Pushing the Limits (Pushing the Limits 1)

Noah tensed. “Too much information. I’ll be in the waiting room. ”

“All right. ”

He kissed my lips softly. “Text me and I’ll be here in a heartbeat, breast-feeding or not. ”

“Thanks. ”

Noah waited until I stepped into the room before he retreated. No ordinary room for Ashley. My father had upgraded to the private room with full spa bathroom, leather couches, wood floors and flat-screen television. He and Ashley were giggling over something when I stepped inside. “Hi. ”

Ashley stretched out on the inclined hospital bed with my father right beside her. His arm was draped over her shoulder. There was no sign of the constant worry lines on my father’s face. His gray eyes shone as he looked down at the bundled baby she held in her arms.

They stopp

ed laughing and Dad sat up on the bed. “Echo. Are you okay? Do you need me?”

My foot tapped against the floor. Nausea roiled deep inside. I’d had no idea how badly seeing the replacement child would hurt. “I’m fine. Am I interrupting something? Because if so I could go, because I know that you just had a baby and all …”

“No. ” Ashley’s blue eyes softened. “You’re not interrupting anything, Echo. Please come in. I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you last night, but … well … I was sort of preoccupied. ”

“Yeah. It’s fine. You had a baby. I think that sort of trumps—” Watching me have a breakdown.

I took the seat next to the bed and tried to peek at the baby without seeming like it. “Is he okay? I mean, he was born early and stuff. ”

Not that I should care or anything. This thing was my and Aires’ replacement. But still, it was a small, defenseless baby and it should have been cooking in Ashley’s belly, not out too soon in this horrible world.

My dad gave me an honest-to-God smile. “He’s perfect. ”

“Good. ” I crossed my ankles and my foot rocked in rhythm to the finger tapping on my knee.

“Would you like to hold him?” Ashley asked.

Um … no. “Okay?”

My father retrieved the swaddled baby from Ashley’s arms and handed him to me. Becoming the queen of awkward, I moved my hands three times before I finally accepted him.

“Support his head and hold him close,” my father said. “That’s right. See, you’re a natural. ”

“Sure. ” People naturally wanted to run screaming when they held a baby. My heart rate rose when the little pink thing yawned and opened his eyes. He blinked three times and let them close again. When I blinked like that, a lie typically followed. I wondered how closely related we were.

“Would you like to know his name?” Ashley asked.

“Yeah. What’s his name?” Because people named their children and I was supposed to want to know.

My father caressed Ashley’s hand and answered, “Alexander Aires Emerson. ”

A shiver ran through me until the name settled in my heart. Alexander’s little hand broke free from the blanket and grasped my finger. Aires. They named the baby after Aires.

Aires would have loved this baby, regardless of who his mother was, regardless of how our father treated him. Why? Because that’s the way he’d loved me. Aires loved me unconditionally. He loved me when I was a scared child. He loved me when I was a bratty preteen. He loved me as a hormonal teenager. When nobody else in this world could love me for being an unsure, self-absorbed, timid scaredy-cat, he loved me.

More than once, Aires had sucked up his pride for me. He took crap from my father, my mother and from Ashley to stick up for me. Aires did only one selfish thing in his life and that was to fulfill his dream of becoming a Marine, but even then, he fought for me. He wrote my father and Ashley letters, telling them to lay off. He called and wrote me all the time. He sacrificed his free time in order to be up-to-date on every detail of my life.

Aires would have moved heaven and earth for this baby, just like he had moved heaven and earth for me.

I’d thought repairing Aires’ car was going to fix my life. I’d thought the same thing about recovering my memory. But neither of those things fulfilled the magical hope I’d clung to—that somehow my life would rewind to three years before.

Alexander shifted in my arms. God, he was so small, and from the giddy looks on my father’s and Ashley’s faces, they already worshipped him. We all started off this way—small little bundles of joy. Me, Aires, Noah, Lila, Isaiah and even Beth. At some point, someone held and loved us, but somewhere along the way, it all got screwed up.

Not for this baby though—not for Alexander. Over the past few weeks, I’d learned several harsh lessons about myself. The most devastating? That I was selfish like my mom. Like her, I saw the world in black and white instead of the vibrant colors and shades I knew existed. And not only that, I’d chosen to see the world through her eyes instead of my own.