Part 40 (1/2)
Reggie trotted to the cus.h.i.+on and circled, then lay down. I started for the reception area. ”I'll make coffee.”
”I don't need coffee.”
”I do.” What I really needed was something to occupy my hands, a way to stall while I figured out not only what to tell him but how.
Owen moved around the room, stopping in front of the pictures-photos Joaquin had taken of patients; the kid had a knack with a camera-shuffling magazines, straightening the furniture.
”Sit,” I said. He was driving me bonkers.
”You first.” I pressed the start b.u.t.ton on the coffeepot, turned, and ran right into him.
He caught my elbows. His hands were big and hard and warm-like him. I couldn't help myself. I leaned in, rested my cheek on his chest, felt his breath stir my hair. I never wanted to be without him again. But he needed to know the truth. All of it.
I straightened. He clung. I let him for just a minute, or maybe I let myself. Then I stepped back, and his hands fell away. I took the seat I'd wanted him to and spilled.
Sister triplets. Ghost-father Henry. Wolf-mom Pru. Scotland. Witchcraft. Time travel.
He took it pretty well. At least until I got to the part about me.
”Hold on.” He'd been pouring himself coffee. He set the pot back where it had been with a sharp click, wrapped his hand around the mug, and turned. ”You think you're one of these sisters who was sent through time?”
”You saw Raye, didn't you? We're identical. Or close enough.”
”There's a better explanation for that than magic and time travel.”
”If you have one, I'd be happy to listen.”
He scowled. ”You think you can hear the thoughts of animals?”
”I told you that when we were kids.”
”When we were kids, I believed you.”
”You don't now?”
”Becca.” He let out a sharp breath. ”Really?”
I was both annoyed-he didn't believe me?-and afraid. He didn't believe me!
”Reggie!” I called. A few seconds later Reggie appeared.
What?
Yeah, what?
”Ask me something that only Reggie would know.”
”This is crazy.”
”Ask me,” I insisted.
”How would I know what he knows? I can't talk to him.”
That had sounded more sarcastic than I cared for. If I couldn't prove that I could hear the animals, maybe I could prove my other talent.
”How do you think Pru was well enough to run out of here this morning?”
”She's a wild animal. They heal quicker than the wind blows.”
They did. But not the way she had.
”Reggie's better,” I said. ”You're better.”
”You think you did that?”
”I know I did.”
”If you could heal me as good as new, why didn't you?”
I couldn't help it; I dropped my gaze.
”That's what I thought.”
I lifted my eyes, thinking I'd see anger in his because he understood that I'd been selfish, that I'd stopped healing him last night because I didn't want him to go. Instead I saw pity, and it confused me. Until he spoke.
”Maybe we should talk to a professional about this.”
”My mom and Raye are about as professional as it gets.”
”I didn't mean that kind of professional.” He sat in the chair next to mine, took my coffee mug, and set both it and his on the magazine table before he took my hand. ”I know a lot of people who could help you, Becca.”
The light dawned. ”You think I'm crazy?”
Why did I sound so angry? Why wouldn't he?
”Listen to yourself.” His fingers tightened around mine when I would have yanked away. ”Your sister is an air witch. She can levitate. Move things. See ghosts.”
”Ask her.”
He didn't even respond to that. ”And you think you can hear the thoughts of animals. That you can touch them, touch people, and make them whole.”
”I can.” I tugged on one hand, and he let it go. I set my palm over his injury. Energy snapped. Heat flared. ”Let me heal you.”
He stood, practically tripping over his feet to get away from me. I wanted to cry.