A Matter of Truth (Fate, #3)



The bedsprings creak as Will slides under the covers next to me, shoving Nell to the side. I quickly wipe at my eyes, even though I know there’s no way he can see me in this darkness.

“Dad’s snoring sounds like a buzz saw,” he tells me quietly. “Erik’s fighting him on that front, matching snore for snore. Would it be too much to ask you for a pair of sound-cancelling headphones?”

I let out a gurgly laugh and do exactly as he asks. “Anything for you.”

“Cheers.” He takes the headphones from me and is silent for a long moment. “This is surreal, you know.”

I can’t help but razz him. “What, us in bed together? Should we torture Frieda by sending her a picture of us?”

He lets out an exhaled chuckle. And then, more seriously, “I—Christ. I feel a little lost, Chloe. Like I’m in over my head.”

I fumble in the dark for his hand so I can squeeze it.

“Dad and Erik, they’re—this is nothing to them. This is old hat. The same with you. I felt like a bloody alien today when we were at the hospital. A freak. All this—” He waves around in the dark with his free hand. “I’m a fish out of water. Maybe Mum and Dad had a point after all.”

“You’ve been here for less than a day. I know it’s got to be a lot to take in. I’m overwhelmed being back, too.” I squeeze his hand once more and let go. “But we’ll get through this together.”

The two of us are silent for a long time, listening to the dueling snores of Cameron and Erik through the door, Nell’s deep breathing, and the sounds of life outside the window. In this small bedroom, in this bed, it’s like we’re in an in-between world of our own. My mistakes, his unknown history—all of it is outside those walls.

“I’m scared,” I admit out loud to the both of us.

“You’d be daft not to be.” He lets out a long sigh. “I wish I could promise you that it’d turn out okay tomorrow, but I won’t lie to you like that. But I will promise that Dad and I will be right here with you, no matter what happens. You’re not alone anymore.”





I don’t think I slept for more than ten minutes the night before. It shows, too—as I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror, I marvel at just how dark the bags under my eyes are and just how fried my hair looks. I briefly debate running out and getting a box of hair color to re-dye it back to its natural state, but if I’m honest with myself, I know I’d only be risking making it look worse. It’s best if I just hold tight and find somebody local to fix it for me.

But that leaves me anxious, knowing the first time I see Jonah and Kellan in half a year, they’re going to realize, right off the bat, that I purposely tried to hide myself by altering my looks. My colored contacts are gone, true, but there’s no way to hide the fact my hair is significantly shorter and white-blonde.

I wonder what they’re thinking right now, what they’re feeling. If they’ve slept at all or if they suffered through the night, wondering about all the possibilities of today, too.

I wonder what they’ll say.

If they’ll forgive me.

If I’ll ever forgive myself.




Erik left ten minutes ago, claiming he wants no part of my drama. I totally get it and don’t blame him for taking off. Cameron and Will have offered to stay in the apartment and hang out in the back bedrooms where Nell is contained, just in case I need them. Even still, now that it’s a few minutes before ten a.m., the urge to run out of the door and not look back is tempting because my heart is hammering down on stubborn nails inside my chest. I briefly debate whether or not to construct a shield, but it’s a crutch I can’t fall back on. From here on out, no matter where the chips may fall, I’ve got to be honest not only with myself but with both Jonah and Kellan. It’s only fair.

So not only am I nervous as all hell, I’m also terrified and excited and a handful of other nuanced emotions. Nervous I’ll hurt them again with my truths. Excited because this’ll be the first time I’ve seen either man in over six months. Terrified that they won’t forgive me for what I’ve done. Overwhelmed by all the changes in my life, even though I’ve been the architect behind them.

Will calls me over to the small dining room table and holds out a shot of tequila. Only, it’s retracted when I go to grab it. “One for courage,” he warns. “Just know I refuse to go through any sort of alcohol poisoning shenanigans again.”

As much as I wish I could get drunk right now, it’d be the worst thing I could do. I tug the glass out of his hand. “Don’t worry. I’ve learned that lesson.”

He picks up his shot, warm laughter filling the space between us. “Cheers to new beginnings.” His grin slides into a smirk. “Preferably non-vomit-y ones.”