A Matter of Heart (Fate, #2)

Jonah does this half sigh, half laugh. “I’ll try for Zthane, but Paavo has his fans. Not that I can understand why, since he’s basically Jens Belladonna Lite. One would think they’d want to move away from rewarding Belladonna’s henchman after everything that’s gone down.”


Kellan mimics the half sigh, half laugh. They’ve never appeared to me so identical as they do at this moment. “The Guard wants Zthane, FYI.”

Jonah grins. “I’ll do my best. If he doesn’t get lead, he’ll be number two. Don’t worry, though. Sooner or later, Zthane will get the job. Things tend to go my way when I want them to.”

The humor slips right off of Kellan’s face. “They usually do, J.”

What I’d already thought was an uncomfortable situation just got pushed to the brink of unbearable. Jonah looks so sad when he tells me, “I’ll be back in about four hours.”

This meeting must be much more serious than I thought. “Maybe I ought to come.”

Kellan steps away, fiddling with his phone. Jonah murmurs, “I promise I’ll tell you everything that happens tonight when I get home. Just . . . try to relax today. It’s your first day home from the hospital. Nobody expects you to run a marathon.” His fingers trail down my cheek. “Get my brother to take you out to lunch. Go and do something fun together.”

Before I can protest, he kisses me goodbye, whispering sweet things in my ear. When he leaves, part of me goes with him, as it always does. And then I’m left standing at the door, wondering how exactly to handle the person in my living room.

I’m nervous, which is ridiculous. Because it’s Kellan, and I know him. Even after eight months of no contact, there isn’t anyone who knows me better, save Jonah.

I find him in front of one of my bookcases, no longer on his phone and looking at the titles. He touches the spine of my favorite book, read so many times that the creases are thick and mountainous along the spine. “You love Siddhartha. You and my brother.”

It’s a relief to not have to talk about us at the moment. Books are so much safer. “Not you?” I wonder, because oddly enough, in the two years I’ve known him, I’ve never asked this.

He moves his hand away from the book. “I’ve never read it,” he tells me, and I think back to the first book I saw him read. On the Road.

I’ve picked up that book probably a hundred times since that day, wanting to read it and understand its allure for Kellan, but there’s always something in me that puts it back down. Because mysteries, people’s ticks and quirks, are sometimes best left marveled at rather than deciphered.

“You can sit down, you know,” I offer hesitantly, as he’s still standing.

“I know. I guess I’m just getting a feel for this place.”

I drop onto the couch, legs curled under me. “Is it what you expected?”

“I didn’t really have any expectations.” He turns from the books, toward me. “I didn’t allow myself to think about this sort of stuff.”

Ouch. “Have you ever been to Jonah’s apartment?”

He smiles faintly. “Yeah.”

I didn’t know that.

I clear my throat. “Do you want a tour? It’s not very big. We just sort of assumed that we would get . . .” I hesitate, afraid to finish the sentence. But he does so for me. “You’ll buy a bigger one once you two get married.”

“Yeah.” I try not to squirm in my seat. It feels so wrong to talk about my upcoming marriage with Jonah. Like I’m cheating.

“That makes sense,” he says, seemingly unconcerned with my discomfort. “But no, I don’t need a tour.”

I pick at the embroidery at the hem of my skirt. “What about you? Is your place big?”

“I’m taking it yours is about the same size as J’s?” I nod, and he continues, “Then yes. Mine is bigger.”

It bothers me, this lack of knowledge about him. “Is it nice?”

He finally sits down, in the chair opposite the couch. “I guess.” And then, like he’s in a confessional, “Callie did all the decorating. I really didn’t care what it looked like, because it’s really just a place to sleep. And it made her happy, so I let her.”

Huh. “Did she pick out the place?”

He stares at his hands in his lap. “Yeah, I let her do that, too.”

Inappropriately disturbed that Callie’s given so much freedom with Kellan’s life when I have to fight for every scrap I can get, I snipe, “How do all your dates like the fact that there is some girl who pretty much controls how your apartment looks and how you dress?”

Slapping my hand over my mouth does not make the words disappear. They’re out there for him to hear, and I want to die in shame. Because I’m learning to like Callie. And I don’t want to go down this road with him, where I’m a bitch about things I have no right to be bitchy about.

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