A Matter of Heart (Fate, #2)

“This is because of Chloe, isn’t it?”


She’s right. Of course she’s right. But rather than outright confirm this, he says, “Please don’t call me again. Don’t show up at my building, expecting my doorman to let you up. Or come to my work. To reiterate: We. Are. Done. That’s it. There’s no more to say. Nothing to argue.”

“Don’t throw us away.” She’s crying.

“But that’s the thing, Sophie,” he says. “There never was an us to throw away in the first place.”

After he hangs us, I don’t know what to say. But he does. “You don’t have to worry about her going after Jonah. There is no way he would ever let you go.” It’s his turn to sound bitter.

How many times can my heart break before the pieces no longer fit together?

When Jonah leans in and kisses me hello, a siren goes off in my head. I can’t put an exact finger on it, but something is definitely off with him. Maybe it’s the way his lips are pressed together, like he’s holding something in. Or the sadness shadowing the blue in his eyes. Or his hand gripping the edge of his t-shirt and twisting, like he’s trying to actively stop flexing his fingers. All of these things serve to up my already sky high guilt levels considerably. I lock my feelings away behind a shield. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

His eyes widen for a split second before he schools his features. How I’ve begun to resent those calm faces of his and his brother’s. “Well, hello to you, too.”

He sits down across from me at the small table I’d gotten us at one of his favorite diners. I haven’t seen him in over a day; he’s been off on a quick mission in Tennessee. But yes, he’s tense. Without his shirt to hold onto, his hand is back to unconsciously flexing against the tabletop. That means he’s stressed. Stressed about what? The mission? Me? Is he stressed about me again? Did Sophie—oh gods, does he know about Sophie? DOES HE KNOW ABOUT ME AND KELLAN?

“Do you know what you’d like to drink?” a waiter asks. I jerk in my chair, sending my menu across the table. Thankfully, there are no water glasses to spill this time.

“Can you give us a minute?” Jonah practically snaps, which is totally unlike him. The waiter leaves, and my heart decides to pump two times faster than normal.

My palms are clammy. Something is—he’s—

“Anything interesting happen today?” He’s not looking at me. He’s staring at the menu below him like his life depends on it. His voice is weird. Strained.

HE KNOWS.

I’m a coward. A big fat coward who still can’t tell him the truth. I think about how Sophie said she’d fight for Kellan. If Jonah thinks I’ll let him go without a fight, he’s got another thing coming. Here I am, planning two wars over two guys, but please, for the love of everything good in all the worlds, let me be wrong. Let this be nothing. I can only whisper, “No.”

He jerks out a nod. My stomach is on fire. I don’t know how I’m going to hold down the little lunch I managed to get in me today.

I watch him swallow. And then do it again. “We need to talk.”

!!!!!!!!!!

“This is—” He yanks a hand through his hair. Blows out a hard breath. Hits an open palm against the table, rattling the silverware and glasses. “We need to talk about the wedding.”

!!!!!!!!!!

“I know we’ve put down deposits on everything, and we’ll be out of a ton of money when we cancel, but—”

CANCEL?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

“It’ll be unavoidable—”

OH. MY. GODS. I can’t breathe. I CAN’T BREATHE.

“But, I think, in the long run, it’ll be the best thing—”

I have to get out of here. NOW. NOW. I can’t breathe.

I’m gone.

As I don’t have my apartment keys, since I left my purse back at the diner with Jonah, I’m not able to go home. I also don’t have my cell phone, making calling anyone who actually had a spare set impossible. It’d be foolish to go home anyway, because that’ll be the first place Jonah’ll look, if he even actually wants to see me again.

My world collapses down around me. The black spots that plagued me well over a year ago when I caught him kissing Callie are back in full force.

Jonah

called

off

the

wedding.

Broke up with me. Even though I’ve been debating postponing the wedding myself until the air could be cleared.

I have to get the hell out of Annar.

Half an hour later, I’m standing outside his house in Kauai, trying desperately to get the spare key down from its hiding place. I’m berating myself for coming here, to his house, even after he rejected me, but I stupidly want to be around something that’s his.

The cramping in my stomach is unbearable. I cave to the nausea and throw up the food I ate earlier. I choose to ignore the blood in my mouth and in the bowl below me.

Chloe, Caleb begs, suddenly present, you need to get to a Shaman.

I can’t, and he knows I won’t.

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