Breaking the Rules (Pushing the Limits 1.50)

“It shouldn’t matter what I think. You’ve got to make this decision, and you’ve got to make it without worrying about me or your dad or your mom or even Hunter.”

Her eyebrows pull together. “You still want me, right? I mean...if I do this, we’ll still be together? Because we have to work. I want us to work.”

Long distance. Thousands of miles. Echo in an art studio where she belongs and me back flipping burgers. I drop my head, and my hands dig into my hair. “All I want is for you to be happy.”

She sniffs, and her voice cracks, the sound pushing a knife through me. “What if I chose Colorado...do you think that...maybe you could...come with me?”

I’m bleeding out. “I just got my brothers back.” And I have a shot at college. A chance at being something more...the more Echo deserves.

The door squeaks open. Laughing, Isaiah and Beth stumble in.

“Are you ready to go?” asks Beth.

I lift my head, and Echo stares at me. Tears pool in her eyes, and my heart is breaking. There’s a thickness in my throat I try to ignore. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I don’t want to think anymore.

“Yeah,” I say to Beth. “Let’s go.”

Echo

Following the instructions on the GPS that Noah had programmed in before I told him Hunter’s news, I take a right into a middle of nowhere driveway and sag with relief when I spot the lines of cars, the shadows of groups of people milling around and the bonfire in the back field. In the passenger seat beside me, Noah leans against the door. It’s like he can’t place enough space between us and if he had bricks, he would have already built a wall.

It’s a lonely, pit-in-my-stomach sensation sitting next to someone I love and having him ignore that I exist. Hurting Noah—it cuts me deep. It somehow feels like he’s asking me to choose between him and my dreams, and that causes near amputation.

I ease alongside a gray Jeep, and the moment I shift into Park, Noah’s out of the car. It’s like he sucked my heart from my chest, and he’s dragging it on sharp rocks.

“Well, that was fun,” announces Beth from the backseat. The overhead light casts dim shadows when she opens her door.

“Beth,” says Isaiah.

A moment of silence.

“You wait for me.”

An overly long sigh. “Yes, Dad.”

“I mean it.”

“I know you do.” A slam of the door and Beth trails behind Noah, who’s already been absorbed by the dark night.

“Let’s at least get out of the car, Echo,” Isaiah says.

I do and so does he. I slouch against the hood and wrap my arms around myself as if my insides will fall out if I don’t. That’s because they will. Everything twists out of position and tangles. I’m dying. I swear to God I’m dying.

Isaiah leaves a foot between us when he sinks beside me with his legs kicked out. “What crawled up Noah’s ass and laid eggs?”

The burst of bitter laughter surprises me, but the burn in my eyes doesn’t. “Hunter—the art guy I’ve been working with here?”

“The fucked-up stalker? Noah mentioned him.”

Of course Noah informed his friends of his side of the story alone. “He’s not a stalker. He’s this awesome art guy who everyone admires, and he likes my paintings.”

Isaiah tilts his head for the and-what-else part because it’s not enough to redeem Hunter in his eyes. My hand slams to my chest. “My paintings. Mine. He sees my talent.”

Nothing from Isaiah.

“Imagine you spend weeks on a car and the best car person in the world walks up to you and says, ‘Isaiah, that’s awesome. Come work at my shop, and you’ll have the possibility to do this for life and make a lot of money doing it.’”

Isaiah pulls on the bottom hoop earring of his double row. “How much money?”