A Matter of Heart (Fate, #2)

I take a deep breath and imagine I’m like him. That I can compose myself and show what I want, that people will see only what I let them see. I turn and give them a tired smile. “No, thanks. I’m really dragging all of a sudden. I think I’ll take a nap instead, if you don’t mind.”


But he knows me apparently better than I know him, because he’s out of his seat and over by me before I can protest. His eyes track down to his cell phone, still in my hand, and then back to my face. Of course he knows what just happened. Of course he knows exactly how I’m feeling about it all. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks me quietly, which I appreciate considering I hate the thought of showing weakness in front of Callie.

I shake my head, yet . . . the words pour out anyway. Like I have no control after all. “She’s in South America. On assignment.”

He sits down next to me and takes my hand. Callie excuses herself, saying she wants to go find Kate for an update on Kellan. After she leaves, he says, “I know.”

I say what’s nearly crushing my insides. “She didn’t come back to see me.”

Gently—“I know.”

“My dad . . .” I can’t even finish. It hurts too much. Stupid hope. How I hate it at times.

Jonah kisses me and then wraps his arms around my trembling shoulders. He says for the third time, this time tinted with sadness, “I know.”

He is so lucky, I can’t help but think.

Envy is such an ugly emotion to possess, especially when it’s felt toward a person you truly only want the best for.

Shortly before dinner, a text comes through on Jonah’s phone. Thunderclouds erupt around him as he stares down at the message. “I need to step into the other room to make a call,” he tells me. His eyes briefly flick over toward where Callie is sitting, next to Kellan, before settling back on me. “Will you be okay?”

“Seriously, Jonah?” Exasperation flashes in her eyes. “What do you think’s gonna happen when you leave? That I’ll lead her to my gingerbread house in the forest and bake her into a pie?” She pretends to hold a plate and fork. “Mmm . . . Creators are tasty. Much better than temperamental Emotionals, that’s for sure.”

I actually have to choke back a snort of laughter. Jonah, though, finds no humor in this and tells her so.

“You’re so uptight nowadays,” Callie shoots at him. “I swear, the Council has sucked all the fun out of you.”

Has it? I wonder. But no—Jonah’s always been serious. Responsible beyond his years.

“Should I be more like Kellan?” he throws back. “All fun, all the time?”

She rolls her eyes, but they soften as she glances down at Kellan’s sleeping face. “You know that’s not what I meant. It’s just . . . you two are such extremes nowadays. Total opposites. It’s sad to see.” Her eyes meet mine for the briefest of seconds—defiance, a touch of guilt, and a smidge of pity all reflecting out of them—before her focus returns to Jonah. “Just go,” she says when he doesn’t say anything. “I’ll make sure that neither of them gets even a paper cut.”

“I’m trusting you . . .” he finally says; while the ending is open, it’s patently clear what words he wanted to say.

Callie’s eyes widen and then narrow sharply in anger. “I’m sorry that one incredibly stupid mistake on my behalf seems to have eradicated an entire lifetime’s worth of trust between us, Jonah.”

Whoa. WHOA. This is a slippery slope I do not want any of us to maneuver tonight. “We’ll be fine,” I cut in, jumping off the window seat to come over to where Jonah is standing. I slip my arm around his waist and squeeze.

What I really want to say to him is: It took two to tango, buddy. She’s not the only one to blame for that broken trust, is she? But that would be utterly hypocritical of me, considering I have no place to talk, having just locked lips with Kellan recently myself.

Callie is staring at me in surprise, like she’s shocked I came to her defense. Jonah’s phone beeps again, and I urge him to go answer it. He’s reluctant, but he finally goes.

Silence, thick and uncomfortable, settles around us. She’s the first to wade through by thanking me for defusing the bomb she nearly set off. There’s a hint of wonder to her husky voice.

I scratch at my scalp and look anywhere but right at her. “It wasn’t . . .” I trail off, unsure of what to really say. I end up shrugging.

She’s still staring at me, though. “I know,” she says. “About you and Kellan.”

I cough; my head itches viciously. Caleb, utterly amused, murmurs, This is better than watching Faerie daytime TV.

“About your Connection,” she clarifies, even though it wasn’t necessary. “He told me. How you’ve got Connections to both of them, but picked Jonah.”

The coughing transitions to choking. Oh, good lords. Maybe sending Jonah out of the room was a bad idea after all. Because, obviously, Creators are tasty to snack on!

She leaps out of her seat to pound on my back. Once I stop coughing, she gets me a cup of water. “You better not choke. You heard the guy. My ass is on the line here.”

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