Angel Burn (32 page)

Willow raised an eyebrow at him as she sat down at the table. “Are you sure you want to risk this, when I almost beat you at quarters? I play Go Fish. Does that count?”

“Go Fish?” He held back a laugh. “Yeah, I think I’ll risk it.” Sitting in the rickety chair to her right, he took the cellophane wrapping off the cards; the plastic made a crinkling sound as he put it aside. “Is that all you play? How about blackjack? Or canasta?”

She shook her head with a grin. Her hair was loose, falling past her shoulders. “Sorry. I think I must have had a disadvantaged childhood.”

“Gin rummy?”

“Barely.”

“I’ll teach you blackjack first,” he said, thumbing through the deck and pulling the jokers out. “It’s really easy.” The deck rattled as he shuffled it. He dealt them two cards each, one face up and one face down, flipping them expertly across the table.

“So, why am I not surprised that you’re a card shark?” Willow lifted her facedown card, peering at it.

He shrugged as he looked at his own card, trying not to notice the way her face lit up when she smiled. “We used to play a lot, back at the camp. There wasn’t much else to do at night without a TV, apart from listening to the coyotes howl. . . . OK, I’m the dealer this round, so you’re trying to beat me. The goal is to get as close to twenty-one points as you can without going over. Wait, we need something to bet with —”

Shoving back his chair, he delved into one of the grocery boxes and found a large bag of M&M’s. Cully had always had a sweet tooth, he remembered with a pang.

“Great,” said Willow when she saw them. “That can be breakfast, too.”

She had a point; suddenly he was starving. Alex opened the bag and scooped out a handful, then slid it across to her. “OK, the face cards are ten points each, the ace is worth either one or eleven, and the rest are what they say they are.” He popped a brown M&M into his mouth.

Willow seemed to think this over, munching a few candies as she gazed at her cards. “And we’re supposed to be going to twenty-one, right?”

“Right.”

“Cool.” She had a king showing. She flipped over her other card, and Alex groaned, laughing, as he saw that it was an ace. “I’d like the ace to be worth eleven points, please,” she said, dimpling a smile at him. “What do I win?”

“Oh man, you asked for it. What you win is me taking my gloves off and wiping the floor with you.” Scraping the cards toward him, Alex shuffled the deck again and slapped it in front of her. “Your deal. Though I’m not really sure why I keep putting myself through this with you.”

She gave him an arch look as she picked up the cards. “Glutton for punishment, obviously.”

They played for hours, sometimes stopping to talk. As if by mutual agreement, neither of them mentioned anything about angels. They just talked, sharing stories from their lives. Alex found out that Willow liked to cook and that she even made homemade jam in the fall; he told her about his secret love of astronomy, and how in the camp he used to lie on the desert ground at night and stare up at the stars. After a while, they heated up a couple of cans of chili for lunch, eating straight from the cans with metal camping forks. Remembering that there were a few six-packs of beer in one of Cully’s boxes, Alex went outside to put one in the stream to chill.

“We’ve got a fridge,” said Willow, drifting out after him.

“Yeah, all the modern conveniences.” Alex straightened up from the stream and stretched, feeling stiff from sitting still for so long. “Do you want to go for a walk?”

They put on their hiking boots and explored the area around the cabin for the rest of the afternoon, following the different deer trails. Willow was very relaxed company, easy to talk to when either of them felt like talking or just as happy to stay quiet, lost in her own thoughts as they climbed. Glancing at her profile as they sat on a boulder looking out at the view, it suddenly struck Alex that he’d never felt so comfortable with anyone in his life. It felt as if he’d known Willow always.

No. It felt like she was a part of him.

He was silent as they hiked back to the cabin. When they got to the stream, Willow walked ahead of him, bending down and touching the beer cans. “You’ll be happy to know that the fridge works,” she said over her shoulder with a grin. “Do you want one?”

“Yeah, thanks.” She handed him a cold beer, then carefully nestled the rest of the six-pack back into the stream, resting it against a rock. “You don’t want one?” he asked as they headed into the cabin, stopping to take their boots off.

She shook her head. “I don’t really drink; it just makes me fall asleep. I might have a few sips of yours, though.”

They went back to playing cards, heating up another meal when they got hungry. As it started to get dark, Alex lit the camping lantern he’d bought, putting it in the center of the table. Willow slipped outside to use the “facilities” and returned wearing a pair of navy-blue sweatpants instead of her jeans.

“A little bit comfier,” she explained. She dropped into her seat again, to his left at the small table. They had turned to gin rummy by then, playing for matchsticks after the M&M’s were all gone. Picking up her cards, Willow settled back into her chair and drew a knee up, her bare foot curled over the edge of her seat as she inspected her hand.

Alex gazed at her. Her mouth was slightly open; she ran her fingernail against her lower teeth as she thought. She’d knotted her hair at the nape of her neck again, and a strand had slipped loose onto her shoulder, gleaming in the lantern light. Suddenly all of his objections seemed meaningless.
Don’t,
he thought.
You’ll regret it.

He didn’t care anymore.

Slowly, unable to stop himself, he reached out and cupped his hand around her foot.

Willow’s eyes flew to his, startled. They stared at each other. Her foot felt small under his hand; he rubbed it lightly with his thumb, feeling the silky heat of her skin, his pulse hammering through his veins. He felt like he was falling. All he could see was her.

She looked close to tears. “Alex —”

Leaning across the corner of the table, he cradled her face in his hands and kissed her.

Her lips were soft and warm. With a sob, Willow returned the kiss, throwing her arms around his neck. He opened his mouth, tasting her; felt her hair tumble down around his hands. Happiness burst through him, exploding through his chest.
Willow. Oh, God, Willow.

She started to pull away. “Alex, wait — are you sure about this? I’m half angel. I can’t change that.”

He almost laughed. “Shut up,” he whispered.

It was awkward with the table between them. Scooping an arm under Willow’s knees, Alex pulled her gently onto his lap, holding her close as they kissed. Her body was small, perfect. Her long hair tickled around his face; he stroked it back, twining his fingers through it. The feel of her lips on his, the warmth of her as she pressed against him — nothing had ever felt so right.

At last they came apart, staring at each other in wonder. Alex could feel that he was smiling; he couldn’t stop. “You are so beautiful,” he said in a low voice.

Willow shook her head, looking dazed. She touched his face; he shivered as she traced his eyebrow with her fingers. “I never thought this would happen,” she said. She swallowed. “I’ve really been wanting it to.”

“Oh, God, me too  . . .  me too.” Pulling her back to him, he kissed her again, feeling their hearts thudding through the soft cotton of their shirts. There were no words for a while, just holding her, kissing her. When they finally paused for breath, he said against her lips, “I’ve been wanting to do that since practically the first time I saw you.”

Willow pulled away slightly, her eyes widening in surprise. “But you hated me then.”

“No, I didn’t,” he murmured. He kissed her neck, her cheek. “I never hated you. Even when I thought I should, I was so attracted to you that I could hardly stand it. I’ve been going insane these last few days.”

She gaped at him. “You
have
? I couldn’t tell. At the rest stop, I — I thought I must have just imagined it.”

All he wanted to do was keep kissing her, but she seemed so stunned that he started to laugh. “You’re supposed to be psychic; you really couldn’t tell what I was feeling?”

“No!” She gave a short laugh, looking dumbfounded. “I was too — I could hardly even breathe when you were touching me, hardly
think.
I thought you were just comforting me, and that you only wanted to be friends.”

Alex slowly ran his hand along her arm; just the feel of her skin made his breath catch. “Believe me, being friends was the last thing on my mind. I wanted to kiss you so much that it hurt.”

She hesitated. “Why didn’t you? Because I’m half angel?”

He shook his head. “I haven’t cared about that in days. It was because  . . . ” He could hardly even remember now why this hadn’t seemed like a good idea. “Because I’m an idiot, I guess.”

Willow sat very still. Around them, there was only the glow of the camp lantern and the velvet silence from outside. “It really doesn’t bother you, then? What I am?”

Emotion tightened his chest. He took her face in his hands, feeling the smoothness of her cheeks against his palms. “Willow, all I care about is that you’re you, and — and that you’re with me. That’s all that matters.”

“Really?” she whispered, her eyes bright with tears.

Alex laughed suddenly, smoothing her blond hair back. “Hey,
I’m
the lucky one this time, don’t you know that? You are so — absolutely incredible. Everything about you.”

He saw her throat move. “Oh, I don’t know. I think I’m pretty lucky, too, actually.” Touching his hair, she leaned hesitantly forward, and he folded his arms around her, sinking into sensation again as they kissed — the slight weight of her on his lap, the smell of her. He glided his hands up the warm dip of her spine, felt her shiver and press closer. He could never get enough of this. Never.

Finally Willow pulled back. “Wow,” she said weakly. “That’s even more amazing than I thought it would be.”

Alex’s arms were still looped around her waist; it took a serious effort not to draw her back to him and start kissing her again. He managed to control himself and grinned. “You mean with me or just in general?”

“In general,” she said. “But I have a feeling it’s especially amazing with you.” She leaned back in his arms, studying him. Shaking her head with a slight smile, she reached out and stroked the line of his cheekbone. “Do you even realize how gorgeous you are?”

What he realized was that he was happier than he’d ever been. He gazed at Willow, drinking in her face, feeling amazed that this was happening — that she was here with him and that she actually felt the same way.

“Come here,” he said softly. And pulling her toward him, he simply held her, cradling her against his chest.

I sat there with Alex holding me for a long time, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart beating through his shirt. Around us there was absolute silence, broken only by the distant hooting of an owl somewhere out in the night. I was still trying to believe that this was true — that I was really here, with Alex’s arms around me. My heart felt so full that it was almost like a pain in my chest. Finally he shifted his weight on the chair, and I realized he was getting uncomfortable. I sat up on his lap. “Maybe we should go to bed,” I said. Then I realized what I had said, and my cheeks flamed.

Alex went very still.

I swallowed. “I mean —”

“You mean sleep, right?” he said at the same time.

I nodded.

“Thought so,” he said. He took my hand, rubbing his thumb against my palm in lazy circles, and I felt myself go weak. “I’m not sure how much sleep I’ll get with you in the same room, but — yeah, OK. Do you want to take the bed? I can crash on the floor.”

There was no way that I wanted him to stop touching me, even for a few hours. My pulse thudded as I glanced across at the camp bed. I cleared my throat. “Well  . . .  is there a reason we can’t both take the bed? The sleeping bags zip together, don’t they?” Alex stared at me without moving. “Would that be OK?” I asked, feeling nervous suddenly.

The lantern light made his eyes look darker, his hair almost black. He started to smile, a grin spreading across his face. “Yes, that would be extremely OK.”

We brushed off the camp bed and got the sleeping bags out of their compact nylon bags, fluffing them out. They were black, with a bright blue lining. Kneeling on the floor together, we silently worked the zippers. My fingers felt clumsy as I fumbled with them. The thought of lying next to Alex all night, holding him, was making me light-headed.

“There,” he said finally, getting up and flopping the sleeping bags onto the bed. “Everything except pillows.” He glanced at me, and the look in his eyes exactly reflected how I felt — so warm and so full of wonder that this had actually happened between us.
I love you, Alex,
I thought.
I love you so much.

“Who needs pillows?” I whispered. Stepping forward, I slipped my arms around his waist, resting my head against his chest. His own arms encircled me, holding me close. “Remember back in Arkansas, when we were looking at the cotton?” I said. “I really wanted to do this then. Just  . . .  put my arms around you.”

He tipped my chin up with his hand, kissing me. I could feel his smile against my mouth. “I would have loved it,” he said. “We seriously wouldn’t have gotten much driving done the rest of that day, though.”

I shook my head. “No, probably not.”

As Alex went outside to get changed, I quickly brushed my teeth. Wavering for a moment, I finally pulled off the red sweater that he’d gotten me, leaving on the sweatpants and T-shirt. The bandage on my left arm looked stark against my skin; I touched it, remembering how Alex’s fingers had lingered when he’d put it on. Sitting on the edge of the camp bed, I brushed my hair. I do that every night, but I don’t think it’s ever felt so charged with meaning. With every stroke of the brush, all I could think of was Alex, out there in the darkness.

I almost jumped when the door opened. Alex came back inside, wearing black sweatpants; I swallowed as I saw his chest was bare. “Forgot my T-shirt,” he said sheepishly. His bag was on the floor near the bed, and I watched the lantern light play on his skin as he crossed to it. Squatting by the bag, he pulled out a T-shirt; I sat frozen, taking in the movement of his back and shoulders.