Arcadia's Gift(70)

The thought of Bryan should have put a damper on the swell of heat rising in my chest, but it didn’t. With Cane this close and his feelings for me so clear, I could do nothing but succumb to my echoing response. I clenched my hands together tighter to keep from reaching for him, from wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders, twining my fingers through his honey-colored hair and pulling him to me. My lips parted to speak, but no words would come.
Cane leaned in closer and spoke in a whisper. “I’m not sorry I kissed you, Cady. I want to be. I mean, I wish I hadn’t been drunk, and I wish you had been a more willing participant —“
“You didn’t think I was willing?”
He sucked in a quick breath and looked at me with eyes blazing green and gold. The hope he felt at my question was like ice water on my growing passion. I was with Bryan. I couldn’t let Cane hope for more. It was never going to happen. I slipped out from where he had me cornered and put several feet of separation between us.
“I-I just mean,” I stammered, eyes trained on the carpet between us. “It wasn’t all your fault. I seem to recall taking my time in pushing you away.”
Neither of us said anything for a minute. I didn’t need to see his face to feel the weight of his eyes pinning me where I stood. I couldn’t look at him. I feared if I did, I would launch myself into his arms. Where in the hell are these feelings coming from? Finally, he cleared his throat.
“I better go.” The twinge of reluctance in his statement was palpable. “You should get some rest today.”
He took a step toward me, but when I flinched, he stopped. A spark of something flashed in him and I immediately understood —he thought I was afraid of him.
“If you need anything, I’m only a phone call away.”
With that he crossed the room and drew the door closed behind him.
I flopped down on my bed, drawing the spare pillow to my chest and pulled the covers up to my neck. My mind spun in a million different directions. Please let me be wrong, I silently pleaded. I couldn’t have read him right. I rolled over and curled my knees up to my chest. Even worse was my response. I could barely admit it to myself, but there was no denying it. The feelings that swelled up inside me the night before when Cane pressed his lips to mine were the same ones that I felt when Bryan kissed me and held me close. Did I really have feelings for both of them, or was I reacting to something inside them? Is any of it real? Did Cane really care about me or was he confusing his former feelings for my sister? Ugh!
What was the good in knowing peoples’ emotions if I couldn’t determine the thoughts and motivations driving them?
Remembering Bryan was still here, I got out of bed and made for the door. He stood with Monica and Aaron at the bottom of the steps in the foyer. He still had on my brother’s t-shirt, but he’d put back on his pants from the night before. When he saw me, he came up the stairs and wrapped me into a big hug. I tipped my head back to look at him. His eyes were so dark the pupils blended with the irises, but they shone so brightly, I could see my guilty reflection staring back at me.
“I have to take Monica home so she can gather her things. Are you all right?”
Beneath that calm, Bryan-feeling, I could sense a bit of that lingering jealousy and a bit of embarrassment over allowing me to notice it. The warmth winding its way around me was him concentrating on his affection for me. He knew I was aware of his emotions, yet he tried to hide them from me anyway. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
“I’m fine,” I replied. “Just tired.”
I plastered on a smile that I hoped did not appear fake.
“Okay,” he said, giving me a quick peck on the lips. “I’ll call you tonight.”
“Bye, and have a good flight,” I called as he and Monica left out the front door.
My headache was mostly gone now, but every muscle in my body hummed with fatigue. As much as I wanted to hang around the house brooding about my love life all day, there was a much more important matter to attend to. Holy crap! I can heal people???
I took as quick of a shower as my exhaustion would allow. Not bothering to dry my hair, I descended the stairs, heading for the front door.
“Hey, Bug,” my dad’s voice called from the living room. “Don’t go anywhere yet. We need to talk to you.”
I entered the room to see my parents sitting beside each other on the couch clutching hands, not in a romantic way, more like Mom was clinging to him for strength. She was dressed in jeans and a sweater and her hair was brushed. If it weren’t for her too pale skin and lack of makeup, she would’ve appeared almost normal again.