Breaking the Rules (Pushing the Limits, #1.5)(91)

My uncle fixes his collar and appears spiritual again in black.

“That’s a fire hazard.” I gesture to the prayer candle area.

That brings him up short. “I can see where you’d feel that way. We’re considering moving to electric candles, but it wouldn’t have the same effect, would it? Now, if you don’t mind, I’m late for work.”

Without another soul but the two of us, my uncle scurries into the confessional and shuts the wooden closet door.

On the ceiling, a painting of Michael the Archangel peers down at me. He’s the warrior of God. The one who’s called when there’s a battle—a lot like the war that’s about to take place the moment I step inside that confessional. Not sure if Michael is on my side or the priest’s, but then I shake my head. Definitely the priest’s. For the past three years, the odds have never been in my favor.





Echo

My hand rushes over the canvas, and I hear a cough behind me. I’ve probably got an audience again, but I don’t care. Aires is missing. He’s gone, and he’s never coming back.

He made a promise, and he broke it.

The last thing my brother ever did was break a promise to me.

As the blues fade into a blackish-blue and as that merges into dark as midnight, there’s this undercurrent of rage pushing me forward. My brother lied to me, and I’m mad.

“Echo.” It’s a somewhat familiar voice, but I try to block it out. “Echo.”

A hand touches my arm, and all the anger bubbling inside me shoots out. “What?”

I glare at Hunter then take a step back. Oh, heck, I had shoved myself way too close into his personal territory, as in my face was a centimeter from his.

“You don’t like getting pulled out of your trance,” he says. “I got it, and it’s filed away for future use.”

There are giggles around the room, and one quick scan confirms that I’ve got fans. With a heavy sigh, I put my brush on the easel and stretch my back. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, but since I disturbed you, do you mind if we talk?”

“Sure.”

With a wave and a few words from Hunter, everyone moves on. “I’m going to have to shut this audience thing down soon, otherwise no one but you will get any work done.”

“I am sorry about snapping at you. I won’t lie—I can be hard to be pulled out, but I’m usually not so emotional, but...” I stare at the painting. “This one’s different.”

“What makes this one different?”

Because it’s my brother. “Just is.”

“You chose to leave out the star. Why?”

This thin veil that used to be a brick-and-mortar wall between me and any emotion connected with losing my brother wavers with the slightest breeze. If I wanted, the answers lie there behind the mist. All I have to do is reach for them and according to Mrs. Collins, those answers will help me keep Noah.

But there’s pain behind that curtain. Pain I’m not sure I want to tackle. Pain that, hours ago in the hotel room, came close to surfacing.

Like the canvas turned into poison, I slide back from it. The veil in my head fluctuates as I focus on the colors. “Just decided to go that way.”

“You’re not a pushover for anyone, are you? Not even the man who can open doors for your future.”

I’ve been wiping my hands on a towel and pause. “What did you say?”

“You. Not a pushover. How I like getting answers when I ask questions, and you don’t give them. Me offering you a future and you not caring.”

A smile spreads across my face. “I’m not a pushover.”

“Is it because your name is Echo that you’re repeating things?”

I laugh, not so much because he’s funny, but because the unthinkable happened. For years my parents, my therapists, my teachers, my friends...anyone...used my need to please to get whatever they desired. I lay down and died for anyone at any time and somewhere along the way, I found a backbone.

I did change this summer. I am different.

“I’m serious, Echo. When I ask questions, I want answers. It’s how this whole teacher/student relationship works.”

I get it, but... “Not with this one. This one is personal, and you know it.”

“They’re all personal,” he says.

“Some more than others. If you push me, I’ll answer, but I can’t promise the answers I give you on this one will be true.”

“Touché. We’re clear, then. Anything after this is on my terms.”

“I understand.”

“So the purpose of having this conversation...”

I’m nodding for him to continue though it’s hard to concentrate because I’m still reeling from the I’ve-changed moment.

“I like the idea of you taking business courses so I’m trying to work it out with your college to see if you can take them online while you study your art here. In fact, I like the idea so much I might implement the new plan for others next fall.”

That’s an awesome surprise. “Great!”

Hunter eyes me warily. “So that means you’re accepting?”

I bite the inside of my mouth. Noah and I are walking a tightrope, and I have no idea what’s going to happen to us. Maybe we’d work if I stayed in Kentucky. Maybe we’d fall apart if I stay here. But Noah’s right. The advice I gave Noah about himself is right. I need to decide for me. Noah and I will last if we truly love each other, but we’ll collapse if I do everything to please him. “Yes. I’m accepting.”