A matter of heart, p.2
A Matter of Heart, page 2
Karl smirks. “I can only imagine what he would’ve argued. How much do you want to bet that he’s going to find a way to come on the mission with us?”
At this, I perk up some. “You think he can?”
His eyes roll toward the ceiling. “Chloe, this is Jonah we’re talking about. The dude is one of the two most powerful Emotionals to ever be born. If there’s anyone who can ensure he gets his way, it’s Jonah.”
Okay. This makes me feel a lot better already. If there is any person in the worlds that can always see me through something, good or bad, it’s my Connection.
I love Jonah Whitecomb so much it’s ridiculous.
Karl’s fingers drum against his jeans, which is a good thing, as they could break the chair, weapons as they are. When he speaks, his words are careful. “You do realize that part of why Astrid Lotus went to bat for you today is because Jonah wasn’t there to do it, right?”
Stupidly, I hadn’t really considered this until just now. I’d just assumed she’d done so because she’s incredibly kind. But it totally makes sense. Jonah’s mother died when he was five, and Astrid Lotus has been his surrogate mom ever since. Her sticking up for me was probably because I’m Jonah’s Connection.
But, Astrid is also Jonah’s ex-girlfriend’s mom, so there’s also the possibility she might also hate me, so. . .
Ugh. Why is my life so messy? Why does it constantly feel like I’m in the middle of a soap opera?
“You’ve got that look where you’re overthinking things again.”
Yeah. I’m prone to doing that a lot.
“It was nice she tried,” I offer. Does Astrid like me, though? I really haven’t interacted with her much since Jonah and I moved to Annar, but that’s been more my choice than hers, I think. I was uncomfortable and insecure, especially after what happened a couple months back between Jonah and Callie, and Jonah knew I needed the space so he never pushed.
And here Astrid went to bat for me when my own father didn’t. Now I feel like utter crap.
Breathe, Chloe.
“My dad.” I clear my throat. Karl is watching me closely. Unfortunately, he’s seen me break down way too much over the last year. “He didn’t look at me today when all this was going on. Didn’t even look at me when he said I’d do what I was told.”
Karl snorts. “It only goes to show he doesn’t know you at all. Like Chloe Lilywhite ever does what she’s told.”
A genuine smile pushes itself through the doom and gloom I’ve tried to bury it in. “I listen sometimes.”
“Listen to this, then. The Council is never going to baby you. It’s never going to take into consideration if you have a bad day, or a cold, or if you have too much homework, or your parents suck. The Council is going to demand things of you that you may never have even considered in your wildest dreams. There are going to be people who are against you. But there’re also going to be those of us who will always have your back.”
Not a lot of people know it, but, despite his gruff exterior and frequent behavior, Karl has one of the best, loyal hearts around.
“I’ve got your back, Chloe. Jonah’s got it, too. So does Moira, and Zthane, and . . .” he pauses, but says the name I know he’ll say anyway, even though I don’t even know if I want to hear it, “Kellan, and a whole bunch of other people. You’ll get through this assignment, and the next one, and the thousands and thousands after that. You’ve got people who care. Screw your dad. He knows jack about you.”
“You sit so far away,” I say, because anything else would inspire the possibility of tears, especially in light of Kellan’s name being voiced. “You and Jonah both.” They sit next to each other, which I find incredibly unfair.
Don’t think of him, Caleb warns. You’ve been so good lately. And it’s a lie, and my Conscience knows it’s a lie, because even though we haven’t spoken in months, I still think about my fiancé’s twin brother too many times to count in a day.
“Blame Fate,” Karl says, and I do. More than he knows.
Technically, Jonah and I live next door to one another, thanks to a “just between guys chat” my father had with my boyfriend shortly before we’d graduated high school. This was astounding for several reasons, but the biggest was that my dad and I have the sort of relationship where the old saying “out of sight, out of mind” is grossly applicable. My mom and I look like best friends next to what my dad and I are like. Anyway, as Jonah later reported back, during this chat, which really was more of a lecture and a list of demands, one of the things my father basically said was that he expected his “little girl” to be treated like a lady. “Cohabitating, unmarried eighteen-year-old Council members, first and second tier, no less, would be unseemly,” he’d informed Jonah, who’d later done a pretty fair approximation of my dad when repeating it. “I speak for your father as well as Abigail—this sort of wanton behavior won’t be tolerated.”
Now, this pissed me off because my father had, at the most, spent two months of time with me over the last year and—while I was at it—how dare he think he could dictate my life once I turned eighteen? Furthermore, I couldn’t recall a single time prior to this conversation in which he referred to me as his little girl. It was all the more ironic since Jonah was actually living under the same roof as me for the last couple of months of school, anyway; granted, my parents were, too, but still. They’d invited my Connection to move in once his twin moved back to Maine and their father started living in Annar full time. So, I called my father out on his hypocrisy and there was a face-melting argument between him, me, and my mother, but in the end, it was Jonah who was the voice of reason.
“I promise you we will maintain separate addresses until we’re married,” he told them, and, incredibly, that was that. Jonah has this effect on people, which I envy. He comes across as so inherently confident and trustworthy, so levelheaded that hardly anyone ever second-guesses him. Even now, with only a month’s worth of sessions under his belt, he is a respected voice in the Council. As for my parents, there was nothing they could say when he and I choose apartments right next to one another because we did exactly as they asked.
Not that I’ve told them about the open doorway I created between our places or anything. And it’s not like they actually come over to visit often, so . . .
A sharp, invisible tug materializes as I ruminate about such things rather than the mind-numbing amount of paperwork for the upcoming atoll mission I’ve been given. There’s only one thing this strong sensation could mean. Jonah’s home.
I leap off the couch and basically tackle him before he can even drop his backpack. One of the nice things about having a Connection who is an Emotional is that I don’t have to tell him how relieved I am to see him, especially after the day I’ve had.
He already knows. And he’s already making it all better.
That’s one of the perks of having a Connection. They’re your soul mate, created by Fate for you and only you. Somebody who’ll always love you, no matter what. They’re your best friend, your closest confidant, and the person who can make everything better. He and I are highly envied by most of our friends because Connections are so rare and coveted, especially ones that originate in dreams.
Yes, I met my boyfriend in my dreams, when we were both four. Yes, I realize that makes me incredibly lucky. There is not a day that goes by in which I do not thank Fate for Jonah Whitecomb.
It doesn’t hurt that he’s incredibly gorgeous: inky black, messy hair and eyes so blue that looking into them is like peering into the sky reflected on a calm ocean. More than that, he’s smart and thoughtful and loyal.
After a lingering welcome home kiss, he leads me back over to my couch. “I talked to Karl and Zthane while I was debriefing at Guard HQ.”
Of course he is already informed of what went down in session today. The Guard gossip like they’re high schoolers. Worse than high schoolers. More like PTA moms.
His fingers pull gently through my long brown hair. It’s heavenly. “How are you feeling about this?”
I weigh my words carefully, even though I know I don’t need to censure myself around him. “It feels too soon. What if I mess it up?” Or kill someone?
“I’ll talk to—”
“To whom?” I counter. But it’s not done angrily. “Jonah, there was a vote. Eighty-seven percent voted that the atoll needs to go.” Me included, before I knew I was the one who had to go out and do it.
It’s not that I’m fundamentally opposed to the mission. It’s just, it might’ve been nice to have some experience beforehand. Classes. The apprenticeship. Anything.
“What can I do for you?” His nose swipes my chin line and I melt into the couch.
“Just be yourself,” I tell him. Because it’s true. Him being him, being here with me, is pretty darn great. “Just be here for me.”
I can feel his smile against my cheek. “Always.”
Just because we have two addresses doesn’t mean we sleep in separate beds. This is both a good and a bad thing. On one hand, I love having Jonah be both the first and last thing I see every day. On the other, it’s awfully hard to be a good girl when there is a totally sexy guy next to you in only pajama pants, or, on hot nights, boxers, and you can’t do anything about said sexiness.
See, yet another thing my father informed Jonah during that infamous “chat” was that he expected me to remain a virgin until we got married.
Yes, he said that. My father actually talked to my Connection about my virginity.
I nearly died when Jonah admitted this part. My father thinking he could dictate whether or not I, a legal adult, could have sex? It was so excruciatingly appalling and stereotypical that it was a wonder he didn’t dredge up a wife beater and a shotgun for the delivery.
So, yeah. Jonah and I haven’t had sex yet, even though we’re engaged to be married within a year. Because Jonah is the standup kind of guy who respects fathers and their wishes, even if they are humiliating and unreasonable. Thank goodness we can get away with everything else.
“Stop,” he whispers into my ear. He’s on the verge of sleep, but even now, is just as attuned to my feelings as he is when he is wide awake. “I can’t sleep if you’re like this.”
I don’t bother with shame. Jonah knows my view on sex. And a girl can only handle so much temptation without cracking occasionally. “I must be the only girlfriend who has to apologize for wanting to make out with her boyfriend.”
Wide awake now, he groans and chuckles at the same time. “You don’t think this is hard for me, too?”
“Remind me why you offered my father such a ridiculous promise?”
He turns to his side so we’re face to face. “Obviously, because I’m a masochistic idiot.”
I press several lingering kisses down his jaw and onto his neck. “Obviously.” He laughs quietly under his breath at the same time as his hands curve around my hips. Little streaks of lightning zing through my body at this touch. “You know, promises are meant to be broken.”
“Some,” he whispers, and his hands drift upwards just enough that my mind is on the verge of scattering entirely. “But some, like how I’m going to love you my entire existence, never will be.”
I’m going to need a cold shower before I fall asleep, that’s for sure.
“This is ridiculous!”
A notebook slaps down against the table, along with a chewed pen, nearly knocking over my iced tea. My distant cousin and closest friend, Cora Carregreen, slides down in her chair, her magenta dipped hair drooping just as surely as her good mood. She issues a long suffering sigh and a masterful example of the evil eye my way.
As to why, it’s a no-brainer. “Like I asked for a shortened school load,” I offer, setting aside the snack I’d been enjoying. It’s a true testament of Jonah’s influence on me when my face remains passive.
Elegant hands are thrown into the air. It still weirds me out a bit to think how those same hands can heal a person and unleash devastating diseases within seconds of one another. “Whatever. It’s just, classes are kicking my butt, and here I am, struggling to figure out the proper proportions of virus production in relation to population zones, and you’re sipping iced tea like you haven’t got a care in the worlds.” She looks me over. “Or classwork that’s due.”
I’ve been allowed a single class this semester by the Council, since any load heavier might possibly “distract” me from my work duties. And rather than be something useful, like Cora’s class in which she’s learning how to properly utilize her craft in the field, mine is basically a pointless study hall since I’m not really given topics to study, even if independently. Occasionally the professor, a fifth tier Council member and thereby, ironically, below me in chain of command, will encourage me to write up summaries of my missions. I’d asked him if I ought to talk about the implications of said assignments, but he’d shrugged, murmuring, “It’s up to you.”
I mean, I know I can boss the dude around and all, but he’s my assigned professor, and I’m eighteen. He could offer a little guidance, right?
So, while I understand Cora’s jealousy over my easy school workload, I envy hers. I’d love to be challenged, to really get down to the nitty-gritty about my craft. I’d even go for weekly lunches, or even monthly lunches—heck, just one lunch—with Kleeshawnall Rushfire, but that guy has checked so far out that it’s a miracle he even makes it to session regularly.
But Cora doesn’t understand any of this. So I apologize and quickly change topics. “How’s Raul?”
The gloom above her head dissipates immediately. “I met his madre. She liked me.”
Cora is dating Raul Mesaverde, a Spanish Cyclone on the Guard. He’s a great guy; the two of them are a perfect example of how total opposites attract. “Of course she did.”
She chews on her pen. “Lizzie is threatening to move to Texas.”
Well, that’s no shocker. Her boyfriend Graham, a non we went to high school with, got a football scholarship to play there. Ever since she decided he was the guy for her, Lizzie has rebelled against her Fate in a way that I envy.
“And,” Cora adds, “Meg and Alex are moving in together. They’re getting a dog.” She frowns. “Do you know what that means?”
I hold back my laugh. “They like pets?”
She practically barks, “Meg has babies on the mind! She’s officially bonkers!”
Our friends from high school, another example of opposites working, have proved to be one of the cutest love stories around. “I think it’s adorable.”
“You would.” She sighs and then shudders. “You and Jonah aren’t getting a dog, are you? Or, gods forbid, a baby?”
“Hasn’t even been a thought,” I assure her.
Cora sighs. “Sometimes, it feels like we’re growing up too fast. Just a couple months ago, we were in high school. And now, you’re on the Council, and going on some big mission soon.” She drops her chin into a propped up hand. “Ignore me. Raul’s madre mentioned something about marriage and it’s got me all freaked out. I’m so not ready for any of that. What if I want to sow my wild oats?”
She seems so happy with Raul. “Do you?”
“Of course not. I’m just saying what if I change my mind? I mean, his madre was practically picking out china for us. I’m looking forward to picking out a futon for my apartment and taping posters to the wall.”
I shove an extra apple across the table to her. “She’s nuts if she thinks it’s a good idea you guys should get so serious so quick, being so young. You’ve only been dating a few months.”
Cora smirks. “Shall I remind you that you and Jonah got engaged in high school?”
“That’s different. We’ve known each other our whole lives.”
She takes a bite; a tiny drop of juice falls down her chin. “Young is young, Cousin.”
“Do you need to get closer, mate?”
Kiah Redrock’s voice—clear as day, not tinny like in the movies—fills my headset. The Dreamer’s riding shotgun next to Raul, who, until this morning, I had no idea could even pilot a helicopter. He tried to correlate it to his love of winds, but I think it’s more because he’s an adrenaline junkie. Just last year, he thought it was easier for us to get to the top of a building by riding a tornado than using something logical like a ladder.
The Shohannah atoll glistens in the distance, a bleached white ring circling a smoking baby volcano peeking out of turquoise waters. Iolani Popolohua, a Volcanic I’m friends with, has been in the South Carnelian Ocean for two weeks now, triggering eruptions in a sunken seamount long thought extinct. Surprisingly, even though we’re on the Goblin plane, our team is entirely Human. The Goblin Volcanic is in the hospital with a sick child; Iolani was more than happy to step up and join us. I have my suspicions, though, that as a concession to Astrid’s concerns, Endolff Strikertree allowed my team to be comprised of people I’ve previously worked with, which can be risky on a plane we’re not native to, like the Goblin plane, where everyone’s skin is a varying shade of green. Thus Kiah’s presence—Dreamers are quite talented at manipulating peoples’ perceptions, awake and asleep.
Despite what Karl had thought, Jonah wasn’t able to come along. He’s off on his own mission at the moment back on the Human plane. The Council ruled just a few days ago that there needs to be a series of protests over Human Rights issues in Shanghai; Jonah’s tasked with supplying the region’s citizens the fervor to revolt.
I wish he were with me right now. I’m ready to jump out of my skin.
You can do this, Caleb tells me. Easy-peasy.
I’m glad nobody in the helicopter can hear me snort. Of course it’s easy. That’s not the point.
“No. This is good,” I tell Kiah. She nods and gives Raul a thumbs up. The helicopter tilts to the right and we move in a slow arc around the tiny island.
According to the report I read about twenty times last night, the atoll we’re circling is, as Karl claimed, basically uninhabited. It’s used as a stopping station for cruise ships filled with travelers seeking the allure of a lagoon, and for modern day pirates, but for the most part, its wide, empty beaches are left alone to bake in the sun. It’s beautiful, in a stark, barren sort of way. I can’t help but wonder at the memories created on these shores, of the people that fell in love or laughed or cried or smuggled or dreamed or did countless other things that helped shape the history of every grain of sand and coral.
