without even realizing it?” When his focus returns to me, it’s
accompanied with a bittersweet smile. “It happens when we’re dreaming. I don’t
know why, or how, but sometimes he sees my memories and I see his. For Kellan
last year, the more he held in what had happened between the two of you, the
more it ripped his soul apart and the more frequently I saw it all.”

Oh, gods. I’m back to ugly crying. “You . . . you
saw
what happened?”

He nods, his barely-there smile so incredibly sad and
rueful.

I have to close my eyes. I have to focus on breathing. In.
Out. In. Out. Because he knew, he saw, and suddenly, it all makes sense. He
stopped talking to me toward the end because . . .
he knew
. I’d hurt
this man, the one I love more than anything in all the worlds, and all I could
focus on then was my own pain. And then I left him without a single word, which
had probably been an entire ocean’s worth of salt on the wound I caused. It
would’ve been absolutely understandable if he believed I’d never truly loved
him at all, Connection or not. Or that I didn’t love him enough, which is even
worse.

“I know it probably means nothing to you now, but I am so
sorry,” I choke out.

He’s silent again, simply watching me with that awful agony
in his eyes.

I love him so much that it’s ridiculous, but my love is not
the kind he deserves. At least, it wasn’t then. Maybe one day it will be,
though. If I’m lucky enough.

“Jonah—”

“When I found out we had a Connection, I was . . .” He leans
forward, his elbows against his knees. “Relieved, I think. Because I knew it
would be forever. What I felt for you—what I wanted, what I hoped for—forever
seemed like a blessing. But in reality, forever is a really long time when your
heart wholly belongs to a person who doesn’t reciprocate in kind.”

My cheeks are soaked.

“The thing is, logically, I understand. Because you’ve got a
Connection to him, too. But I guess I’m the failure of an Emotional my father
warned I’d turn out to be, because in the last six months, I learned that I
can’t always live logically. I can’t pretend, either. You deserted me. I’m not
okay with that, even though you thought you were doing the right thing. I know
you think that; I feel it in you.” He pauses. “I guess I’d thought—hoped—I’d
meant more to you than that.” Another pause. And then, “I’m not okay with you
having a relationship with us both. It’s not who I am. It’s not what I want. At
one point, I wondered if maybe I could, if I could just learn to control my
feelings better. If I could just pretend better. Be the better person. Be who
you two needed me to be.” He shakes his head. “I’m not that guy, Chloe. I’d
rather live with the pain. I’m sorry, but . . .”