Arcadia's Gift Part 18

Aaron yanked on the leg and turned it straight. Cane screamed in agony, dropping the stick. At the same time, I pushed with my determination and felt the heat tearing down my arms and out through my fingertips. I flooded the nerves with as much energy as I could to fight off the pain. Cool sweat beaded on my forehead from exertion as the tissue and bone wound its way back into place. My head spun dizzily, and I felt myself detaching from my body as if I were slipping into a dream. When I couldn't sustain the force anymore, I let go, sending the heat snapping back into me. This time, I collapsed.

Chapter 25.

The persistent pain of a jack-hammer behind my eyes pulled me back to consciousness. In my bedroom, the soft light of morning filtered through my curtains bathing the bed in a rose-colored glow. I tried to stretch my tight muscles, but every part of my body ached.

I blinked to clear my vision, foggy from the migraine. Beside me, Monica dozed, dressed in a pair of my pajamas. Flashes of the night before came back to me, but all I could think about was my desperate need for anything to kill the pounding in my head. I was wearing a long t-shirt and no pants, and I wondered if Monica had gotten stuck changing me out of the b.l.o.o.d.y dress.

Tossing my covers back, I tried to sit up. The effort made me woozy, and I fell back down, waking Monica.

"You okay?" she asked, her voice dry from sleep.

"I have the world's worst headache." I moaned.

"I'll get you something for it. Where do you keep your Ibuprophen?"

I closed my eyes because the effort to hold them open was just too much. "Bathroom." I pointed in the vague direction.

Monica slipped off of the bed and disappeared. A moment later she returned with four tablets and a Dixie cup of water. I smiled in grat.i.tude for the over-medication. She held my head so I could swallow.

"How are Bryan and Cane?" I asked as Monica crawled back under the covers on the opposite side of the bed.

"Bryan's sleeping in the guest room. He couldn't go back to his place all covered in blood and shirtless. Aaron said that your mom would never notice us here."

"And she didn't, did she?"

"No. She must have been sleeping when we got in. Anyway, Bryan carried you up here, and I did my best to clean up so you wouldn't wreck your sheets. Aaron gave him some clothes, and Bryan crashed out. He lost a lot of blood."

I cringed remembering the sticky puddle spread over the ground. It was amazing he was alive at all.

"It is really fixed, right?"

Monica nodded. "As far as we could tell. Aaron stayed with him for over an hour, but no bruise formed and Bryan said he felt fine."

The thought of almost losing him made my chest ache. At some point over these past few weeks, he had become something like a lifeline to me, the one bright spot in my otherwise dismal life. I needed him, sure, but I also felt the stirrings of what might be something more in my heart. I sighed. But if I liked Bryan, why had I kissed Cane?

As if reading my thoughts, Monica continued. "We took Cane home. He said if he went in by the patio door, he could get to his bedroom without his parents seeing him."

"So he can walk?" I asked.

"Yeah," she confirmed. "Good as new, I guess."

After a moment of silence, Monica asked in a timid voice, "Cady, what did you do last night? I mean, I watched it happen, but I don't know if I believe it yet."

"I don't know if I believe it either," I moaned, rolling onto my side.

I drifted off to sleep again without really answering her question.

I woke to find Bryan kneeling beside my bed, running his fingers along the side of my face. When my mouth curled into a grin, he stood and sat on the mattress next to my hip.

"Nice outfit." I commented.

He wore a pair of Aaron's sweatpants, too short by a few inches and one of my brother's zombie t-shirts. His hair stuck up in randomly s.p.a.ced spikes that somehow worked on him. The warmth of his familiar presence flooded my soul, and I breathed deeply, as if I could suck more of it in.

"Thanks," he replied. "How are you feeling?"

My migraine was down from a ten to a three on the ouch-o-meter, but I was still weak. "A little better, I guess. I feel like I have a hangover without having had the fun of drinking."

He raised one of his brows, "Have you had a lot of hangovers?"

I shook my head. "Once. The morning after our sixteenth birthday party. It wasn't pretty."

"Sounds like a good story."

"Maybe another day..." I rubbed the sleep out of the corners of my eyes.

Aaron came in carrying a tray of sandwiches. Monica followed with sodas. Bringing up the rear was Cane. A slight blush spread on his cheeks when his gaze met mine, and I knew we were both thinking about that kiss we shared. I bit my bottom lip to stop it from tingling with the memory. The warmth of Bryan's happiness burned me with guilt.

Bryan must have sensed something because he glanced back and forth between us with curiosity.

"Thought you could use some lunch," Monica said. "It'll help you get your energy back."

"I went in to see Mom a bit ago," Aaron explained, setting the tray on my bed and straddling my desk chair. "I told her we were out late after the dance, and Monica and Bryan decided to crash here. She didn't seem to care."

Cane cleared his throat. "I just stopped by to see how you're doing," he said without meeting my eyes.

He was too far away from me to get a reading, but he looked profoundly uncomfortable. Even after practically living at my house for half a year, I think it was the first time he'd ever been in my bedroom. Cane leaned against the back of my door as if afraid to come too far into the room. I saw his eyes flick to my hand wrapped in Bryan's.

Rising into a sitting position, I tucked the covers around my lower half. Monica sat down cross-legged on my bed like we were having a picnic or something. Cane waved away her offer to join us.

I picked up a peanut b.u.t.ter sandwich from the tray and bit into it eagerly, not realizing how hungry I was until the sweet grape jelly hit my tongue. Bryan popped open a soda can and handed it to me. The liquid tingled all the way down to my belly, making me feel more human already.

When we finished the sandwiches, Aaron set the tray on the floor and leveled his gaze on mine. "Okay, Cady. It's time that you tell us what happened last night."

I looked to Bryan for help, but his face was as expectant as everyone else's. How was I supposed to explain something that I didn't fully understand myself? I took a long swig of Diet Pepsi to buy some time.

"Well?" Aaron prodded, poking me in the foot.

I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm not a hundred percent sure, but I have a theory."

"Let's hear it."

I began to pick at my comforter to avoid looking at any of them. It's like a Band-Aid, Cady. The quicker you tell them, the easier it'll be.

"It started the night of Lony's accident," I explained.

Cane stiffened and his expression turned stoic. Neither of us wanted to remember that night, so I pushed on, telling them everything; the vision that sent me into the coma, the sensing of people's emotions, Jinx's explanation about my strange empathy...I even told them about Lucy and her tumor. Bryan nodded like a light had been turned on recalling that I'd mentioned Lucy to him before.

"So, I think somehow when I felt your pain, I was able to not only block it from myself, but to push it back entirely. And the energy that I felt flowing out of me and into Bryan and Cane, it was like I was giving them a piece of me...my life force or spirit or something. I know it sounds corny, but it's the best I can come up with."

When n.o.body said anything, I took the emotional temperature of the room. Bryan, Monica and Aaron all had a mixture of awe and skepticism to varying degrees. I still couldn't reach Cane, and his hard expression was unreadable. I grew more nervous in the silence. That's it! They all think I'm crazy or lying or...both!

Finally, Monica said with a little laugh, "Cady. You want us to believe you're some sort of a psychic doctor or something?" She snorted in disbelief, but I could sense from the nervousness pooling in her direction that she believed me and that belief made her profoundly uncomfortable. She glanced at the guys to judge their reactions. Seeing something akin to acceptance on their faces, she continued, "Come on! I mean, how is it even possible?"

Surprisingly, Cane came to my defense first. "If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes -and felt the healing first-hand -I would've thought it was crazy too, but..." he paused. "I believe you, Cady. I have to."

"Same goes for me," Bryan agreed, patting my arm and grinning. "What you did last night? That was freaky, but I wouldn't be here right now if you hadn't saved me." He tipped my chin up with his finger and met my eyes. "Thank you, Cady."

For a moment, I basked in the rosy glow of his appreciation.

Aaron shook his head in disbelief. He tapped his fingers nervously on the back of his chair.

"I remember when you and Lon were little. You were so...I don't know...connected? Before you learned to talk for real, you had your own language that only the two of you could understand. I don't think you fully gave it up until you went to kindergarten. I used to get so mad that you wouldn't let me in on your secrets. The way you would just instinctively know what the other was feeling all of the time made me think I was stupid or something."

I opened my mouth to protest, but he held his hand up to stop me.

"What I'm saying is I knew you and Lony had this connection your whole lives. I guess I can see how your auras or minds or whatever would have reached out for each other at the time of her death. That had to have left a lasting effect on you. And since I don't have a better explanation for what happened last night, I have to believe you too, Sis."

Monica looked a little bit defeated but didn't say anything else.

"I'm exhausted, but I should probably get up." I said, stretching my arms out in front of me to loosen up my shoulders.

Aaron nodded. "I want to talk more about this, but I'll let you rest up for now. Oh, and Dad called a bit ago. He's coming over in a little while to talk to us about something." He patted my foot, placed the chair back under the desk and walked out, giving Cane a playful shuck to the bicep as he pa.s.sed.

"I'm going to go change," Monica announced. She hopped off the bed and picked up her wrinkled party dress from the floor. She gave it a sniff and shrugged. "Bryan, I have to be to the airport by three. We should go soon."

"Okay," he replied and she slipped out the door.

Cane's mouth hardened into a line and he stepped toward me. As soon as he stepped into my range, my mouth dropped open in shock. His eyes burned with an inner heat that I'd never seen in him before. That heat rolled up and down my bare arms.

Noticing my reaction, Bryan's eyes darkened and his grip on my hand tightened. Cane either didn't notice or didn't care, because he continued to move closer, his hot gaze burning into mine. My heart was speeding, and my body suddenly felt feverish. Bryan rose to a standing position. His suddenly protective stance looked ridiculous in the too-short jogging pants.

"Can we talk?" Cane asked softly, his eyes never straying from mine. "Alone?"

The skin along my forearm and neck p.r.i.c.kled as I felt Bryan's hackles rise. He didn't need to be an empath to feel the intensity of Cane's emotions, so plainly written as they were on his face. A cool tendril of jealousy wrapped itself around my waist and snaked up my spine.

I needed a moment of distance from both of them. "Can I have a minute to get dressed?" My voice came out breathless, and I hoped the boys didn't notice.

Cane dipped his head in a brief nod. "I'll just be in the hall."

Bryan didn't move; he just stood watching Cane leave the room. Without Cane's heat, my body shivered under Bryan's possessiveness. Honestly, it made me a little frustrated with him.

"You too," I said. "Out."

"Oh. Of course." He smiled as some of the light returned to his eyes. He placed a quick kiss on my head and headed for the door. He stopped before the door and turned to look at me. "If you don't want to talk to him alone, I can stay with you."

I rolled my eyes and sighed. "I've known Cane forever. Stop acting all jealous."

His brows shot up in a combination of surprise and amus.e.m.e.nt. "Me? Jealous?"

Laughing, I tossed my pillow at him. "Get out!"

He caught the pillow, hugged it to his chest and shut the door behind him as he left.

As drained as I was, I couldn't tamp down the itchy energy in my limbs. There were things that I needed to work out -starting with my new ability to heal people. And as much as I dreaded it, I knew Cane wanted to talk about that kiss. The warmth in my cheeks at the memory came from deep within me, causing my pulse to gallop. Where are these feelings coming from?

I whipped my covers back and got out of bed, holding onto my headboard until the room stopped spinning. When I was ready, I crossed to the dresser and began yanking out clothes. My skin beneath the t-shirt was tinged brownish-red and I knew I'd have to shower before going anywhere. I'd slept in my bra and the elastic bit into my skin in angry red welts. Replacing it with a cotton sports bra, I put the t-shirt I'd slept in back on for the time being and pulled on a well-worn pair of jeans. I glanced at myself in the mirror. The pretty curls from the night before were matted and stuck out at random odd angles. I ran a brush through as well as I could before steeling myself to face Cane.

I a.s.sumed he wanted to apologize for his behavior the night before, but judging from the scorching vibes he had been throwing off, it would probably be a lie. He didn't regret that kiss, and truth be told, neither did I. What is wrong with me? I like Bryan Sullivan, not Cane Matthews!

I closed my eyes and took ten deep yoga breaths in an attempt to clear my head. It didn't work.

"Cane," I called, knowing he was close by. "You can come in now."

With my hands folded behind my back, I leaned against my dresser for support. A few seconds later, the door k.n.o.b turned. Cane stepped inside and shut it behind him again. With tentative steps, he approached me as if I were a wild animal about to bolt. My heart raced under his forceful stare and the hair on my arms stood on end.

"Since you can feel what I'm feeling, I guess there's no point in hiding it," he said softly. "Don't worry, I know where things stand with you and Bryan. He's a decent guy. Not good enough for you, but..." He shrugged and gave a sad grin.

"Cane -"

He stood in front of me now, so close I could smell the woodsy scent of his soap. He placed the tip of his index finger to my mouth. "Wait. I have something I want to ask you. Do you remember the first time we met?"

Honestly, I didn't. I know we hadn't gone to the same junior high school, so it must have been sometime in ninth grade. I shook my head.

The ghost of a smile touched his lips. "I didn't think so. I'll have to tell you about it sometime when your boyfriend isn't pacing outside the door."

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 succ.u.mb 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 partic.i.p.ant -"

"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 pa.s.sion. 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 h.e.l.l 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.