Breaking the Rules (Pushing the Limits, #1.5)(7)

Screw it. We’ll get on the road, and she’ll calm down after some distance. I pick the tent up and try to cram it into the small space I left for it in the trunk. When it won’t fit, I push harder, and the sound of material ripping causes a rip within me. Possibly my sanity. “Shit!”

I slam the trunk with a thunderous bang. For two months, Echo and I didn’t worry about our messed-up lives in Kentucky. She didn’t focus on her mom or dad or her newfound memories or the scars on her arms, and I didn’t think twice about how in June I turned eighteen.

Eighteen. Out of foster care, out on the streets, pack your shit, get out of my f*cking house, eighteen.

Soon Echo and I will be heading home and back to our problems.

Once Carrie sends the email, I’ll have one more problem to add to this list: deciding whether or not to read it and what the hell to do with the message.

My head falls back, and I focus on the crystal-blue sky overhead. I blow out a rush of air then inhale slowly. Mrs. Collins told me to do that whenever I was hit with the urge to tell her where to shove her annoying questions. I’d never admit it, but sometimes, as in now, it works.

I need to go after Echo, but I’ve got no clue what to say. Desperate for help, I pull out my cell, scroll to a familiar number and press Call. Two rings and I smile at hearing the voice of my best friend and foster brother on the other end. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the middle of nowhere?”

“S’up, Isaiah. What’s going on there?”

“Watching Beth’s back...as much as she’ll let me. Right now she’s picking up her pay at the Dollar Store.”

I met Isaiah and Beth over a year ago when social services placed me into a new foster home—the same home as Isaiah. He had been placed at Beth’s aunt and uncle’s house years ago and because of Beth’s messed-up home life, she often crashed there with us.

“Watching her back how?” I ask.

“Some shit’s going down with her mom.”

“How bad?” Beth’s mom is a nightmare, plus her mom’s boyfriend makes serial killers look like cuddly puppies.

“Bad.” The short answer creates chills. “But Beth doesn’t know, and keeping her in the dark is becoming complicated.”

“Should you keep her in the dark?”

Isaiah pauses. “It’s Beth. If she knew what her mom is mixed up in, she’d try to fix it, and then she’d end up in trouble that I couldn’t fix.”

This is the kind of guy Isaiah is: loyal to the end and a fixer. Even if the person he loves doesn’t want to be helped.

“Yeah. I get it.” There’s not much I wouldn’t do for Beth. She’s the closest thing I have to a sister. “We’ll get Beth to move out with us. The more distance she puts between her and her mom, the better.”

“Thanks, man. So why are you calling?”

My gaze roams back to the path. “I f*cked up with Echo.”

“When don’t you f*ck up with Echo?”

My best friend’s a comedian. “A guy called her a freak, and I threw him against a wall.”

“Good for you.”

“She’s pissed. Won’t even look at me.”

“Why?”

Exactly. “I love her, but I never said I understood her.”

“Have you said you’re sorry?”

“No, and I’m not sorry.” Not in the least.

“Try it. Who knows, it could help.”

“It could.”

“And people say you’re smart.”

“Fuck you.” I let sincerity into my voice.

“Right back at you. When are you coming home?”

I study the mountains looming on the horizon. “I don’t know. I thought we’d be heading back later this week, but some shit’s come up.”

“Shit?”

“Shit.”

“Got it.” That’s Isaiah. He doesn’t need to know details to sympathize.

“Did you put the money down on the apartment?” I made a promise to Isaiah that I wouldn’t leave him behind in foster care. Even though the state would pay for me to live in the dorms, there’s no way I can leave my non-blood brother behind, so we decided to move out together, even though he’ll only be a senior in high school this fall.

“We move in September first.”

I exhale. One less situation to worry about.

“I got a favor to ask,” says Isaiah.

“Shoot.”

“If you’re going to be gone for another few weeks...” Isaiah’s not a guy who hesitates, nor is he the kind that asks for favors. He’d rather break off his arm and sell it than ask for help. “I’d like to bring Beth out. A guy owes me, and I can get one-way bus tickets cheap. Watching Beth with her mom is like watching a ticking time bomb without a pair of pliers to clip the wires.”

“Is Beth going to be on board with this?” Beth doesn’t like being away from her mom.

“She owes me, and she knows it, but it doesn’t mean she won’t bitch.” A long pause. “The shit Beth’s mom’s into...I need to get Beth out of town for a few days. Change her perspective. Then maybe she’ll stop going over to her mom’s so much.”