A Matter of Fate (50 page)

I merely look up at him.

He takes a deep breath. “Jonah tried talking to me about this before you and I left to come here. Never once did he say those words to me. But he is very scared right now that
he’s
losing
you.
”

“Why are you being so nice about this?” I accuse irrationally. “How can you defend him?”

He leads us out the door without making any purchases for Moira. “I’m not excusing what he did. I would never do that. I know what it did to you, what it’s still doing. I told him as much. All I think is that you two need to talk.”

“I’m sure he had a very good excuse as to why he was practically having sex with his ex-girlfriend in your backyard,” I say bitterly.

“Kissing is not the same thing as having sex, and you know it. If you want to be pissed off at him for that, then by all means, be pissed off. But he didn’t have sex then and you know it.”

“Then,” I say, jabbing a finger at him. “The key word is
then!”

He starts to roll his eyes, but apparently thinks better of it. “You need to be able to ask him all the questions you have, Chloe. And he deserves the opportunity to answer them.”

We are halfway to Karl’s when I say, “There can be no explanation that is satisfactory.”

“You’ll never know until you hear it.”

“You showed me how they were—”

“I wish I hadn’t. It was stupid of me. I regret that more than you know.”

“You like her.” But it isn’t an accusation.

“Yeah. She’s a good girl.”

“Is she . . . nice?” I hate asking, but I just have to know. If I’m honest, though, of course I know the answer. Because Jonah isn’t the sort of guy who would date a bitch. Kellan, yes, as Gina is a perfect example. But Jonah . . . No, Callie must be something special. Three-years Callie.

“I think you would really like her under different circumstances.”

I decide to completely wallow in pity. “She’s
perfect
.”

“No, not perfect. No one is perfect, least of all Callie. She’d be the first to admit that.”

Please. “She’s like the most beautiful thing ever. How could I even possibly compete with that?”

Kellan stops us on the sidewalk. He says, so seriously that it makes me shiver, “Nobody can hold a candle to you, Chloe. No one.”

Something like this should make me feel better. And it does, which then automatically makes me feel worse, because, holy moly, are my priorities out of whack.

I think back to the look Gina gave me in the chocolate shop, the look of pity and condescension. I guess I can see why Kellan had been attracted to someone gorgeous like her. And why Jonah would be to Callie. “Did you date her?”

“I told you—Cal and I are just friends.”

“No. The one who followed you into the store. Gina.”

Kellan coughs and looks away. “I wouldn’t call it dating. She can be fun, believe it or not.”

I do not believe it. “I don’t like her.”

At this, his eyebrows rise silently.

“Why would you date someone like that?” I demand.

“I think you know why, C,” he says softly.

I back up against the building behind us. The surface is rough and textured, prickly against my back. Yeah, I know why. I wish I could pretend that I don’t, but I do. And once again, I hate myself because I still care about this guy, still love him, and here I am, dying because his brother broke my heart, wishing that I could get into a time machine and make this last week disappear, but at the same time, glad that I’m finally with Kellan again, too.

Like I said: priorities WAY out of whack.

“Kellan,” I say, but I really don’t even know how to start this conversation, let alone apologize for all the crap I’ve put him through.

“We should get back to Karl’s—”

“No,” I say, grabbing him. “I need . . . just hear me out, okay?” He nods, and I continue, my voice tiny. “I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know why I’m blacking out and finding it hard to breathe because Jonah cheated on me, and still finding time to be jealous of Gina.”

“I swear, Chloe, there’s no reason at all to be jealous of her.”

“I mean, something’s wrong with me, right? I shouldn’t feel like this. I knew asking you to come to Annar with me was wrong. But I did it anyway. I knew it would hurt Jonah, and I did it anyway, would do it again, and I . . . I had to have you, because you’re the only one who makes me feel . . . anything, really, and . . . and . . . .” I swallow back the massive clumps of tears clogging my throat. “Something’s wrong with me.”

He studies me for a long moment, eyes so solemn. “Nothing’s wrong with you,” he finally says.

“Maybe Jonah has the right idea,” I sob. “Maybe you both ought to get away from me.”

“No,” he murmurs, leaning closer. “Listen to me—I came willingly, okay? I know the situation. I know you’re still in love with Jonah. Why do you think I keep pressuring you to call him? It’s because I know it’s what’s best for
you.
I took that risk when you came running to me. It’s worth it. Chloe,
you’re
worth it.”

I transform into an even more pathetic, weepy mess.

Karl and Moira meet us at the door, concerned over my hysterical state. When Kellan tries to pass me off to one of them, the hysteria ratchets up so badly that no one can pry me away from him. Eventually he takes me to my room and lies down with me, silently stroking my hair as I cling to him, still sobbing.

I doze fitfully, waking up when Karl come in the room. I listen with closed eyes.

“What happened? She seemed to be doing better,” he whispers.

“Cora had told her about J’s hand,” Kellan says. “When I confirmed it, she lost it.”

“You assured her he was fine, right?”

“Yeah, but it didn’t matter. She’s completely convinced everything is done and over. I couldn’t reason with her, Karl. I tried.”

It takes Karl a moment before saying, “I don’t know how you do it.”

“I love her,” Kellan admits quietly. “She’s my . . . .” He stops, shakes his head against mine. “It doesn’t matter what the reason is. Stupid Connection. How I wish it didn’t exist.”

“Maybe you should go home. We’ll take care of her, you know that.”

NO.
I am just about to start screaming this when Kellan answers him. “I can’t, Karl. She asked me to stay.” He shifts under me. I have a feeling he knows I’m listening, awake, but he doesn’t say one way or another. He must sense my panic over him leaving. “Have you heard from Giules?”

“I talked to her briefly this evening, while you two were out.”

“Chloe wants to know whether or not Cal is still at the house.”

“Yeah. She is.”

Of course she is.

Moira bought me a dress for the party tonight. It’s red and flirty and sassy and so not what I am feeling on the inside.

“You’ll have fun,” they’ve been telling me all day. “The Guard throws the best parties.”

But I don’t feel like partying. Or having fun. I feel like crumpling up in a ball and crying my eyes out, which is pretty much what I’ve already been doing lately every time I think about what’s happened.

But I’ve also been thinking about what Kellan said to me.

He’s right, you know. You need to talk to Jonah,
the little voice urges.
Even if you don’t like what he has to say, you still need to hear it.

Logically, this makes sense. But the pain over his betrayal is incredibly tangible, like it’s venom pulsing through my veins and mixing with my blood. It’s hard to imagine talking to him right now.

Don’t you want to know how he’s doing, though?

Karl had told Kellan that Callie was still there. Didn’t that answer everything?

But, technically you’re with Kellan. Does that mean you’re dating again?

No—it’s entirely different.

How do you think Jonah would react if he knew you and Kellan slept together in the same bed all last night?

Hold on a sec. That didn’t count. He was comforting me—

Would Jonah see it that way? And if you knew he’d slept with Callie?

I’LL RIP HER HAIR OUT.

You’ve been in love with Jonah your whole life. Are you really ready to let go without even a goodbye? You’re smarter than that. One conversation. He deserves that, but more importantly, so do you. Call him.

I have no idea where my phone is.

Use the phone by your bed.

Yet I still hesitate.

C’mon. What’s the worst that can happen? Can anything be worse than what you’ve already gone through?

Um, YES. Let’s see, off the top of my still exploding head, I can come up with Jonah and Callie getting married and producing a slew of hateful, part-Elf babies. They’d be beautiful and—
Oh, for crying out loud! Will you just CALL HIM?

It is with great trepidation, but I do it. There are several rings, and then a voice: “Hello?”

But it’s not him. It’s
her
.

“Karl?” Callie asks. Her voice is sultry. Exotic. “Is that you? I’m so glad you called . . . .”

I do not correct her assumptions.

“Karl?” Callie asks again. “Kel?” And then . . . “Chloe?”

I hang up. It rings not two seconds later—once, twice, three times before going silent.

I scoot away from the phone, sliding off the bed and onto the floor. Black dots dance before my eyes and I debate briefly whether or not to let them take me.

She has his phone. She knows Karl.

Next thing I know, Kellan is squatting down next to me. Very gently, like he’s comforting a scared kid, he says, “Did you just try to call my brother?”

I sort of issue a cross between a gurgle and a laugh.

“Callie just called. Caller ID, you know.”

Somebody get the girl a prize for being resourceful.

His hand comes to rest on my arm. “If you want, we can call back, and I can assure you that Jonah will answer this time.”

I swallow and tell him, “No.”

“But, you obviously wanted—”

“It was a mistake.”

He studies me. “It must have taken a lot of courage to do what you just did.”

Courage? Try stupidity. “It just proved my point.”

“No, I don’t—”

“
She
answered.”

“Well, to be fair, I could have just easily have answered your phone. Do you even know where yours is?” I shake my head and he smiles. “That’s because I have it. So, let’s just say that if J had called, I would’ve been the one to answer it.”

Hope, albeit unwanted, sprouts. “Has he called?”

“No, hon . . . but he was warned to stop calling you and wait for when you were ready.”

And . . . the hope dies. If he’d really wanted to talk to me, he would’ve called. Of this I’m sure. And it only serves to spiral me deeper into self-pity.

My chest feels vacant. It’s an eerie sensation. I don’t cry anymore, which is a relief, because there’s precious little liquid left in my body to generate tears. It’s rather ironic that the mighty Creator is nothing more than a silly, overemotional girl. My mother has been right about me all along.

I’m numb, and I don’t think Kellan has anything to do with it anymore.

The hotel ballroom is packed, making it hard to move. But Moira commandeers a loveseat for me and her to sit on while the guys prop themselves on the arms. It’s hard to hear anyone’s conversation over the music playing at full blast and the sounds of hundreds of people talking. It doesn’t matter, though. I’m in no mood to chat, and they must sense this because, for the most part, they leave me alone.

A Dwarf walks by, carrying a tray of saké. The drinking age in Annar is eighteen, so I figure what the hell. I grab myself a tall, fluted glass and chug the golden liquid.

Karl gives me a long, hard look as everyone but Moira also takes a glass. I level a good, long look back and place my empty glass back on the tray. And then I pick another one up and drink it just as fast as the first.

Kellan says something to me, but I refuse to look at him to confirm this. I simply shrug and set the glass to the side. Things began to blur and buzz.

A bunch of people I know from the Guard come over to talk. Everyone is polite enough, but they all have this horrible hint of pity in their eyes.

And the pity only pisses me off. I refuse to talk to anyone, and eventually, everyone just gives up. I spend my time focusing on my growing collection of glasses on the table next to the couch.

I excuse myself a while later, mumbling
“Bathroom”
to no one in particular. Halfway through the crowded room, a server with a tray materializes. I grab another glass, downing it quickly before handing it back. That tramp Gina magically appears nearby, and the moment she spots me, she scans the room for Kellan. Upon finding him, she winks at me.

Winks!

Bitch. My fingers curl into tight balls. I’ll deal with her later.

Zthane finds me as I push my way towards the patios. I think he asks how I’m doing. Like he doesn’t already know, frigging gossip machine.

“Good, good,” I yell exuberantly. That’ll show them, right?

He is concerned, but some hot Elf comes up to him, leaning in to whisper something into his ear. He is completely distracted by her, which gives me the opportunity to slip by.

I make my way to the railing, leaning over to look down. We’re on the . . . Huh. I don’t even know which floor. High up. Annar is sparkling all around me, romantic-like. The bitterness in me is lethal by this point.

“Chloe?”

I turn to find Kiah. Concern is practically etched onto her face. Gods. How pitiable am I, anyway? I’ve never been that sort of girl before. I hate that I’m her now. I don’t want Kiah’s pity. I don’t want anyone’s. Although, come to think of it, Kiah would understand pretty damn well, wouldn’t she?

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Better than ever,” I snort. “That’s what you want to hear, right?”

I can practically smell the Eau de Pity wafting off of her. “I called a few times,” she says, “but I always seem to catch you when you’re sleeping.”

Sleeping. Right. I giggle—is this how they’re referring to what I’ve been doing?