by Kristie Cook
It’s hard to sound coherent when all I want to do is bawl. “I … I d-don’t know.”
“Have you wanted to?”
I give a tiny nod. I lean against the guardrail, as close as possible to Kellan without touching him. I want to, desperately, but it’s got to be on his terms, not mine. He grips the rail again tightly, his fingers mere inches from my body. “What are you afraid of?”
His fingers are long and beautiful. I like the way they curve over mine when he holds my hand, how they feel in my hair when we kiss, and how easily they catch my tears when I cry. How do I tell him I’ve been afraid to talk to Jonah because I’m afraid of becoming hollow if he disappears again? “It’s killing him to not be able to talk to you.”
The words come out as hiccups. “Did he … did he t-tell you that?”
“I know my brother. I know that much at least.”
There is a small scab on one of his knuckles. I stare at it in horror. “Did you two … f-fight?”
He looks at the scab, too. “We argued, if that’s what you’re asking.”
I want to let go, allow the sobs to fully break through to release the pressure in my chest, but I can’t. Not here, not in front of Kellan, not even if he can feel the desperate pain in me. “Oh, oh, g-gods … I’m so, so s-sorry …”
He bites his lip. “We were once one, you know.”
“One?” I manage.
“Identical twins always start out from one egg. We were a singular entity, even if it was for a tiny span of time. And now …”
I nod like a bobblehead doll, over and over. I want to ask him if Jonah hates me, or if he, Kellan, hates me. But I don’t. I just keep bobbing my head, chewing my lip, and trying to breathe in a way to keep the sobs at bay.
“We moved here because of you.”
The bobbing slows and then stops.
“We moved here,” he continues, “because my brother influenced my father to do so. So he could be close to you. We left Maine, our family, all our friends, our school, the house my mother designed and had built before she died—all because of you. Because of what you mean to him. This all makes sense to me now.”
I feel like throwing up.
He finally turns to face me. “Here’s the thing. I absolutely hate that he’s hurting right now. I hate that there’s this huge wedge between us that’s never been there before.”
What can I even say to that?
“But,” he says, “you’re right. There’s something real between you and me. And he knows it.”
I am a horrible, horrible person. I’ve just hit the grand slam in a game of shitty things a girl can do to the people she loves. “Kellan,” I choke out—but honestly? Nothing I can say is remotely good enough.
He sighs and allows my hand to wrap around his. It’s cold, and he’s tired, so tired that his eyes are shadowed by dark purple-y smudges.
“I’m so mad right now, Chloe. So unbelievably angry at all of this.”
My heart feels too heavy to bear. And then he lets the protective wall around him slip a little. Just enough for me to see the truth of his emotions. His pain, his fears, his anger and sadness, mixed tightly together—and most importantly, the love he impossibly still feels for me.
But still … “I need some time away.” He says this even while his fingers slide between mine.
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“This is a lot right now. I need time to think about it all.” His free hand tugs at his hair again.
A nameless, scary emotion claws at me. “When?”
“I think it’s best I go tomorrow. After school.”
Breathe, Chloe. Breathe. “Where?”
He hesitates, but tells me. “Maine.”
“Oh.” The lump in my throat comes right back. I can’t believe he’s going to leave. Even worse, I don’t want him to.
Sometimes I wish he wasn’t so good at sensing my feelings. I wish I could just hide my misery, because then he wouldn’t feel the need to help me when he should be focusing on himself. “I’m coming back, Chloe. It’ll just be for a few days.”
“I know,” I say, and I’m back to the bobblehead doll action. “How?”
“Airplane. Portals are quick. I want the solo time to think.”
I try practicality and hope it’ll help me stay calm. “Where will you stay?”
“A friend’s. Or even our old house. It’s empty.”
Our hands have begun to grow warm together. Every other part of my body is freezing and on the verge of numbness. But not that hand. Not in his. “Can I take you to the airport?”
He agrees, and I’m not sure if it’s because it’s what he wants or because he thinks it’s what I want or need.
Kellan is leaving. And it’s all because of me.
chapter 29
Jonah doesn’t come to school the next day.
Kellan and I have lunch together. It’s mostly a silent affair, with the two of us sitting on a bench outside, just sort of staring at random things.
I want to ask him where Jonah is, but that seems cruel. So I ask instead, “The Guard’s okay with you going? I mean, I go to San Francisco, and everyone freaks out.”
“They know I’m going.” Does Jonah? He must, right?
“Will you have a babysitter in Maine? Or is it a sentry-free zone?”
He laughs. Just a little. “I’ll be fine on my own.”
There’s never been any tension between us before, but here it is, acting like a freshly diagnosed illness. Even still, the pull toward him is unmistakable, impossible to ignore. I figure he feels it too—even with the anger, betrayal, and hurt—because he still chooses to be with me when he really should’ve kicked me to the curb.
The sun is shining brightly in the chilly air when we get to the airport. Karl let me drive Kellan by myself, no arguments. I think he knew we needed this small slice of alone time together.
Not really being able to meet his eyes fully for any extended period of time, I ask, “Do you have any idea how long you’ll be gone?” A man dragging two suitcases behind him pushes past us, knocking me right into Kellan.
He freezes when we touch, as if he’s lost his breath. I quickly right myself and he pulls a hand through his hair, looking towards the airport doors. He ignores my question. “I should go and check in.”
My lip starts quivering, and I hate myself for it. “Okay.”
He sighs loudly, looking up toward the sky. “I’ll miss you.”
“Me, too,” I say, and it’s true.
Kellan pauses for moment, unsure. It’s such a rare sight that the guilt in me grows even bigger.
And there I am, standing in front of him, hating that he’s leaving, hating it’s because of me, loving him so much it hurts while at the same time knowing that the moment he’s gone, I’m going to go find Jonah.
Because it’s time.
I decided that last night. Good or bad, all the cards need to be laid out on the table. Jonah and Kellan had their talk. Kellan and I had ours. Now it was finally mine and Jonah’s turn.
I don’t tell Kellan this, though. What I do instead is open up my heart as I wrap my arms around him and let him know how much I care. I can’t say those words to him, not when things are so confusing and complicated. Not when I can’t promise that when he comes back, there’ll still be something between us to come back to.
We stand like that for a long time before he leans down, his lips barely brushing against mine, the tiny butterfly wings fluttering whisper soft against my heart. And then he grabs his bag and walks through the doors without looking back.
Knowing he’s leaving tears at my heart.
I wait until I’m back in my car to pull out my phone. If I don’t make the call now, I know I’ll never have the courage to do it.
Jonah doesn’t answer his cell. It immediately goes to voicemail, and it’s a good thing I’m already sitting, because his voice makes my knees go weak. I don’t leave a message, though. Everything I have to say needs to be done i
n person. I can’t take the easy way out.
So I call Karl next, cutting to the chase. “Where’s Jonah?”
“Off to make amends?”
Har-har. “Just tell me where he is, please.”
“Actually, I have no idea. Giules gave him the day off despite my protests.”
“What?” I snap. “Why does he get a free pass when I don’t?”
“What the hell do you think you’re getting right now?”
Giules yells out in the background that she doesn’t know where Jonah is, either. “You’re on your own,” Karl says, before ordering me to call within the next hour to check in.
I wrack my head, trying to figure out where Jonah would go. I decide to try the beach, thinking maybe he’s like his brother and goes there when he’s upset, too. I’m halfway there when I spot his car parked by the side of the road, near a hiking trail leading into the woods. My car skids to a stop in the middle of the street.
He’d come to a forest. Why hadn’t I immediately guessed that, considering the bulk of our dreams together happened in forests? And almost all of them by some sort of water, be it lake or river or stream. There are several streams in these woods.
I park next to his SUV. The hood is cold, meaning Jonah’s probably been here awhile.
“Well, well,” someone says. “Look at what the cat finally drug around.”
Caleb’s sitting on top of Jonah’s SUV. His legs are straight out, his arms propping him up from behind.
I mutter, “Smartass.”
He laughs. “Do you want to know where he is?”
I squint at the trail in front of us. “You’ve seen Jonah?”
“Sure. He’s been here all day.”
Seriously? I mean, Karl said Giules had given Jonah free rein, but a whole day of no Guard seems implausible. “What’s he been doing?”
“It’s not like we’ve been hanging out,” Caleb says as he stands up. “But I’ll tell you he’s not as alone as he thinks.” He walks over to the edge of the car, waving me closer. “There’s a Guard out there—Faerie, to be exact—watching him right now. You think that big lug babysitting you would ever let you two be unguarded? Please. You’ve had one on your tail all afternoon. Look,” he says, pointing to my car. “He’s hiding behind your side mirror. Hey, buddy! How’s it going?”
He waves cheerfully, and the Faerie scowls in return.
Caleb leads me down the trail. The Guard follows at a respectable distance, but I still bark out an order for him to stay back, reminding him that just because he’s babysitting, it doesn’t give him any right to eavesdrop. “Tell that to the other Guard out there, too,” I tell him.
The Guard shrugs, but he pulls out his cell phone to make the call.
We hike about a mile before Caleb stops and hovers over the trail. He points toward a particularly large tree shading a stream. “He’s down there, hon.”
Sure enough, Jonah’s sitting under the tree, reading. He’s got his knees up to prop up his book, looking so much like Kellan does when reading that my heart squeezes hard. But he’s not Kellan. He’s Jonah. He’s the person I’ve known and loved my whole life.
I’ve been so stupid. Why had I tried to fool myself these last few months, thinking that I could ever do without him?
There he is. Within easy reach.
Before he leaves, Caleb tells me where he’s going to be, just in case I need him. I’m really hoping I don’t, but I’m starting to get panicky, because there’s a chance Jonah will reject me outright. There’s an excellent chance he’ll tell me to go to hell. Even worse, he might continue to pretend I don’t exist. No matter what, though, I know I’ve gotta go over there and give this my best try. I love him. I can’t live without him anymore. He needs to hear this even if he can easily live without me.
Wait.
Just why hasn’t he talked to me? Why hasn’t he approached me even once over the last few months? Why didn’t he come to me, fight for me, do anything at all?
He’d told me, time and time again in our dreams, that it was his greatest wish to be with me in real life, that he’d give anything to make it happen. And Kellan even claimed Jonah worked his mojo on their dad to move here. So … why hasn’t Jonah done anything?
Hot tears spring to my eyes. I’m rooted to this spot, unable to move, unable to talk, helpless and angry, ready to both freeze and explode. Why hasn’t he done anything?
Each time I ask myself this question, I lose a little bit of my courage. My heart is on the verge of blowing sky wide. He hasn’t done anything.
I don’t know how long I stand there, fists balled up, silent tears falling like rain. The Guard watching must think I’m a complete lunatic. But then one of my sobs escapes, and Jonah finally notices me.
And then he looks away, scanning the area around me, most likely wanting to see if I’ve brought an entourage.
So I speak to him, for the first time in well over a year. It’s a lame thing to say, but I call out, “It’s just me.”
There’s an uncertainty on his face, a mixture of confusion and wariness clouding those cerulean eyes of his when he stands up. I tremble the entire time it takes for him to walk over to me. He stops a few feet away, just out of hand’s reach. We stand there staring at one another, neither blinking, before he says my name.
His voice hits me hard. And the fact that he’s finally talking to me? Overwhelming. But I’m an irrational mess, so rather than swoon, I demand, “Why didn’t you do anything?” Jonah flinches, but I’m in rare form. “All these months,” I continue, “you’ve done nothing! Not a word! Not one!”
The little voice disapproves, of course. Hypocrite, thy name is Chloe. He can lay the same claim about you, you know.
“Chloe,” Jonah says again, and the trembling intensifies. He takes a step toward me, and my feet uproot. I stumble backwards, but he reaches out and catches me.
His touch is a massive shock to my system, like when doctors use those paddles to shock a heart back into rhythm. I continue to shake as he pulls me into his arms, and then I cry in earnest.
Because being here with him is like coming home after being gone for so very long. Everything about him is so familiar: his smell, warm and lovely, the way his head feels against mine, the crook in his neck that my forehead fits perfectly into, his fingers spread across my back, and, most importantly, his heartbeat against mine.
I’m finally where I’m supposed to be. I don’t have to ask to know he’s feeling this, too. His breath is uneven against my neck, his heart racing in tandem with mine.
I’m at a large loss for words—like I’d been when we’d first found each other all those years ago—when I pull myself together. And each time his thumb grazes my skin, shockwaves jolt my system. It’s literally taking everything in me to remain standing.
“I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you,” he says quietly, and I shudder hard in his arms. “I thought I was doing you a favor by staying away.”
He has no place to apologize, even though I’d just yelled at him for his inaction. But I’m intrigued by what he means. “Favor?”
“That first day, you were so unwilling to even acknowledge me,” he says, voice hushed. “I was … terrified. I didn’t know to do. None of this went down the way I thought … hoped it would.” He pauses. “You weren’t the only one who was overwhelmed. I was, too. These last two months, I really haven’t had the best grip on my emotions, and that sort of sent me into a tailspin.” He pauses again. “I also didn’t want to push you into anything you weren’t ready for.”
I tell him the truth, of how I thought I’d gone nuts that first day.
“I can see why. It’s not every day you actually see someone you’ve only ever dreamed about.”
A million questions flood me, so I just randomly grab at one. “Why did you disappear last year?”
He looks so sad. “I don’t know why. It just became harder and harder to find you, until one day, I just wasn’t able to anymore.”
A month
before he’d disappeared from my dreams, we’d been standing in a lake, neither of us caring that our clothes were soaking. The sky was a vivid blue, streaked with oranges and reds at the horizon—a sunset that told me sunrise was coming. These were my least favorite moments of the day, knowing my time with him was up.
“I wish I could control time,” I’d told him. “Then I’d make sure we could be here forever. Together.”
“Yeah?” he’d asked, resting his head against mine. There was a soft breeze blowing across the lake, warm and gentle. His hair, so very like strands of silk, ruffled against my cheek. I loved that feeling. Craved it.
“Most definitely.”
“I wish I could cement the door here, so it wouldn’t be so hard to find.”
That surprised me. “What door?”
He’d laughed. “The one I use to leave my dreams to come to yours.”
At the time, I’d chalked that up to wishful thinking. “How did you discover the door?”
“I think the first time, I was dreaming about a playground. A ball I was playing with rolled into some trees nearby. I went to look for it, and found a door instead.”
“Did you go through it that night?”
“No. It took me a few nights to dream myself to the door and then to clear away all the plants blocking it. And then the night after I finally had it cleared, I sat and stared at the door for a long time. I was scared at first, I think. But sooner or later, curiosity got the better of me and I went through it.” And then the sky had turned orangeish-purple, and a loud sound pulled me away from him, with everything rushing backwards and forwards at the same time.
But now, Jonah’s here with me, and we’re both awake. It’s almost too much to bear.
“Then, it wasn’t by choice?”
“No,” he says, startled. “Is that what you thought?”
“I didn’t know what to think. I still don’t know what to think. How is this possible? Why are you here? How are you real? Oh my gods, you’re real.” I marvel at being able to really, truly touch him. It’s heaven.
His hands, warm and strong, cup my cheeks. I stare into his gorgeous eyes while he says, “Chloe don’t you know, haven’t you always known? My heart belongs with you. I’m here for you.”
