Angel Fever

by L. A. Weatherly

Page 52

 

  I felt infinite gratitude for Seb’s kindness, when he had every right to hate me. Is it too late to take you up on the brother thing? I wanted to ask. “Thank you for the stone with the angel on it,” I said instead, after a moment. “It’s beautiful. It’s in my jeans pocket right now. ”

  “De nada. ” Seb’s eyes had turned slightly troubled as he studied me – and all at once I remembered that I was the reason he and Meghan had broken up. I looked away and started the engine.

  “So, you get to be the navigator,” I said, deliberately cheerful as I leaned over to pluck the atlas from the footwell and tossed it on his lap. I started the engine. “And that’s Timmy. Say hi to Timmy. ”

  Seb raised an eyebrow at the laminated photo. “Hola, Timmy –¿qué hay? I think you’ve been alone too long,” he added as he opened the atlas.

  And despite everything, suddenly I was grinning. “Hey, that’s nothing,” I said as I steered us out of the parking lot. “Just wait until you hear my singing repertoire. ”

  ALMOST IMMEDIATELY, SEB AND I fell into a routine that felt comforting in its sameness: meals of canned food snatched between hours on the road. And for the first time in over a year, we talked a lot. Or at least, we joked and bantered.

  “Did I tell you about when I went to visit my ranchero grandfather?” Seb would ask solemnly as we travelled down a remote road.

  He’d never known any of his family, apart from his mother. “No, I don’t think you did,” I’d answer, just as deadpan. “The one who used to be a gondolier, right?”

  “Yes, and he missed Venice, so he dug canals all around his ranch. He’d go out in a home-made gondola and sing opera. It used to frighten the cattle. My grandmother would beg him to stop in case they stampeded. ”

  He was being very guarded with his emotions – I couldn’t tell what he was really thinking. But I was as happy as he was to avoid discussing anything serious, because whatever waited ahead in Pawntucket was feeling darker with every mile.

  I knew Seb must have sensed it too, but we didn’t mention it. He made me laugh, despite my worry…and despite a wistfulness that grew in me as the days passed. Seb’s presence was so completely male. Having him there made me remember all the times I’d driven with Alex – being able to just lean against his shoulder, feel him put his arm around me.

  Will I ever fall in love again? I wondered suddenly. We’d veered slightly north up into South Dakota by that point, to avoid the wheat farmers who were just as much in Raziel’s sway as the cattlemen. Frosty fields and clusters of bare-branched trees surrounded us.

  My next thought made me sad. Will I even get the chance? I missed Alex and always would, but I missed just being with someone too. Careless touches. Being held.

  Seb had gone quiet. When I glanced over, he was watching me, one sneaker propped on the dash. “Your turn,” he said, his voice casual. “Is there a rule about taking too long? I think this means I should win. ”

  “You wish,” I said automatically. Had Seb caught any of that? “Okay, got it,” I said after a pause. “The minister’s cat is an ambidextrous, bald, cunning, delightful, easy-going, fat, garrulous cat. ”

  Seb frowned. “Garrulous?”

  “Talks a lot. ”

  “Madre mía, you could be making half of these up and I wouldn’t know. I still don’t think ambidextrous is a word. ”

  “It is. Look it up. ” Then I realized there probably wasn’t a dictionary within a hundred miles and laughed as Seb shook his head in mock despair.

  At night we could, in theory, have shared the driving and kept going, but we ended up pulling over and sleeping for a few hours instead. “You don’t trust my driving,” Seb observed the first night, sounding wounded.

  “Frankly, no. Do you trust your driving?”

  The first night in the truck was cold, but not too bad. On the second, though, the stars overhead were sharp and piercing. With the heater off, an icy chill gripped us.

  We were parked on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. I lay huddled in my seat with the parka draped over me; after half an hour, it was so cold that it felt like I wasn’t wearing anything at all. Seb didn’t look much more comfortable, curled on his side in that thin jacket.

  “Um – maybe we should try the sleeping bag,” I said. My teeth were chattering. “Spread it out in the back, I mean. ”

  I could feel Seb shielding his emotions more strongly than ever, and I hated that I’d had to suggest this. Finally he gave a curt nod. “Yes, all right. ”

  Standing outside to shift stuff around in the truck made us even colder at first. When we’d cleared a large enough space, I slid into the sleeping bag first, fully dressed. Without speaking, Seb got in too and zipped it shut, his body close against mine.

  The warmth was such a relief. Inch by inch, my muscles relaxed, like I’d eased into a hot bath. My mind was a different matter. I swallowed, taken aback. I’d missed this: sleeping pressed against a warm, firm body. Oh god, I’d missed this so much.

  Stop, I reminded myself shakily. This isn’t Alex.

  “Yes, this is better,” Seb said at last. He was lying on his side, using his jacket for a pillow; I could feel the woven material of his sweater against my hand. “Maybe we won’t be ice cubes now. ”

  I swallowed. “That…would have been bad. ”

  Outside I could see the shapes of the trees in the moonlight, their branches sparkling with frost. Suddenly I had the insane urge to slip my hand under Seb’s sweater and touch warm skin. I bit my lip and pulled my hand close against myself, trying not to touch him at all.

  It took me a long time after that, but eventually I drifted off to sleep…and dreamed about my mother. She was sitting in her old chair, her green eyes focused inward on her dreamworld – the one that had claimed her from me for as long as I could remember.

  I crouched beside her, dimly aware of worn floorboards beneath my knees. I frowned as I studied her. I had the strangest feeling that she wasn’t just lost in her thoughts at all, but that part of her was actually somewhere else – some tangible place. And that she wasn’t alone.

  “Mom?” I whispered, taking her hand.

  My heart skipped as she blinked and saw me. “Willow,” she murmured. And as her fingers tightened around mine, familiar images started to come: small-town streets with tree-covered mountains in the distance.

  “What about Pawntucket, Mom?” I urged. My mother’s gaze stayed locked on me; I could sense her straining to communicate even this much.

  “Mom, please! Try to tell me!” I massaged her hand between both of mine. There was something I wasn’t getting, something vital.

  But that was all; the dream was slipping away. Another glimpse of her eyes…the pressure of her fingers, fading – and then it was gone.

  “No – no!” I burst out.

  “Willow?” whispered a voice.

  I started. Seb was lying beside me, very close, his face next to mine.

  “I…was having a dream,” I said. I licked dry lips as I realized that Seb and I had curled up together as we’d slept; I was against his chest, and his arms were around me. He seemed to realize it at the same time. His muscles tensed and he drew away, moving the arm that was resting over my waist.