A Matter of Heart (35 page)

He’s got his lazy grin on
now. Even still, he winks at Sophie. Or possibly Kellan. Or the both of them,
but for radically different reasons. “Right. Boring.”

I am so going to slap him
for that later.

Sophie loops an arm around
Kellan in a weird attempt to mirror Mac and me, which is painfully awful,
because Mac isn’t my boyfriend. But she does it because she’s in love with
Kellan. She’s not a hook-up. And then, because it can only get worse, her head
falls against Kellan’s shoulder, her body so close that too many parts are
touching his.

Silverware rattles on the
table. I grip tighter to Mac, willing myself to calm down.

I have no right to feel like
this. No right at all.

I made my choice.

Jonah, not Kellan.

I made my choice.

I made my—

“You Muses don’t deal well
with boring,” Mac practically purrs to Sophie. “Am I right or what, Kellan?”

Kellan makes no comment.
Sophie laughs, though. “You Council members are so cruel towards us poor Muses.
We’re like second-class citizens to you all, or worse yet, the butt of your
jokes.” She says this like it’s a joke, but there’s just enough of a bite to
come across as genuine.

Kellan says quietly, “Lizzie
Pinkston and Chloe are tight, Sophie.”

And . . . that’s got Sophie
backpedalling. “Really? I adore Lizzie! She’s such a doll. As a matter of fact,
we were out with her and her lovely Graham just last night! I love those two.”

I meet Kellan’s eyes and am
glad he can’t feel the shock of betrayal shoot through me. “That’s . . .
great.” Double dating with one of my closest friends. HOW COULD LIZZIE?

“Seriously, you two,”
Sophie’s saying. “Let’s all go out tonight and—”

I manage to kick Mac in a
way that hopefully neither Kellan nor Sophie sees. He says right over her,
“Sorry, Soph. Like I said before, Chloe and I have business. See you two
later?”

“Wait,” Kellan says, but I
smile some more, even though my mouth hurts from doing so, and tell them how I
hope they have a lot of fun tonight. And that I’m glad I got to meet Sophie,
even though I’m not, not even in the tiniest bit, and I let Mac steer me down
the street until they are no longer in my eyesight.

My friend doesn’t say
anything as he walks me home, even though he must be confused and dying of
curiosity over what happened back there with Kellan and Sophie. He just holds
onto me, a friendly arm around my shoulder while I tremble, but he lets me be.

“Do you want me to come in?”
he asks me once we get to my building. “Get Etienne over here with some of his
tea? We could gossip, you know. About work stuff. Or make Jens Belladonna
voodoo dolls. Lady’s choice.”

I shake my head and give him
my first sincere, albeit wobbly, smile of the day. It doesn’t last long,
though. In fact, it dies within seconds.

Lizzie calls me twice over
the next couple of hours, leaving messages I’m too petty to listen to. I cannot
believe she’s friends with Kellan’s girlfriend. I cannot believe she hangs out
with Kellan and his awful, gorgeous girlfriend. I’m angry with Graham, too,
even though I know he’s more clueless than Lizzie.

Caleb tries to remind me
that, for all Lizzie knows, I am only Connected to Jonah, that to everyone I am
nothing to Kellan save a friend and his future sister-in-law. But this
explanation isn’t enough for me to pick up the phone.

I smash and rebuild a vase
my mother gifted me (when I was nine, an age where vases are inappropriate and
unwanted as gifts) repeatedly, each time harder than the last. I keep hoping
that the smashing will take the misery away, but it doesn’t.

I have never felt so alone
in my life.

My parents don’t want me.

Jonah is far away.

And Kellan . . . Kellan has
a girlfriend.

I struggle to breathe. I
choke and gasp, and Caleb threatens to come to Annar immediately. A full-blown
panic attack takes hold and I curl in a ball on the ground, wanting to breathe,
wanting to stop crying, wanting to do anything at all but wallow in this
misery.

How can anyone want a
Connection? How can anyone ever want this? It’s a curse. A fucking curse. What
a joke. Fate is a sick, sick bastard.

But I focus long enough to
tell Caleb to stay put, because even though he’s in my head, I don’t want
anyone seeing me like this. Even him.

He frets silently, sending
me thoughts of love. While they’re appreciated, they’re nothing compared to the
fact that someone I love, someone I’m Connected
to, is with someone
other than me.

And it’s ridiculous. I’m
aware of this. I chose Jonah, and when that choice was made, it meant I had to
let Kellan go. He’s free to do whatever he wants, with whomever, Sophie
included. But knowing he’s got the choice and seeing it in action are two
different beasts entirely.

When the attack passes and I
can breathe a little better, I take a handful of ibuprofen to quell the
lingering headache. Then I try to call Jonah. It sounds silly, but just hearing
his voice will make me feel better. But there is no answer, even though I call
three straight times in a row. I leave a message on the third try:
I miss
you.

Cora is a no go, too. I’m
desperate enough to call Callie, only to get her voicemail. I don’t leave
either girl a message. I crawl into some cashmere jammies my mom gave me for
this last birthday, ones that shocked me because I actually liked them, and end
up on the couch finally bawling as I watch one of the worst movies on TV that I
could possibly be watching. It’s about star-crossed lovers, who met as young
orphans, who never manage to get together, no matter what. Caleb frets some
more, threatens to come out again, but I keep telling him no.

I’m here for you,
he
promises fiercely.
I will never leave you.

And
I cry at that, too, because it does make me feel better.

The movie is almost over,
and I’ve probably got fifteen tissues on the table from crying so much. The
girl is dying, and her love, married now for several years to someone else,
risks everything to be by her side in the end.

I throw a crumpled soggy
tissue at them. Stupid people! Why do they think star-crossed is a good thing?
MORONS.

There’s a knock on the door,
and I figure it’s finally Cora, because it’s late and Raul’s out on a mission,
too, so she’s most likely bored and curious as to why I’ve called so much
tonight. And since she’s a sucker for these sorts of movies, too, I figure I have
the perfect excuse for why I look like a wreck.

Only, when I open the door,
I see it’s not Cora, it’s Kellan. I’m horrified he’s caught me like this, even
though he took front row at another of my meltdowns last year. I can’t deal
with him feeling all this in me, so I throw an all-encompassing shield up.

“Are you okay?”

I point behind me. “This
movie, it’s . . . sad, because . . . someone’s dying.” He should accept this,
because he’s watched enough movies with me to know tears are not uncommon.

I get a look at him now, a
good look. Kellan doesn’t look like his normal self, either. His hair is
disheveled, and he’s wearing a hooded sweatshirt with shorts and doesn’t look
remotely like he is going to a party. Or come from one. Or been anywhere near
one.

“Do you want to come in?” I
ask, and when he nods, I step aside so he can do so. We go into my living room
and I shut off the TV, just as the guy is weeping over his dead lover’s body. I
motion to the set and say, “Death, uh . . . you know, sadness and all.”

I’m a rambling idiot and am
well aware of it.

I make an attempt to collect
the crumpled tissues to throw away while Kellan sits down in the chair opposite
the couch. “So,” I ask, trying to sound cheery, “Why are you here?” And then,
realizing that’s rude, I clarify, “I thought you were going out tonight.
Where’s your girlfriend?”

He closes his eyes and rubs
at a spot in-between his eyes. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“But, she said—”

He opens his eyes,
surprised. “Said?”

“We uh . . . talked, or
rather . . . she talked . . . when you answered your phone.”

He leans forward, arms
against his legs, eyes once more closed, and whispers what sounds like,
“Fucking kill me now.” I am a statue until he says, “What did she tell you?”

I drag my knees up and hug
them to my chest. “Just that you two are dating, and serious, and that she’s .
. .” Planning on being my sister. I have to take a breath before saying, “In
love with you, that she’s never felt this way before.” And that she thinks
she’ll be my sister.

He’s the statue now. “I
thought you were going out tonight,” I repeat stupidly, when the silence turns
painful.

“No,” he says quietly. “I
got called into work earlier.”

I look at the clock—it’s
only ten o’clock, the night still young. “You could probably still go to the party
and meet up with . . . Sophie.” I try not to choke on her name. “I bet it would
be a nice surprise for her.”

“I don’t think so, C,” he
says, finally looking back at me. He tugs on an earlobe. “I talked to Jonah a
little while ago. He wanted me to tell you that he was sorry he couldn’t call
tonight—the situation’s more complicated than he thought it’d be. He’s thinking
of you, though.”

I nearly cut off the
circulation in my knees, my grip is so tight. “Oh. Thanks.”

“He also told me what went
down with your parents.”

I look off to the side and
shrug. I don’t know if I can talk about that, even with Kellan.

“I can’t tell what you’re
feeling, C. There’s no . . .” He sighs, frustrated. “Why am I not able to tell
what you’re feeling?”

I shrug again.

I feel his eyes bore into
me, and I know I ought to open myself up to him, but I can’t let him sense all
of the nasty jealousy in me. He deals with enough crap from me. He does not
need this.

“He’s worried about you.”

“I’m fine,” I insist. Not
because it’s true, but because I hope it will be soon.

He chooses his next words
carefully. “That stuff Sophie told you . . . well, it’s only her opinion. She
doesn’t speak for me.”

Uh, okay?

“Do you want to watch a
movie?” He stands up. “Let’s watch a movie. Something that’s not sad.” And then
he disappears into his brother’s apartment for several minutes.

When he comes back, he has a
comedy, one that’s both his and Jonah’s favorite. We watch the movie in
silence, and even though it’s ridiculously funny, neither of us laughs much.

The truth is, I’m barely
paying attention to the movie because I’m so focused on the person sitting
across from me. He’s lounging in the chair, legs spread out in front of him,
but it’s not done in relaxation. Actually, he’s stiff, the knuckles of one hand
stretched tight across the chair arm. And he keeps pulling at his hair, so much
so I worry he might rip it out.

What did he mean when he
said all the things that Sophie had told me were only her opinion?

Don’t go there,
Caleb warns.

I know exactly why not, but
I still ask the question.

You two have spent months
building a legitimate way to be in each other’s lives.

He’s mine, I tell Caleb, and
it’s done in a way that’s fierce and bittersweet at the same time. The pain
over this is so overwhelming that I nearly drown in it. I don’t understand why
Fate did this to me, how it could link me to two people and then make it so I
would have all these feelings and wantings but never the ability to do anything
about them.

But you two have,
Caleb
reasons.
In high school, and then in the cave.

I finally admit, to him, and
to me, it’s simply not enough.

Caleb is shocked into
silence.

I spend the next half an
hour remembering a lot of things about Kellan. Things that I shouldn’t let
myself remember, things that, if we are truly just friends, should no longer
bear importance in my heart.