“You sit so far away,” I say, because anything else would inspire the possibility of tears, especially in light of Kellan’s name being voiced. “You and Jonah both.” They sit next to each other, which I find incredibly unfair.
Don’t think of him, Caleb warns. You’ve been so good lately. And it’s a lie, and my Conscience knows it’s a lie, because even though we haven’t spoken in months, I still think about my fiancé’s twin brother too many times to count in a day.
“Blame Fate,” Karl says, and I do. More than he knows.
Technically, Jonah and I live next door to one another, thanks to a “just between guys chat” my father had with my boyfriend shortly before we’d graduated high school. This was astounding for several reasons, but the biggest was that my dad and I have the sort of relationship where the old saying “out of sight, out of mind” is grossly applicable. My mom and I look like best friends next to what my dad and I are like. Anyway, as Jonah later reported back, during this chat, which really was more of a lecture and a list of demands, one of the things my father basically said was that he expected his “little girl” to be treated like a lady. “Cohabitating, unmarried eighteen-year-old Council members, first and second tier, no less, would be unseemly,” he’d informed Jonah, who’d later done a pretty fair approximation of my dad when repeating it. “I speak for your father as well as Abigail—this sort of wanton behavior won’t be tolerated.”
Now, this pissed me off because my father had, at the most, spent two months of time with me over the last year and—while I was at it—how dare he think he could dictate my life once I turned eighteen? Furthermore, I couldn’t recall a single time prior to this conversation in which he referred to me as his little girl. It was all the more ironic since Jonah was actually living under the same roof as me for the last couple of months of school, anyway; granted, my parents were, too, but still. They’d invited my Connection to move in once his twin moved back to Maine and their father started living in Annar full time. So, I called my father out on his hypocrisy and there was a face-melting argument between him, me, and my mother, but in the end, it was Jonah who was the voice of reason.
“I promise you we will maintain separate addresses until we’re married,” he told them, and, incredibly, that was that. Jonah has this effect on people, which I envy. He comes across as so inherently confident and trustworthy, so levelheaded that hardly anyone ever second-guesses him. Even now, with only a month’s worth of sessions under his belt, he is a respected voice in the Council. As for my parents, there was nothing they could say when he and I choose apartments right next to one another because we did exactly as they asked.
Not that I’ve told them about the open doorway I created between our places or anything. And it’s not like they actually come over to visit often, so . . .
A sharp, invisible tug materializes as I ruminate about such things rather than the mind-numbing amount of paperwork for the upcoming atoll mission I’ve been given. There’s only one thing this strong sensation could mean. Jonah’s home.
I leap off the couch and basically tackle him before he can even drop his backpack. One of the nice things about having a Connection who is an Emotional is that I don’t have to tell him how relieved I am to see him, especially after the day I’ve had.
He already knows. And he’s already making it all better.
That’s one of the perks of having a Connection. They’re your soul mate, created by Fate for you and only you. Somebody who’ll always love you, no matter what. They’re your best friend, your closest confidant, and the person who can make everything better. He and I are highly envied by most of our friends because Connections are so rare and coveted, especially ones that originate in dreams.
Yes, I met my boyfriend in my dreams, when we were both four. Yes, I realize that makes me incredibly lucky. There is not a day that goes by in which I do not thank Fate for Jonah Whitecomb.
It doesn’t hurt that he’s incredibly gorgeous: inky black, messy hair and eyes so blue that looking into them is like peering into the sky reflected on a calm ocean. More than that, he’s smart and thoughtful and loyal.
After a lingering welcome home kiss, he leads me back over to my couch. “I talked to Karl and Zthane while I was debriefing at Guard HQ.”
Of course he is already informed of what went down in session today. The Guard gossip like they’re high schoolers. Worse than high schoolers. More like PTA moms.
His fingers pull gently through my long brown hair. It’s heavenly. “How are you feeling about this?”
I weigh my words carefully, even though I know I don’t need to censure myself around him. “It feels too soon. What if I mess it up?” Or kill someone?
“I’ll talk to—”