Matter of Truth, A (31 page)

“Think I should call him? See if he’s okay?”

Jonah looks up from the sauce he’s stirring on the stove.
Watching him cook us dinner is incredibly sexy. “I know you mean well, but you
heard what Will said. He needs to do this on his own.”

I lean against the smooth granite countertop next to the
stove. At first, I’d been really hesitant to come over to Kellan and Jonah’s
shared apartment, since I’d only ever been here before with just Kellan, but I
couldn’t avoid it forever. So here I am, ogling Jonah as he cooks, choosing to
focus all of my fretting on Will rather than Kellan for once.

Who am I kidding. Of course I’m concerned about Kellan, too.
Jonah knows I’m worrying, too—so he’s tried his best to be transparent, as best
he can and with Kellan’s permission, about assuring me that his brother is
fine.

I miss him, though. I’m wildly, happily, fantastically in
love with Jonah right now and I’m thrilled with how things are going with us
and yet . . . Kellan’s absence cuts me like a knife.

I guess something never changes.

“At least I’m not the only one he didn’t allow to come,” I
finally say to Jonah. Cameron didn’t go to Scotland, either; only, he didn’t
seem to take it as personally as I did.

Jonah sets the wooden spoon down. “I probably shouldn’t tell
you that Kellan did, though.”

I push myself up. “Why would he go?”

“I think he’s going to work in tandem with Cora on Becca’s
recovery.”

I’d told Jonah the gist of Will and Becca’s history (with
Will’s permission, of course) so he’d be up to speed on what I was asking Cora
to do. “Huh.” I sneak a few pieces of uncooked pasta to munch on. It’s probably
best I don’t spin this conversation back toward Kellan, because then I’ll
probably cry and ruin the evening. So I decide to talk about yet another person
that leaves me emotional. “My mom called me again today.”

He reaches over and tucks stray hairs behind my ear. I love
how his fingers afterward continue to slide gently downward as they trace the
curve of my neck. “When was this?”

“When I was out to lunch with Caleb.” I break a piece of
spaghetti in half. “She wanted to know if we could have lunch soon. Or coffee,
if lunch was too much for me.”

“How do you feel about that?”

I like that he asks me this even though he already knows how
I feel, as if he knows I need to practice letting all this stuff out rather
than bottling it like before. “I’m conflicted. Hopeful. Nervous. Wary. I keep
waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or, maybe since they’ve already dropped, my
mother to simply chuck them off a balcony.”

He smiles wryly. “If it’s any consolation, I’ve felt her
remorse over the relationship you two have.”

Remorse I share, for as much as I wanted a relationship with
her, I never really pushed for one, either.

I sneak another piece of dried spaghetti. “Callie likes
Will, you know.”

He chuckles as he checks on the bread in the oven. “I
thought we were talking about your mom.”

“We’re talking about Will and Callie now. Kellan told me
before that Will’s attracted to Cal, too. Is this true?”

“Have you asked him about it?”

“Gods, yes. He told me to mind my own business.”

Jonah chuckles again before leaning over to kiss me. “Yes.
He’s attracted to her. That said, he wouldn’t act upon it until whatever it is
he has with Becca is resolved. He feels really conflicted about all of this.
Guilty, I guess.”

It’s as I figured. Now that Jonah’s brought up the
importance of resolutions, that leads me to . . . “I’ve been thinking.”

“Uh oh.” He looks up from dumping cooked pasta into a
colander in the sink. “I hope you’re not planning on matchmaking. I can tell
you right now that both Will and Callie are the sort to like to figure this
stuff out on their own.”

My lips curve upwards; I can’t stop sighing over how
adorable he is when he does mundane things like cooking. Maybe adorable isn’t
the right word; maybe gorgeous is, in an unaffected, obvious way. He’s wearing
an old, thin red t-shirt and well-loved jeans that hug his lean runner’s
muscles in all the right places, but the effect the sight of him on me is the
same as if he’d been standing before me in a pristine tuxedo.

Or in nothing at all.

“You were saying? Or rather, thinking?”

I force my eyes back up to his face. He’s amused, no doubt
by the equal parts of nervousness and desire raging around my body. “Oh. Right.
I was thinking—”

Wait. Can I do this? Just ask? Just . . . say it? Let him
know what’s been on my mind for days now?

We’ve travelled this road before, were engaged for over a
year, only for me to cry off not once, but twice. Okay, to be fair, he’d
postponed once himself. Those postponements, upon reflection, had been for the
best. The state of mind I’d been in, the confusion and despair . . . despite
our Connection, we would’ve been doomed to unhappiness.

Things are different now. I’m sure now. Even though I love
his brother, and that’ll never change—
I’m sure
.

So I take a deep breath and count to ten to give myself
enough time to change my mind. But I don’t. If anything, each second makes me
want this all the more. “Will you marry me?”

It’s clearly not what he was expecting, because he goes very
still, steam coming up from the hot noodles in the colander in his hands. For
the tiniest moment, I wonder if I’ve just made yet another colossal mistake
when it comes to us as a couple—we’re in a good place, and I don’t want to do
anything to threaten that between us, but on the other hand, I can’t very well
pretend that this isn’t what I want. So, no. No matter what, this isn’t a
mistake. This is my truth, and I’ve got to put it out there whether or not it
goes south for me.

Since he’s not speaking, I continue, “I know this may seem
sudden, since we’ve only technically been back together a really short time,
but I’ve learned recently that life is too short to be without the person you
love. Even a life that spans two centuries, if we’re lucky.” I take the
colander away from him and set it to the side. He takes a dish towel I pass
over, eyes on me the entire time, like he’s trying to figure out if I’m serious
or not, despite what his craft must be telling him.

He’s still not saying anything. So I add what’s been
percolating around my head since the moment I gave him both my body and soul.
“I want to live with you. I miss that so much. I want to wake up to your face,
go to sleep with it being the last thing I see. Fight with you over which
television show or movie to watch. Eat dinner together when we’re both at home.
Share our successes and defeats. Encourage each other to chase the dreams we
want. Know that we are free to be who we are and that the other person accepts
us as is. Spend our holidays together, and share our families so they becomes
ours,
not just yours or mine.” I reach out and claim his hands so I can lace my
fingers through his. “I want our last names to be the same. I want us, when
we’re ready, to add to our family, and for that baby to know that he or she is
so incredibly loved by both parents. I want us to grow old together, so that
when we’re nearing the end of our existences, we can look back and think, ‘Wow,
we were the luckiest and strongest because we had each other.’” I take a
measured, deep breath. “I actually do wish I had the power to break our
Connection so I could show you that, even without it and Fate and everything
else out there, I would still choose you, Jonah. You’re who I want. You’re who
I need.”

He’s still not saying anything with his mouth, but it’s
okay, his eyes are doing all the talking I need to hear. They’re filled with
awe—but more importantly, they’re filled with love.

I take one of his hands and press it against my heart. The
muscle in my chest isn’t racing for once. It’s slow and steady. It’s sure. “I
love you, Jonah Whitecomb. More than you can ever imagine. Will you marry me?”

He steps into me, so that our feet overlap one another and
our chests press together. Both hands cup my face and he stares down at me with
those beautiful, beautiful eyes that I’ve lost myself in too many times to
count over my lifetime. My heart finally kick starts, because sometimes, even
though a girl can be one hundred percent positive about what she wants, when a
boy you love looks at you the way mine is looking at me, you have no control
over your body at all.

I’ve known him for sixteen years, and it occurs to me that I
fall in love with him a bit more every single day.

One of his thumbs slowly traces my lower lip. His head dips
so that not only do I feel his thumb on my mouth, but his breath, too. I love
him, I love him, and—

“Yes.”

I can’t help the blissful smile that overtakes my face. And
then my mouth meets his, claiming sweet victory.

Dinner is totally not going to
happen. Both of our shirts are somewhere in the kitchen. My skirt is in the
hallway, I think. His shorts are in the doorway to his bedroom. I’m on his bed,
my knees digging into the soft sheets as I rise up to meet him. My heart’s
thumping a staccato that the entirety of Annar must hear, and I’m lightheaded
and yet more grounded than I have felt in years.

His knees brush against the end of the bed. “That thing you
do,” he murmurs, hands falling soft against the comforter. “Where you block
your feelings from me—”

“Never again,” I say quietly, the vow filling the space
between us.

He smiles, the dimple gentle yet lips mischievous. “I wasn’t
going to ask you to hide yourself from me tonight. Because,” one knee, then two
bring him up onto the bed, “I want to know exactly how you feel when I make
love to you.”

Ohh, things in me go molten pretty damn fast. “Yeah?”

“Because when I get to feel what you’re feeling when I’m in
you,” he continues, and heavens above is this man sexy, “it’s the most fucking
amazing sensation in the entire universe.”

Oh, sweet heavens above, he just set my entire body on fire,
and he did it with just words. My butt drops to hit my heels, my palms go flat
against the bunched up sheets below me just to prop me up, because I’m pretty
sure my muscles just turned to jelly.

“You—you were saying?” My words come out as tiny gasps.

I love how his lips curve up on one side as he slowly crawls
towards me. “Right. I was asking if you think it’s possible to shield me.”

It’s rapidly become more difficult to breathe. My hands
slide backwards, my spine arching as it instinctively angles towards him. He’s
moving too slowly, and I need him
now
. “You mean, like a condom?”

He chuckles quietly. “That, too, although I come prepared
this time.” He reaches over to the nightstand and produces a small, silver
square. “I meant an actual shield, like the one you used to block your emotions
from me last year. Because, this is about you. And me. And us.” His eyes, so
vivid blue despite the dim light from the lamp next to his bed, darken with
something I desperately want to hold onto forever. “And I don’t want to have to
worry about holding myself back. I hate that I didn’t think about doing it
before, but . . .” His grin is rueful. “It’s kind of hard to think clearly when
the girl you love more than anything else in the worlds is touching you.”

He’s so close that I can feel the heat radiating off his
body. Smell the mint on his breath, the spiciness leftover from his body wash.
And it makes me hot, hotter than I’ve ever been before in my entire life. I
want to melt right into him until we’re one.

I’m hoarse when I say, “I’ve already been doing it.”

There’s relief in his beautiful eyes, and a whole lot of
desire that sends a sharp spike of longing through me.

I bite my lip, trying desperately not to moan, as my butt
hits the bed and I lean back on my forearms. His body lifts over mine, his
strong arms finding ground on either side of me. I grab his shirt and tug him
closer. I want this. I want him. I want us. I want all of this more than I’ve
wanted anything else in my life. I try to bring our mouths together, but he
holds back, our lips barely brushing, as his forehead comes to lie against
mine.

My heart attempts to escape out of my chest.

His breath is heavy against my lips, and I ache, just
ache
everywhere. I wrap the shield around us like a hug, its strength fortified by
the love I feel for him consuming every last atom that makes me me.

He licks his lips slowly, the edge of his tongue just barely
grazing my mouth. All that jelly in my arms now liquefies. They tremble so hard
I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep myself propped up.

I mimic his movement, and he shudders in response. There’s a
heartbeat between us before his mouth finally meets mine. From that moment on,
everything is magnified between us, every touch, every kiss, every motion of
brushing, sliding, grazing, worshiping skin against skin. Thousands of tiny
nerves flare to life all over my body so that I am all feeling, no . . . no
thinking. Worrying. Right now, this here, with this man . . . this is
everything.