He leans forward, arms against his legs, eyes once more closed, and whispers what sounds like, “Fucking kill me now.” I am a statue until he says, “What did she tell you?”
I drag my knees up and hug them to my chest. “Just that you two are dating, and serious, and that she’s . . .” Planning on being my sister. I have to take a breath before saying, “In love with you, that she’s never felt this way before.” And that she thinks she’ll be my sister.
He’s the statue now. “I thought you were going out tonight,” I repeat stupidly, when the silence turns painful.
“No,” he says quietly. “I got called into work earlier.”
I look at the clock—it’s only ten o’clock, the night still young. “You could probably still go to the party and meet up with . . . Sophie.” I try not to choke on her name. “I bet it would be a nice surprise for her.”
“I don’t think so, C,” he says, finally looking back at me. He tugs on an earlobe. “I talked to Jonah a little while ago. He wanted me to tell you that he was sorry he couldn’t call tonight—the situation’s more complicated than he thought it’d be. He’s thinking of you, though.”
I nearly cut off the circulation in my knees, my grip is so tight. “Oh. Thanks.”
“He also told me what went down with your parents.”
I look off to the side and shrug. I don’t know if I can talk about that, even with Kellan.
“I can’t tell what you’re feeling, C. There’s no . . .” He sighs, frustrated. “Why am I not able to tell what you’re feeling?”
I shrug again.
I feel his eyes bore into me, and I know I ought to open myself up to him, but I can’t let him sense all of the nasty jealousy in me. He deals with enough crap from me. He does not need this.
“He’s worried about you.”
“I’m fine,” I insist. Not because it’s true, but because I hope it will be soon.
He chooses his next words carefully. “That stuff Sophie told you . . . well, it’s only her opinion. She doesn’t speak for me.”
Uh, okay?
“Do you want to watch a movie?” He stands up. “Let’s watch a movie. Something that’s not sad.” And then he disappears into his brother’s apartment for several minutes.
When he comes back, he has a comedy, one that’s both his and Jonah’s favorite. We watch the movie in silence, and even though it’s ridiculously funny, neither of us laughs much.
The truth is, I’m barely paying attention to the movie because I’m so focused on the person sitting across from me. He’s lounging in the chair, legs spread out in front of him, but it’s not done in relaxation. Actually, he’s stiff, the knuckles of one hand stretched tight across the chair arm. And he keeps pulling at his hair, so much so I worry he might rip it out.
What did he mean when he said all the things that Sophie had told me were only her opinion?
Don’t go there, Caleb warns.
I know exactly why not, but I still ask the question.
You two have spent months building a legitimate way to be in each other’s lives.
He’s mine, I tell Caleb, and it’s done in a way that’s fierce and bittersweet at the same time. The pain over this is so overwhelming that I nearly drown in it. I don’t understand why Fate did this to me, how it could link me to two people and then make it so I would have all these feelings and wantings but never the ability to do anything about them.
But you two have, Caleb reasons. In high school, and then in the cave.
I finally admit, to him, and to me, it’s simply not enough.
Caleb is shocked into silence.
I spend the next half an hour remembering a lot of things about Kellan. Things that I shouldn’t let myself remember, things that, if we are truly just friends, should no longer bear importance in my heart.
I think about how it felt to have his hand in mine, and how he’d unconsciously rub his thumb up and down my skin in an intimate way. I think about how his hair would tickle me when he’d press down on me, and we’d kiss so much that I’d be delirious. I think about how, when I was falling apart, he risked his own heart to make sure I was okay.
Caleb orders me to stop thinking about these things, but I can’t, because this person, this man who has inspired so much in me since the moment we met, is sitting across from me. An ache pounds through my body, one that I shouldn’t let myself feel.
Jonah trusts you, Caleb throws out. He trusts you two to be around each other. Don’t do this, Chloe.
I abruptly stand up. “Do you want a drink? Water? Tea? Hot chocolate?”
But I do not wait for his answer before fleeing.
I am pouring honey into my tea when Kellan appears in the kitchen. “Why can’t I sense your feelings?”
I freeze momentarily while stirring the honey. “I don’t know—”
“Yes you do,” he says quietly. “Why can’t I feel you?”
I grip the cup in an effort to hide my shaking hands. He takes a step closer to me and I must be suicidal, or flat-out tired, because I murmur, “I learned how to block my emotions from . . .” I’m about to say him, and Jonah, too, but I chicken out. “People.”
“From people.”