A Matter of Heart (Fate, #2)

WHY DIDN’T I KNOW THIS?

More importantly, Caleb muses, why are you so upset about it?

Irrelevant, I throw back at my Conscience. But no—way relevant. This is stuff people share with one another. What more has Jonah not told me? I force myself to sound calm, even though there’s a loud rush in my ears. “Has Jonah been there?”

As the cuff is back in rotation, I’m going to go out on a limb and say that Kellan is pretty uncomfortable with all of this. “Of course, C. We spent a lot of time there as kids. And, you know—Maine isn’t great for surfing, so we tended to go there to get our fix. It’s basically our home break.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Has he—you guys? Gone there recently?”

There is a defined moment of guilty silence before he admits, “Maybe two months ago. Just for a couple hours, though. Just to surf.”

I cannot count the times that Jonah and I have discussed my desire to travel. That I’ve rhapsodized over dreams of tropical beaches, European cities and antiquities, and African safaris. I comb my memory for any instance he might’ve said something about this—having a house near a tropical beach, but no. There is nothing. Nothing more than, “We’ll have to go there someday together,” and “Let’s plan some trips after the wedding.”

I nearly died recently, and this thought slays me: the one that reminds me that I could’ve died without ever travelling to Hawaii. Or anywhere that wasn’t for work. I stand up, facing Kellan. “Let’s go.”

He stays where he is. “Go where?”

“Hawaii. This house of yours. Now.”

A slow blink proceeds, “I’m sorry?”

Sand. Tropical flowers. Salt water. Ocean breezes. I want these things, and I want them now. “Is there a portal by your house?”

“Yeah, but—”

“You said you’d take me to lunch. Let’s go.”

Now he stands up; a look of intense relief sweeps across his face. “Wanna hit up that hot dog stand you were talking about?”

Poor, deluded man. “Hawaii, Kellan. We’ll eat there.”

“Chloe,” he murmurs, the cuff practically spinning against his wrist, “I highly doubt this is what Jonah wanted when he suggested me taking you out to lunch.”

He’s kidding, right? And, honestly, Jonah’s opinion on the matter is the least of my concerns right now. I mean, if he can keep this from me, what’s me going to lunch in Hawaii? Nothing, that’s what. “What’s the problem with eating in Hawaii? You said there’s a portal near your house. It’ll take us, what? Half an hour at most to get there? How’s that any different than eating downtown?”

His lips press together; he’s mercifully let the cuff go and has now stuffed his hands into his pockets. I cannot let him dissuade me. Hawaii. I’ve always wanted to go there, go anywhere.

“Please, Kellan.” I move closer and look up into his eyes. “Just for a couple of hours. I’ve never been anywhere. You know that. I used to complain to you all the time about that in high school. You said you and Callie went there together. You two are just friends. Why can’t we go?”

He studies me, but I do not back down. Finally, “Okay. But, I won’t keep it from Jonah, no matter how angry you are with him right now.”

I heave a sigh in relief. That was surprisingly easier to do than I thought, convincing him to go and all. “I’m not asking you to hide it. Unlike him.”

My face is searched intently, like I have hidden secrets ready to be discovered within my pores. “Are you trying to pick a fight with J? Because I’m not down with that. Not after we all agreed . . .” He trails off, a hand running through his hair.

But I know what he means. I move closer, not close enough to touch, but enough to highlight the Connection’s pull between us. “I just want to go to Hawaii, Kellan.”

“You know, house or no house, you’re capable of going whenever you like, right?” And it’s funny, as often as I use portals, I’ve never considered using them like this. To just escape. To just go and see things, experience what I’ve never known, even just for an hour. “Please,” is all I have to say, and he gives in. I write Jonah a note, and then I close and lock the door behind us.





Our flip-flops are somewhere behind us, no doubt half-buried in the sand, and our feet are in the water. It isn’t lunchtime here; rather, it’s closer to sunset, so there are a thousand shades of yellow and pink and red spilled across the blues and the greens of the water, and it’s mesmerizing, absolutely overwhelming. The air is warm and heavy, salty, too, and it smells like enchantment personified, like there are flowers growing on top of the water.

“I love it here,” I tell Kellan, and he nods, because he understands.

Heather Lyons's books