I lowered my voice. “Not that it matters. I only care what one girl thinks about me.”
She relaxed her fingers into mine and stroked her thumb over my skin. “With Mrs. Collins on your side, you’ll get them back.”
Minutes into being alone together, we fell into each other again, like no time had passed. I could blame her for ending us, but in the end, I agreed with her decision. “How about you, Echo? Did you find your answers?”
Echo let her hair fall forward as her knee bounced. “No.”
If I continued to disregard breakup rules, I might as well go all the way. I pushed her curls behind her shoulder and let my fingers linger longer than needed so I could enjoy the silky feel. “Don’t hide from me, baby. We’ve been through too much for that.”
Echo leaned into me, placing her head on my shoulder and letting me wrap an arm around her. “I’ve missed you, too, Noah. I’m tired of ignoring you.”
“Then don’t.” Ignoring her hurt like hell. Acknowledging her had to be better.
“We’re not exactly the friends type.” As if to prove her point, she tilted her head up. Echo’s warm breath caressed my neck, causing my body to tingle with the thought of kissing her.
I swallowed, trying to shut out the bittersweet memories of our last night together. “Where’ve you been? It kills me when you’re not at school.”
“A little bit of everywhere. I went to an art gallery and the curator showed some interest in my work and sold my first piece two days later. Since then, I’ve been traveling around to different galleries, hawking my wares.”
“That’s awesome, Echo.” I absently stroked her shoulder. Part of me was thrilled for her; another part was upset she’d made such big leaps without me. “Sounds like you’re fitting into your future perfectly.” No custody battles, flipping burgers or single parenthood in her future. “Where did you decide to go to school?”
“I don’t know if I’m going to school.”
Shock jolted my system and I inched away to make sure I understood. “What the f**k do you mean you don’t know? You’ve got colleges falling all over you and you don’t f**king know if you want to go to school?”
My damned little siren laughed at me. “I see your language has improved.”
Poof—like magic, the anger disappeared. Anger Mrs. Collins would love to analyze. Guess her scheme to get me thinking about my future worked. I pulled Echo back into me. “If you’re not going to school, then what are your plans?”
“I’ve got paintings and drawings in a handful of different galleries in this and surrounding states. I’m not going to be rich, but I make a little bit with every painting I sell. I’m considering putting college off for a year or two and traveling cross-country, hopping from gallery to gallery.”
Damn if her whole world wasn’t changing. “And your dad’s okay with this?”
“Not his call to make.” Fury crept out behind her light tone. Maybe some things hadn’t changed. “I don’t want to live with him and Ashley anymore. Selling my paintings—it’s my way out. I don’t want to stare at the walls and think of my mother. I don’t want to sit in my room and think of all the nights Aires used to stay up talking to me. I don’t want every moment of my life filled with reminders of a life I will never get back.”
Normal. We both craved it and neither one of us would ever experience it again. She had hoped learning the truth of what happened between her and her mother would solve her problems and I had promised to help. “I feel like a dick. We made a deal and I left you hanging. I’m not that guy who goes back on his word. What can I do to help you get to the truth?”
Echo’s chest rose with her breath then deflated when she exhaled. Sensing our moment ending, I nuzzled her hair, savoring her scent. She patted my knee and broke away. “Nothing. There’s nothing you can do.”
She crossed the room and leaned against the counter. “I’ve tried hypnosis several times and I remember nothing more. I think it’s time that I move on. Ashley’s due in a couple of weeks. Dad’s ready to complete his replacement family. As soon as I graduate, this part of my life will be over. I’m okay with not knowing what happened.” Her words sounded pretty, but I knew her better. She’d blinked three times in a row.
Mrs. Collins opened her door. “So sorry, Echo, but I had an emergency….” Her eyes fell on me then flickered to Echo. I shook my head when her lips twitched up. “You can come in whenever you’re ready.” Without waiting for a reply, she shut the door.
“Guess I should go in.” Echo walked back to the chair beside me and picked up her pack.
I stood as she straightened and snaked my arms around her, pulling her close to me, savoring the feel of every delicate curve. For three weeks, I spent my time convincing myself that our breakup was the right choice. But being this close to her, hearing her laugh, listening to her voice, I knew I had been telling myself lies.
Her eyes widened when I lowered my head to hers. “It doesn’t have to be this way. We can find a way to make us work.”
She tilted her head and licked her lips, whispering through shallow breaths, “You’re not playing fair.”
“No, I’m not.” Echo thought too much. I threaded my fingers into her hair and kissed her, leaving her no opportunity to think about what we were doing. I wanted her to feel what I felt. To revel in the pull, the attraction. Dammit, I wanted her to undeniably love me.
Her pack hit the floor with a resounding thud and her magical fingers explored my back, neck and head. Echo’s tongue danced manically with mine, hungry and excited.
Her muscles stiffened when her mind caught up. I held her tighter to me, refusing to let her leave so easily again. Echo pulled her lips away, but was unable to step back from my body. “We can’t, Noah.”
“Why not?” I shook her without meaning to, but if it snapped something into place, I’d shake her again.
“Because everything has changed. Because nothing has changed. You have a family to save. I …” She looked away, shaking her head. “I can’t live here anymore. When I leave town, I can sleep. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I did. I understood all too well, as much as I hated it. This was why we ignored each other. When she walked away the first time, my damn heart ruptured and I swore I’d never let it happen again. Like an idiot, here I was setting off explosives.
Both of my hands wove into her hair again and clutched at the soft curls. No matter how I tightened my grip, the strands kept falling from my fingers, a shower of water from the sky. I rested my forehead against hers. “I want you to be happy.”
“You, too,” she whispered. I let go of her and left the main office. When I first connected with Echo, I’d promised her I would help her find her answers. I was a man of my word and Echo would soon know that.
Echo
Nerves took dominion over my body and I concentrated on not peeing my pants. My bladder shrank to twelve sizes smaller than normal and sweat soaked the armpits of my cotton short-sleeved shirt. I was sure I looked excellent.
A slimy cold boa constrictor wrapped around my heart and squeezed—the scars. I wore short sleeves most of the time now and was getting better at not obsessing about my arms … until someone stared, anyway. Sure, she knew about them, but seeing them could be difficult. I sighed heavily as I parked under the large oak trees. Too late to head home and change clothes now.
She stood by Aires’ grave. I kept my eyes to the ground and counted each step from the car. Somewhere between steps three and five, adrenaline began tickling my bloodstream, making me feel like a balloon floating away. The April Saturday was warm, but my skin felt clammy.
I’d asked to see her, proving I’d officially lost my freaking mind. Tucking my hair behind my ear, I stopped. Aires’ grave lay between us. My mother on one side and me on the other.
“Echo,” she whispered. Tears glistened in her green eyes and she took a step toward me.
My heart rammed through my rib cage and I took an immediate step back. For a second, I considered running and struggled hard to remain where I stood.
Mom retreated and put her palms in the air in a gesture of peace. “I just want to hug you.”
I considered her request for a brief moment. Hugging my mom should be natural, an automatic reaction. I swallowed, shoving my hands in my back pockets. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
She nodded weakly and glanced at Aires’ tombstone. “I miss him.”
“I do, too.”
All of my memories of my mother didn’t fit the woman before me. I remembered her as a youthful beauty. Now she rivaled my father. Crow’s-feet were embedded around her eyes and lines framed the sides of her mouth. Instead of the naturally wild, curly red hair I remembered, she wore it flat-iron straight.
During her highs, my mother had appeared to walk on air. In her lows, she clung to the ground of the earth. Standing in front of me, she was neither high nor low. She just was.
She seemed almost normal. Like any other aging woman grieving at a cemetery. In this moment my mom wasn’t some out-of-control superwoman or a dangerous foe. She was just a woman, human, almost relatable.
Relatable or not, every instinct inside of me screamed to run. My throat swelled and I fought the compulsion to dry heave. My options were faint or sit. “Do you mind sitting down? Because I need to.”
My mother gave a brief smile and nodded while she sat. “Do you remember when I taught you and Aires to make bracelets and necklaces out of clover?” She picked a few of the small white flowers and knotted them together. “You used to love wearing them as tiaras in your hair.”
“Yeah,” was my only answer. Mom enjoyed the feel of the grass on her bare feet so she never forced Aires or me to wear shoes. The three of us loved being outside. She continued to weave the clover into a single strand as the awkwardness grew.
“Thanks for texting me back. Which letter did you get?” I’d purposely visited art galleries where my mother had once sold her paintings, leaving a letter for her at each one.
“All of them. It was Bridget, though, who convinced me to come.”
A quick spark of pain pricked my stomach. My letter hadn’t been enough to convince her?
“Do you come to visit Aires often?” I asked.
Her hands stilled. “No. I don’t like the thought of my baby in the ground.”
I hadn’t meant to upset her, but Resthaven had seemed safe. If someone spotted us together then we could say we just happened to stop by at the same time. No one could accuse her of breaking the restraining order.
I should just ask her about that night and leave, but watching her, seeing her … I realized I had so many more questions. “Why didn’t you call me back over Christmas?”
Last December, the grief of losing Aires became so unbearable that I called her. I’d left a message, giving her the number to my cell, to the landline. I’d told her what times to call. I never heard back. Then of course, in January, Dad changed the number to the landline, then my cell in February.