I stare at the cell phone he’s offering. “What if he never forgives me?”
“That’s a chance you took the moment you left.” He motions at me with the phone again. “I just want to warn you he’s out on a mission right now on the Elvin plane and might not answer. Normally, I’d advise you to wait until he’s done, especially as this is an extremely . . . difficult assignment, but as I know he’d want to hear this right away, I’m going to give you the go ahead to call.”
Everything in me turns to frail glass as old insecurities and guilt rear their ugly heads. But he’s right. This has been a hard truth to uncover, and I’ve possibly risked everything, but it’s been my own doing. And it’s got to be my doing that makes amends.
I take the phone from him. Then I try to keep down the dinner I’d barely managed to get in my stomach.
Karl stands up and heads over to the door. “I’m going to go check the perimeter. Lee’s supposed to come over and give me a report on Elder activity in the area. I’ll be outside if you need me” And then he’s gone, leaving me alone with his phone.
I can do this, I tell myself. I can press the numbers and say the words: I’m sorry, I love you, I’m coming home. I can do this.
I can’t do this.
And yet . . .
I have to do this.
I close my eyes and press the phone against my forehead. This is excruciating. I abandoned him. I loved him and abandoned him after he found me when I thought I’d lost him forever. He came for me, and I love him, still love him so much, maybe more now than before—and I have to do this. No matter what, I have to make this call.
I let out a long breath and lower the phone. And then I punch his numbers in and wait.
Three rings, and then, “Whitecomb here.”
My words dissipate and fly away. My tongue goes asleep. My brain flat lines. Because, gods, I love his voice. But I do not love hearing what sounds like gunshots in the background. Karl mentioned a difficult mission, but—
“Karl?”
Chloe, I want to say. It’s Chloe.
There’s an exasperated sigh and then a dial tone.
With trembling fingers, I redial the number. Why are there gunshots going off where he is? Two rings this time before he answer with, “Don’t waste my time, Karl. I’m already late to the rendezvous point thanks to Rosemary’s incompetency at reading maps.”
Somebody screams in the background, a blood-curdling shriek that vocalizes pain and terror. My stomach twists until I’m breathless. I search frantically for my voice. And then, barely vocalized, “It’s me.”
Silence.
I clear my throat. Louder now, “Jonah, it’s—it’s Chloe.”
There’s an intake of breath over the line, one loud enough to act like defibrillators on my light speed racing, aching heart. But he still doesn’t say anything.
“I’m . . . Karl’s with me. He, uh, I’m on his phone, and I wanted to call you and let you know . . .” Do not cry, Chloe. He does not need to listen to you have a breakdown, especially if he’s in a warzone. “I’m okay.”
His words are just as broken as mine. “Where are you?”
I clench my eyes shut and lower my head. “Alaska. We’re in . . .” A futile attempt at swallowing the water balloon in my throat is attempted only to fail. “Anchorage.”
What sounds like an explosion goes off at his end, sending me off the couch in alarm. It takes Jonah a good five seconds before he answers. “I . . . Anchorage? Is that near a portal? I’m—fuck. I’m in Kuergal right now. But I can get there in—”