A Matter of Heart (Fate, #2)

I stomp closer. “Why are you acting like this?”


His eyes finally find mine. And if he’s truly acting, he’s worthy of golden awards, because damn if I don’t see anything other than boredom and disdain in those orbs of blue. “Acting like what?”

“Like you . . . I don’t know. Don’t care or something!”

He looks me up and down, and had anyone else done that with the same look of carefully cultivated derision, I just might’ve slapped them. “Whatever.”

I struggle to find anything that will sting. “Jonah would’ve gotten us out of here by now. He wouldn’t be sitting on his ass, picking at his nails. He would have done something by now.”

Kellan looks up at me, eyebrows raised. Daring me to continue.

I throw out my coup de gr?ce. “I wish it was him here.”

He surges to his feet. “That makes two of us.” When he’s not two feet away, he snaps, “Jonah puts up with your shit way too often. Grow up, Chloe.”

I bristle. “Yeah, well, to put up with my shit, he actually has to be around me. Which isn’t something you are mature enough to do.”

Now he laughs. “Is that the problem? I’m not being mature enough for you?”

“Let’s see.” I pretend to consider this. “No.”

I’m scrutinized before he lets out another laugh. “Wow. You actually believe that.”

I cross my arms and lift an eyebrow of my own. Despite Caleb’s very vocal censure, I let my body and soul fill with all of the toxic sensations of just how much Kellan’s let me down this last year.

It hits home, just like I knew it would. Kellan’s eyes narrow; his lean frame tightens with barely controlled anger. “You think I’m an asshat? How about this: you’re a bitch.”

This might’ve once made me cry, but I’m reveling in the fact he’s losing his perfect control. “That’s probably true.”

A step brings him so close his hot breath hits my cheek. “It’s always all about you, isn’t it? What Chloe wants. What Chloe needs. You never stop to think about what other people want or need, do you?”

I lob another of his words at him. “Whatever.”

He surprises me by immediately cutting to the heart of the matter. “Have you ever stopped to think why I keep my distance?”

All the time, I think, before my self-righteous anger slaps back the rising guilt.

My neck cranes to look up at him. He’s trembling, he’s so angry. “Or stop to consider that Jonah might be listening to all of this insane bullshit you’re spewing right now?”

Okay. That gives me pause, not to mention alarm.

“That he can see right through your tantrum and know, just as easily as I, why you’re actually doing all of this?”

My heart does a funny stutter. “Is he?”

“Oh, so it’s alright to put the brakes on if Jonah’s listening, but otherwise, it’s okay to torture me, huh?”

I don’t need Caleb to tell me to retreat. I’ve crossed too many lines here, and I’m well aware of it. I physically take a step back. “Kellan, I—”

“You, what?” He closes the gap I just created. “You’re sorry? I already know you are. You’re upset over me keeping my distance? I already know that, too.”

“You chose to stay away,” I manage to whisper over the screaming outside.

And then he says, “You’re engaged to my brother.”

And my heart breaks.

“I am trying.” There’s no more indifference, no remnants of boredom. He is all wild anger now. “Do you know how hard it’s been for me, what it’s been like to actually act upon what’s best for you and my brother, rather than myself?” I open my mouth, but he cuts me off immediately. “No, of course you don’t. You’re only thinking about yourself, about your hurt feelings. Gods forbid you actually take a moment to consider mine.”

The cave spins around me. I want to reach out and grab something, to steady myself against his attack, but there’s nothing, no one nearby but him.

“I am trying to do the mature thing here.” His words crack just as surely as his carefully constructed fa?ade. “And yet, it’s still not good enough for you. So maybe you ought to just tell me how I ought to act, since I’m clearly doing it wrong.”

I merely stare up at him in delicate wonder. No words surface. Because he’s absolutely right on every account.

An unbearable tension surrounds us, so thick I just know I could touch it if I let my fingers trail through the air in the sliver of space between our bodies. It’s hard to get a proper breath, especially since my heart is hammering so loud that he must hear it over the screaming.

Don’t do it, Caleb whispers.

Kellan’s chest rises and falls rapidly. He’s angry, and hurt, and his heart must be slamming around, too, because I can see it, actually see it thumping beneath his shirt. My hand moves on its own and hovers over that spot, so close I can imagine exactly how the thrum would feel under the pads of my fingers.

Heather Lyons's books