A Matter of Truth (Fate Series 3)

by Heather Lyons

  My heart breaks when I hear her tell me, in a clinical voice, of how he desperately tried to hold it together for work. That Astrid constantly worried about him, how she tried to get him to move in with her but he balked, claimed he didn’t want to inconvenience anyone any further than he already had. Of how they finally convinced the twins to at least move in together, since Kellan was having a hard time, too—although, according to Callie, it wasn’t as intense as what Jonah was going through because Kellan already knew what it was like to live without his Connection.

  She steps on the pieces of my heart so freshly cracked and grinds them into dust below me when she tells me how Jonah basically slid into some kind of robo-mode and threw himself into work. She tried to talk to him about it, Astrid, too—even Kellan, but two months into my absence, he simply stopped talking about me in any capacity other than directives toward the Guard’s search to find me.

  As for Kellan—Kellan did what Kellan has always done when dealing with his pain.

  When she’s done, I tell her, “I love him.”

  Her eyebrows lift up.

  “Jonah, I mean.” I’m well aware my smile is brittle, and that I’m declaring this to another person who lost their heart to him at a young age, one that even today may still feel that way. “I realized it in Alaska. Realized . . . no matter what I feel for Kellan—who I still and always will love desperately, make no mistake about that—it’s nothing compared to the need I have for Jonah. My life is crazy, and I know it sounds weird, but he’s been the only true consistency my entire life. He’s my rock when everything else is upside down . . . and . . . I love him, Cal. I came home, ready to tell him that, but now he wants nothing to do with me.” I lean my head back against the couch and stare up into the puffy white clouds in a pale blue sky. “Which, in a way, is exactly what I deserve after what I’ve done.”

  I hear rather than see her sigh.

  Tentatively, hopefully—“How is he now? Do you know?”

  “The same. A work-a-holic. He’s on the Elders Subcommittee, you know.”

  My head snaps forward so I can stare at her. I really should get a roster of the damn committee already.

  She rolls her eyes. “Yes, it means what you think it means. Obviously, he’s completely aware of everything that went down in Alaska and Russia now that Zthane finally spilled the beans. And before you ask how I know, obviously my mom is on the Subcommittee, too.”

  My whispered question about whether or not there’s still hope barely voices against the sounds of the city behind us.

  “Here’s my two cents on the issue—which ought to come with a disclaimer, since he’s not actually speaking to me about you or anything. But . . . you threw J for a loop, Chloe. Big time. He’s had a lot of loss in his life, what with his mom and Uncle Joey—even, to some extent, Hannah; it’s in his nature to withdraw into himself, especially since his father was always on him and Kel to not embarrass the family by acting overemotional.” She grimaces and adds, “Unprofessional. Can you believe it?” She shakes her head. “But let’s not talk about Ewan Whitecomb and his idiotic notions on how his children ought to act. We’re talking about how he lost his mom and then Joey, two of the most important people in his life, and how he lost you, only to have you come back looking like a whole different person. I honestly don’t think J knows how to deal with it. Not like Kel, anyway, who’s long learned how to deal with life without you. Jonah’s hurting right now. I mean—it’s obvious to us all he’s thinking about you, and trying in his own way to . . . I don’t know . . . help you via the Subcommittee the best he can, but . . .” She leans forward. “You need to give him some time.”

  Dammit. I’ve started to cry. Gods, I’ve made such a mess of everything.

  “What’s going on out here?”

  Will’s standing in the open French doors, holding an open cardboard box. Nell jumps up in an effort to get to the box.

  I wipe my eyes. “Nothing. Just . . .” I quickly glance at Callie, who is staring at Will. Like . . . really staring, and I can’t tell if it’s because she’s annoyed he’s here, fascinated with him, disgusted he’s carrying food, or finds him extremely hot. “A reality check, I guess.” I motion toward Callie. “You remember Callie Lotus?”

  “How could I forget,” he says flatly, dropping the box on the glass table in front of me. He gently pushes his dog away from the table. “Adopted daughter of my Godmother, biological offspring of my Godfather,” he waves a hand between them, “fellow Métis, etc . . . etc . . .”

  Callie’s frown deepens, but her eyes do not leave him.

  He sinks down on the couch next to me and drags the box closer. “Do you know how long it took me to find this bloody hot dog cart of yours? And then how long I had to wait in line to buy these things?”

  I press a hand lovingly against his cheek—bless this boy for both the hot dogs and for trying to change the subject to something less painful—and then reach for one of my special treats. Good lords, have I missed the Gnomish hot dog cart by the entrance to Annar’s central plaza. “Thank you for braving the big city for me.”

  “Here to steal more of my tequila?” he says to Callie.

  She’s sucking on a lemon when she says, “As a matter of fact, I’m here to invite you all to dinner Friday night. Mom thinks it would be . . .”—she goes to roll her eyes, but thinks better of it—“a good idea to reacquaint”—her face pinches even tighter—“herself with you and your father, although I have no idea why.” She flips the end of her long, silvery ponytail up to inspect non-existent split ends. “And of course, see you, Chloe. Mom’s missed you, too.”

  “Reacquainted,” Will snorts. “You do know that they’ve been chatting on the phone together, right? I think Dad even went and had lunch with your mum one day.”

  Callie and Will stare at each other so long and hard I actually start feeling uncomfortable. I slowly unwrap one of the hot dogs. “Is this like one of your family dinners?”

  All the weirdness (hostility? I still can’t tell) she’d just shown Will melts into pity. “If you’re asking if J will be there, then no. He’s off on a mission to South Africa in the morning. Kel will be, though. He’ll be coming back from Oklahoma City just in time.”

  I remember how desperate I used to be to spend time with Kellan, how, if I’m being honest with myself, I still am, but right now? I’d give anything and everything to even have five minutes alone with Jonah. Or, hell, even just be in the same room as him.

  It would be so easy right now to just give in to the Connection I have with Kellan. Just . . . embrace the love I feel for him and see what we would be like together. But the more I’ve thought about it over the last few days, and despite the temptation it truly taunts me with, the more I know it wouldn’t be right. Because, even if Kellan and I were together, I’d be thinking about Jonah. Worrying about him. Loving him. Wanting him. Needing him.

  And as mercenary as it sounds, that’s the key. I love them both, but I need—want—Jonah in my life more.

  As much as it terrifies me, I know it’s time Kellan and I finally have a talk.

  Kellan murmurs, “You fixed your hair,” but he’s not looking at me. He’s staring out at the gorgeous vista in front of us, a magnificent city skyline blending into a pink and orange sherbet horizon.

  I slide my legs in between the railing and sit down, leaving a good two feet in between us. I’m dangling next to him on the thin, bronze strip separating empty space and the top of the Dane’s apartment building, wondering how in the hell I got to this place. How it all came to this.

  How I can even make it through the next five minutes, let alone day, week, month, or the rest of my life.

  I lean my arms against the ornate railing and drop my chin on them. “It almost feels like we’re floating up here.”

  He doesn’t say anything, just keeps staring out at the beauty in front of us. Karnach at sunset is one of the worlds’ most awe-inspiring sights—the quartz in the marble glints and flashes
golden and pink in the blazing light, making it glow.

  I want to scoot closer, revel in the comfort and warmth of his perfect body against mine. But falling into old habits does neither of us any good. “Kellan . . .”

  “You don’t need to tell me,” he says quietly. “I already feel it in you.” He finally turns to face me. “I felt it the very moment I saw you after you got back from Alaska. Gods. The overwhelming love that consumed you the moment you saw my brother—it was like a tsunami.” He sighs into the void below us. “You’ve always gone back to him, you know. No matter what you’ve ever felt for me, no matter what we’ve done, it’s always been Jonah for you.” His bitter laugh is barely voiced. “I guess I always hoped that somehow, someway . . . maybe it would change. I even thought . . . when we were in Hawaii, it had changed. If anything, what you feel for him has only intensified, even though you fear you’ve lost him for good.”

  I bite my lip and study him. He looks so tired, so . . . resigned. So heartbroken that my own heart crumbles right along with his.

  “I love you,” I tell him, letting him feel the truth of how that love permeates every cell in my body. “That will never change.”

  A sad, quiet sigh escapes his beautiful lips. “Just not enough.”

  I don’t know if I can do this. How I can even contemplate hurting him—hurting me—like this. But all night, all day, all I could think of was how this was better than dragging along the pain until it defined us, tainted everything we feel for one another. I’ll never be able to let go of him. Fate won’t let me. But I can choose right now to do everything I can to begin the long road home toward hope. “Kellan. You know that’s not true. I tore apart my life because I love you so much.” I close my eyes and mentally curse myself. “That came out wrong. You certainly had nothing to do with my actions this year. I and I alone chose to do what I did. What I meant was, my feelings for you are so strong, so . . . powerful, that I found myself doubting all the decisions I’d made for myself—at least, the ones concerning this.” I press my fist against my heart.

  His forehead drops against the railing, his eyes drifting toward the people filling the streets below—people going about their daily lives, blissfully unaware that above them two people are breaking their hearts apart.

  “I wish I could be the girl you deserve,” I tell him as those pieces surge up into my throat, threatening to strangle me. “Gods, I wish that so very much, because you are . . .” I nearly choke as I say this, desperate to keep myself from shattering. How does a person let go of a future with somebody critical to his or her existence? How do they survive? “You are one of most important people to me in all the worlds. I am so blessed that I have gotten to know you, love you . . . be loved by you . . . It’s a gift. One of the best gifts I could ever receive.”

  He lets out a shuddery breath; my own collapses inside me.

  I lean my head against the railing and watch him, silent tremors wracking my body. So much of me is screaming that I’m making a mistake, that I should tell him I was wrong, to forgive me, hold me. Kiss me. Make love to me. I’m terrified of losing him, beyond scared of what giving him up like this might mean to the both of us. But I can’t let Fate dictate this moment. I can’t let this Connection between us be what defines our relationship.

  He deserves better. So very much better.

  The lovely half smile of his that I love appears after I doubt myself for the ninetieth time in less than five minutes, even if just slightly. “You and I never would’ve worked in the long run, you know. We’re too alike.”

  A gurgly laugh escapes me. “What?”

  His voice, as light as he’s trying to make it, shakes just as much as mine. “We’re all adrenaline, Chloe. It’d be all raging and fighting and hot make-up sex.”

  He’s lying. Well, not about the hot sex, which I’m pretty sure would be spot-on since so many of our make-out sessions were nuclear, but definitely about the fighting. When we dated in high school, we were a dream together. In Costa Rica? The same. He and I are ridiculously compatible. But I play his game. “Plus, we’d always be chasing after one another. I don’t know if you notice or not, but we both have a tendency to run away from our problems.”

  Another soft laugh escapes him, because he knows I’m right. “It’s a problem for the both of us, isn’t it? We’d have to put preemptive tracking devices on one another in case of an argument or misunderstanding.”

  This is probably the most gut-wrenching thing I’ve ever had to do. So much sadness twists through me, compounding the urge to double over and gasp, yet it’s not a new feeling. I’ve felt this way over Kellan too many times in the past. No doubt I’ll feel it countless times in the future. But the difference is this time, as I sit next to him while the sun slips behind Karnach, I finally know what it is I want.

  Like he knows I worry he’s going to stand up and leave and never look back, Kellan holds out his hand and I take it, watching his long fingers curve around mine before a gentle kiss brushes my knuckles. Lovely, delicious tingles sparkle through my body. What if this is the last time we touch? Hold hands? Can I—even as sure as I am—ever live without this again? Do I really even want to? “Except, I’m done running. I’m not going anywhere this time.”

  “Me either,” I whisper. And I mean it.

  “Good.” A gentle squeeze, and then we are no longer touching; I’ve begun my mourning in earnest now. “You asked me once, a long time ago, to promise you that we would be something important to one another. I’m finally ready to make that promise to you.”

  I know my smile is bittersweet and more than a wee bit teary. He’s giving me another gift right now, one I don’t know if I deserve. But because I love him so very much, and because, at heart, I will always be selfish when it comes to him, I gratefully take what he offers.

  Because I will gladly take anything he has to offer me if it means I still get to have him in my life.

  “I promise that I will always be here for you when you need me. I promise to be your friend, your confidant, and the person you can always count on. I promise you that you have my heart and my loyalty. I promise you that you will always have my love.” He leans his face against his arms, head tilted toward me, and I swear, his smile is just as bittersweet as my own.

  There’s a fist in my chest, and it’s squeezing the crap out of my heart. Because I love him. I do. I love him so much, it’s ridiculous. He is an amazing person, so smart and warm and loving, and anybody, anybody, would be lucky to call him friend, let alone lover. To let him go tears me apart. I doubt I’ll ever get over it. I know I’ll never get over him. But it’s not fair, keeping him and me in limbo when I finally know that it’s Jonah who I want and need. In a way, Kellan was right. He and I have been intensity personified this last year and a half, tortured by high highs and low lows. He’s all about the rush—whether it be sweeping me off my feet or jumping out of a helicopter. And it’s not all because of me. That’s just who Kellan Whitecomb is. He’s a risk taker. And that’s all well and good, but what with the stress of being a Creator with crappy parents who have written her off, I need—no, crave my feet firmly on the ground, at least most of the time, anyway. Even still, if he’d told me we could never see one another again, I don’t know what I would’ve done. So I tell him, since saying anything more would just exacerbate the constriction against my heart, “Ditto.”

  Because to promise him anything less would be a lie.

  “I see you’re back to your natural color.”

  I look up from the peaches I’ve been examining to find Sophie Greenfield leaning against a nearby table. Will and I are at Annar’s farmers market buying food for tonight’s dinner at the Lotus’. Initially, it had been suggested we go out to a restaurant, but once everyone took a moment to remember what happened the last time we were all together, we compromised and decided to eat at Astrid’s. That said, Will was pretty forthright about wanting to cook for everyone, even if it wasn’t his own kitchen.

  So her
e we are, buying fruit and veggies, and I’m confronted by what appears to be a pissed off ex-girlfriend of Kellan’s.

  I slip a pair of peaches in a bag. “Thanks.”

  “It wasn’t a compliment.” She takes a few steps closer, her dark sunglasses glinting in the late morning sunlight. “We need to talk.”

  Yeah, that’s not going to happen. Of everybody in Annar I need to talk to, Sophie Greenfield is not even on the list. I may be in the middle of the painful process of letting any future I have with Kellan go, but I’ll be damned if I ever play nice with this woman. I add the bag of fruit to my basket. “Look, Sophie—I don’t know what it is you want, but I’m on a pretty tight schedule here—”

  “What I want is for you to go right back to the Transit Station and re-lose yourself.”

  I blink at her from behind my own sunglasses, taken aback by the sheer vehemence radiating from her.

  “Don’t think that just because you’ve been gone, I’ve forgotten what you’ve done.”

  Is she for real? I glance around, wondering if I’m somehow dreaming, because surely she’s not still . . . I don’t know, angry or resentful for whatever happened between her and Kellan nearly a year ago. Can she? “Actually,” I tell her, “I haven’t thought about you at all and will continue to not do so.”

  She flips her gorgeous red hair over her shoulders so it cascades down her lithe back. “I don’t know what it is about you that seems to turn Kellan into an idiot, but just know I’m not going to be putting up with it anymore. He and I have worked hard to rebuild our relationship.”