A Matter of Truth (Fate Series 3)

by Heather Lyons

  Will calls me over to the small dining room table and holds out a shot of tequila. Only, it’s retracted when I go to grab it. “One for courage,” he warns. “Just know I refuse to go through any sort of alcohol poisoning shenanigans again.”

  As much as I wish I could get drunk right now, it’d be the worst thing I could do. I tug the glass out of his hand. “Don’t worry. I’ve learned that lesson.”

  He picks up his shot, warm laughter filling the space between us. “Cheers to new beginnings.” His grin slides into a smirk. “Preferably non-vomit-y ones.”

  I sigh, but it’s loving exasperation. “Just clink already, will you?”

  Our glasses come together in a brief chime of hopes and promises and another chorus of cheers. The tequila burns on its way down, but it’s warm and fortifying.

  He eyes me over the glass. “You look green, and not in one of those Goblin ways.” When he purposely takes a giant step backwards, I reach out to swat him.

  “It’s the tequila, you prat.”

  His wide grin reforms. “Listen to you. I’ll make you an honorary Scot after all.”

  The doorbell chimes, and I send a plea to the tequila in my belly to start working its magic. Because my heart has redoubled its efforts to hammer a hole straight out of my chest. And, damn Will for being right, I do feel a bit nauseated.

  “I’ve got it,” Cameron calls out from the kitchen. Footsteps sound along the dark hardwood floors, and I know, just know, that I’m going to pass out and make an even bigger jackass out of myself.

  “Alright. Just one more.” Another shot is shoved toward me; I gratefully down it as he follows suit.

  I don’t know what to do with myself. Where to stand. Should I stand? Sit? Should I go to another room and make an entrance? Should I—

  Wait. Cameron steps into the living room, and he’s sheet white. If anybody’s going to throw up right now, my money’s on him. And this does not make sense.

  Will removes the shot glass from my fingers and adds it next to his on the table. I nudge his arm and whisper under my breath that something’s wrong with his dad. But before he can say anything, in walks Astrid Lotus, followed by her daughter, Callie. And then, with identical expressions that radiate uncertainty, first Jonah, then Kellan appear.

  I’m pretty sure my heart bursts straight out of my chest. That handful of emotions I was feeling earlier explodes into a cacophony that I can no longer decipher. He’s here, they’re here, and—

  And I still have no idea what to do. I don’t want to start straight off with another round of apologies—even though they’re absolutely deserved—because that’s all I ever seemed to say to them. But they deserve to hear the truth. It’s just, I didn’t know it’d be in front of an audience. Which is a selfish thought, because I’m in the wrong, and I’ve got to be the one to start making amends, whether in front of one of them at a time or the entirety of Annar. If they felt the need to bring along Astrid and Callie, then who am I to complain?

  Still, it’s hard to really look at either man right now, not like I want to, even though the pulls toward them both are so strong it’s a miracle I’m even standing. Because there’s confusion there, and oh, gods, hurt, so much hurt and expectations, and all of a sudden, I feel even worse about myself than I did ten minutes ago when I’d only felt like the lousiest girl to ever exist.

  Especially since a glance at Jonah’s hand shows no sign of his Connection ring.

  Cameron motions toward the worn couch and chairs in the room and offers everyone a seat. Callie and Kellan choose to sit; Jonah remains standing, arms crossed, but he’s close to the couch. Cameron and Astrid are standing in the midway point between me and Will and her children.

  Jonah’s hair is a bit longer than when I left. It irrationally bothers me that this happened and I didn’t know about it. He’s got dark circles under his eyes, too, and I ache for him, for the hell he must have gone through this last week. Our eyes lock together, and he asks a silent question that has my hands twisting together and regret surging through my bloodstream.

  He asks me why I did it. And also possibly why my hair is blonde.

  All I can think is: oh, sweet gods above, I love this man with everything that makes me me, and this feeling is so strong that it nearly knocks me off my feet.

  I take a deep breath and a step forward at the same time, but I skid to a halt when Astrid says, “You took me by surprise. You have to admit, this would be the last place I’d ever expect to see you again.”

  My eyes fly to her, my stomach sinking. She’d loved me once. Protected me. And I’d failed her just as surely as I failed everyone else when I bolted.

  “Yes, well, the same could be said for you,” Cameron murmurs, and then my eyes snap straight to him. Huh?

  Astrid delicately clears her throat. “How have you been, Cam? You look well.”

  I turn to Will, who is now watching his father and Astrid with utter confusion. And then I look back at the man who has become my surrogate father, and the woman who became the twins’ surrogate mother.

  Because they know each other. And I did not see that one coming.

  “Cam? Who the fuck calls him Cam?” is what Will says. I think it’s angled at me, but as his eyes are riveted on his dad and Astrid, I can’t be sure.

  They ignore him. “Good,” Cameron murmurs to Astrid, tugging at his collar. It’s his turn to clear his throat. “And you?”

  Astrid smoothes her knotted-up side braid with a trembling hand. “Also good.” She motions toward him. “The beard is . . . it’s different.”

  His eyes widen.

  “I like it,” she hastily adds. “It’s just . . . it’s been a long time.”

  “Cheers. You look well. Like you haven’t aged a bit. But then, I guess it’s always been that way, hasn’t it?” I’ve never seen Cameron appear so uncomfortable.

  It’s then I notice that Kellan’s tugging on the bracelet he always wears as he stares at the woman he considers to be his mother in confusion. It sounds weird, but this little action, the one that lets me know he’s uncomfortable with something, makes me want to cry because it’s so familiar. Gods, I’ve missed him.

  He must sense these feelings rolling around me, because he looks away from Astrid to where I’m standing. When our eyes finally meet each other, the sharp pull of the Connection between us wicks the air straight out of my lungs. Oh, does he look good. Tired, sad, confused . . . but so, so gorgeous.

  I blink and look away first. I need to get control over my feelings for him if I’m ever going to be able to make amends to any of them. Stupidly, even just a half hour ago, I thought it might be . . . not easy, but easier than before, simply because I know what I want now.

  But no. All those feelings I had for him before are just as strong as always.

  Nearby, Astrid’s smile is tremulously fragile as she shifts her attention to where Will and I are standing. “I am so pleased to see you home safe and sound, Chloe.” In the next few seconds, I’m surrounded by the best kind of motherly hug I’ve ever felt. My arms don’t know what to do. I loop them around her, but it’s like they aren’t worthy to hug her back, let alone hear these kind words.

  She squeezes me, the scent of violets strong and reassuring before she lets go. “And I am so pleased to see you again, William, although I’m sorry it’s been so long.”

  I know I ought to be focusing on righting my wrongs right now, but I’m sorry. Cameron wins for my immediate attention when he coughs again, shoving his hands into his pockets, looking like he’s in the most uncomfortable situation of his life.

  Will’s dark eyes flash at his father. “Did she just say what I think she just said?”

  Astrid frowns, confused, and the WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE siren is going off at full blast in this room. “He’s lovely,” she says to Cameron, who apparently doesn’t know what to say. “I see so much of the both of you in him.”

  I briefly catch the confusion on both Callie and Kellan’s fac
es as my eyes make their way to Jonah’s. There’s another silent question for me. I think it’s: what the hell is going on?

  Which is an excellent question.

  “What the hell is going on?” Will wisely demands for all the rest of us in the room.

  Cameron and Astrid have a silent, anguished stare-off, graduating what was once the worlds’ most awkward moment to the universe’s. Something passes between them, and abruptly, all my shit feels pretty insignificant to whatever’s going on with these two.

  Finally, to me and Will, he says, “Astrid and I . . .” He scratches at his beard. “We go way back.”

  “What’s this?” Callie says from her perch on the couch at the same time Will says, “What the hell?”

  The twins remain silent. They’re smart. I’m stupid, because I ask, “What does that mean, go way back?”

  An undecipherable look passes between them before Astrid says, “I grew up with William’s mother, Molly. She was my childhood best friend. Our families even immigrated to the Human plane together.”

  Did not see that one coming, either.

  “Technically,” Astrid says, her smile nearly breakable, “I’m your godmother, William.”

  And . . . the surprises keep coming.

  “Excuse me?” he asks at the same time Callie barks from the couch, “Excuse me?”

  “Wait,” Kellan says, wading into this mess, “so you know these nons?”

  Ohh, his voice is so good to hear again.

  “Yes, this!” Callie juts an accusing finger toward her mother and Cameron.

  Will glares over at Kellan and Callie, no doubt irritated by the use of non. I swat at him before he can start a fight, though, which earns me a glare. And a further silent question from Jonah.

  I let out a frustrated sigh. I so badly just want to grab Jonah’s hand and drag him into my bedroom or, hell, even the hallway—Kellan’s, too—but in light of what’s going on with the people I consider to be family now, that’d only prove my selfishness.

  Astrid answers her children, her words soft and sad. “Cameron was married to my best friend. Of course I know him.” She pauses. “William is like you, Callie. His Elvin heritage from his mother is Magical. And his father is . . .” She bites her lip, her smile so bittersweet. “Human. Kellan? Don’t let me hear you say non like that again, like it’s an insult. Are we clear?”

  Kellan rolls his eyes, which clearly rubs Will the wrong way. He snaps, “Métis. We half-breed freaks have a fancy name all to ourselves, or do you not know? Oh, wait. Obviously, by the fucking disgusted tone of your voice, you don’t care, right?”

  That clearly pisses Kellan off, who’s off the couch in a flash. Jonah’s there to block him, though.

  This cannot be happening. Not now, not like this . . . not after so long. I grab Will’s arm and shoot him a meaningful look that tells him to lock down whatever latent anger he’s got percolating inside. He has every right to it, but just not in this moment. “Stop. He—he’s not—Kellan didn’t mean anything by that.”

  Which, I think, pisses Kellan off to hear me say, since I definitely don’t have a right to speak for him, but the last thing we need is a fight between all these people I love. Before Kellan can counter me, Will turns to his father. “So, not only did you and Mum keep me in the dark about being a . . . an Elf”—he sneers, turning the word into an undeserving curse—“and her being a Magical, but apparently the entire universe knows about it except for me?”

  Well, so much for trying to stop the deluge from coming.

  Cameron stays silent. Suddenly, both twins, plus Callie, are riveted on what’s unfolding around us. Me? For the zillionth time in my life, I wish I could rewind time.

  “Plus,” Will grinds out, “you also conveniently forgot to tell me that I have a godmother?” He shoves tight fists under his arms. “Do I have a godfather, too?”

  Cameron sighs. “Son—”

  “Yes.” Astrid’s regained some of her composure, even though her hands are full on shaking now. “Callie, darling, I didn’t mean to hide this from you—”

  Callie’s off the couch now, too. “Hide what? What is going on here?” She looks at me. “I thought—this is Chloe’s homecoming! We’re here because of her! Because—and now, there’s—WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?”

  “Astrid, I really don’t think this is the time,” Cameron says, which only infuriates Will further. He fills his shot glass again and downs it in one gulp.

  “We have nothing to hide.” Although her voice is unsteady, it’s clear Astrid is feeling more than a bit defiant. “I’ve . . .” Her spine straightens. “I’ve missed you, Cam. And I’m tired of keeping all this in. It’s finally time to let it go.”

  “Fuck. Me,” Will groans, grabbing the tequila. I toss out a quiet warning of, “No more,” but he throws my hand off. “Luckily for me,” he says, glaring now at his father, “I hold my liquor loads better than you, Chloe. It must be the Scottish in me, unless, that’s been a lie, too.” He chugs the shot. “And as much as I’d like to get plastered so I can erase all of this shite, I highly doubt we’ll be doing a replay of your stint in the hospital.”

  Both Jonah and Kellan’s eyebrows shoot high. Heat rushes my cheeks. I so did not need that crack right now.

  “William,” Cameron warns, his voice sharp. I’m hoping he’s referring to both Will’s crack and the drinking. In either case, Will pours himself another shot anyway, ignoring us both. I attempt to wrestle the bottle of tequila away, but the look he gives me stops me dead in my tracks.

  I remind myself he’s hurting, that his world has been turned upside down, so I try a new tactic. “I’m not cleaning up after you,” I whisper harshly when he downs the next shot.

  “Yes you will. You’ll remember how I did the same for you when you spewed all over my truck.”

  I CANNOT EVEN. I refuse to look over to where Jonah and Kellan are. The silent questions will be far too humiliating. Instead, I snatch the bottle away for good this time and lean in, hissing under my breath, “I know you’re upset, but Will—please!”

  He closes his eyes and bites his lip hard, like he’s centering himself, which has to be hard with all that tequila. And then, eyes once more open and the anger thankfully gone off his face, Will motions to where Callie and Astrid are. “Enough about our drinking ailments. I believe this woman here was about to also blow the lid off of her personal Parents Hide Shite From Their Kids box. It’s apparently an epidemic. Please feel free to proceed.”

  Well, I suppose bitter sarcasm is far better than blatant anger.

  Callie stares at Will like he’s lost his mind. I think she might be right.

  “Astrid, you don’t need to do this,” Cameron says, but Astrid shakes her head.

  “No. He’s right. I’ve . . .” Steely resolve flashes in the lavender of her gorgeous eyes. “Callie, your biological father was William’s godfather. Molly and I grew up with Ben—that was his name.”

  Gorgeous, unshakable Callie Lotus’s mouth drops open and stays that way.

  “When your parents died, I took you in.” Astrid’s smile is tight, ready to shatter at the smallest word. “Technically, I was your godmother, too. You were Ben’s little girl; I could never turn my back on you.”

  Callie’s mouth snaps shuts and then reopens. And then shuts again, before she says, “Were you having an affair with my dad?”

  “No.” Her answer is firm. “Ben was my friend. He and Molly—they were like my brother and sister.”

  Now Callie is shaking. “You told me you didn’t personally know my parents! That you just knew of them!”

  “I know,” Astrid murmurs. “I’m sorry. I just . . . I thought it would be better. Molly and I knew the difficulties your parents had been going through, so we . . . we thought, in an effort to stave off the problems already associated with your birth, this was the best.”

  Callie stares at her mother for a long moment. Then she stomps over to where I’m clutching the tequila and yanks it s
traight out of my hand. Will oh-so-helpfully passes her my shot glass from the table. She waves it off and chugs directly from the bottle.

  Oh. My. Gods. I’m standing next to a track in which two trains are heading straight at each other going full steam and the weirdest thing of all is that, for once, I’m not one of said trains.

  “Let me guess,” Will sneers, swinging the shot glass in between Cameron and Astrid. “You two are the ones who had an affair.”

  And the unthinkable happens. Silence is his answer.

  This is not happening. This is not—

  “Are you bloody serious?!” he growls when the rest of us can’t seem to pick our jaws up off the floor. His anger reemerges with a vengeance. “You cheated on my mum?”

  “No.” Cameron takes a step closer to where Will and I are standing. “Astrid and I were over before your mother and I got together.”

  Holy effing hell. I SO did not see that one coming.

  Neither did Callie or Will, who are staring at their parents like they’re strangers. And, honestly, I don’t blame them one iota.

  Finally, voice close to cracking—“This is shite, Dad.”

  Cameron nods slowly. “I know you’re angry, son—”

  “Angry doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel,” Will spits back. To me, he says, “Can you believe this? Who the fuck are these people, Chloe? Why are they here?”

  “They’re . . .” I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but it’s way too big.

  “I’m Jonah and Kellan’s mother,” Astrid supplies, “And Callie and I are here because we wanted to welcome Chloe home and let her know we missed her and love her.”

  “Their mother?” Cameron asks quietly. He’s shocked. And . . . angry?

  “They’re not biologically mine.” There’s anguish on her face. “But they’re mine all the same.” She pauses. “They’re Lucia’s boys.”

  Hold on. Cameron not only knows (and I guess dated?) Astrid, but knew the twins’ mom? I need a notepad to keep track of all of this.