Breaking the Rules (Pushing the Limits 1.50)

“Can’t help what you do to me.” I readjust Echo, shifting her away from the part of my body currently running its mouth, and draw my hand through her curls.

Her foot bounces against my leg. Something has her worked up. “What’s going on?”

“I need to talk to you about some stuff.”

Yeah. A long conversation needs to be had—my shit included. “Then talk.”

“Hunter asked me to paint a picture for him.”

Hunter needs his face rearranged. “Did you accept?”

“No, but I haven’t declined.” She pauses, and the rhythm of her foot picks up speed. “What if I need you to trust me on this?”

Why doesn’t she ask me to rip out my own jugular?

“I mean it, Noah. I need you to support me.”

Outside the office, a group of children sprint down the hallway and from the sounds of their squeals, they’re heading for the pool. Seconds behind, a woman laughs as a man calls for them to wait. I had that type of family once. A mom and a dad who took me on trips where we stayed in hotels and swam in pools. At one time, life felt simple—without complication. Exactly what Echo and I are searching for now.

“I’ll stand by you,” I say.

She nods, but focuses on her still-moving foot. Fuck this. We aren’t going back to any of this crap. Not today. “No more worrying. This is home base, Echo. Just us.”

“Okay,” she mumbles against my shoulder. “Did I ever tell you that Dad took Aires and me on vacation a few times? Sometimes with Mom, then without, then with Ashley.”

“Did you throw Aires’s clothes in the pool?”

Echo giggles then sighs. “He also would have tossed me in.”

She stretches her arm toward the keyboard of her laptop. I swivel the chair so that she can reach. With a brush to the pad, the monitor turns on. “Have you considered searching for your mom by her maiden name? Sarah Perry?”

“Thought about it.” But I haven’t. There’s this heaviness inside me, an ache, preventing me from typing my mother’s name. A name that belonged to her before my father. A past she never alluded to. “Let’s sleep in the tent tonight.”

She scans my face, weighing the change of subject.

“I’ll do everything,” I coax. “Pitch the tent, put out the blankets, make dinner and repack. Plus, Beth and Isaiah need sleep.” More important, I need time with Echo.

Her nose wrinkles, not believing me. “So all I have to do is sit. No lugging the cooler, no opening a can of beans...nothing.”

“Nothing,” I repeat. “Except make out with me.”

She’s still examining me. I can sense her energy extending out to touch mine as she tries to gauge how close to insanity I am as I delve into my mother’s past.

Come on, Echo. Let this go.

A shadow crosses her face. “Hunter asked me to paint the constellation Aires.”

My heart beats once in pain for her. Jesus, it’s like the two of us can’t catch a break. I cup her face with my hand, and Echo leans into me as if she needs my strength. She’s been strong for too long. Even with the summer reprieve, can either of us survive more reminders of our hurts?

“Don’t do it if it bothers you.”

“But this could be it, Noah. My chance to prove that I have talent beyond my mom.”

“You don’t need him to prove anything.”

Neither one of us blinks as she thinks over my words.

“I mean it, Echo, you don’t need him to—”