“Are there any other witnesses?”
Jonah’s hand slides off of my back. Terror fills me. The words are hard to get out. “All non-Magical.”
“You were there the entire time?” Paavo asks.
“Yes.”
“Whereabouts?”
“Does it matter?”
“I need it on record,” Paavo says, studying me curiously.
I scratch at my head. Oh gods. Guilty scalp. Guilty, guilty scalp. “We, uh, were on a boat. Um, yacht. There—I’m sure there are records somewhere. You’ll have to ask him, I mean, Kellan. He . . . uh, he’s better with stuff like that. Records, I mean.”
Paavo is studying both Jonah and me now. And I’m no Emotional, but I can feel the anger, hurt and confusion radiating out of Jonah as strongly as if they were coming from me. “That’s interesting,” Paavo murmurs. “Very interesting.”
Asshole.
“What plane did Belladonna disappear from?” Jonah snaps, focusing his anger for me now on Paavo.
“Elvin,” Paavo admits. “I need to check these facts with Kellan and then get back to you on my decision.”
“What decision?” Jonah growls.
“Whether or not to arrest Councilwoman Lilywhite, of course.”
Jonah is all ice. “She just told you where she was. Unless you’re going to implicate my brother in Belladonna’s disappearance, then I suggest you drop this matter. Get the hell out of my apartment.”
Paavo leaves, no doubt still frightened his job is on the line.
Once the door is shut, Jonah turns around and faces me. I’m having a hard time standing. He looks so hurt. I’ve hurt him so much right now.
I hate myself more than I ever have before.
“Hawaii.”
I can barely nod yes.
“Yacht,” he adds.
Another tiny nod. I pray he doesn’t push this line of questioning any further, because . . . because . . .
Because everything that comes next in such questioning is too difficult to even consider.
In the end, he does exactly as I wish, merely saying, “I’m going for a run,” and leaving without even changing his clothes.
The pain and guilt crushing me is worse than I’ve ever felt. It’s okay, though, because it’s my own damn fault I’m feeling it anyway.
Saying Jonah is in a bad mood would be lie, because he’s in a horrible mood. No—worse than horrible. Atrocious. Whatever the proper word for something ten million times worse than horrible is, that’s the kind of mood Jonah’s in.
He doesn’t yell, doesn’t snap or even pick a fight, which I was certain he’d do after coming back from running. No, he does something infinitely worse. He simply stops talking to me for two straight days. It isn’t like he ignores me or removes himself from my presence, he just stops speaking. The best I get in response to anything I ask is a noncommittal grunt.
This, of course, has left me a basket case of guilt, nerves and fears. The gods know how his mind is beginning to put the pieces together.
I’m back to blocking the majority of my feelings from him. I won’t let him feel the guilt and misery, because I know Jonah. The moment he thinks I’m hurt, he’ll backtrack and focus on me instead of him. I may dislike and fear what he’s doing right now, but in a way, I’m glad he’s finally taking ownership of his feelings.
There’s been no contact between Jonah and Kellan for almost three weeks now. Kellan told me this, mostly through email and text messages. He’s also admitted that the anger his brother has towards him has intensified to the point that he’s positive, if they were in the same room, Jonah would literally punch him in the face.
I don’t know what to do anymore.
I can only blame myself. I knew the risk going out on that boat with Kellan. I let things get too far between us too often this last year. I was the one who chose not to tell Jonah the truth of what I’d done, and with each passing day I stayed silent, my actions only got worse.
I’ve dug this hole.
Me, me, me. Blame, blame, blame. Guilt, guilt, guilt.
The ulcer is back. Cora came over to borrow a book a couple of hours ago and told me that it waved a red flag at her the moment she stepped into my apartment. Luckily Jonah was in his apartment at the time, so he didn’t have to hear her scream at me for not taking better care of myself.
She attempted to fix it, but cautioned that it felt like a cancerous growth. “I can’t get rid of it entirely,” she’d fretted. “I’ve never felt one like this before. You need to go see Kate Blackthorn. You need a Shaman on the Council.”