A Matter of Heart (Fate, #2)

My silence indicates I have nothing to tell, which is the biggest lie of all, because I fear I’m going to burst all too soon from everything that needs to be said.

Jonah decides we need to go out to dinner. He says he’s found a restaurant that he guarantees I’ll fall in love with. “It’s perfect,” he tells me as we head down our elevator. “It’s got lots and lots of chocolate desserts.”

Tell him about the ulcer, Caleb urges.

But I don’t. And I don’t have the heart to tell him that I don’t feel like eating anything anymore, chocolate or no.

We are a few blocks away from the restaurant, holding hands, when somebody yells, “You asshole!”

We both stop and turn around to find Sophie Greenfield darting across the street; if looks could kill, we’d be dead, that’s for sure. But when she’s just a few feet away, the anger on her face melts into embarrassment. “I thought you were your brother, Jonah. I am so sorry.” She manages to appear heartbreakingly gorgeous in her effort to ooze charming contrition. “Hi Chloe. It’s nice to see you again.”

Even still, her eyes are rimmed in red; it’s clear she’s been crying. All of her pale beauty isn’t marred by this, though. It just makes her look more delicate, more sympathetic.

I inch closer to Jonah, who loops an arm around my shoulders. Yet another person I’ve damaged. I basically forced Kellan to dump her. And what for? So he could be miserable and alone while I’m here with Jonah?

Breathe, Chloe. Breathe.

Jonah tells her it’s okay, no harm, no foul, but when he makes a move to lead me away, she stops us. “It’s just . . .” A pair of tears slide down her face. “I’m not taking the breakup with your brother well, I’m afraid.”

I study my shoes. Jonah tenses, clearly uncomfortable, but his voice is even when he tells her, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I . . . I love him.” Her voice is tremulous, like a wounded angel’s. “He won’t even talk to me right now.”

Jonah is silent. I count the cracks in the sidewalk.

“We were . . . it was real.” she says to us. “And now . . .” She stifles a sob. “How can a heart just change course like that?”

“Sophie, I am truly sorry to hear that you’re having a tough time,” Jonah says gently, “but I really don’t think we’re the best people for you to be talking to this about.”

If she heard him, she shows no sign of it. “Did you know he broke up with me via text?” She emits a gurgly laugh. I think she pulls out a phone, because I hear some beeps. “Who does that?”

Jonah mutters something under his breath. Louder, he says, “Sophie, I really think—”

“Can you talk to him for me?” She takes a step closer to us. My heart thumps jackrabbit fast. “Let him know how much I love him?”

Jonah doesn’t answer. Me, I’m still just trying to breathe.

“When I met him, I saw our whole future together.” She wrings her hands. “Wedding. Baby. Gray hair. The whole package. He’s the one.”

Searing anger consumes me before I can block it from Jonah. And I know he feels it, because his arm turns to stone around me.

“I won’t let him go,” she continues. “I can’t. Tell him I’ll fight for him. He’s worth it.”

Then she walks away, and Jonah’s arm drops like I’m on fire. Panic replaces the anger, quick as a flash.

I start shaking and then cry. I’ve finally, completely lost the control I’ve been so desperate to maintain these past few months. I don’t even have the luxury of being embarrassed about being caught like this on a busy, crowded sidewalk because my stomach is flaring and cramping and I feel like there are more cracks in my poorly constructed fa?ade than I can count down below my feet.

I’m drowning. I can’t even keep my head above the waterline anymore. I’m flat out drowning.

“Forget the restaurant.” Jonah grabs my face, makes it so I have to look up at him. “Forget Sophie. Forget all of this. We’re going to go away, okay? Just you and me. Tonight.”

All I can do is nod. We don’t even go back to the apartments to pack bags—he tells me he’ll get everything taken care of later. He just wants to get me out of Annar as fast as possible.

I don’t question him when we get to the Transit Station. I don’t bother to look which doorway he leads me through. I know I ought to be looking around me, seeing which gorgeous location he’s brought me to, but I don’t. I feel so hollow, so lost.

When he gently pushes me down into a bed, I don’t even remember coming in through a door. “Sleep, baby,” he says quietly in my ear, and I do, because he makes me.

There are voices somewhere nearby, maybe in another room, and I know them well, even as drowsy and disoriented as I feel, because they’re speaking in half sentences.

“Thanks for these,” Jonah says.

Silence. And then, “She’s taking pills? From some non quack in New York, no less. Let me guess—Cal showed her where to find this shit. How long have you known?”

More silence.

“Look, I just want to go and talk—”

“No.” Jonah is quiet but firm.

“You don’t get to—”

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