Angel Fever
Page 62
It didn’t make me feel any more relaxed, even though we’d crossed the New York border that morning – and with luck, would be in Pawntucket in just four or five hours. I sat curled tensely in the passenger seat as Seb drove, staring out at the pointed, white-covered fir trees. It was so serene, like driving through a Christmas card.
The atmosphere inside the truck was quiet too, though not exactly serene. Seb and I were only speaking when we had to. I kept thinking of all the things I wanted to say and then biting them back. I didn’t want to argue any more.
The kiss between us had…not been a good idea.
At first, it had seemed perfect. We’d been propped against the bar, holding each other tight, our mouths hot and searching. I’d felt drunk with sensation as I caressed Seb’s warm back beneath his T-shirt, thinking, Oh god, I’ve missed this – please don’t stop, Seb, don’t stop. Above, our angels had explored each other too, just as they had the time we’d kissed in Tepito: a dizzying burst of energy as their winged forms met and merged.
And then it happened.
Our psychic link had faded some with our distance this past year. But now, with our angels’ energies so entwined, there were suddenly no secrets at all.
A girl with long auburn hair. The warmth of her smile – the sound of her laughter.
As images and knowledge swept through me, I stiffened. So did Seb; I think we both pulled away at the same moment. I stared at him in dismay, my pulse still hammering from the kiss, trying to get my head around what I’d sensed.
And then I saw that Seb was staring at me in the same way.
“What?” I whispered, swallowing.
The corner of his mouth lifted. There was no humour to it. “You are not ready for this,” he said. “So I think we had better forget it. ”
It was the last thing I’d expected. “What? Seb, I am! It’s been over a year now. I—”
“It doesn’t matter; you’re still not over Alex. ” He turned away and scooped up the sleeping bag, starting stiffly towards the fireplace.
Suddenly angry, I rushed after him and grabbed his arm. “Look, I’ll always love Alex – I never said I didn’t! But that’s got nothing to do with—”
He whirled towards me. “It’s got everything to do with it! He’s all you want. You don’t want me at all. ”
“That’s…I…” I trailed off, feeling cold.
“The whole time—” Seb hurled the sleeping bag onto the sofa, hard. “How could I have been so stupid? I should have known that you just wanted a – a substituto. ”
“I didn’t just want a substitute! Seb, I really care about you!”
“Not like that, and you know it,” he snapped back. “You’ve been feeling lonely – and then when I got hurt, it reminded you too much of when Alex died. You wanted someone – and lucky me, I was here!” He spread his arms out.
My voice was faint. “There was more to it than that. ”
“No. There was not,” he said flatly. “My angel was part of yours, Willow – I know. ”
I stood trembling, awash with shame as I realized he was right: it was really Alex I’d been longing for. I’d completely used Seb, even if I hadn’t meant to. Anger of my own followed. It was a lot easier than facing what I’d done…and the fact that I was nowhere near over Alex after all.
I crossed my arms tightly. “Yes, well – speaking of kissing one person and wanting another one, how about you?”
“Me?”
“Yes! You’re not the only one who got something psychically, all right? You’re in love with Meghan; you have been for months!”
Seb’s jaw dropped; his look of surprise was almost comical. “What are you talking about? I love you – I always have. ”
My temper faded as we stared at each other. I shook my head. “No, Seb,” I said quietly. “You did once, but now it’s just a – a habit, a memory. It’s Meghan you’re in love with; you’ve just been so hung up on me that you couldn’t see it. ”
His smile was hard. “I can see very well, querida – and you’re all I’ve ever wanted. Believe me, I wish it wasn’t true. ”
“But it isn’t! Seb, I know; my angel was part of yours too. You’ve got me all built up in your mind like some kind of dream girl – that’s all it is. ”
Dark anger clouded Seb’s face. “Let me tell you something,” he said. “I have sensed you since I was six. For fourteen years, I have loved you – since before I even knew what the word meant. You want Alex instead of me? Fine, I’m used to it. But do not tell me who I love. ”
My voice rose in frustration. “Oh god, Seb, at least be honest with yourself! Why do you think you’ve been so unhappy these last few months? You’re miserable without Meghan! You love her so much that she’s like an ache inside of you—”
Seb looked as if he could have happily throttled me. Brushing past, he strode to the bar again. “Why don’t we eat and take a break from this very fascinating conversation?”
I blew out a breath. “Yes, why don’t we? Since you’re not listening to a word I say. ”
It was the first hot meal we’d had in days. I don’t think either of us enjoyed it much. We sat at opposite ends of the sheepskin rug, eating in silence. The adrenalin from the argument had faded and now I just felt desolate.
Alex.
My throat tightened. Remembering my moment of peace gazing over the plains, I wanted to cry. I should have known by now: grief took three steps forward and two steps back. I longed for Alex so much that it hurt – and I was so tired of hurting. Dull fury at him stirred, that he was still putting me through this even after a year.
Seb had found some red wine behind the bar; he’d offered me a glass with a sardonic lift of his eyebrows. Now he sat drinking from his own glass, moodily contemplating the fire.
I stared down at my wine’s red glow. “Seb, look, I—”
He drained his glass. “Whatever you are going to say, I can live without it. ”
Stung, I said, “I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry. I promise I didn’t mean to use you. ”
Seb regarded me coolly, his eyes dark brown in the firelight. “Do you want the sofa or the rug?”
“It doesn’t matter. ”
“Then get up; you’re on my bed. ”
Fine. I rose and went over to the sofa, where I snaked the sleeping bag out of its case. A few minutes later I was wrapped in its warmth, gazing into the fire.
The only sounds were the flames snapping and the faint whistle of the storm from outside. Seb had rolled himself up in the sheepskin rug; he lay with his hands linked under his head, glaring up at the ceiling.
I cleared my throat. “Listen, um…if it turns out that we can get out of here tomorrow, I’d like you to take the first car we can hotwire and go to Idaho. ”
In a swift motion, Seb had propped himself up on one elbow. “What are you talking about?”
I shrugged, unable to meet his eyes. “I just don’t think it makes much sense for us both to be here, that’s all. One of us should go back and tell the others what’s happening. ”