Summer reached out to lay her hand over his. “He must have known you had a good hear—” A storm of emotion blazed through her mind, pain and anger and desperation and longing — she jerked her hand away and sat for a long moment, breathing hard. Helios laid his ears back, his purr dimming.
Loki’s hand went rigid under hers—and he pulled his own hand away as she jerked hers back, his eyes fixed on the cat.
Summer swallowed hard. And then again. “Excuse me,” she said faintly, turning away slightly. She cupped her hands, and a flame grew inside her palms, flickering against her face and filling the room with the smell of fire. A single tear tracked down her face as she closed her eyes.
When she reopened them, the fire vanished. Apparently without self-consciousness, she smeared the tearstain from her face and turned back to Loki. Clearing her throat, she said, “I’m sorry, where was I?”
Loki didn’t flinch at the fire—he knew it burned, but he kept his eyes on the cat and his hands clasped tightly in his lap.
“…cats are trusting,” he said, in answer to her question.
“But you’re not. Are you. Not even of a cat.” Summer held out a finger, and Helios arched his neck, sniffing at it. She scrupulously kept her gaze away from Loki’s, and her voice was very soft. “Are you going to let yourself love Cat? Because if you aren’t, you need to find him someone who will. I,” she drew a deep breath, and her voice hitched, “don’t know what I just saw. I — “
She broke off and swore, vehemently, for thirty seconds, putting her face in her hands. “I don’t even know what to say to you!”