by Kristie Cook
chapter 36
Karl and Jonah are already in the kitchen when I make it downstairs. Karl is making French toast while Jonah sits at the island, nursing his coffee. I stand in the doorway, admiring him as neither guy notices my presence yet.
Karl dips a piece of bread into egg batter. “I got a call from Giules about a half-hour ago.”
Jonah props his head up with a hand. “Let me guess—last night was not pleasant at Chez Whitecomb.”
“You got it. She and Kel got into a screaming match of epic proportions. She was so frustrated she almost called down a thunder storm in your kitchen.”
“It surprises me,” Jonah muses, “that he let his guard down around her.”
“Agreed,” Karl says, laying the bread on a skillet. “Which tells me that the shit didn’t only hit the fan last night, but also exploded. You talk to him yet?”
“You must be kidding.”
“In a way, Chloe saved your ass last night by having you stay here.” Karl pauses, pushing down on the bread with a spatula. “But, dude, I’m telling you now. If I catch you two—”
“You’ll what? Slap my hand and revoke my driving privileges? Karl. Butt out. I don’t tell you what you can and can’t do with Moira, do I?”
But Karl isn’t insulted. “All I’m saying is that if Kel brought Giules down in hysterical tears last night, imagine what he would’ve done to you.”
“Probably tried to beat the crap out of me,” Jonah says calmly.
Karl sets the spatula down and leans against the island. “Look. I’m not taking sides—you know me better than that. That said, having a Connection myself, I’ll admit that if anyone tried to come in between me and Moira, there’d be hell to pay. I’m just saying … I was around Kellan and Chloe a lot. He genuinely loves her. I’ve never seen him like this about a girl before. I feel bad for the guy.”
It takes Jonah a long moment before answering. “I do feel guilty about that, because had I done things differently when I got here in the first place, none of this would be a problem now. Or if I’d actually told him the truth any one of the hundreds of times he’d asked what was going on with me over the last year. But it is what it is, and I won’t back down. Chloe’s my Connection, and I love her, and I’m not letting her go—not even for Kellan.”
“She’s probably dead to him now, anyway” Karl muses, turning back to the skillet.
A small, uncontrollable shudder runs through me at his words.
“She’s not,” Jonah says. “He’s furious right now, but he still loves her. All of his anger right now is focused on me.”
Karl stops. “He’s not blocking you?”
“Nope. He wants me to know exactly what he thinks of me.”
What’s this? Jonah can tell what Kellan is feeling, even at a distance?
“Whoa,” Karl says. And then—“You must be exhausted right now.”
“It’s certainly no picnic.”
“Think you two can maintain civility at school?”
“Of course.” Jonah appears mortally offended. “You know better than to ask that.”
Karl flips the toast. “You going to shield Chloe from all of this?”
“As much as I can,” Jonah says, and I take a step back into the hallway, stunned, because I stupidly never thought things would go this far. “She shouldn’t have to suffer because my brother and I are about to go to war.”
“Keep it that way,” Karl says. “Because I’d hate to have to jump into the fray if it’s not necessary.”
This makes Jonah laugh. “Yeah? Think about the last time you tried to take one of us on.” Then Karl laughs, too, and I turn away and head back to my room to hate myself some more over what I’ve done.
“Where’s Cora?”
I look up from my notes to find Lizzie and Graham, giants blocking the sunlight from above. “I don’t know,” I say, shutting the binder. “I haven’t seen her this morning.”
“I’ve tried calling her three times.” Lizzie holds out her cell phone, tapping on the keyboard as if it’ll magically produce Cora’s voice. “And she’s not answering.”
“Maybe she’s with Meg and Alex?” I offer. I have yet to see them, either.
“Maybe,” Lizzie murmurs. “It’s just weird she’s not here at school. She’s never late.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” Jonah says under his breath, and I laugh, remembering my own humiliating tardy fiasco a couple months prior.
Lizzie launches into a recap of some movie she and Graham saw, but I’m not listening because Giuliana’s Hummer is pulling up in front of us. Karl and Jonah’s conversation rears its head in my mind, forcing all kinds of uncomfortable feelings to spring forth.
“Please don’t fight,” I whisper urgently to Jonah. “Not over me.”
He doesn’t bother to look at the Hummer when he takes my hand and kisses it, the first bit of PDA we’ve risked at school so far. “It’ll be okay. Trust me to handle this.”
I do trust him, but it’s hard to imagine reason trumping emotion in a situation like this, even from someone typically as level headed as Jonah. It’s unfair to allow him to shoulder this burden, considering the two other players in this mess are his twin and his Connection, but it would be a lie to say I wasn’t relieved to hear him offer to take charge of the situation.
I’m well aware of how cowardly that makes me sound.
I think back to all of the boys I’ve broken up with in the past—and while there aren’t many, there are enough for me to feel familiar with the awkwardness of a breakup. I’ve never shied away from the role before, as I’d always known that these things happen and when it’s wrong, it’s best to cut ties before things get too serious. And none of these other boys were serious. All of them had been unfairly compared to Jonah and found lacking over the years, and therefore I’d never developed anything stronger than a mild crush on any of them. Breaking up was easy, even if it meant having to stand there the next day at school and face them down. I’d always done it with a smile on my face, with the reassurance that this was best for everyone involved, and the ability to move on without any big struggle. Oh sure, there’d been a boy or two who’d resented this, but it’d never been a problem for me.
Not until now. Not until Kellan.
I figure, as I watch him slide out of the Hummer but then turn right back around to lean in and laugh at something Giuliana says to him, it’s because if there was no Jonah, there never would’ve been a breakup. But there is a Jonah, and I don’t doubt the wisdom of choosing him over Kellan, yet there is a great deal of unfamiliar, indefinable feelings raging around my stomach, making me want to run and hide instead of facing the problem headfirst like a normal person. Truth be told, the only thing tethering me to the spot is Jonah’s grip on my hand.
“Listen,” Jonah says quietly as Kellan begins his approach toward us, “I swear to you right now he won’t make a scene here at school. I know you’re freaking out—”
Of course he does.
“And you feel like running—”
Damn he’s good.
“But as uncomfortable as this will be for you, I promise it’ll be okay.”
When we stand up, Lizzie and Graham suddenly find five convenient excuses as to why they need to be elsewhere. Kellan shakes his head when he stops in front of us. “Wow. Can I clear a crowd or what?”
I quickly interject, “I don’t think that’s—” But Jonah squeezes my hand and I stop talking.
“How was the trip?” he asks in a superbly mild voice.
Kellan answers, sounding exactly the same, “As well as can be expected.”
“Aunt Hannah?”
Kellan shrugs, still looking relaxed. “The Old Man has been dispatched.”
And then they fall maddeningly silent, both hiding behind dark sunglasses that make it impossible to determine if they’re even looking at one another.
I wait out the silence for a full minute, spending the bulk of my time shuffling from
one foot to the other. It’s a painful silence, punctuated every so often by Jonah’s fingers tightening against mine and the occasional sigh from one or the other. Not able to deal with the vacuum, I tentatively offer, “Um, guys … ?” Jonah squeezes my hand again, this time purposefully. He’s asking me to not speak. I give it a good three minutes before I can’t help myself. “What’s going on right now?”
Kellan cracks the smallest of smiles. “And why wouldn’t I?”
But he’s not saying it to me … so … what does that mean?
Jonah snaps, “Leave her out of this.”
Her? Her who? Does he mean me? “What are you two talking about?” I demand.
The tiny smile slips off Kellan’s face. “Whatever.” When he finally acknowledges me, it’s only to say, “See you later, C,” before strolling off.
And Jonah is no help, refusing to explain what just happened.
Two periods later, I’m trying to shove books into my locker, but I pretty much only succeed at knocking them out. And when I bend down to pick one up that smashed my toes, another book falls, smacking me squarely on the head. I fear I’m about to set off a massive explosion when a hand reaches out to pick up the novel. Startled, I jerk up, slamming my head on the locker door.
Kellan is holding out my book. “Your head okay?”
No. It’s stinging like bloody hell in two spots, which I’m certain he knows about because my pain levels are off the charts. I snatch the book. “It’s fine.”
He gingerly touches one of the rapidly growing welts, and the pain subsides. Despite so much in me wanting to step into that concern and allow it envelop me, I physically will myself to take a step back. He drops his hand, asking, “How are you today?”
I stop rubbing my head. “How am I today?”
His half grin appears. “If I’m not mistaken, that’s usually an acceptable form of greeting between people nowadays, especially those who know each other well.”
Ugh. I am so flustered. “What are you up to?” I accuse, shoving a book into my backpack. Getting my eyes off him is good, even though the pull toward him is as strong as ever. How can that be? I’d felt it this morning during the silent stare-off, but it didn’t feel half as strong as it does at the moment.
“I was asking you how you’re doing today.”
I zip up the backpack. “Peachy, thanks.”
“Good,” he says, and it’s done in such a way that I have no other choice than to meet him directly in his eyes.
He’s so gorgeous today I can barely stand it. And that only confuses me more, and drives up the already sky-high levels of guilt. “I … uh … need to go to class now.”
It takes a tremendous effort, but I manage to turn to leave. But two steps away, he grabs my arm and says in an achingly vulnerable voice, “Wait.”
So, I wait.
“I’m sorry about the way I acted last night,” he murmurs. “I really shouldn’t have walked away like that.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize about.” I’m ashamed when my voice cracks halfway through.
His voice drops even lower as he steers us back towards the lockers. “I expected bad news when I sensed Jonah wasn’t angry anymore. I
just … I guess I didn’t expect to hear what you used to rationalize your choice.”
I think back to the conversation, and the guilt flares brighter. “I’m so sorry—”
He winces. “Don’t. I didn’t say that to get an apology, Chloe.”
I look up into his blue eyes, dark and troubled and so out of place on his otherwise calm face. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” I whisper hoarsely. “I’d give anything to make this painless for … for all of us.”
He looks off into the distance. “I’m mad, Chloe. I’m so pissed off right now. And hurt. And a thousand other emotions I didn’t ever think I’d feel.”
Cue my tears. “I know. I’m so sorry, Kellan.”
“I can’t do this today, because I can barely think straight, but … I’d like it if we can talk later, because … I know how you feel. About me.”
I nod, blinking back the tears. “Okay. Just … let me know when.” And like a fool, I take a step closer, unable to resist the pull toward him any longer. He is confused, wary … and yet also unable to resist the pull, because he tentatively reaches out his hand and touches my face so lightly, I wonder if the fingers are even there or not. So I lean against his hand, allowing the tingle that always accompanies his touch to take root in my skin, proving there can be a very distinct disconnect between mind and body.
Because the little voice is shrieking at me to take a step back and run as fast as I can in the opposite direction, for Kellan is not my boyfriend any longer, and he shouldn’t be allowed to touch me like this whether or not my body likes it.
His hand drops away. “You don’t want to be late.”
I slam head first into a wall of confusion.
Kellan bends down and picks up my backpack. He hands it over wordlessly before turning around and walking away.
In the seventeen years I’ve known Cora Carregreen, she’s missed school exactly three times, and all three were in the last two months when we went to Annar and had to skip due to being chased by the Elders. During this time period, I’ve also learned that Cora never ignores her cell phone, not even in class, when she puts it on vibrate and finds ways to sneak peeks at texts and call logs. So, by lunchtime, when no one has been able to get ahold of her, I am officially worried.
“This isn’t like her,” Lizzie is saying. “Why isn’t she calling back? Or answering in the first place?”
“Babe,” Graham says soothingly, “are you sure you don’t remember her saying she wasn’t coming to school? Maybe she’s gone off to that … er … place you guys go to?”
Innocent comments like this really stress Jonah out.
“No!” Lizzie practically wails. “I would remember her telling me that!” And then she holds the phone up and shows it to me. “Fifteen calls, Chloe. Fifteen.”
I pull out my own phone and set it on the table. “I’ve called five times myself.”
“Graham,” Lizzie says, her long ponytail whipping as she turns to him. “Call her. Now. Maybe she’ll answer you.”
Graham clearly doubts this wisdom, but does as he’s asked.
Jonah, who has so far been silent through Lizzie’s ravings, calls Giuliana, asking her to go to Cora’s house to check on her. And then it hits me.
What Karl has warned me about.
Why Cora’s been partially under his protection for the last two months, too.
“You don’t think …” I say, panic rising, but Jonah cuts me off.
“We don’t know anything yet,” he says in a low voice. “She could be at home, asleep.”
I can barely choke out, “They sometimes target the people closest to … to …”
Jonah pulls me close, kissing my temple. “Let’s just wait until Giules calls before sounding the alarm, okay?”
I nod, having to bite on my lip to not say anything else.
Lizzie’s knee begins bouncing up and down, jarring our lunches. “So,” she says rather loudly. “So. What’s new with all of us? Is anything new with you two? Graham bought a new shirt yesterday. I picked it out. It’s nice.”
“She rambles when she’s upset,” I tell Jonah quietly.
Graham strokes Lizzie’s arm softly. “It’s a good shirt,” he says. “Plaid.”
“Plaid’s nice,” Jonah offers.
“I thought so, too,” Lizzie shrills. “It’s red. Red plaid is nice, right?”
I cannot believe we are talking about plaid shirts as a way to alleviate our worries. So I try another tactic. I ask Lizzie about her upcoming appointment with the regional Seer.
She’s still gripping her cell phone. “It’s Friday. I’ll have to miss the game. But it’s important to go, right? Because my road is changing?”
I’m assuming she’s referring to her relationship with a non. “I wish you lu
ck,” I tell her sincerely. “Be sure to ask specific questions. I learned that from my visit.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Lizzie says. “I’d almost forgotten you saw one in Annar recently.”
“Really?” Jonah asks. “Was it Astrid?”
“Actually, yes,” I say, surprised. “Do you know her?”
“I do. She’s my … a close family friend.”
Lizzie leans in closer, intrigued and thankfully distracted enough her knee stills. “I’ve never met a Seer, except, of course, the day I was born. What’s this Astrid like?”
“She was kind,” I admit, wondering if I ought to admit she was also very unhelpful to Jonah, who’s already made mention of knowing her well. I decide not to, instead adding, “She’s an Elf.”
“You know, I’d never even seen one before until the Storyteller.” She turns to Jonah. “How do you know this Astrid?”
He shoves the French fries on his plate around. “Astrid lives on the same street I grew up on.”
“But she’s an Elf,” Graham says, confused. “Don’t they look different than … well, us?”
“Not really,” Lizzie supplies. “They’re somewhat taller, more elegant in a way. Their faces are a bit longer, their eyes a bit more slanted. But I can see how she’d blend in.” To Jonah, she says, “Continue.”
I nearly laugh, because I’m pretty positive Jonah hadn’t the slightest intention after his first explanation to continue anything further. But he does, more to me than my friends. “After my mother died, Astrid sort of took pity on Kel and me. I guess you could say she’s a surrogate mother of sorts.”
Why don’t I know this? “Do you still talk to her, despite moving?”
“She calls pretty much like clockwork every other day. And whenever I’m in Annar and she’s there, too, we see each other.”
I think back to the woman I’d met, and how I’d thought, when she’d hugged me, how warm and motherly she’d been. “She was really nice.”
“She is,” he agrees.