A Matter of Fate (29 page)

Wait.

Just why hasn’t he talked to me? Why hasn’t he approached me even once over the last few months? Why didn’t he come to me, fight for me, do anything at all?

He’d told me, time and time again in our dreams, that it was his greatest wish to be with me in real life, that he’d give anything to make it happen. And Kellan even claimed Jonah worked his mojo on their dad to move here. So . . . why hasn’t Jonah done anything?

Hot tears spring to my eyes. I’m rooted to this spot, unable to move, unable to talk, helpless and angry, ready to both freeze and explode. Why hasn’t he done anything?

Each time I ask myself this question, I lose a little bit of my courage. My heart is on the verge of blowing sky wide. He hasn’t done
anything.

I don’t know how long I stand there, fists balled up, silent tears falling like rain. The Guard watching must think I’m a complete lunatic. But then one of my sobs escapes, and Jonah finally notices me.

And then he looks away, scanning the area around me, most likely wanting to see if I’ve brought an entourage.

So I speak to him, for the first time in well over a year. It’s a lame thing to say, but I call out, “It’s just me.”

There’s an uncertainty on his face, a mixture of confusion and wariness clouding those cerulean eyes of his when he stands up. I tremble the entire time it takes for him to walk over to me. He stops a few feet away, just out of hand’s reach. We stand there staring at one another, neither blinking, before he says my name.

His voice hits me hard. And the fact that he’s finally talking to me? Overwhelming. But I’m an irrational mess, so rather than swoon, I demand, “Why didn’t you
do
anything?” Jonah flinches, but I’m in rare form. “All these months,” I continue, “you’ve done
nothing!
Not a word! Not
one!
”

The little voice disapproves, of course.
Hypocrite, thy name is Chloe. He can lay the same claim about you, you know.

“Chloe,” Jonah says again, and the trembling intensifies. He takes a step toward me, and my feet uproot. I stumble backwards, but he reaches out and catches me.

His touch is a massive shock to my system, like when doctors use those paddles to shock a heart back into rhythm. I continue to shake as he pulls me into his arms, and then I cry in earnest.

Because being here with him is like coming home after being gone for so very long. Everything about him is so familiar: his smell, warm and lovely, the way his head feels against mine, the crook in his neck that my forehead fits perfectly into, his fingers spread across my back, and, most importantly, his heartbeat against mine.

I’m finally where I’m supposed to be. I don’t have to ask to know he’s feeling this, too. His breath is uneven against my neck, his heart racing in tandem with mine.

I’m at a large loss for words—like I’d been when we’d first found each other all those years ago—when I pull myself together. And each time his thumb grazes my skin, shockwaves jolt my system. It’s literally taking everything in me to remain standing.

“I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you,” he says quietly, and I shudder hard in his arms. “I thought I was doing you a favor by staying away.”

He has no place to apologize, even though I’d just yelled at him for his inaction. But I’m intrigued by what he means. “Favor?”

“That first day, you were so unwilling to even acknowledge me,” he says, voice hushed. “I was . . . terrified. I didn’t know to do. None of this went down the way I thought . . .
hoped
it would.” He pauses. “You weren’t the only one who was overwhelmed. I was, too. These last two months, I really haven’t had the best grip on my emotions, and that sort of sent me into a tailspin.” He pauses again. “I also didn’t want to push you into anything you weren’t ready for.”

I tell him the truth, of how I thought I’d gone nuts that first day.

“I can see why. It’s not every day you actually see someone you’ve only ever dreamed about.”

A million questions flood me, so I just randomly grab at one. “Why did you disappear last year?”

He looks so sad. “I don’t know why. It just became harder and harder to find you, until one day, I just wasn’t able to anymore.”

A month before he’d disappeared from my dreams, we’d been standing in a lake, neither of us caring that our clothes were soaking. The sky was a vivid blue, streaked with oranges and reds at the horizon—a sunset that told me sunrise was coming. These were my least favorite moments of the day, knowing my time with him was up.

“I wish I could control time,” I’d told him. “Then I’d make sure we could be here forever. Together.”

“Yeah?” he’d asked, resting his head against mine. There was a soft breeze blowing across the lake, warm and gentle. His hair, so very like strands of silk, ruffled against my cheek. I loved that feeling. Craved it.

“Most definitely.”

“I wish I could cement the door here, so it wouldn’t be so hard to find.”

That surprised me. “What door?”

He’d laughed. “The one I use to leave my dreams to come to yours.”

At the time, I’d chalked that up to wishful thinking. “How did you discover the door?”

“I think the first time, I was dreaming about a playground. A ball I was playing with rolled into some trees nearby. I went to look for it, and found a door instead.”

“Did you go through it that night?”

“No. It took me a few nights to dream myself to the door and then to clear away all the plants blocking it. And then the night after I finally had it cleared, I sat and stared at the door for a long time. I was scared at first, I think. But sooner or later, curiosity got the better of me and I went through it.” And then the sky had turned orangeish-purple, and a loud sound pulled me away from him, with everything rushing backwards and forwards at the same time.

But now, Jonah’s here with me, and we’re both awake. It’s almost too much to bear.

“Then, it wasn’t by choice?”

“No,” he says, startled. “Is that what you thought?”

“I didn’t know what to think. I still don’t know what to think. How is this possible? Why are you here? How are you real? Oh my gods, you’re
real
.” I marvel at being able to really, truly touch him. It’s heaven.

His hands, warm and strong, cup my cheeks. I stare into his gorgeous eyes while he says, “Chloe don’t you know, haven’t you always known? My heart belongs with you. I’m here for you.”

Joy crashes through me, and I lose my breath as I begin to free-fall. I am beyond giddy.

I am in love.

Karl was so right. When you let go and allow the Connection to take place, it’s worth everything.

“Did you miss me at all?” I ask, running my fingers through his hair. Goose bumps race across my skin.

“You’d question that, after everything we’ve ever meant to one another?” he asks, exasperated. This isn’t a new sort of reaction from Jonah. Questions like this, he’d once insisted, should never be asked, because I should always trust in his feelings for me. And I hadn’t over the last two months. I’d been so stupid to even doubt him. “Of course. Every moment of every day.”

“How did you discover the truth?”

He smiles sheepishly; my heart to skips in delight. “A Seer told me. I sort of had a difficult time after losing you. The Old Man . . . my father . . . made me go to one to see if it’d get me back on track. She saw our Connection, told me you were real. I was shocked. All those years, I’d hoped and prayed you were, but I never really thought you could be. And then, when I learned you were out there, I couldn’t rest until I found you. I didn’t have much to go on, though. All the Seer could tell me was that you were a Magical, too. So it took me nearly four months to figure out your location.”

I consider this. “Why didn’t you call me when you first figured it out?”

“I wanted to. I actually had your number. But I thought it’d be better in person, that you might not believe me on the phone. So I manipulated my father into moving here.”

I’d known this, but I still laugh, because this seems like such a Jonah thing to do. Over the years, I’d learned that when he gets his mind set on something, he can become very determined.

His fingers trail down my cheek. “When I first saw you—”

“There was a shift,” I supply, grinning.

He nods, smiling slyly. “Three. Don’t think I didn’t count them.”

I laugh against his shoulder. “And where were yours?”

“The day I found out you were real,” he says, and I squeal because I’m so surprised and pleased by this. “And then on the day I found where you were.”

“So why three for me?” He shrugs, unconcerned. So I prompt, “You were saying . . . .? When you first saw me?”

“It was like I’d finally come home,” he says, and I melt. But then he adds more seriously, “It wasn’t easy staying away, not after finding you. I have to admit, I nearly lost hope recently . . . I began to wonder if maybe I’d been the only one who’d ever felt the Connection.”

“No, no,
no
,” I insist, holding him tight against me, willing him to feel our bond, strong as always. “Jonah, I am so sorry. To think I could have lost you, due to—”

“Don’t.” Tiny stress lines cross his forehead. “I don’t want to do that conversation right now. I don’t want to fight so soon after getting you back.”

I desperately want to talk to him about the last few months, to explain myself as best I can. I don’t want this to be something that festers between us any longer, but I hold back like he asks. He’s not ready to hear it. Or maybe he already knows a lot of it anyway, thanks to his brother. Maybe he doesn’t even want to know, ever.

Instead, I tell him, “I’ve missed you.”

“Me, too,” he says gently against my neck. And then his lips are there, so soft against my skin. My heart is ready to break through my rib cage. One more kiss grazes where my neck and shoulder meet before I remember we’re not alone.

It takes all my focus to tell him we’re being watched. He pulls away to look around. “By whom?”

“Two Guard. Both Faerie.”

His eyes scan the trees around us as he slides a hand off my back so he can dig his cell out of his pocket. But he doesn’t let go of me, and I’m glad for it. “Karl?” he says into the phone. “Chloe and I are going to my house. Let your Guards know that no one is allowed inside for the next several hours. If I find them in there, I’ll put them asleep so fast they won’t know what hit them.”

I laugh against his shoulder.

“I’m talking about you and Giules, too,” Jonah continues. He listens to Karl for a moment. “Fine. You two or these Faeries or whomever else it is you expect to watch us can do it from outside, preferably from the inside of a car.” Then he turns his phone off and slips it back into his pocket. “Ready?”

“How,” I ask, absolutely amazed, “do you get away with ordering him around like that?”

He grins. Gods, I love that dimple. “Maybe it’s because we’ve known each other for a long time. And maybe it’s because he knows I don’t make idle threats.”

“You can do that? Put someone to sleep? Have you put him to sleep before?”

“I can and I have. It’s best to deal with Karl Graystone in a way where he’s forced to respect your ideas and wishes.” He shrugs, and I marvel at his confidence. It’s so fricking sexy.

“What’s it like living with Giuliana?”

His fingers tighten around mine. “She’s a pretty typical Guard, takes her job seriously and all that. She likes to torture me with foreign girly movies all the time. You don’t know how often I go to bed early just to escape them. There’s a small perk, though—she’s a pretty good cook, being Italian and all. But she hovers. It can be annoying, even though I like her a lot.”

“I really dig Karl,” I admit. “But I hate having a babysitter and being told what to do, when to do it, and how it has to be done.”

“I know,” he says sympathetically. “But it’s necessary, and only for the rest of the school year.”

“Why does nobody believe I can take care of myself?”

We reach his car. He takes both of my hands and says in a low voice, “I’m not sorry that Karl is there making sure you stay safe, Chloe. These things, these Elders—they’re a threat we need to take seriously.” I open my mouth to form a rebuttal, but he plays dirty by touching his fingers against my lips. Oh, my. “But, let’s not talk about that; at least, not now. I haven’t had you all to myself in a very long time, and I think that needs to be rectified, don’t you?”

All I can do is nod and hope that my knees don’t give out.

The Whitecombs’ house is a large bungalow, dark brown in color and at least three stories. This is my first time inside—for all the months that Kellan and I dated, I’d always insisted we hang out at my house. I’d been afraid to running into Jonah then—which, upon reflection, was the most ridiculous, illogical fear ever.

The house is excessively neat, with precious few knick-knacks and photos. In fact, there’s only one photograph in the entire living room, up on the fireplace mantle. I pick it up as Jonah switches on a couple lights. It’s of a family of four, smiling for the camera. “Is this your mother?” I ask, pointing to an absurdly beautiful woman.

He takes the picture out of my hand and stares at it for a moment, his face guarded. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I think we were maybe three here.”

I wait for him to tell me more, maybe something about his dead mother, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leads us to the back of the house and into a whitewashed kitchen. “Wow,” I say, looking around at the expansive space, “this is huge, like restaurant-sized. Does your dad like to cook?”

He laughs, at ease once more, and pours us two glasses of water. “Uh, no. If we want to eat anything, we fix it ourselves or beg Giules to work her magic.”

I sip my water and give him a flirty smile. “Ugh. I can’t cook at all.”

We stand there smiling at each other, our fingers twiddling together on the countertop. I’m giddy just to be in his presence. And, because I want to see where he spends his time, peek at his CDs, look at his library—get all of the little information that will help solidify my knowledge of him—I ask, “Where’s your room?”