I nod, my face pressing into his worn flannel shirt.
“We’ll have our phones with us if you need us to come home,” Cameron tells me. Something slams into the kitchen, forcing a sigh from him. Another quick kiss is laid against my head. “Love you, hen.”
“Love you, too,” I whisper. And then he leaves to no doubt drag his son out of the kitchen.
I turn to find Astrid talking quietly to Jonah across the room. I wonder if she’s saying the same things to him that Cameron just said to me.
“I’m pissed at you,” Callie murmurs. Her shoulder bumps into mine.
“I know,” I tell her.
She sighs heavily. “I’m also glad you’re finally home.”
We hug, and for the first time since coming home, hope seeds within me.
We’re sitting across from one another—Jonah on the couch, me in a chair, and there’s a coffee table between us. In all the years we’ve known each other, I’ve never been more nervous. There’s a lot at stake right now. But as unsettled as I feel, I don’t hide my emotions from him. Right now, he deserves honesty that’s one hundred percent pure, not a diluted, piss-poor version whose purpose is to assuage my guilt rather than my conscience.
I refer to Will as my best friend, but Jonah—he’s been my real best friend for the bulk of my life. We’ve shared more together, both in our dreams and in real life, than most people ever get to experience. So to be as nervous as I am makes me want to laugh, because this man has seen me naked, knows my body as well as his own, and has held my hand through good times and bad. I should not be so nervous—but then, I never should’ve treated him the way I did, either. So anything that may happen today—my heart being ripped out of my chest, for example—will be the result of my own actions.
I clear my throat and spin my index finger in a circle over my shoulder. “That was crazy, right?”
His hand flexes against the couch arm, even though he’s trying to radiate calm and indifference. I wonder if he remembers I’m aware of this tic of his, that I’ll always know when he’s upset or scared or worried. I’m glad that this, at least, is still true. “I’ll admit I didn’t see any of that coming,” he finally says. Hearing his voice, directed at me, is the best present I’ve received in a long time.
How could I have ever done this to him? How was I so stupidly blind to realize what I had?
“Right?” I scratch my scalp, but quit when I realize it’s a tic of mine, too. He already knows I’m nervous and guilty as all hell. There’s no need to shred my scalp while I’m at it. “So.” I swallow hard. I wonder if he can feel just how much I love him, too, if he can accept it through everything else running through my body. “I owe you an explanation.”
He doesn’t say anything. I’m glad he doesn’t—and it makes me wonder if maybe he’s changed these last six months, too. Because for a long time, Jonah tried too often to take care of my needs before seeing to his own. Old Jonah would be reassuring Old Chloe that there’s no need to explain. That he understands, whether or not he really does.
I’m on the edge of my chair, unable to relax. My hands twist in my lap. “More importantly, I owe you an apology. I left last year without a single word to you. That was . . .” I shake my head slowly, refusing to break eye contact with him. Gods, his eyes are gorgeous. “Incredibly selfish of me. Disrespectful. And you didn’t deserve that. I know it seems like all I’ve ever done in the last few years is apologize to you, but Jonah, I am truly sorry for leaving like that.”
His right hand stops flexing long enough to rake through his hair. He blows out a hard breath. It’s then I notice he’s trembling—very faintly, but it’s there all the same.
For the first time in a long time, I wish I was an Emotional, so I could know what he’s feeling, too.
“I was out shopping with Callie, and I realized I didn’t have my phone. I came back to the apartment to get it, and I . . .” I can’t seem to swallow the lump in my throat. “I overheard an argument between you and Kellan.”
Those cerulean eyes of his, the ones I’ve lost myself in so many times, widen in surprise and confusion.
“You two were so cruel to each other. None of us were talking anymore, and . . .” I force another gulp. “I was so sick, Jonah. The ulcer kept coming back. All those blinding headaches. I felt like I wasn’t able to hold it together anymore. Between the mess due to our Connections and work, I was—”
He’s surprised again. “Work?”
Sadness and shame washes over me. I don’t want to talk about it, but . . . I need to. Have to. “Before you banished him, Jens Belladonna let me know I killed two nons on one of my assignments.”