A Matter of Fate (27 page)

He hates me, I think, because he knows me all too well.

Cora rarely ever sounds apologetic. She does now, though, as I struggle through math homework the next day. “You ought to know that I did something this afternoon that you’re going to be super pissed about.”

Honestly? This sadly doesn’t seem like news. “What now?”

She mumbles incoherently over the phone before asking, “Have you heard from Kellan since school got out?”

“Not yet.” And then, suspicion sets in. “Why?”

“I ran into him after school,” she rushes out, “before he and Jonah left. We got to talking a little, and, well . . . .”

“Well, what?”

“Listen, believe it or not, I actually respect Kellan. But, I know that even though you care about him, he’s not Jonah—”

My back straightens like a board. “What did you do, Cora?”

“Ehhhh . . . .” she dawdles. “Oh, hell. I told him the truth.”

“WHAT?” I shriek, my legs thrusting me upright.

“I told him the truth about you and Jonah!” she says, having the audacity to sound outraged herself. “He didn’t believe me, though. I thought maybe he’d go straight to you, but I guess not.”

“When was this?” Kellan knows? And if he’s confronting Jonah, then Jonah knows, too.

I can barely think straight as my mind explodes. During all the times I’ve role-played in my head what I’d say to Kellan when I finally admit the truth, I never imagined it would come from another person first.

He absolutely does not deserve that.

“About an hour and a half ago. I didn’t want to call you right away, just in case it was you he went to.”

“WHY did you do this?”

“Because it was the truth! And I’ve been thinking about it. Kellan deserves better. He deserves someone who’s going to put him first, not pine for his brother constantly!”

“Who says I do that?” I hiss. She doesn’t understand the first thing I feel toward Kellan—or Jonah for that matter. Since I’m not able to clearly understand it myself, how can she?

“Me! How Kellan can’t tell is beyond me. What kind of Emotional is he, anyway?”

My palms are sweating, I’m so upset. “Did you do this out of spite?”

“No! I told you, I did this for you. To help you.”

I pick up a lamp and throw it hard against the wall. It clips a framed picture of Cora and me, shattering the glass. Ceramic shards ricochet into a million directions. It’s a satisfying feeling, smashing things.

“I hope whatever that was is going to be fixed by the time your mom comes home,” Cora says.

That pisses me off some more, so I pick up what’s left of the frame and throw it against the wall so hard that it disintegrates.

“I know you’re angry, Chloe. But see, everything just kept staying at the status quo. Was it really that wrong for me to try to help?”

“Who made you judge and jury?” I seethe. “How could you do this?”

“What? Set you free? I did it out of love, babe. You’ll thank me someday.”

I hang up on her. In an effort to calm down, I rebuild the lamp and photo frame. And then I call Kellan.

I’m sent directly to voicemail. It’s a bad sign—Kellan never ignores a call from me.

Why are you calling Kellan? Cora practically handed you Jonah on a silver platter. Why not go for it?

Because no matter what, Kellan doesn’t deserve to be blindsided.

I storm downstairs. Karl’s sitting on the couch, watching
SportsCenter
. “Just where do you think you’re going?” he demands, standing up. He’s still somewhat pissed off at me over the whole San Francisco debacle.

“Out.”

“Where do you want me to take you?”

“Nowhere!” I snatch my bag from the basket by the door. “I’m going by myself!”

He deftly blocks the door. “If you think I’m going to let you run off by yourself again, think again.”

I practically choke on the words. “Cora told Kellan the truth!”

He raises his eyebrows. “Well, well. The shit just hit the fan, didn’t it?”

“Oh, thank you, Mr.
State-the-Obvious
,” I snap. And then I stop. “You know?”

“Please,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Why do you keep underestimating me?”

“Er . . . what exactly do you know?”

He motions toward the couch. “Let me tell you a story.”

“I don’t have
time
for a story!”

“You have time for this one. Sit.” And rather than allow me to do so, he steers me toward the couch and sits down next to me. “Alright. You already know I have a Connection—to my wife Moira.”

I nod impatiently.

“Connections are . . . complex. Well—in many regards, they are extremely simple. You and the person you’re Connected to are soul mates, bound for life. But Connections are tempestuous things, apt to make people act in ways they might normally not act. Everything is heightened—love, pain, anger, joy. It can be scary and overwhelming because it’s so instantaneous and strong. Some people don’t know how to deal with that sort of overload on their system.” He scrubs at his hair, tired.

“Karl—”

“I was one of those people, Chloe.”

I let go of my purse straps and sit a bit straighter. Everything I’ve ever heard about Karl and Moira is the stuff of legends: they’re absolutely, unequivocally in love, perfect together in every, disgusting way. “Pardon?”

“I met Moira when I was really little in my dreams.”

Now
this
is interesting.

“And that first look, that first moment we spoke—I was a goner. I adored her. She was the most perfect girl alive. No one else could live up to even half of her standards. But she was a dream, and that made me crazy, right?”

It’s like listening to myself talk.

“I spent a lot of time in Annar as a kid. I even did an entire year of high school in Annar. I met someone there, my junior year of high school. And . . . it wasn’t Moira. But this girl and I were friends, and . . . the friendship was good. Better than good, even. And I kept thinking I was insane for being in love with someone not real, so I let things happen with this girl, because I was
fond
of her.” He sighs. “Sometimes, I even thought maybe . . . maybe there was something more than just fondness. Love, I guess—I never felt like I was
in
love with her, but yeah . . . there was a kind of love. But I was young, and confused, and completely overwhelmed by my feelings. By my Connection.”

My purse slides to the floor. I leave it there.

“I moved to Annar right after high school, and the first day there, I saw Moira in the street. She was talking to another girl, and it was like a bolt of lightning struck me. She was real, she was there, and everything in me became almost too much to bear. I ran straight back to my girlfriend. She knew something was up, but I was freaking out. And then whenever I ran into Moira for another month after that, and when we talked—or, hell, touched—so many things flooded through me that I thought I was going to explode. It was too much, Chloe. Emotionally, I wasn’t ready. So I clung onto my girlfriend, refused to talk to Moira much, and . . . even avoided her, much to my shame.”

“Oh my gods,” I whisper.

“But when push came to shove, I finally realized I couldn’t do that to my girlfriend. So I broke up with her. It was awful, so messy that even today it hurts to think about the pain I caused her. But then I found Moira and begged for her forgiveness. She gave it, no strings attached. And once I allowed myself to open up to the Connection, to allow it to work the way it was supposed to, I’ve never looked back.”

Something in my mind clicks. “Kiah.”

He nods guiltily.

“But Kiah must have known you had a doorway. She knew I had one.”

“She knew. But when people fall in love, sometimes you do stupid, unexplainable things.”

“And . . . now?”

He looks away. “We’re friends. Coworkers.” He clears his throat and scrubs at his hair again. “So. That’s my story. Since you happened to tell me that you and Jonah met in your dreams, I know you two have a Connection. And I’ll be the first person to say that I get why you might have freaked out over Jonah being here. And . . . I’ll even admit that I get why you’re dating someone else. But Chloe—it’s been a few months now that you’ve hidden behind Kellan. Frankly, I’m shocked that you aren’t running to Jonah right now and begging for his forgiveness, like I did with Moira.”

I slump back and close my eyes. “I want to. I really do.”

“Then why go to Kellan first?”

Even though my eyes are closed, I still place a hand over them. “I love him, too.”

The silence is deafening.

“It’s crazy, I know . . . .”

“You don’t love him,” Karl says. “Or, if you do, it’s not the same. It’s simply not possible.”

I choose to ignore this. “He didn’t deserve hearing about this from Cora. It should’ve been from me. Or Jonah.”

“I agree,” Karl says.

“You’re right, though. It’s totally overwhelming.”

“I know.” He hesitates. “I’ve talked to him, you know.”

My hand drops. “Kellan?”

Karl shakes his head.

“You’ve talked to Jonah . . . about
me
?”

“He’s one of my best friends,” Karl says, a tad defensively. “And he’s been acting . . . well, not like Jonah. Of course I tried to talk to him.”

The pins and needles are agonizing.

“He’s not dealing with this well. I mean, I get why he’s not. He’s not only overwhelmed like the rest of us finding our Connections, but he’s dealing with the massive blow of seeing you with his brother. It’s not uncommon for people to do what I did—to be with someone else in the beginning. That’s . . . I hate to say it,
normal
, actually. But still, it’s one thing to see your true love with another person. It’s entirely different to see your soul mate with your twin.”

I jerk back as if he’d slapped me.

“Those two . . . .” He shakes his head. “You’ve never seen what they’re like together, not really. They’ve always been inseparable. They’ve had a lot of shit thrown at them over the years, and they’ve only ever had each other to turn to. And now . . . man. They’re not talking. The situation is so screwed up. Kellan knows Jonah is mad and hurt, but Jonah won’t talk to him. And I get that, because when it comes to your Connection, your mind sort of just short circuits. Jonah’s doing everything he can to simply hold it together right now. And he’s doing it, absolutely convinced you’ve picked his brother over him.”

The air in my lungs disappears.

“I tried talking to him about it. But Jonah’s always been the kind who bottles stuff up, even as a little kid. That sort of self-preservation he’d been forced to adapt to . . . .”

I choke out, “What?”

But Karl keeps going. “I asked if he’d confronted Kellan, but he said, ‘What’s the point? She’s made her choice.’ I tried to tell him I didn’t think that was the case, but he wasn’t willing to keep talking.”

The air in the room disappears.

“Did you ever wonder why he was so insistent on getting those things, those Elders, away from us during the attacks that day? He didn’t want them anywhere near you. He was willing to do whatever it took, even if it meant getting hurt, to distract them from pursuing you. You should’ve seen Jonah after you took off with Raul and Kopano. He held it together around the others, but when it was just him and me, he was crazed with panic. And then you went and had Kellan come and get you.” Karl shakes his head again. “That poor guy.”

The air in the
house
disappears.

“Breathe, Chloe,” Karl says, startled by the expression on my face. He grabs my arms and yells the order at me.

I burst into tears. Right there in front of him.

Karl is clearly taken aback. It’s all well and good to talk to someone about the intricacies of enormous and complex emotions, but it’s an entirely different matter to see them in action. It takes him a moment to collect himself before rushing out of the room.

Just when I figure him to be a goner, he returns with a wad of tissues. He passes them over helplessly.

After about five minutes of watching me sob hysterically while awkwardly patting my arm, he tells me that, just this once, he’s going to let me go somewhere by myself. He doesn’t ask which brother I’ll be seeing first, and for that I’m grateful.

Kellan’s car is parked exactly where I expect. He’s gone to the beach, the place where we first kissed.

He gives no indication he’s willing to acknowledge me at first, so I stand next to his car, mustering the courage to speak, as I watch him lie on the hood. “We should talk about what happened today.”

I worry he won’t answer, but he does. “Now you want to talk?”

There’s going to be no easy way out, but then, I don’t deserve one. I will myself not to break down into another sobbing, pathetic mess. He’s still refusing to look at me, so I reach out to touch him. “Kellan . . . .”

He rolls off the car and walks over to the guardrails. The waves are crashing in the distance, loud and heavy in the chilly air. “Fine, let’s talk,” he snaps. I flinch, because I’m not used to him sounding like this. “What should we start with? The fact you’ve known my brother for the majority of your life? That you two were . . . are? An item? How I’m the last one to know? You must’ve had a good laugh at that, right?”

“No!”

“How about what it’s like to find out I’ve been betrayed by the two people I stupidly trust the most?”

“I can explain,” I weakly counter, not even remotely knowing how I can.

“Really.” But he waits, knuckles white and tight against the rail.

I fumble for any words that can do the situation justice. “He and I . . . we met in our dreams, when we were little. I never thought he was real, not until he showed up in my math class . . . and . . . it was . . . confusing, because I thought maybe I’d gone crazy . . . and then, with the shifts—”

“Shifts!” he explodes. “That was
you?
Because of
him?
”

I cringe. The look on his face is awful, so absolutely awful. I’ve never seen such pain in his eyes before. I want to break down crying, beg for his forgiveness and mercy, but I know I need to stay strong and finish explaining. My voice is impossibly small: “Yes.”