Matter of Truth, A (28 page)

I’ve missed you, too.

A thousand flowers erupt from the mossy carpet surrounding
the rock I’m sitting on. I’m no Nymph, and plants aren’t my thing, but damn, if
I haven’t just forced life to spring anew all around me. I squeal and clap and
reread the text dozens of times. I’ll never delete it. Never.

He misses me. And I couldn’t be more hopeful if I tried.

It takes me two glorious yet anxious minutes before I answer
him. I want to say the right thing. No pressure, but the truth. Always the
truth from here on out, no matter what happens.
I never stopped missing you.
I miss you now.

He doesn’t answer, but I spend the rest of the day in a
deliriously happy fog. I greet every person I come into contact with the
biggest smile that’s stretched across my lips in a long time. I hug more people
in the span of three hours than I have in over a year. People probably think
I’ve lost my mind, but I. Don’t. Care. Jonah Whitecomb misses me. I treat Will
and Cameron to a four star restaurant dinner and order sparkling cider rather
than wine. Because I need my wits, and there’ll be no more drunk, morose Chloe.
I offer up cheers to at least a dozen things—blue skies, successful missions,
them living in Annar with me, Will’s pancakes, Cameron finally shaving off his
beard (not that I didn’t like the beard—I make sure to include that, too),
Cameron relenting and giving me a flannel shirt of his that I love. I’m into
recognizing the little things. Love and appreciation, I’m discovering, doesn’t
have to be big and bold. They’re best served in the ordinary joys of daily
life.

I’ve officially become a
text-a-holic. Jonah is sending me at least three messages a day now, and each
one sends me into a tizzy of happy delight. Some even sprout into
conversations. He hasn’t called, and I haven’t seen him yet, but we’ve gotten
now to a point where we’re communicating.

Just now, he sent me:
Astrid really seems taken by
Cameron Dane.

It sounds ridiculous, but this text melts my insides like butter.
He’s sharing something about his mom to me. Granted, it’s about my—well, my
pseudo-dad, but still. And I’ve already been a front row witness to the mush
these two are generating, plus there’s the whole bit with Kellan where we love
to dish on the relationships developing between the parents and children.
Still, I answer:
Cameron is the same. I wonder what their story is?

It’s a bit disingenuous, as I already know in pretty good
detail what their history is, but I’ve got to keep this texting bit going.

He hasn’t told you?

I’m grinning.
Well, I know about the past. I meant the
present?

Ah. Obviously, I don’t have details. I just know how she
feels when she thinks about him.

Now I’m laughing. I decide to be bold.
We should play
detectives and get to the bottom of the Astrid-Cameron relationship. If there
is one, I mean.

And then my breath is shallow, because I’m scared I went too
far with my use of
we
. But he writes back:
Sounds like a plan.

The hummingbirds in my chest refuse to leave. It’s okay.
I’ve begun to like them sticking around.

“I AM SO FURIOUS WITH YOU!”

I shrink at Cora’s outburst, but within the next two
seconds, she’d got her arms around me and she’s flat-out crying and cursing at
me. It’s all I can do to throw my arms around her, too, and tell her how much I
love her and missed her. Raul hovers awkwardly in the background, like he isn’t
sure if he ought to be yelling at me, too, or prying his wife away from me.

Wife. He and Cora are married. My Cousin is married, and I
wasn’t there for the wedding, and the regret that fills me up for that is
immense.

For the next hour, Cora pulls my story out of me, and in the
end, she’s hugging me again. “I missed you,” she tells me. “You are never
allowed to do such a stupid thing again. Did you hear a word I said when you
took off to Hawaii that one time? You’re not alone, Chloe. No matter what awful
shit is going on, you have people who are here for you.” She takes my face
between her hands. “You. Are. Not. Alone.”

Gods, I’ve missed her, too.

Minutes after I hang up from another cathartic phone call
with Caleb, I climb into bed, the minutes from this past week’s Council meeting
waiting to be read on my iPad (and, if I’m being honest, lull me to sleep). But
then my phone beeps, and I’m instantly awake. Jonah asks:
What are you doing
right now?

Hope explodes through my veins. I try to play it cool,
though.
Reading up on this week’s mtg. FUN. You?

Minutes go by, and the hope so sparkling and fresh begins to
fizz out. Finally, just as I pick my iPad back up:
Where are you?

I pull in a sharp breath. My hands begin to shake. I think
my palms are sweating, too, which is so gross but it is how it is.
Home.
You?

Almost five weeks after I returned to Annar and Jonah walked
out of my apartment, he sends me the following text:
I’m outside your
building.

Obviously, I’m out of bed and at the window immediately,
peering out into the darkness. I can’t find him. He’s not there. Is he lying?
Wait. I smack my forehead. My window faces the back of the building.

I throw a sweatshirt on and find my flip-flops. And then I’m
out of my room, running through the apartment, and Will and Cameron are yelling
at me, asking what I’m doing, and I tell them I’ll be back, but I’ve got to go.
I don’t bother with the elevator; I run the entire length of the stairs, and
then I skid through the lobby to the front door.

I throw them open and nearly knock down Erik. “Oh! Sorry!” I
murmur, grabbing his arm before he hits the pavement.

“Jesus, Chloe,” he says, readjusting the bags filled with
groceries in his hands. “Is the building on fire or something?”

But then I see Jonah, standing, about twenty-five feet down
the sidewalk, holding his phone in one hand and tugging at his long hair with
the other. He looks shocked that I’m standing in the open doorway, my hair in a
sloppy pony tail, face scrubbed clean with no make-up, dressed in pajama shorts
and a sweatshirt and wearing flip-flops.

“Chloe?” Erik asks.

I’m dazed. Grinning and dazed and all I can say is that I’ll
see him later and if I’m lucky to not wait up for me.

Once the door is closed behind me, I take a deep breath and
walk over to where Jonah’s standing. He is so ridiculously gorgeous that I feel
like writing all that silly poetry Will once accused me of. “Hi,” slides out of
me, all giddy, lovely joy that’s made up of two letters. I hope he can hear me
over the beating of my heart. It’s got to be drowning everything out here on
the street out.

“Hi,” he says in return. He’s not quite grinning, not like
me, but he’s not frowning, either. I’ll take it. And I’ll gladly drink in the
sight of him, because nothing has ever been so welcome or beautiful to me
before.

Like the poet I just imagined to be, I say, “Hi!”

My idiocy doesn’t faze him in the slightest. “You—wow. Did
you run down here or something?”

I laugh. Is it so obvious? “Yes. As a matter of fact, I
did.”

He shoves his phone in his pocket and reaches out a hand. I
go still and pray that I don’t pass out from excitement when he lightly fingers
a loose strand of hair. “It’s nice to see it’s back to brown.”

“I was a lousy blonde,” I admit. I’m thankful I’m wearing a
sweatshirt, because I’ve just totally broken out in goose bumps. And I think my
skin now envies my hair.

He laughs under his breath, and this bubble of joy burbles
up my chest. He thought something I said was funny! I inspired something other
than hurt and anger! I’m making progress!

“So,” I say, keeping my voice light. “Were you out for a
stroll or something?”

He closes his eyes for a brief moment, and I kick myself for
counting my eggs before they are hatched. But then, he opens them back up, and
I lose myself in the cerulean that I couldn’t replicate anywhere even if I
tried. “If by stroll, you mean I walked directly here from my place, with
several detours back home and then back this way, then yes. I’m on a stroll.”

I can barely contain my giddiness. “Do you want to come in?”

He looks up, like he can see the window to our apartment
above. “No, but—can we take a walk? Would you be up for that?”

I blurt out my assent before he can even finish speaking.

We walk side-by-side, not touching like I want, but close
enough to be considered a victory to me. For several minutes, nothing is said,
but it’s okay. This is enough.

Even still, I eventually break the ice by saying, “Did you
ever get Astrid to tell you what’s going on with her and Cameron?”

He chuckles under his breath. Oh, lords, do I love this
sound. “No. Not yet. But I do know she still has strong feelings for him, is
conflicted and sad over what’s gone down between them, yet is ecstatic about
what’s happening now. She’s glad to have her friend back.”

“Hmm.” I keep my focus on the road ahead of us. It’s hard,
because I want to totally stare at him, which sounds creepy but when you’ve
gone without looking at the face of the person you love the most, sometimes you
get a bit desperate. “I’m no Emotional, but I think I can say that Cameron is
the same. He loved his wife a lot, but I think that spark with Astrid might
still there. If you know what I mean.”

He’s quiet for several minutes. “Have you seen your
parents?”

“My mom,” I admit. “She came over once, and we’ve sent some
emails back and forth. My dad—I guess now he’s upset with me because of what I
did. Which I get.” I let out an exasperated puff. “It’s funny; for a long time,
I suppose I never really understood the relationship between you and Astrid.
How you considered her to be your mom when you
had
a mom. I get it now.”
I give in and look at him now; I’m rewarded because he’s staring at me, too.
Enough to cause him to blush when I catch him. I bite back my grin. “My own mom
is . . . I won’t say coming around, but she’s trying, though. Whether or not we
ever get to a place where she and I are close, I think I’m finally okay with
it.” The grin escapes anyway. “Sometimes family is more than blood. Sometimes a
family is built on love.”

He stops on the sidewalk. “I’m glad you found that with
Cameron and Will. I really am.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Oh, I’d give every last cent I have to touch
him right now. “I’m glad you found that with Astrid.”

He bites his lip, and my heart kicks into triple time.
“Look, Chloe . . .”

I hold my breath. It’s ridiculous, but I literally hold my
breath. My name never sounds better than when coming from his lips.

He takes a step closer. I’m lightheaded as I stare up at
him. “I’m not saying I’m over what happened.”

Reality crashes down upon me like an Acme piano from three
stories up.

“But,” he takes another step closer, his hand lifting to
touch my cheek, “the truth is, I miss you.”

I lean into his touch. Thank the gods, we’re finally
touching after months and months of not doing so. Tingles zip up and down my
body. I swear, if he keeps this up, I just might have an orgasm right here on a
public sidewalk in the middle of Annar. “I miss you, too.”

His eyes pin me to the sidewalk where I stand. “You’re not
with Kellan.”

I want to laugh, but know it’d send the wrong message. “No.”

“Why?”

I let the emotions slamming around my heart spill out so he
can feel them. And then I lay it all out for him like I wanted to the day I came
back from Anchorage. “Because I want to be with you, Jonah. Even if you don’t
want to be with me anymore, I know my truth. And I’ve learned the hard way that
a person has to be true to themself if they want a chance at happiness in
life.”

I think he’s holding his breath, too.

“I love you.” I reach up and touch his face, too. “I’m not
saying it because I expect you to say it back. I’m saying it because it’s one
of my truths. When I was in Alaska, pretending to be somebody I’m not, I
realized something. I love you, I’ve always loved you, and I always will. My
life is crazy. I’m going to be asked to do awful, terrifying, exciting things,
and sometimes it scares the crap out of me. I have two Connections, which seems
impossible at times to comprehend. I’m obviously immature and don’t know how to
deal with all this stuff at all times, but I’m finally trying to get a grip on
everything. There are these sick and twisted creatures trying to kill me all
the time, and I’m having to deal with that. But when I was working at a diner,
serving pancakes, wondering what it was I wanted in my life, who I wanted to
be, and where I wanted to be, I realized that one of those things was you.”

It hurts to see the skepticism in his eyes—it’s small, but
still there. But I know it’s there because I put it there. And even though he
must feel all this in me, sometimes emotions, even from an Emotional, aren’t
rational.

“Here’s the thing. I love your brother. I do. I always will,
thanks to the Connection. He’s one of my best friends. I hope he always will
be. And . . .” I swallow. I have to get this right. This may be my last chance.
“And the truth is, if there was no you, there’d be no doubt in my mind that I’d
be with him. But there is a you.” Our feet overlap, we’re standing so close. I
stare up into his eyes, so much love filling me up right now that it’s amazing
I haven’t exploded in a shower of glitter and flowers. “Jonah . . . you’re more
to me than just my Connection. You’re the person I’d want to be with even if
there were no Connection.”

It’s out there now. I’ve said it. I want him, I’ve chosen
him. There will be no more indecision. I’ll struggle with my feelings toward
Kellan the rest of my life, there’s no doubt about it. But I’ve finally chosen
and Jonah now knows it.

He doesn’t say anything, which makes me anxious, but I
remind myself this is a lot to throw on somebody who’s still smarting from
desertion. I can’t expect him to just roll over and say, “Well, okay. Let’s get
married tonight.” Although, come to think of it, it’d be really great if he
did.

Finally, in what I can best describe as hushed awe: “You
actually mean that.”

Before I can assure him of this truth, both hands are on my
face and then his lips are on mine and I am finally, after wandering for so
long that I got lost, exactly where I want to be.

I am deliriously, wildly,
fantastically, ecstatically, giddily in the throes of bliss due to love. I
cannot even begin to hold back my joy, even when faced with a moody Will and a
pair of groggy, middle-aged men who haven’t had their coffee yet early the next
morning.

I’d spent a good, long time kissing Jonah last night before
he walked me home. Like I’d done in high school, I’d made him promise to come
over bright and early in the morning so we could have breakfast and then talk.
So here I am, banging pans around as I attempt to make said breakfast, while
the men I live with watch with amusement.

“For Christ’s sake, let me cook,” Will eventually says when
I apparently do not crack an egg properly. “We don’t want him running away due
to food poisoning or anything.”

I gratefully relinquish control so I can set the table.

“Hen, it does my heart good to see you so cheerful,” Cameron
says, pressing a quick kiss against my head.

Erik grunts and pours himself a cup of coffee. “So this is
why you were acting like you’d lost your mind last night. I should have figured
it had to do with a boy.”

I sigh happily, thinking of my boy. He should be here in
less than a half hour. “You guys don’t mind him joining us for breakfast?”

“You’ll have to do without me,” Erik says. “I’m to go to
Anchorage for a couple of days to talk with colony representatives.”

“Of course we don’t mind,” Cameron assures me. “I’m quite
looking forward to finally getting to know this Jonah of yours.”

“Dad, you say this like you haven’t ever met the bloke,”
Will calls out.

My eyes widen; Cameron chuckles quietly. “Fair enough, son.
Yes, I’ve briefly met Jonah a few times whilst visiting Astrid. And he’s been
at a few of the meetings Erik and I have had with the Council concerning Métis
matters. But I am looking forward to getting to know the person you’ve given
your heart to, hen.”

I can’t help but give him a huge hug.

We say goodbye to Erik; minutes later, a knock on the door
tells me that Jonah’s here. Cameron insists on getting it, so I wait nervously
in the living room, practically bouncing on the balls of my feet until I hear
Jonah’s voice in the hallway.

And then there he is. And I melt all over again.

I check the impulse to tackle him in front of Cameron and
instead allow a ridiculous grin to overtake my face. It’s beautiful to see that
it’s mirrored on his face, too. Good lords, do I love Jonah Whitecomb’s smiles.
He’s got this adorable dimple that appears that I just want to lick.

Cameron winks at me, not doubt amused by how I’ve been
rendered nearly speechless by the sight of our guest. “I think I’ll go and
check on Will’s progress with the baked French toast he’s making.”