A Matter of Fate

by Heather Lyons

  And then I’m on my back, and Jonah is kissing me so fiercely that all traces of sadness or anxiety go flying straight out the window.

  Much later, Jonah stands up and stretches. “I should probably go home so I can face the firing squad.”

  So not funny. I check the clock. “It’s late.”

  “Time stands still for no Magical,” he quips. “Except for possibly a Mover.”

  Still not funny. “You really want to go have an argument with him?”

  “I never like fighting with Kellan,” he admits. “But I think tonight, it can’t be helped.”

  I look at the clock again. “Don’t go home.”

  Jonah merely raises an eyebrow.

  Why hadn’t I thought of this before? It’s the perfect solution. “It’s late, and who knows? Karl may already be asleep.”

  “Karl is one of the biggest night owls I know,” Jonah scoffs. “He’s not asleep. He’s probably video chatting with Moira.”

  “All the more reason not to interrupt him. Stay here with me tonight.”

  Now his eyes widen in surprise.

  “Your dad is in Annar, right? So are my parents. Back at your house, you have an angry brother. Here, you have a loving girlfriend who wants you to stay. So . . . stay.”

  “Chloe,” he says gently, sitting back down next to me on the bed, “I have to talk to him sooner or later.”

  I reach out and run my fingers through his hair. “I know. And this isn’t about that. This is about me wanting you here tonight. With me.”

  Convincing Jonah to stay, though, is far easier than convincing Karl, who, as predicted, is talking to Moira. His initial response is a firm, “No.”

  This pisses me off, since we normally get along so well. “What’s your problem? It’s not like you get a vote anyway. I’m merely letting you know as a courtesy.”

  He turns a dark red. “You are not having sex tonight!”

  Jonah, for his part, says nothing. I, on the other hand, fly off the handle, because I haven’t even contemplated sex as being on the menu. “Are you serious? Tell me you did not just say that. YOU! Who got married at nineteen!”

  “You are seventeen!” Karl bellows. “There’s a difference!”

  Moira tries desperately on the computer to reason with him, but he’s not having any of it.

  “Look,” Jonah says once Karl’s eyes are about to explode out of their sockets, “calm down or I’ll force you to. I’m staying over whether you like it or not. And frankly? If we have sex, it’s none of your damn business.”

  And then he takes my hand and leads me out of Karl’s room, leaving our friend sputtering in outrage.

  Karl appears in my room ten minutes later, thrusting a T-shirt and flannel pants at Jonah, snarling something along the lines of, “You are not sleeping with her naked.”

  “He’s very protective of you,” Jonah says rather approvingly when he’s gone.

  I’m glad someone finds this a good thing, because I’m not right now. “I figured that’s Karl’s typical M.O.”

  He pulls his hooded sweatshirt off and drops it to the floor. My mouth goes dry in so many ways at the sight of his tanned, perfect chest. “No. I don’t think that’s it at all.”

  I am blatantly staring as he pulls Karl’s T-shirt on, hoping I’ll be lucky enough to see the pants exchange, too. But no—Jonah heads into my bathroom to change, leaving the door open to talk to me as I desperately try to get the sudden bursts of heat racing through me under control.

  Which, of course, he senses, because when he comes back out in pants way too baggy and long, he flashes me a wicked grin. My cheeks are on fire when I escape into the same bathroom to change into my pajamas.

  Despite being exhausted from an overly emotional evening, I’m not ready to go to sleep once we slip under the covers. Instead, I play twenty questions with Jonah, mostly wanting to hear his voice as I lie against his chest, but also because I’m curious about life back in Maine.

  Midway through my questions about his old school, I wonder out loud if he’s dated before. He’s had to, right? Because, let’s face it, he’s Jonah, and he’s gorgeous and smart and kind and girls would have to be blind, brain-dead morons to not want to date him. But then, he surprises me by tensing when I ask the question.

  Which is not good. I try to act nonchalant. “Did you date as often as Kellan?” I know about these exploits over months of teasing from Karl and Raul.

  “I don’t think anyone’s dated as much as my brother has,” he says dryly.

  Okay, I so did not want to hear that. “But you did, right? Date, I mean?”

  “I guess.” He rolls over on his side so he can see me better. “You don’t really want to talk about this sort of stuff, do you?”

  “Why not?”

  “Seriously? Because it does no one any good. And I personally do not want to hear about you with any other guy other than me.”

  Aw! But I’m not letting him off the hook. “Jonah. Just spill already.”

  He shifts uncomfortably. “I dated as much as the next person—well, not Kellan, but . . . you know. The average guy, I guess.”

  “What do you consider average?”

  “I don’t know. Not a lot but not a little?”

  It’s so cute that he’s flustered by this. “Did you date anyone at your old high school?”

  “You,” he says, flashing me his brilliant, dimpled smile.

  “Stop trying to distract me with this,” I say, touching his dimple. “You know I meant outside of dreams.”

  His eyes suddenly find the ceiling very interesting. “Um . . . yes?”

  “You’re asking?” I tease.

  “Yes, then.” When he doesn’t continue, I prompt him for more information. He finally admits, “There was someone I dated at my old high school.”

  “How many someones?”

  His discomfort expands until it nearly fills the bed. “One.”

  I scoff at this. He expects me to believe only one girl was ever interested in him? But I play along. “For how long?”

  “Chloe. Really?”

  I give him a big smile to assure him this is interesting, not torturous, at least for me. “Yes!”

  “We started dating in the ninth grade and broke up about a month before I moved here.”

  Wait. WAIT. I’m sorry, but did he just say that he dated someone for THREE YEARS? I jerk into a sitting position. “This,” he says, reaching out for me as I evade his grasp, “is exactly why I didn’t want to talk about it.”

  THREE YEARS?

  “Chloe—”

  And they broke up, what, three, four MONTHS AGO?

  He captures my wrists and tugs me closer. “It’s over—completely, one hundred percent over.”

  I was missing him, so upset over losing him that I was a mess, and he was DATING SOMEONE ELSE?

  “And it doesn’t matter, anyway—”

  “Hell yeah, it matters!” I bark. “You were dating this chick even after you found out I was real?”

  “Do you really want to go there?”

  “Well, if the shoe fits . . . .”

  Oops. That was the wrong thing to say. “You dated my brother for two months, even after you knew I was at your school for you! A couple additional months of trying to figure out how to let Callie down easy was nothing.”

  Callie.

  Images of some faceless yet gorgeous, fabulous girl fill my mind. She had to be amazing, right? For him to date her for so long? What was she like? Sweet, sarcastic, smart, funny, witty, put-together? Sexy? Oh my gods, was she sexy? And if so, did they— “Chloe, you need to calm down. That relationship was never going to go anywhere in the long run because she’s a non. I always knew that and was reminded of it often by the Old Man.”

  I think I’m going to puke. “Do you miss her?”

  The look on his face is clear as he lobs a silent question back at me: Do you miss Kellan?

  I change tactics. “Do you still talk to her?”


  He drops back down against the pillow. “Let it go, Chloe. This isn’t doing either of us any good.”

  It’s the oddest thing, because I know I should let this go. Jonah’s proved himself to me—he found out I was real, manipulated his father into moving clear across the country so he could be near me, and has risked his relationship with his brother to be with me. But something in me—a deep, dark possessive streak I didn’t even know I had—digs its heels in. I have to know who’s shared his heart. “Please,” I say more softly. “Just tell me.”

  He stares back up at the ceiling. “She’s called a few times since I moved.”

  “Recently?”

  “Two days ago,” he admits after a beat.

  Sunday. We’d spent all of Sunday together, which means she must’ve called late that night.

  “I can’t believe I even have to tell you this, because I’d figured you’d known by now that my feelings for you supersede anything and everyone. Including Callie. You have nothing to be jealous about.”

  Jealousy is such a foreign emotion for me when it comes to sharing someone I love. I’ve been jealous in the past, of Magicals who are knowledgeable and content with their paths, of people comfortable in their skins when I’m so often grossly uncomfortable in mine. But I’ve never before felt such strong pangs of jealousy toward another being for daring to love someone who is mine. Which is awful and possessive and radically immature, but for crying out loud, I’m only seventeen and far from perfect.

  I ought to be focusing on important things, like honing my craft and finding out more about Annar and my job, but seventeen means still being held hostage by your emotions. And clearly, having a Connection with someone means my emotions won’t even get a ransom request. They’re permanently gone.

  So, I persist even when I ought to drop the subject. “What about her? Is she jealous?”

  “It doesn’t matter whether or not she is.”

  “Did you love her?”

  He sighs.

  “You asked me the same question,” I point out.

  It takes him a long time before he says carefully, “I told you last night that you are the only person I’ve ever truly loved.”

  The way he phrases it stings.

  “Listen to me,” he says, once more reaching for me. I don’t sidestep this time, nor do I resist when he tugs me back down on the bed. “I love you. I’m going to marry you. I intend to spend the rest of my existence with you. But there was a time in both of our lives, whether we like it or not, where we weren’t sure whether each other was real. So in that time period, even though I was in love with you, I dated several girls. And I know it sounds crazy, but just because I dated them doesn’t mean I ever stopped loving you. Now that I know you are real, and now that we’re together, you have nothing to worry about. There will be no other girls, ever. You’re the only one for me, Chloe.”

  Just like that, I’m able to relax against the pillows. “Okay.”

  “I think,” he says, scooting closer to me so we’re pressed up against each other, “we’ve talked enough tonight. Don’t you?” He doesn’t give me a chance to answer, because his lips are against mine, his hands are moving across my body, and words no longer exist in my mind.

  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 urge
ntly 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—”