Pushing the Limits (Pushing the Limits, #1)(65)

“Winning custody of Jacob and Tyler won’t bring your parents back.”

My heart slammed through my chest and I snapped my head to look at her. “You don’t think I know that? You don’t think I’ve spent the past two and a half years knowing that my life will never be the same?”

“Exactly,” she said. “It will never be the same. You won’t be their brother. You’ll be their father. There’s a huge difference … have you honestly thought this through? What type of job do you think you can get fresh out of high school? How do you think you can afford to raise them and take care of yourself? There are programs out there to help you, Noah. You. Because you’re a ward of the state, they’ll pay for you to go to college. Think about the life you can create for yourself. Think about the future you can have.”

A woman with slicked-back brown hair emerged from an office wearing a navy suit. She gave me the business smile. “Noah Hutchins?”

About damn time. I stood and stared down at Mrs. Collins. “My brothers are my future.”

“Your brothers are fine.” Her eyes pleaded with me. “I promise, they’re safe.”

I shook my head, trying to ignore the nagging voice that said that Mrs. Collins was the one adult who gave a shit and wouldn’t lie. The image of Tyler’s bruised face appeared in my mind. Trusting her would mean turning my back on my brothers and I would never do that.

I needed to stick to my plan: talk to Legal Aid about pursuing custody, clean up my act at school, find a decent-paying job before graduation and prove that Carrie and Joe were unfit parents. In order to do that last one, I needed to get my hands on my file.





Echo

“It’ll work,” Noah purred.

We’d finished studying an hour ago, thanks only to my utter persistence. I sat on his lap in the passenger side of Aires’ car while Isaiah slaved over the open hood. Noah explained his new plan for getting into our files while driving my body to the brink of explosion with caresses and kisses. The asinine plot had plenty of holes, but his seduction fogged my mind and kept me from voicing my opinion, until now.

“You honestly believe that Mrs. Collins is going to fall for it?” I asked. “First off, she’ll probably tell you to wait or she’ll get it for you Wednesday or she’ll see right through you and know we’re up to something.”

“She wants nothing more than for me to go to college and if I tell her I’m going to take the ACT she’ll shit her pants. She’s been dying for me to apply for late registration.”

Noah trailed kisses down my neck, interfering with my decision-making skills. I opened the door and slid out of the car. March had roared in like a lion, bringing severe but warm weather. I stood close enough to the edge of the open garage door that a few warm raindrops hit my shoes. Noah didn’t crowd me with his body, like he normally would. Instead, he leaned against the garage door frame, away from me.

We’d failed at our latest attempt last week to get into our files. Our high failure rate only pushed us harder to succeed. Every now and then, I wondered if the only reason we were together was because of our joint goal of stealing those files. At times, it was the only thing we talked about, but then I’d see the warmth in his brown eyes and I’d know—he cared.

“If this works, which I’m not saying it will, I think you should go for your file first,” I said. “I’m sorry the last name didn’t help.” He’d tried every avenue available—phone books, Google, Facebook—and had found nothing on Jacob and Tyler’s foster parents.

“No. I saw your dad and Mrs. Collins speaking privately this morning. Something’s going down and we need to figure out what.” Noah stared out into the rain, looking more like a Calvin Klein underwear model than a down-and-out foster kid. “Besides, I think we’ll have a good crack at both files since you’ll be doing hypnosis on Thursday. When I lure Mrs. Collins out tomorrow, you take a crack at yours then I’ll take a crack at mine on Thursday.”

“It’s not hypnosis. Its relaxation therapy and I haven’t agreed to it yet.”

“It’s perfect. You and Mrs. Collins will be in the sickroom and the office staff will be gone for the day. Besides, you said last week that Mrs. Collins thinks you’re on the verge of a huge breakthrough.”

The rain pounded against the roof of the garage. I glanced over to Isaiah and Beth. I hated seeing her perched on Aires’ favorite tool bench, but I liked the spark she put in Isaiah’s eye.

How odd would it be to finally put the pieces together? To understand why I kept painting the night sky over and over again. To understand why my mother had told me bedtime stories while I bled on her floor. Maybe the nightly terrors would finally end and I could sleep a full restful night for the first time in two years.

But what if it didn’t work? Mrs. Collins had said she thought my mind was ready to remember a little more—with appropriate prompting. That tidbit of information sent Ashley into a newsmagazine conversation binge about how we should try hypnotherapy again. It turned out she had already done the research, found another hypnotherapist and checked his credentials. Mrs. Collins knew the therapist so she was okay with it, yet not thrilled. Wanting to make Ashley happy, my father reluctantly agreed, and like always, I agreed by not disagreeing.