I have no idea what to say. Or do. So I stay where I am, at the end of the bed.
Kellan coughs quietly and glances down at his chest. “Oh, I guess the Shamans took my Team Kai shirt when I was admitted. Damn, it could have come in handy. Silent support and all.”
Callie turns toward me, still clutching Kellan’s hands. “You think he kids. We actually do have shirts that say Team Maggie and Team Kai. We had them made . . . when was it?” She glances across the bed at Jonah. “Junior year?” He nods and she grins, focus back on me. “I think even Karl has one.”
I clear my throat. “Wow. That’s . . .?” But I don’t know really how to follow that up. Especially since Kellan meets my eyes for the smallest of moments before looking away. The room goes silent—the laughter and joy from just minutes before gone like they’d never been there in the first place.
Ladies and Gentlemen—may I introduce you to Chloe Lilywhite, Mood Killer.
Jonah suddenly says, “I thought it best—” before his mouth snaps shut in anger. He runs his hands through his hair, sending the already messy strands in even more directions before simultaneously sighing deeply and rolling his eyes. Then, if looks could maim, he pins his brother to the bed with a ferocious stare that Kellan shoots back immediately.
“Well,” Callie says, unbothered in the least. “While you two duke it out, I’m going to go call Mom and let her know you’re awake, Kel.” She grabs her purse from the chair by Kellan’s bed. “Maybe I’ll go track down Aunt Kate while I’m at it. Play nice, boys.” She gives me a wink and then saunters out into the hallway.
Kellan finally speaks to me. “Would you mind going into another room, C, so my brother and I can talk?”
Before I can say anything, Jonah grabs hold of my arm and drags me closer to where he’s standing. “She stays.”
Kellan won’t look at me anymore. He turns his head away from the both of us and stares at windows on the opposite wall. Jonah’s hands clench in and out of fists before he takes a deep breath, eyes briefly closing. “We’re going to talk about this, whether you—” Deep sigh. “I think—” Eye rolling. “Since you mention it, I—”
Have I mentioned how much I detest when they talk to each other like this? It’s maddening, not to mention unfair. Especially since I know they’re talking about me.
His hand flexing like crazy, Jonah turns to me and says, “I know it’s unbearably rude, but Kellan and I are going to discuss a few things right now, and he’s requesting I do so our way so as—” Kellan’s head whips back around, eyes incredulous and murderous at the same time. Jonah lets out a bark of laughter. “Like I said: I’m not going to keep this from her.”
“I should go to the other room,” I offer weakly. The Jell-o is clamoring to come back up.
“No.” Jonah grabs my hand and squeezes it. “This includes you. Just let us—” His attention snaps back to Kellan, and then they’re silent for a good long time.
Fighting about me. Most likely about why I’m here in this room. Or how Jonah knows we kissed in the cave, or . . . or . . . or gods, I don’t even want to think about it. I don’t want them to argue, not now, not so shortly after Kellan has woken up from a coma.
I don’t want to cry, but I’m perilously close to when I beg, “Don’t fight. Please don’t fight. Not because of me. Not again.”
Jonah murmurs my name softly, reaching for me.
I point at him. My finger is shaky. “You were . . . trapped. Attacked by the Elders.” And then I wave the same finger back and forth between Kellan and me. “And we were attacked, too. Stuck in a cave. All of us . . .we were all . . .” My whole body trembles. I just can’t go there. “But we’re alive, and . . . and . . . I don’t want there to be fighting. Please.”
Kellan struggles to sit up in his bed. It’s his turn to say my name, with a question and pity and concern all wrapped through two syllables.
I hatehatehate crying. But I’m crying now.
“Are you sure?” Kellan asks me quietly. He’s upright now, watching me carefully, which is absurd because being an Emotional means not having to rely on my facials cues at all.
But I know what he’s asking. What he means. I tell him, “I’m sure.”
“We can do this,” Jonah says, just as quietly as his brother. His hand reaches for mine; it’s trembling, too.
I squeeze it and whisper, “We can.”
It’s Kellan’s turn. He makes us wait, but in the end, he nods, too. And the three of us stand there, uncomfortable yet relieved, I think.
It’s a mostly good feeling.