Visions (Cainsville #2)(124)

Rose appeared in the doorway. When she saw us, she started to retreat. I would have let her, but Gabriel turned as if sensing someone there. He paused and it seemed as if he was going to pretend he hadn’t noticed her, but then he cleared his throat and called, “Rose?”

She returned.

“I was going to ask Olivia what she remembers from her vision at the house,” he said. “You should be here for that.”

“I’ll make tea and toast,” she said. “Get some food in you.”

I wanted to tell her yes, go on, give us a few more minutes alone, but my eyelids were flagging, lethargy pulling me under. “We’d better do this now, before I fall asleep again. I don’t want to forget it.”

—

I told them about the vision. When I finished, Rose left, saying she’d check her books.

“I’ll see what I can find online,” Gabriel said to me when she was gone.

“I can do—” I couldn’t stifle a yawn, then tried again. “I can do that.”

“Normally, I would be quite happy to let you,” he said. “Right now, the best thing you can do is sleep.”

“We need to talk about the rest first. About Cainsville. Rose has to know.” I glanced over. “If she doesn’t already.”

Gabriel’s expression betrayed him then, a tightening of his lips, and I knew this was the part he’d been dreading. Not telling Rose about Cainsville, but finding out how much she already knew. How much she’d kept from him.

“I can do that,” I said. “Why don’t you go get some rest—”

“I’m fine.”

“Clothing, then.” I glanced down at the satin chemise wrapped around me. “While this is lovely, I really should . . .” Another yawn.

“Take a minute,” Gabriel said, tugging the pillow out from under me so I slid down onto the bed.

I struggled to smile. “Thought you weren’t allowed to say that.”

“Only when I don’t mean it. Close your eyes.”

“Just for a moment,” I said, my lids dropping as if obeying a summons.

I fell asleep.

—

I awoke to find myself staring into a pair of eyes. Yellow eyes.

“TC?” I croaked, lifting my head from the pillow.

He blinked in response.

“I brought him over,” Gabriel said from the chair. “I was picking up your clothing, and he seemed concerned about you. I thought he might help you feel better.”

I looked at TC, sitting rigid and unblinking on the other pillow.

“Did you hear that?” I said. “I’m sick. You’re supposed to curl up with me. Cuddle. Purr.”

He lifted a paw and started to clean it. Then he hopped down and strolled from the room, tail high.

“Ingrate,” I called after him. I rolled over to look at Gabriel. “Is Rose downstairs? I really should talk to her.”

“I already did.”

“Oh.” I paused. “How did it go?”

He tensed. “Fine.”

Another pause, longer, then I pushed the words out. “Are you okay?”

I’d hesitated before asking, because this was one of those boundaries. Don’t ask him how he’s feeling. It presumes that he would have an emotional reaction, and, moreover, that he’d deign to share it with me.

So why did I ask? Because every time we drew closer, I had to press my fingers against those boundaries and see if they were still there. See if I’d made any progress.

I got as far as “Are you—” before the wall slammed down. His shoulders stiffened. His gaze cooled. Any hint of emotion emptied from his face.

“Yes, of course,” he said, words clipped.

I slumped back on the pillows.

There’d been a time when I’d imagined how many women over the years must have thought they’d be the one to break through Gabriel’s wall, and I’d decided I would never be so foolish.

Respect his boundaries. Don’t test them. Accept this relationship for what it is, because hoping for more is like hoping for that damned cat to race in here, cuddle up, and start purring.

I was closing my eyes when the door clicked, and my gut dropped, and I hated it for dropping, hated myself for reacting to him walking out.

The faint creak of chair springs made me jump. I rolled over to see Gabriel there again. The door was closed.

“I don’t think she knew exactly what Cainsville was,” he said, his voice low. “I may be deluding myself in that. I think . . .” He cocked his head as if searching for phrasing. “I believe she understood at some level but never articulated it.”

“Which is why she was always joking about fairies and hobgoblins and wards.”

He nodded. “She wants to talk to us about your vision. I’ll bring you breakfast, and we’ll talk.”

“No, I’ll come down,” I said. I peeled back the covers and a wave of dizziness made my gorge rise.

Gabriel pulled up the covers. “Dr. Webster said the fever will drain you for a few days. Either you stay in bed or you go to the hospital—”

I tugged the sheets to my chin.

A brief smile. “I thought so. I’ll bring Rose and food.”