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—”
“I’ll sleep in the tent,” Echo says, cutting me off.
I stiffen at her sharp reprimand, but hear the words underneath. She let my shit go, and I need to let her shit go. Camping isn’t her favorite, and she’s giving me what I asked for when I promised her a week in a hotel. “Then I’ll pick you up after work.”
Echo
Noah left the hotel’s business office hours ago. With my computer in my lap, I permit the seat to cradle me with my back against one arm of the chair and my legs dangling over the other. I have several windows on the computer open. Noah’s mother the subject of all of them. They’re sites Noah will want to see, I think, even if they lead to dead ends.
“S’up, Echo.” Isaiah strolls into the room and rubs his hand over his shaved head as if to wake himself.
“Hey.” I perk up at the sight of Noah’s best friend. Even with his tattoo-covered arms and the double row of hoop earrings in both ears, Isaiah’s definitely one of the good guys. “How are you?”
“I’m all good.” Isaiah flips a metal folding chair around and straddles it. “You?”
“Good.” And because it’s polite to ask... “How’s Beth?”
“Still sleeping. Whatcha working on?”
I readjust my legs so that my feet touch the ground and I’m straight in the chair. “Stuff for Noah.”
Isaiah’s eyebrows shoot up, and I weigh whether or not I should tell him what type of stuff. Noah can be private. Isaiah and Beth are, too. Hanging out with them is like tangoing through a minefield of secrets, and I never have any idea which secrets the other person knows. I go with safe. “How was your trip?”
The left side of his mouth tips up. “Nicely played. Trip sucked. Look, I told Noah and now I’m telling you—Beth and I will split. Last thing I want is to bring trouble.”
I’d rather play leap frog in traffic with a porcupine than engage in small talk with Beth for the week, but I like Isaiah and love Noah. Beth is part of their package deal. “It’s okay. Noah and I have had a rough couple of days, and he failed to mention your plans, but we’ll work it out. He and I are going to sleep in the tent tonight, anyhow.”
Isaiah shakes his head, and I lean forward to catch his attention. “Noah needs the tent tonight, and I need to give it to him. It doesn’t have nearly as much to do with you and Beth as you think.”
He pulls on the bottom earring of the double row. “You sure?”
“Yes.”
“I’m paying for me and Beth. All the way.” Even though, like it is for Noah, money is hard for Isaiah to come across. He’ll pay because Isaiah also possesses Noah’s stubborn pride.
“We’ll figure it out when the time comes,” I answer.
“Cool. Don’t hang in here because Beth and I are crashing, otherwise I’ll be mad.” He hitches his thumb over his shoulder. “Vending machines?”
“We have drinks and food in the cooler.”
“Vending machines,” he repeats.
Yep, same infuriating pride. “Around the corner.”
Isaiah stands, and my fingers lightly slide over the keyboard. A bit of panic seeps into my bloodstream as I contemplate what I’ve been doing since Noah left for work. If anyone understands Noah, it would be Isaiah. “Isaiah?”
He pauses at the door.
“I...I found pictures of Noah’s mom...when she was a teenager. Do you think I should show him?”
Isaiah sucks in a deep breath, and the tiger tattooed on his arm appears to ripple as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Does he know you’re hunting around in his business?”
“I suggested he search the internet for her earlier and...Noah shut down. But it’s his mom. He may want to see them.”
He leans his head back until it softly bangs against the corner of the door frame. His gray eyes stare at the ceiling like he’s envisioning something else, somewhere else. “What’s he looking for?”
“I thought maybe he’d like pictures of his parents.” I blink three times.
“You’d suck at poker. What’s he looking for?”
My fingers tap the arm of the chair. “I don’t think I should be the one who tells you—”
“Is he looking for his mom’s blood relatives? The ones that his foster parents said are still alive?”
My eyes meet his. Dang it.
“I know, Echo. At least I know that they’re alive. He’s searching for them, isn’t he?”
I?
??m tiptoeing on thin ice with Noah and his trust issues. My fingers stop the rhythmic tapping and go for persistent. “Don’t make me say something I’ll regret.”
Silence. Long enough that it becomes heavy. Isaiah pops his head to the right then to the left, as if he’s literally releasing steam from an engine on the brink of explosion. “I need to know.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to know the path I’m on. If Noah has family, and that’s the direction he’s heading, I need to know. You’re loyal to him and that’s what I love about you, but I need to know if Noah’s leaving.”
“Leaving?” His words land a punch to my gut. “Do you think Noah’s going to drop you for them? All Noah’s talked about is the apartment you’re getting together after we return to Kentucky. He loves you and Beth.”
Plus Noah promised he’d never leave either Isaiah or Beth behind. His loyalty belongs to them because they’re his family.
“I’ve seen patterns like this before, and you have, too.” Isaiah’s eyes pierce me and I shift, uncomfortable. It’s like he detects something that he shouldn’t. A part of my soul that I hide. “We have a lot more in common than either of us would admit.”
A pattern that Isaiah has seen and so have I...
Heat creeps along my neckline as I brush a curl away. I don’t know the specifics, but Isaiah’s parents abandoned him. Mine are still physically present, but when it counted, they both left me, as well. “Noah won’t leave us.”
“You and me, we’ve grown up with nightmares for moms, but Noah had something once. He had a real family. He gravitates to us because his life fell apart, too, but if he finds what he had before...” Isaiah shrugs. “People leave...it happens.”
Sometimes life happens...it’s what my father said when he tried to explain why he divorced my mother, why he married Ashley, why he left me behind. He’s selling the house. He had a new baby...
“Noah wouldn’t do that to you, to us,” I say. “He considers you a brother, and he loves me. He has Beth and his brothers. I’m going to start school in the fall, and so is he. We’re his family. He’s going to be where he belongs.”
Noah won’t be my father or my mother. He’ll put me first because he promised. I wasn’t Noah’s priority when he was seeking custody of his brothers, but he’s placed me first since then. Noah keeps his promises—always.
My computer beeps, signaling a Skype call. Just what I freaking need—Mrs. Collins poking in my life. I look at Isaiah, and he’s disappeared. Fantastic—guilt. Isaiah’s that type of guy who I’d rather burn my entire set of sweaters than upset.
Biting my bottom lip, I push Accept, and in a slicked-back ponytail, a black Nirvana T-shirt and her Labrador retriever smile, my therapist pops onto the screen. “Hi, Echo.”
It’s hard to focus when I’m hoping Isaiah will reappear and admit he didn’t mean what he said. He’s forever encouraging and strong, and what just happened was a side of Isaiah I’ve never experienced before. Possibly a side Noah has never seen, either. A powerful urge screams to chase after him, but if I did, what would I say?
“Echo?” The smile and her sunny disposition wash away as she falls into serious therapist much sooner than normal. “Are you okay?”
Six months ago, I would have blocked Mrs. Collins and repressed the turmoil inside me. But then I realized that she was the one person who cared. The one person who could help. “No. I’m not okay.”
Noah
I wipe the sweat forming on my forehead then flip the six frying patties. For the past two hours, the orders have poured in nonstop, and the heat radiating from the grill has me wondering if most of the girls I screwed got their wish and I did die and was sentenced straight to hell.
In a swift motion, I slip the toasted buns off the grill, throw the patties on them and slide them down the counter to the chick working on the toppings and sides. I turn to the left, searching for more tickets and release a breath. No more orders.
“Take a break, Noah,” the shift manager calls out as he rings up a line of people. “We’ll have another wave in a half hour.”
Without a word, I dump the mandatory apron and go out the back door for the alley. The early-evening air feels good against my skin and, to cool down, I whip the bandanna off.
“Shit, Noah, it’s like you want a repeat of our summer in Kentucky.”
Fuck me. The door behind me snaps shut, and I remember one second too late that the door locks from the inside and that the only way back in is through the front. I’m stuck with Mia.
In a white shirt buttoned low enough that it highlights the two assets she’s most proud of and a black skirt that barely covers her ass, Mia leans against the graffiti-covered brick wall. One quick inhale confirms that this time she smokes a cigarette.
Mia twists her hips to show off more of her outfit. “You like? I get great tips in this.”
“I hear there’s a Hooters in Denver.”
She only smiles. “Have sex with me. Right now. My car’s around the corner.”
Jesus, to think what attracted me to her was her direct style and noncommittal attitude. I didn’t realize that she sucked the soul out of then ate whatever she fucked. “Told you. I’m taken.”
With one final drag off the cigarette, Mia drops it to the ground then grinds it out with her foot. “That only makes me want you more. The first time, it was because you had that bad-boy persona. Now you’ve got that reformed bad-boy thing and I want to...” She curls her fingers in the air and lowers her gaze to the zipper of my pants.
“I’m not playing, Mia.”
I walk past her for the street, and Mia calls out, “You’re eighteen, right?”
The two of us never talked age last year. She was out of high school, and I wasn’t. “Yeah.”
“And the human race has evolved to the point that we easily live to be in our nineties.”
“Got a point?”
She assesses me, boots first then slowly up until she meets my eyes. “I’ve thought about you a lot since we talked.”
That’s what I get for talking. “Shouldn’t think of me at all.”
Mia ignores my comment. “I’ve done what you’ve done—graduated and played house with the good guy. It doesn’t last long. The summer. Maybe a few months into fall, but the good ones lose interest. Redemption becomes boring or maybe we become boring once we’re redeemed. There’s only two ways this can go—she’ll hurt you now or later.”
My body locks up. If this was a guy, I’d knock his head off. “You don’t know shit about me and Echo.”
Mia loses the confidence that pushes out eight feet in front of her and suddenly, she looks smaller than Beth. “Have you started fighting yet? Like no matter what the conversation is, you can’t be on the same page?”
It’s likes she’s crawled into my brain, and I don’t like it. “How about you shut up?”
“Want to know the next stage?”
I don’t, but I do. I rub my neck, ignoring the urge to tug at my shirt as my ability to breathe constricts.
“Soon she’ll find something that interests her and her alone. That special thing they were born to do and when they find it—they come alive. That’s when they meet the real people they’re supposed to be with. Suddenly, people like you and me, the rebellious one that was cool to be with six month ago? We morph into a strangling chain around their neck. Listen to what I’m saying. We’re a phase. That’s all we’ll ever be to people like them.”
I’m shaking my head, but I don’t have words. Mia’s verbalizing my worst fears. Like she’s reading my fucking mind and foreseeing my damned future.
“I’m getting my shit together. I’m going to be the man she wants.” Yet it isn’t lost on me that Mia and I are the ones standing in the back alley next to a Dumpster overflowing with trash. It’s wh
ere we met last year. It’s where we’ve met again and somehow, I’m more comfortable here than when I stand beside Echo at a gallery.
“I was going to become the girl he wanted,” she says. “But there’s no way people like you and me can move quick enough. Have you fallen back onto a bad habit and you got that look of utter disappointment? Sort of like they watched you kick a puppy?”
The expression Echo had when I threw the guy against the wall. The small apprehensive glances at the galleries when it’s clear I don’t belong.
“You were my rebound for my Echo,” she continues. “You helped me remember that it’s better to be in control. We’re the same type of person, Noah.”
“Why do you care?” I spit out.
She shrugs. “Because I wish I would have cut my relationship with him off earlier. I wish I could have walked away with my pride intact. You helped me once, and here we are meeting again. I don’t believe in coincidence. The reason I ended up in the middle of nowhere Colorado is to be the rebound for you.”
“You’re wrong,” I tell her, and begin toward the light of the main street.
A lighter clicks behind me. “I hope I am.”
Echo
Two seconds after I answered Mrs. Collins’s Skype call, I closed the door to the hotel’s business center, granting me the illusion of privacy.
“Is that it?” Mrs. Collins asks. I told her everything: how my sales plummeted, my mother calling, the conversation with the Wicked Witch gallery owner and me and Noah fighting. To cover that I’m lying, I hide my face in my hands when I answer, “Yes.”
I like Mrs. Collins, but I can’t look at her again if we share an analytical discussion regarding my sex life or, lack thereof, with Noah.
When I spread my fingers and peek at Mrs. Collins, her eyes have narrowed into slits. “That’s not everything.”
I lower my hands onto my lap. “Can’t it be enough?”
“I get the sense that there’s something else going on...”