Our flip-flops are somewhere behind us, no doubt half-buried in the sand, and our feet are in the water. It isn’t lunchtime here; rather, it’s closer to sunset, so there are a thousand shades of yellow and pink and red spilled across the blues and the greens of the water, and it’s mesmerizing, absolutely overwhelming. The air is warm and heavy, salty, too, and it smells like enchantment personified, like there are flowers growing on top of the water.

“I love it here,” I tell Kellan, and he nods, because he understands.

Chez Whitecomb is on the beach, about a half-mile away from the portal. Compared to the house in California, it’s small—single story, recessed slightly from the beach and painted white and weathered from years and salty air.

Later, as I stand on the wide, wrap-around porch, I tell him, “I love this house, too.” And he nods once more, because it’s obvious he loves it, too.

I lean back against the railing when he drags an Adirondack chair over to stand on. Even on the chair, he’s on his tiptoes to reach up under one of the eaves. “Whatcha looking for?” I ask, trying my best not to ogle his long, well-toned limbs.

“This.” He brandishes a small, tarnished key.

I laugh. “You just leave your key here, for anyone to use?”

He chuckles and unlocks the door. The house is sparsely decorated, with just a few well-worn pieces of furniture in each space. I move from room to room, dragging my fingers across various objects reverently, feeling like I’m being shown a great secret.

Once back into the living room, I ask, “How is it that Callie hasn’t already put her stamp on this place?” He’s silent, so I add, “You know. Like your apartment.”

He turns away to open up a window. “Well, this place isn’t solely mine. It’s Jonah’s, too.” Another window is opened before he says quietly, “I suppose you’ll be the one to pick out how this place gets decorated, if you want it changed. Since it’ll be yours, too, when you two get married.”

I stare at the hardwood floors, because I cannot meet his eyes.

We’re sitting at a tiny beach shack, ten minutes away from his house, one where you order at a window and eat at weathered white tables overlooking the ocean. The fish tacos, as Kellan guaranteed on the walk over, are the best I’ll ever taste. He’s right. And as we eat, we talk some more. It’s now Q & A time, with me trying my luck at asking the most ridiculous questions ever.

“Favorite comfort food.”

He thinks about this. “Boxed macaroni and cheese.”

I nearly spit out the bite I’d just chewed. “No!”

“I’m afraid so.” He grins ruefully. “Let me guess. Yours is hot dogs?” I laugh and he adds, “It’s so weird I never knew that about you, although, I guess maybe I should have. You used to eat more hot dogs on our dates than anyone I’d ever met before.”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing,” I grin, “but I refuse to take offense. Actually—my true guilty pleasure are churros.”

He visibly shudders, which only makes me laugh all the more. “Alright, Mr. Food Snob,” I tease, picking a piece of lettuce from my taco. “How about this: favorite number?”

“I don’t have a lucky number.”

Interesting. “I do. It’s thirty-one.”

His head cocks to the side as he sips his soda. “Why thirty-one?”

“When I was little, I always assumed that when I was thirty-one, I would be so worldly, so independent that I would no longer have to do anything my parents ever told me again. Honestly, I think I saw someone on TV who was that age, and their life seemed ideal. So it stuck.”

“Huh.” His little half-grin slides across his face, and my heart lurches so strongly that I lose my breath.

I rush to continue talking. “If you don’t have a favorite number, then what’s your favorite nail polish color?”

He stares at me incredulously before I break out in more giggles. “Just kidding. What about your favorite dessert? And don’t tell me churros, because I know you’ll be lying to me, mister.”

“How about I show you, rather than tell?”

After we finish eating, we walk up the street a little ways, and he explains that what we’re about to have is quintessential Hawaiian. My mind entertains a wealth of exotic desserts, all built around some kind of tropical fruit, so when we stop in front of a tiny, orange shack with bright yellow rimmed windows, I’m momentarily taken aback. Because one of the boys walking out of the shack is carrying a snow cone. “Um,” I murmur, turning towards Kellan. “Are you kidding me? Snow cones?”

Someone in the rather long line snaking out of the door shoots me a look dripping with derision, like I’m a moron or something. Amusement glitters in Kellan’s eyes, despite the dark around us. “They’re not really snow cones. It’s shave ice.” A quick glance at the sign above the door confirms this. Shave Ice, it reads.

“It’s spelled wrong,” I tell him, but Kellan only chuckles, shaking his head.

“No more talking,” he says, and there’s this fantastic smile to go along with his words. “You wanted Hawaiian, didn’t you? I’m giving you exactly what you want.”

But we do talk, all the way until we get our cups and then all the way back to his house. And I’m feeling so happy, so content with this afternoon, or rather evening in Hawaii—with the water, and the beach, and my fish tacos, and shave ice, and most importantly, time with Kellan—that I choose to ignore my phone when it rings.

We’re sitting in the sand finishing up our shave ice when it rings again. “You should answer that,” he says, pointing to me with his spoon.

“That’s what voicemail is for.” I’m smiling so much my cheeks hurt. “You know, I’m glad we came here today.”

He looks out at the water. His answer is soft but sure as he sets his cup and spoon down in the sand. “Me too.”

“I like this.” I wave my spoon back and forth between us.

“Shave ice?”

“That too. But what I mean is this. You and me. Hanging out together, like old times.” His smile droops a bit, so I rush to correct, “Not exactly like old times, but . . . you know . . .”

“I know what you mean,” he says.

“I’ve missed you.” I’m no longer smiling. Neither of us are. I watch him in the moonlight, hair so black it’s blue, and my heart squeezes tight, because he and this place are wonderful, and I’m so lucky to have him sitting next to me, especially since I’d thought, just weeks ago, I’d never be able to do so again.

It takes him a few heartbeats, but he tells me, “Me too.”

When my cell phone rings again, Kellan says, “You need to answer, C.”

The moon is shining down on the waves, making them glitter like diamonds come in with each pull. “Why?”

“Because it’s been more than four hours.”

He doesn’t need to explain further. I pull the phone out of my pocket, and sure enough, Jonah’s face graces the screen. “Quick,” I mutter, clutching it in my hand. “Happy, sad, or mad?”

“Let’s say he isn’t very happy right now.”

Crap.

I answer with the cheeriest greeting I can muster, only to be met with silence on the other end. So I try, “Jonah? Is that you?” Even though, obviously, I know it’s him as the Caller ID told me so.

More silence. Caleb oh-so-helpfully urges me to proceed yet again with caution.

One of my hyena laughs emerges. “Remember, we can’t talk in our minds like you and your brother. So words would be helpful.”

Continued silence, which leads to panic, because I can hear him breathing. And it’s angry breathing, which is really uncomfortable to listen to, because Jonah has never left me dangling like this on the phone before. I’m just about to hang up when he finally speaks. “Hawaii.”

Oh, this is rich. Because, yes—that clipped voice tells me he’s pissed off. I could lay down money steam is emitting from his ears, and honestly? I’m thinking he doesn’t really have a single leg to stand on with this misplaced feeling. I, however, decide to match his pissiness. “Yep! We’re sitting outside your house right now.”

The silence returns.

Now I’m outright angry, because I know what he’s doing. What he’s thinking. He’s assuming that something’s happening between Kellan and me. And while I’ll admit my track record with Kellan is not the best, today was good, and part of that was because Jonah told me earlier that he trusted me to make the right choices. And I did, so it stings that he’s just assumed so easily that nothing we talked about mattered. That somehow or other, when it comes to his brother, I absolutely cannot control myself. So I add belligerently, “You know. The one you never told me about?”

In typical Jonah fashion, he ignores this point entirely. In the coldest, tightest voice he’s ever used to me, he asks, “Why are you there?”

The anger blooms and twists until I can barely see straight. “Am I not allowed?”

“Answer the question, Chloe.”

“Answer mine.”

He grates out, “Of course you’re allowed.”

“Only because your brother brought me here!”

Kellan’s eyes go saucer wide, but I hold a finger out to him. Jonah asks, ice-cold, “If it’s convenient now, please answer my question. Why are you there?”

“To eat.”

“Really.”

The words practically have to slide out from between my teeth. “Yes, really.”

More silence.

I’m seething now. “How dare you?”

“That’s funny, coming from you.”

“Why don’t you just come out and say it?”

“Say what?”

I nearly crush the phone in my fingers. “Don’t play coy with me.”

“I’m not the one who’s playing coy, Chloe.”

IS HE KIDDING ME? “You’re wondering how the sex was, right?”

Silence. Kellan bolts into a standing position and takes a few steps back. “Don’t you go anywhere,” I hiss at him. And then, into the phone, “It was phenomenal.”

I can practically hear Jonah’s head explode across the phone lines, which is oddly satisfying and gut wrenching at the same time. So I hang up, throw the phone as far as I can, and scream at the top of my lungs.

Kellan catches up with me as I storm down the beach. “Where are you going?”

“That way,” I yell, pointing in a random direction. I’m trying not to blow anything up, but I’ve got pretty poor control. Splintered shells litter the path behind me.

“Chloe, wait.” He jogs the last few steps, grabbing hold of my arm gently.

I stop and turn my head, so he can’t see the tears. “What?”

“Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“He just assumed,” I choke out.

“He didn’t—”

“Yes, he did!”

Kellan sighs and I resume my anger march. He follows in silence. It’s now so dark on the beach that our only light comes from the moon and stars. The water is black and loud, no longer magical; the sand quiet against my bare feet. I have no idea where I’m going, I just know that I need to keep moving or I will fall apart.

At one point I veer left and storm directly into the water. I keep going until I’m up to my waist. The water crashes all around me, nearly knocking me off my feet.

“We didn’t do anything,” I whisper. Like Jonah can hear it. Like it would matter in the long run. I think back to how he reacted when he’d found out Kellan and I had ended up in a hotel room bed together, drunk out of our minds. How he’d been blinded by fury so overwhelming I didn’t know if he’d ever get past it.

But he had. Or so he’d told me. Maybe not.

Kellan’s grip on my shoulders keeps me from falling over when a wave threatens my balance. “Do you mind if I ask something?”

I don’t turn around, but I shake my head.

“Do you two fight a lot?”

I shake my head again.

He says, “Jonah’s at the house right now, but I’ve told him that he needs to wait until you come back.”

I walk out of the water and continue my march in the opposite direction of the house.

“Why do you think he never told me?”

Kellan shrugs. “I really don’t know, C.”

“I tell him everything.” I don’t need to see Kellan’s face to feel his disbelief, so I correct, “Almost everything, anyways. I tell him the important stuff.”

“Realty is important?”

I sigh and finally stop walking. “It just feels like the sort of thing that would be shared, you know? With—” I can’t say fiancée, so I choose a safer, uncontestable, “one’s Connection.”

He scrubs at his hair, sending the longish front pieces haywire. “It’s not that Jonah hides things, it’s just . . . some things don’t register as important to him, so he doesn’t think about them. Our properties—”

“Wait,” I say, making a tee with my hands. “Plural? Properties?”

Kellan bites his lip before sighing loudly. “We own eight houses, all left to us by Joey when he died.”

“Eight,” I repeat dumbly. “Where?”

“Maybe this could be a specific question you can ask Jonah when we get back, one that he can answer for you.”

I give up and change direction, back towards the house. “There’s one in Australia,” I call out. “You went there with Callie before moving to Annar. Am I right?”

He matches my pace. “Yes.”

I kick at the sand in front of me. “Callie knows these things.”

Kellan doesn’t say anything. But he doesn’t have to. I’ve made my point.

I search around once we’re back in front of his house, and Kellan knows why, because he hands my cell phone over. He must’ve found it before chasing after me earlier. “I want to make something clear before we go in there,” he tells me quietly.

I look up into his face, dark in the moonlight’s shadows.

“You do not have to defend me, if the occasion arises. In fact, I’d prefer if you don’t.”

“If he dares to say—”

“I mean it.” And it’s obvious he does.

The unfairness of the situation is almost too much. “We didn’t do anything wrong!”

“I know. But right now, before we go in there, I want you to stop and try to think about this from Jonah’s point of view. What if you found out that he and Callie came here, while you were still in Annar?”

“That’s different,” I insist, but he shakes his head.

“Not really. They’ve both told you things are over between them, right? But he’d also said that prior to what happened last year. And something happened, and it was awful, and it tore you apart. Yet here you are; time has gone by, and there’s been distance, and look—you’re even friendly with Cal now. But you have to admit, there’d still be that horrible, nagging feeling that if they were alone again, far away from you, something could happen. They could swear up and down that it wouldn’t, but you’d still worry about it anyway. Worse yet, if they came here without letting you know about it—”

“I don’t have to report back every single move I make!” My blood boils. “Plus, I left a note!”

“I know that,” he says gently, “but don’t you think that maybe, when it comes to me, you might have to at least let him know some things?”

My fists clench in and out. “He talks to you, doesn’t he?”

“It’s different, coming from me. I’m not the one he’s engaged to be married to.”

“Why are you being so logical?” I demand, and he smiles sadly, because he knows I finally understand. And I hate that I do, because it’s true. If the situation was reversed, I’d be beyond angry and hurt.

“Remember,” Kellan continues, “Jonah and Callie aren’t Connected like we are. So, his feelings are absolutely understandable.”

I sigh and bend down to get my flip-flops. “Fine. Then he can be mad at me all he likes, but I won’t let him blame you.”

“He is my twin brother, C. I don’t need anyone defending me when it comes to Jonah. Not even you. I’ve had nineteen years of knowing how to handle him. And besides,” he murmurs, “defending me will only make things worse for your case. If I have to take the hit for this, then so be it.”

A nuclear bomb is set off in the living room and I swear that people all over the globe are marveling at the mushroom cloud forming over the tiny island of Kauai. Any previous arguments I’ve witnessed between these two—granted, mostly held within their heads, but still!—haven’t prepared me in any way for what’s currently going on. Any traces of the famously calm Whitecombs have vanished as they launch themselves into a series of vicious insults, accusations, and opinions I never thought them capable of.

I can’t even keep any of their words in my head. It’s just so unbelievably crazy. These two, they are the most in-control people I know. I am the emotional one. I am the one prone to losing my shit. Not them, never them.

And yet, here they are, doing so. And it’s all because of me.

For gods’ sakes, Chloe, DO SOMETHING! Caleb hollers at me. I lurch forward, right in between them and scream myself, “ENOUGH!”

They both cease yelling, nearly out of breath; but their eyes are on each other, not me.

“I am going to talk to my fiancée right now,” Jonah snarls to his brother, “so get the hell out of here.”

“You better calm down,” Kellan snarls right back, “or I swear I will grab her right now and leave until you can get yourself under control. Do you hear me?”

“How dare—”

“I dare,” Kellan hisses, “because, lest you forget, I’m Connected to her, too. And I will not stand for you doing anything to hurt her.”

Jonah stares at him, shaking because he’s so angry, but he finally nods, just once. Kellan continues, “I won’t leave the house, but I will leave the room.” Then he looks at me and says, “Remember what we talked about,” before stalking to one of the bedrooms.

I turn to Jonah. “I cannot believe you two were talking to one another like that! Maybe we—”

“What did he mean,” Jonah grates out, “by remember what we talked about?”

“That,” I inform him, digging my heels in, “was a conversation between me and Kellan, not us and you. I need you to calm—”

“What did he mean, Chloe?”

I should tell him that his brother stupidly tried to get me to see things from his point of view, but I can see the accusations in his eyes, and it enflames me. And since I’m never as mature as Jonah is, I snap, “Maybe he was reminding me how awesome sex is with him and how I shouldn’t put up with you screaming at me!”

His eyes narrow so much I wonder if he can actually see me. “Hilarious.”

“What do you want me to say, Jonah? You already have your mind made up about my guilt.” Before he can respond, I plow on, “You had me fooled. You did this whole super-mature bit of I trust you and I love you and I may not like it, but I understand. You,” I point at him, “are such a LIAR!”

His cheeks are blotchy under his golden tan. “I am not the one who lied.”

“HOW DID I LIE?”

He takes a huge breath, still trembling. “You came here—”

“How is that a lie, Jonah? I left you a note about it, for crying out loud! If I really was plotting to do all the things you have in your mind with your brother, I wouldn’t have bothered leaving a note.”

A couple of steps bring him closer to me. “You knew I wouldn’t see it for hours.”

“It’s not like I could’ve called. Everyone turns their phones off during Council sessions!”

He pauses, biting his lower lip. So I keep at it. “And, it wasn’t like I knew about this house here before, Jonah. Should I remind you that you were the one who asked him to come over and take me to lunch? How was I supposed to know that you apparently can dictate where I am allowed to eat at!”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Chloe. This has nothing to do with that!”

But I am way beyond reason right now, despite Caleb’s attempts to rein me in. “You want to point fingers? Then let’s point fingers. How about when you and Callie were conveniently making out in your backyard?”

He blinks at me, clearly taken aback by the shift in our argument. “What in the hell does that have to do with this? We—we’re past that, aren’t we?”

Maybe it was true earlier today, but now it feels very relevant. “You think you can just sit high above me, on your mighty high horse, judging me when it comes to your brother. But you are not blameless yourself!”

“That happened over a year ago.” He’s back to shaking, he’s so angry. “You were practically having sex with my brother a little over a week ago!”

“WE DID NOT HAVE SEX!” I scream. “AND YOU KNOW IT!”

“And here,” he seethes, “I thought it was phenomenal.”

I feel like I’m losing my mind. “I said that, you idiot, because it was what you were expecting to hear!”

“I hate to burst your bubble,”—he takes a few more steps forward—“but I never would want to hear that.”

“Maybe not, but you were expecting it. Well, I hate to disappoint, but we did absolutely nothing today but put our feet in the water and eat fish tacos and snow cones!”

“You mean shave ice.”

I shriek at the top of my lungs, “THAT’S WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY?” and promptly burst into tears.

It’s enough to slay his anger. He’s mere inches in front of me in a split second, my name tripping off his lips, soaked with concern. But I won’t let him off the hook so easily. “You have,” I choke out, “eight houses all over the world, and you never thought to tell me about them. I mean, I know it’s just property and all, but you’d think it’d be a topic of conversation, right? But no—I hear about this from your brother, and I don’t know if you’ve figured this out or not, but in the last two years, I’ve learned more about you from him than you.”

Jonah’s bewildered. “What are you talking about?”

“Like your mother.” I’m on the verge of full-blown blubbering. “He told me about her, not you. Why not you? Not once in all the years have you ever shared with me the details of her death. I’ve told you,”—I jab my finger into his chest—“nearly everything. I told you about my grandpa’s death, I told you when I broke my arm, when I got into monster arguments with my parents, everything, everything, and you can’t even tell me you own properties across the plane, even when I tell you all the time how much I want to travel, how I’ve been nowhere, ever, and you sit and pretend to listen sympathetically, but you know what?” I continue jabbing, hysterical now. “Callie knows these things. She knows about these houses of yours. She’s even been to some, hasn’t she?” I don’t even give him a chance to respond. “Callie knows, and you say that you love me, that I’m the person who means everything to you, but I don’t, because I don’t even warrant this sort of information!”

“Chloe, she’s known me most of my life,” he says, voice even, like he’s trying to get mine to match his, “so of course she’d know.”

“I’ve known you longer!” I can barely breathe anymore. “Don’t you get it? I’ve.” I jab, one poke per word, “Known. You. Longer.”

He stares at me like I’m crazy at first, but then he must really get it, because his face melts from confusion into what I can only interpret as guilt. He grabs me gently by the shoulders and tries to tug me closer, but I struggle, because I stupidly want him to simultaneously leave me alone and hold me so tight I won’t be able to think anymore.

“I’m sorry, so sorry,” he murmurs, and I give into our pull. His arms go around me, and I feel his sadness as I press against his chest, feel just how remorseful he is for all the words we’ve just thrown at one another. “Of course I should have told you. I love you, Chloe. More than you could possibly ever imagine. Gods, I’m such an ass sometimes.”

And I cry, until there are no more tears to let go of.

I’m in the bathroom, taking some ibuprofen for a newly raging headache, but I can still hear what they’re saying in the living room.

“This,” Kellan is saying, “is why I told you that this isn’t going to work. But you had to be stupid and insist—”

“I’m sorry,” Jonah says. “And I wasn’t stupid, well, tonight, yes, I was unbelievably stupid—but about you two needing to reconnect, no.”

“How’s this going to work, J, if every single time you say, ‘Oh, you two, spend time together,’ and when we do, you freak out so badly that she has no other choice than to break down? Because, wow. That was so much fun and did a great deal of good for everyone involved.”

“Today was a really long day,” Jonah says, “and even I lose control occasionally. It doesn’t excuse anything, but . . .”

“She says you two don’t fight.”

Silence.

“And yet, here you are, fighting. Again, wow, J. This is a super plan of yours.”

“Admit it,” Jonah says; even from behind a closed door, I can tell he’s bitter. “You haven’t been this content in forever.”

It’s so odd to hear them so tense with each other, when they normally present themselves as calm and in control when I’m in the room with them. “Is she aware of just how much it kills you for us to be around each other?” Kellan asks.

“I’m working on it. If it’s what’s best for her, and you, then I will do it.” A long break, then, “No. My mind’s made up.”

Kellan sighs loudly. “Why didn’t you ever tell her about this house? Or any of them?”

“I don’t know. Because real estate is irrelevant to me? Because I’m an idiot? It’s not like I was trying to hide it from her, you know.”

“I’m not the expert in relationships or anything,” Kellan says, “but even I know that sometimes you need to share stuff with the other person. Just because it means zilch to you doesn’t mean it wouldn’t mean something to her.”

“Oh yes,” Jonah groans. “For being so crappy in relationships, you certainly make sure you do everything so blindingly brilliant when it comes to Chloe, don’t you?”

Something loud sounds.

“Kel, wait. Please, just don’t . . .”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t do anything stupid tonight.”

Silence before, “You can’t have it both ways, Jonah. I get to choose how to deal with my shit, and you know what? It’s none of your business. So back off.”

More silence.

“So don’t tell her anything, and it’ll be fine,” Kellan says.

Silence.

“I’m sure you got off on telling her that, right?” Kellan snaps. “Even though I specifically asked you not to?”

Silence.

“That’s great, J, just . . .” Footsteps sound, then, “You know what? No. Don’t forget it. Go screw yourself instead.”

My hand goes to the doorknob. I can’t let them go on like this. Just as I’m about to turn the handle, Jonah says, “What did you expect me to do? Lie?”

My hand drops back to my side. A bark of laughter precedes a stretch of silence. Kellan eventually says, “Since you’re so good at talking for me, you can do it.”

I hate how they do this, talking half in their minds, half out loud.

Jonah matches Kellan’s tone perfectly. “Don’t take out your anger with me on her.”

“Yeah, but you can, right? No—don’t answer that. She knows I’m not pissed off at her.”

The door slams. My head throbs, stronger than before. I take two more ibuprofen, and then an extra third, just in case. And I can’t help but wonder if this is only the beginning. My emotions are already spinning out of control again.

I think I need to go visit Kopano and see about some shields.