Breaking the Rules (Pushing the Limits, #1.5)(63)

I clear my throat and tug at the collar of my shirt as too much heat has built up around me. Fuck this. Just f*ck this. “Do you know if it’s true? Did Mom’s family misunderstand? Did they think that Carrie and Joe were adopting me, too?”

Did they think I was being taken care of, or did they purposely leave me to rot in foster care? That coil forever ready to spring inside me twists one more time, and it’s like I’m racing toward an explosion.

“Noah, why does it matter now?”

“It does.”

“Why?”

I scoot to the edge of my chair and have to force myself not to fly out of it. “Because! What if they wanted me? What if someone f*cking wanted me, and the system screwed it up?”

The door to the business center clicks open, and Echo hesitates when she spots me, then Mrs. Collins, on the screen. Faster than a jackrabbit, Echo spins to leave, and I swivel the chair to catch her. “Don’t go.”

The relief of seeing Echo makes me feel like a man teetering on the edge of hell only to be brought back to life. With the dinner I bought her in her hands, Echo’s eyes flicker between me and her computer screen. “I can come back.”

“Echo,” Mrs. Collins says, and my girl’s shoulders roll forward like she got caught shoplifting.

“Yes?”

“We still have a Skype appointment next week, correct?”

“Yep.”

“Good. Do you mind giving me and Noah a few more minutes alone?”

The urge is to tell Mrs. Collins to f*ck off. Instead, I nod, and Echo caresses my biceps in support before she leaves. When the door is shut, I turn back to Mrs. Collins. “You know I’m done, right?”

She points a finger at me. “Just a little more time.”

“One minute.”

“It’s okay to be mad at your mom.”

She’s wrong. “I’m not mad at her.”

I can’t be. That would be unforgiveable. Besides, if anyone had the right to be mad, it’d be Mom. She should be f*cking pissed at me.

“We’ll discuss this next time.”

“There won’t be a next time.”

“Yes, there will.” She waves away my statement. “You paid me in advance. My departing thoughts are a word of caution.”

That gains my undivided attention.

“I understand your need to connect with surviving blood relatives, but before you do, I think it would be wise for you to understand why you’re reaching out to people your mother never mentioned. Maybe consider the options as to why your mom didn’t tell you about her family. Maybe think of what your expectations are before you reach out to them.”

“I don’t expect anything from them.”

“I have a feeling you do, but don’t realize it.”

“Is what Carrie and Joe said true? Are they awful human beings?”

“I don’t know the answer to that. I only know what Carrie and Joe have told me.”

Every single conversation and fight I’ve had with Echo about her mom crashes into my mind. The irony of the next question isn’t lost on me. “Is it possible they’ve changed?”

“People do change, but you know I don’t have the ability to answer that question as it pertains to your mother’s family.”

“If they had known that I was in the system, do you think they would have taken me?”

A shadow spreads over her face—she knows more than she’s telling.

“What?” I push.

“Keesha swears to me that your mother’s family understood the situation. She admits that the state made a mistake when they initially didn’t search for surviving blood relatives—”

I shake my head, cutting her off. “I told them everyone was dead. Why would they have looked? But when Carrie and Joe started filing for adoption two years ago, and they searched to confirm there weren’t blood relatives, did Mom’s family think I was also being adopted? Is it possible that the system screwed up?”

“Mistakes can be made,” she admits. “But Keesha is good at her job. Even you know this. Noah...I’ve seen some of the paper trails between Carrie and Joe and your mother’s family. I don’t see how there could have been a mistake.”

Talking to Mrs. Collins was supposed to help, not mess me up more. “Then why are they reaching out to me now? Why would they lie?”

“I don’t know, and because of that, please be careful. Please keep me involved in this.”

I somewhat tip my head. Not really an agreement. Not really a dismissal.

“Answer me one more thing,” she presses. “If you do, I think it will help you understand what you’re looking for.”

I toss my hands in the air in a why-the-hell-not.

“Give me the first thing you’d want from your mother if she were here.”

My eyes flash to Mrs. Collins, and my insides wither and die.

“Tell me,” she coaxes.

My stomach acids churn. “Redemption.”

Mrs. Collins blinks. “Redemption?”

“Redemption.” And this session is done. “I’ve gotta go.”

“This conversation isn’t over.”

Yeah, it is. I end the call and slouch back in the seat and run my hand over my hair. Echo asked me for simple and damn if my life doesn’t keep getting complicated.