A Matter of Heart (47 page)

I’ve tried really hard
lately to not unload myself on anyone, not even Caleb, who’s put himself on a
time-out of sorts. But in this moment, the weight of everything is so heavy I
don’t even know if I can stand. And here’s Callie, with genuine worry on her
face and sincerity in her eyes.

She’s probably the worst
person to tell this to. She’s still in love with Jonah, I think. She’s Kellan’s
best friend. She’s their family. Yet still, the words trickle out. “It’s hard.
Having two Connections is really, really . . .” Impossible. Crushing. “Hard.”

She doesn’t even blink. This
doesn’t faze her one iota. “No shit? I thought it’d be a picnic. There goes
that dream.”

She blurs in and out of
focus. I refuse to let myself cry, especially here in public. I cannot give
anyone else good reason to think that their Creator isn’t who they need her to
be.

“Look. I talked to my mom
about this before, when I was trying to understand the whole Connection thing.
Before you and I became . . .” She waves a hand between us. “You know. Anyway,
there was always a small hope that I couldn’t let go of, that maybe Jonah and I
still had a chance. But—” She sees the surprise in my eyes and holds her hands
up. “No. Don’t worry. That hope is dead now. I swear. What I’m saying is, I
thought about what Mom said. A lot.” Her thin hand finds and squeezes mine. “I
thought about you. What it must be like for you to have not only one, but two
Connections. And how it must suck to holy hell.”

A violent sense of relief
strikes me. This girl—the one nobody, myself included, would have ever guessed
to get it, does.

“I’ll fall out of love with
Jonah someday. I’ve got that luxury. But you don’t, do you? I mean, with
Kellan. You’re always gonna have feelings for him. But Chloe—” She pauses,
squeezes my hand again. “Don’t take this the wrong way, because I don’t mean it
as an insult. I’m just saying, after I thought about how crappy the situation
is for you, I got to thinking about J and Kel, too. And how they also have two
Connections apiece. Their Connection to one another isn’t a romantic one,”—she
snorts a laugh, but then sobers—“but it’s still valid. So, not only are you
constantly feeling torn apart, but they are, too. They’re not only fighting for
the girl they love, but doing it against their best friend. Their other half.”
She shakes her head. Smirks ruefully. “I used to be so jealous of you. It used
to eat me up, even when I was growing to love you as a friend. But nowadays . .
.” One last squeeze before her hand leaves mine. “You couldn’t pay me to be in
your shoes.”

I twist the ring on my
finger. “Anyone ever tell you your pep talks suck?”

She’s not insulted in the
slightest. “Constantly.”

I sniff, wishing I had a
tissue to blow my nose She needs to stop being so understanding right now.

Callie studies me over her
teacup for a long moment before standing up. “You need a vacation. A girls’
weekend.”

I also stand, yet hesitate.
“It’s Tuesday.”

“It’s the weekend somewhere
in the worlds. Let’s go where there are no boys, no Connections, no broken
hearts. Let’s go where there are lots of great stores to shop our misery away
in, or at least serve as expensive Band-Aids before we have to face the cold,
harsh light of reality again. But by then, we’ll look fabulous doing it.”

Go
,
Caleb whispers. It’s his first word to me in days.

So I
do.

It was a toss-up between New
York and Paris, Callie’s two favorite cities on the Human plane, but, as “Paris
is the City of Love,” and “We aren’t in the market for that shit,” we end up
heading to the Big Apple.

Jonah wasn’t thrilled with
me going, but I think he knew I needed to. He had to go on a mission in
Southeast Asia anyway for two days, so Callie’s plan worked out well.

“We used to come here for
weekends all the time when I was little,” she tells me as we stroll down Fifth
Avenue. A well-dressed man in an impeccable suit whistles at her; she returns
his appreciation with a look that could cut through flesh. “Mom loves New York.
Says it reminds her of the city she grew up in.” We linger at a stoplight,
alongside dozens of other people. “I thought about moving here, after high
school. I didn’t know if Annar would be the right place for me, since I’m
technically a non and all.” She sighs slowly. “I guess I still don’t know, if
that makes any sense. But Mom talked me into coming with her, said she’d miss
me too much.”

“You’re lucky.” I slip on my
sunglasses. “Remember how you said you were jealous of me? Well, I’m envious of
you and the relationship you have with your mom. I’d kill to have that.”

Her green eyes zero in on
me. “Yeah. Your parents are douches, aren’t they?”

Gods, it still stings to
think about them. Why can’t I let go? “Did you know they refuse to talk to me
nowadays?”

“Yeah, Mom told me. She’s so
pissed off about it. I guess she wanted to go tell your dad off, but Kellan
talked her down off that ledge. Said that you were the kind of girl who liked
to fight her own battles.”

This surprises me. “He did?”

“You were off on a mission,
and Jonah had come over for dinner because Mom fears he’ll starve when he’s
alone, or worse yet, eat junk food that will,”—she mimics her mother’s tone and
accent—“
reduce the quality of his life
.” She chuckles. “Anyway, Mom knew
that your dad was banging the Jens Belladonna drum, and she asked J about it.
He told her—well, not really told, because you know that getting information
out of that boy is damn near impossible at times—but mentioned that you two had
a dispute with your folks, and that there wasn’t much communication going on.
Mom drug the rest of the story out of Kel when J left.” She chuckles. “She’s a
dog with a bone, you know. Wanted to go and spank your dad and all. Knowing
Mom, she probably still will.”

It’s so unattractive, but
I’m even more jealous than before. “She’s protective of you guys. Like I said.
You’re lucky.”

She sighs through her nose.
“Sure, she was mad your dad was hating on Jonah. But, Chloe—she wanted to go to
war because of
you
.”

My eyes widen and then
sting. Must not cry. Not in public. Not in front of Callie.

“Mom already thinks of you
like you’re one of her own.” Callie tucks an arm through mine. “Some Magicals
are barren, unfortunately. Doesn’t happen often, but it does happen all the
same. That’s Mom.” She steers us toward a luxe store that I never, ever
would’ve thought of stepping into before today. “But she’s got a mother’s
heart. She took care of me and those boys when nobody else gave a damn. Loved
us, nurtured us, and protected us. None of us share her blood, but it doesn’t
matter. She’s our mother all the same. And you . . . she loves you, too,
Chloe.”

Please gods, do not let me
break down sobbing in this store. “It’s because she doesn’t know how awful I
am, how I’m tearing Jonah and Kellan apart.”

Callie positions us in front
of a rack of dresses, effectively hiding me from the salesgirls. “Sure she
does. She doesn’t blame you. She knows this isn’t your fault. It’s not like on
the day they were passing out Connections, you decided to hog two for yourself
because you’re a greedy bitch.”

But what would Astrid think,
knowing I cheated on Jonah? “Still. They hurt because of me. They fight because
of me. I break their hearts every day.” My carefully nurtured control is
rapidly unraveling, forcing me to sniffle unattractively. “I don’t know how I
can do this anymore.”

My truth is out there at
last.

Callie whips out a tissue
for me. Like her mom, she’s always prepared. I blow my nose and wipe at my
eyes. Goddammit, I’m actually crying.

“Can I help you?”

The salesgirl looks both
annoyed and concerned. Callie doesn’t even bat an eyelash when she answers.
“She’s distraught that you guys don’t have the latest collection in here. Where
are we? Podunk? For Christ’s sake, we’re in New York. Go over to your desk and
get on the phone. I want the green bias in silk in a size . . .” She pauses,
looks me over. “Two.” When the girl doesn’t move, she barks, “Am I speaking to
myself?”

The salesgirl
scurries away.

The Lotus ladies own a
pretty amazing condo in Manhattan that’s within spitting distance of a number
of famous eateries. I don’t go to any of them, nor does Callie urge me to eat.
She orders Chinese for herself and we settle in for the night, rather than
going out exploring.

“There’s always time to
explore New York,” she tells me, dipping her egg roll into a special sauce she
claims only can be found at the restaurant she ordered from. “We can come back
any time. Or, you know—you and J can come back and stay here whenever you like.
I’m surprised Mom hasn’t shoved a copy of each of her keys at you guys yet.”

I think of the keys I had to
leave on the entryway table as I left my parents’ months back. Did they throw
them in a drawer? Give them to someone else?

I tug a chenille blanket
over my lap and snuggle down into the luxurious leather couch eerily similar to
the one in Kellan’s living room. “Did you decorate this place?”

“This is an Astrid Lotus
special.” She swallows a bite of noodles. “Ah. You’re thinking of Kel’s place,
no? That was my attempt at interior design. Tryin’ to live up to Mom and all. I
think I did okay. It’s very Kellan, right?”

Not at all. “Yes.”

“Liar.” She laughs. “It’s
basically a knock-off of this apartment. He likes it here, even though he
rarely comes anymore.” She picks up another egg roll with her chopsticks. “Can
I be honest with you?”

“I thought that was our
thing,” I tell her, grinning ever so slightly. “Abject honesty.”

She nods and chews. And
then, slowly, like she’s testing the waters, “He’s a train wreck lately.”

My stomach twists and burns
as acidic guilt fills me up.

She presses on, albeit
gingerly. “Did . . . did something happen between you two?” Panic tears through
me, which she must notice, because she quickly adds, “He hasn’t told me
anything, if that’s what you’re thinking. If something did happen and all. It’s
just . . . I’m worried about him.”

“Me too,” I croak.

She sets her chopsticks
down. “I’m gonna tell you something that’ll probably make him disown me, but .
. . I figure if anyone is going to get through to him, it’s gonna be you or J.
And as I know he’s blocking J on a regular basis nowadays, that leaves you.”
She presses her palms against her eyes for a long moment. “He’s upped the whole
adrenaline junkie shit up to a whole ‘nother level. Like, at least once or
twice a week nowadays.”

I think I’m going to throw
up. Seriously throw up right here, right now, all over this beautiful coach and
blanket. “He does it because of
me
.” My stomach churns and cramps. The
headache I’ve cultivated for the better part of a day and a half intensifies.

“It’s because of the
Connection,” she says, like there’s a difference. “And because he’s a Magical
and knows he can. He’s friends with some stupid bitch of a Shaman who totally
enables him and a group of guys he hangs out with who are running from their
problems.” She moves closer, like she’s going to hug me, but she doesn’t. I
think she knows that touching me might set off my perilously fragile reflexes.
She stares down at her hands. They’re shaking. “Back when he first admitted the
truth about you two to me, I encouraged him to find something to help distract
him. I knew some guys . . .” She chews on her upper lip. “After Jonah and I
broke up, and Kel was in California, I hooked up with a bunch of adrenaline
junkies in hopes of distracting myself. So, when he said he was desperate to
find distractions, I . . . I introduced him to some of these guys. I thought
he’d just—” She laughs bitterly under her breath. “I figured it’d be short
lived, as Kel is pretty damn good at keeping his feelings locked down tight.
But, I was wrong. And when it started to become a regular occurrence, I tried
talking to him about maybe taking a step back, but he’d go nuclear and we’d not
speak for days. So now . . .” She blinks rapidly. “Now I don’t say anything at
all, even when I’m in the hospital watching Kate put him back together. Which
is far too often nowadays. I don’t know what to do anymore. He won’t listen to
me.”

Breathe, Chloe.
Breathe
.

“You say it’s you who’s to
blame, but one could also argue that I am, too. Even more so than you.” Her
chopsticks slide together, the sound deafening compared to her voice.

She’s wrong, though. If
there were no me, he’d be fine.

They’d all be fine.

She wipes at her eyes
angrily, like her showing her pain is the worst thing in the worlds. “Christ, I
suck at the whole friend thing. I’m sorry. I brought you here so you could have
a girls’ weekend, and what do I do? I unload a whole pile of crap on you that
you don’t deserve.”

But I do.

She hugs me now. Warily,
like she’s afraid I’ll bolt. Or maybe, she’s afraid she’ll bolt from the close
contact. And we sit there, two broken girls, bound together by our love for two
broken boys, forced into silence out of fear of losing them.