I have such a pathetic relationship with my own mom. I can’t let Jonah fall prey to that. He’s got somebody who loves him. Wants him. Cares enough about him to adhere to his wishes. I’ve got to make this right.
I’m forced to clear my throat a couple of times, because there’s a big wad of remorse clogging it. “Have her come and visit. She should come here today. As soon as she can. If she wants.”
Jonah merely studies me, head cocked to the side, unmoving from his defensive position next to the chair.
“And . . . and . . .” The phone is going off again. A rabbit beats its feet against my ribcage. “Have Callie . . . have her come, too. She’s friends with Kellan. Aren’t they like best friends? She’s . . . she’s your . . .” I try to swallow that nasty clog, but it just won’t go away. Which sucks, because it’s exacerbating the babbling. “She should be here, too. She should see him. He’d want to see her. Wouldn’t he want her to be here?”
“Chloe—”
The next words burst out of my mouth before I can check them: “My mom hasn’t called, has she?”
“I called her, right after you got here.”
“But she hasn’t come. She hasn’t wanted to come.” Gods, why does it sting? Why do I always hope differently? “Astrid does, though, doesn’t she? And . . . Callie, too. They should come.” Another mangled attempt at removing the clog is attempted. “They’re your family.”
“You’re my family,” he says quietly. He motions towards me, then to his brother. “My family is right here in this room.”
He blurs in front of me. That’s so like him, so sweet and giving. “Still. So are they. Answer the damn phone, Jonah.”
And he does, because he understands that I’ve made up my mind. As he says hello, I get out of the chair and move over toward the windows. It’s awkward enough for him to be talking to his ex-girlfriend. Having just spent the night in the same bed with his brother, my other Connection, only ups the awkward factor by a zillion, which I can’t deal with at the moment. So I put that distance between us, all of us, including Callie.
“He’s fine,” Jonah is telling her. All of a sudden, he looks so tired, so incredibly worn down by all of this. And I hate myself a little, because, while he’s been supporting Kellan and me through this mess, nobody’s been there to support him.
Because of me. Because he, like Kellan, puts my feelings before his own. I need to fix that, stat.
“There isn’t a lot more I can tell you that Kate already hasn’t,” he’s saying, and his eyes are on me, like he’s afraid I’m going to bolt any minute. A deep breath is taken. “You should come down and see him for yourself.”
That rabbit is truly kicking the crap out of my ribcage.
Jonah’s free hand yanks at his messy hair. “Can you ask Astrid to come, too?” And then there are few quick murmurings, a goodbye, and then the call between my Connection and the ex-girlfriend who is still madly in love with him is over.
Callie arrives less than an hour later, appearing in the doorway exactly as I remember her: tall and willowy, with silver-blonde hair that practically glows. She’s not the person you want standing next to you when you’re sick in a hospital, not if you want to keep your ego intact.
With manners that must’ve been beaten into his soul at an early age, Jonah stands up when she enters the room. And they stand there, regarding one another uneasily, like they don’t know what to do with each other. Jonah ends up shoving his hands into his pockets and Callie folds her arms across her enviable chest.
“Hey,” she says to him.
“Hey,” he says in return.
“Hey,” I offer, making sure that I add to the awkwardness.
Her attention shifts over to where I’m resting, on a comfortable window seat I created, overlooking a pretty spectacular view of Annar. She gives me a smile, one sincere enough, and a greeting before telling Jonah, “Mom’s downstairs with Kate.”
He steps away from the chair by his brother’s bed and offers her the seat. She shakes her head, reminding me of a shampoo commercial, even though I’d lay down money she doesn’t mean to do it in an overtly sexy way. It’s just . . . I think that’s just how Callie is. But she does go over to where Kellan is, carefully sidestepping around Jonah, who takes a couple steps back himself. “He looks so . . . vulnerable,” she says quietly.
And it surprises me, because that’s what I’ve been thinking.
“He’d hate you telling anyone that,” Jonah says after a long moment. The two of them laugh, just a little, but enough that I can see them doing this—sharing jokes at the expense of someone else in their little group—more times than not over the years.
That stings, too. That shared history that I was never really part of, except in his head while he slept. She had him in real life. She got to know him in ways I didn’t, I can’t help but think.