Breaking the Rules (Pushing the Limits, #1.5)(61)

Taking a deep breath, I leave, and the cooler air of the bedroom rushes my skin. Goose bumps form, and I rub my arms. Isaiah and Beth sit on the bed and munch on a shared container of pepper steak.

“Stop bogarting the rice.” Isaiah moves some of the pile from Beth’s side of the container, and she darts her fork as if to stab him, but he quickly snatches his hand back.

“You got the egg roll,” exclaims Beth. “I get the rice. That’s how stuff works between us, so stop messing with the system.”

“You ate half the egg roll, so I get half the rice.”

I roll my eyes and ignore them. The scent of sweet-and-sour chicken drifts in the air and the Styrofoam container sits on the table with a plastic fork and bottled water, but Noah is missing.

“He dropped off the food then left with your laptop,” says Isaiah, reading my mind. Which means Noah’s in the business center.

“Thanks.” I glance down at my outfit: a T-shirt that slightly shows my midriff and gray drawstring pants. It’s not glamorous, but it’ll do for the hotel hallways. I grab my dinner and set out to find Noah.





Noah

With Echo’s food left for her in the hotel room, I drop into the chair in the business center and watch as her laptop springs to life. Anxiety snakes within me, and I think of Echo and her tapping foot. At least she has a way to release the pressure.

Echo’s Skype account appears with that annoying whooping sound, and as I minimize that window her email pops up. I notice a few unread messages: one from her dad, one from Lila, another from Mrs. Collins. I log Echo out and sign myself in, holding my breath as the account I hardly use loads.

I click on the lone new email from Keesha, and I briefly cover my eyes at the first sentence Noah,

Yes, your mother’s family has contacted me, and they would like to meet with you, but...

There’s always a but. I skim through the rest of the email, most of it legal shit that’ll protect her ass if I sue or they sue, but at the end of the message is a Vail address.

Even though she closes with if you ever need anything, please feel free to contact me bullshit, there’s an unsaid “you’re on your own.” A slow pulse throbs in my brain, and I massage my temples to ward off a headache. This situation is no good.

I’m a few miles from my only living blood relatives, and a part of me feels compelled to meet them. Another part of me feels the compulsion to leave a hundred miles between us. Then yet another jacked-up part wants to charge their door and ask them what the f*ck they did to my mother that she would bolt from them and never mention a word to me of their existence.

Echo’s computer beeps, and a direct message conversation box through Skype appears in the right-hand corner.

L. Collins: I’ll make an assumption that yesterday was a computer glitch. I’m up if you’d like to chat.

She thinks Echo’s on. I kick my legs out and lean back in my seat. The lady is a damn nutcase, but my mind ticks back to the hundreds of times she cornered me. In the end, she helped shed light on things that I didn’t know how to tackle.

Another beep.

L. Collins: Echo?

I switch windows and push the button that says call. A computerized melody plays for two seconds, and I cross my arms over my chest as she accepts. With her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail and a Grateful Dead T-shirt, Mrs. Collins finishes hole-punching a stack of papers. “I was surprised to see you on so late. I would have thought you and Noah would be out.”

“I hear you’ve been f*cking with my girl.”

My lips twitch with how fast Mrs. Collins’s eyes snap up to see me coming through her screen. Without missing a beat, she masks her shock. “Language, Noah.”

“I graduated.”

“From high school, yes, but those rules that are put in place in school are meant to help you learn how to function out of it. So...” She rests her chin on her linked fingers. “This is a nice surprise. How has your summer gone?”

“I asked about Echo.”

“You did, but if you remember correctly, I won’t discuss Echo with you, but you’re more than welcome to tell me how things are going with her.” She practically bounces in her chair. “In fact, I’d love it. Dish all the details.”

I snort. “I don’t dish.”

“Neither of you ever do. So what’s up?”

Less than a minute and she’s already digging. Six months ago, I would have stormed out of her office and slammed her door, but it’s the familiar that puts me at ease. “Not much.”

“In all seriousness, is Echo okay?” she asks.

I answer because Mrs. Collins cares more for Echo than her own parents do. “She’s good.”

Mrs. Collins kneads her red eyes. It’s ten here so it’s one there.

“Up a little late, aren’t you?” I ask.

“I keep strange hours.” She flashes a weak smile. “What’s going on with you?”

“I’m eighteen now.”

“Happy belated birthday, but that doesn’t answer my question.”

“The state dropped me from your program the day I walked across the stage. Can’t afford your overpriced fees.”

“Consider this a conversation between two people who know each other.”