A small moan escapes my lips. If he doesn’t stop soon, I might very well attack him in full view of everyone else on the beach.
“I like it when you’re like this,” he murmurs against my ear, breath hotter than the sun bearing down on it. “When you sound like this.”
It’s getting hard to focus. My hands grip his hips, my fingers skim the skin right under the waistband of his low riding trunks. “Sound like what?”
He’s quiet. “Like you’re mine. Only mine.”
An hour later, my cell phone rings. Jonah’s finally calling me. I force my breath to steady, will my voice to not crack when I answer.
His exhaustion is painfully evident even in his greeting. I ache for him, want to make it better, which is a joke since everything I’ve done this last week will only serve to wound, not heal. Since I can’t hug him, hold him, kiss him, I do what I can—I ask about his mission. How he’s dealing with it. Reassure him that things are okay, that he’s done the right thing in the long run. Act like nothing is wrong, that nothing’s changed, even though things aren’t even close to okay, at least for me. Any stress I’d felt in the past few months about my conflicting feelings toward the Whitecomb brothers has elevated into full-blown, Def-Con One crisis mode.
A sickening pain in my stomach tells me this is only the beginning.
“At least it’s almost over with,” Jonah is saying. “If all goes as planned, I’ll be on the beach with you tomorrow afternoon.”
I’m glad, fiercely so, which only serves to confuse me further. I want to see Jonah. The thought of being with him again has multitudes of butterflies in my stomach clamoring for release.
Caleb speaks for the first time this week. Tell him the truth. He deserves to hear it from you.
What if I lose him?
That’s a risk you chose the moment you and Kellan kissed back in Annar.
I stare out at Kellan. He’s in a barrel, moving so smoothly that he makes surfing look easy. Telling Jonah means purposely choosing to hurt both of them.
You’re being selfish, Caleb accuses.
But the thing is, as much as I am, I’m also not. I’m hurting, too. I’m brokenhearted in this moment. I love these two men more than I thought anybody could ever love another being. And if me agonizing over these things in silence can prevent either of them from getting hurt any more than they’ve already been, especially by me, I’m willing to suffer any and all consequences to do so.
“Chloe?”
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly. I lie back down on the blanket and stare into the sunny blue sky. I can’t watch Kellan and talk to Jonah at the same time. “The connection is faulty.”
Which is truly ironic, considering.
“I’ve been worried about you. How are you dealing with everything?”
Lousy, is what I want to say. I’m self-destructing. “This week has been a good escape,” I tell him. Which isn’t a lie. It just has nothing to do with my parents like it ought to.
A pregnant pause ripe with static fills our ears. “You’ve . . . you guys are getting along? Having a good time? Was this the right call, having him take you somewhere as a distraction?”
He’s trying so hard to trust me, I realize. To prove he’s willing to sit back and suffer so I can have a relationship with Kellan. And yet, it’s eating him up worse than any blood-sucking bug in Africa. The guilt in me is acidic now. I have never hated myself more than in this moment.
No, I want to tell him. I wish I’d never gotten out of bed that morning, never stumbled across Kellan and Sophie. I could be blissfully depressed back in my apartment, waiting for you to come home.
That’s how it should be. But it isn’t. Because I’m a coward who can’t seem to learn from her mistakes.
“What time do you think you’ll be here tomorrow?” The sky above me is white, it’s so bright. I close my eyes and watch red with black dots bloom in the shapes of clouds.
He doesn’t answer this, though. “There’s something I’ve got to get off my chest before I come.” My heart pounds as he sighs. DOES HE KNOW? “I’ve hated knowing you’ve been on vacation with my brother all week. Without me. I know I promised I wasn’t going to accuse you of anything, and I’m not—I won’t—but . . .” Another sigh. “It’s hard, Chloe. I’m really, really trying here. I want you to know that.”
This is the point where I ought to be sobbing and pleading for forgiveness. And yet, I don’t. More now so than ever, I stand to risk losing too much if I do.
“I’m sorry I just dumped that on you. I’m an asshole for doing so. It’s just . . . sometimes it’s too hard to hold it all in, you know?”
Oh, do I ever. And yet, I’m becoming frighteningly adept at it.
I end our call by telling him how much I love him. How I always will. At least that isn’t a lie.
“Jonah will be here tomorrow afternoon.”
Kellan doesn’t miss a beat. “I know.”
I chew on my lip until the tang of blood coats my tongue. “Did you two talk today?”