Pushing the Limits (Pushing the Limits, #1)(92)

My mind went blank. Joe and I had spent the past couple of years at each other’s throats and because of one chance meeting, he was waving the white flag? He scratched the back of his head, obviously feeling as unsure about this moment as I did.

Joe began again, “The way I see it, you’ve got three options. You can walk out of this house and continue to fight for your brothers and possibly win, yanking them away from their friends, their school, this house and us. You can fight and lose and only end up seeing your brothers on whatever visitation schedule the court allows, if any.

“Or you can withdraw your claim on the boys. Let us adopt them and raise them as we already see them, as our own. But with this option, you become a part of this family. You’ll have unlimited access to them. Phone calls, visitation, school plays, basketball games. Hell, come have dinner with us once a week.”

“Why?” I asked him.

He blinked, surprised by the question. “Why what?”

“Why are you offering the last option?” They’d gone this long hating me. Why be so generous now?

“Because they love you, Noah, and we love them. In ten years, I don’t want to explain to my sons that I let fear and pride keep them away from their only blood relative who cared about them.”

“I don’t trust you,” I said. Because adults lied.

Joe looked me straight in the eye. “I’ll have my lawyer put it in writing.”

I’d heard enough and I needed air. Joe had thrown out too much information, screwing with my brain. I pushed past him so I could find my brothers. Carrie lurked in the hallway, clutching a stuffed bear. For years I’d seen her as the hateful bitch who kept my brothers away from me. Thanks to Joe’s little speech I couldn’t see that anymore. Instead, I saw a broken woman who couldn’t complete her own dreams because of me.

Yeah, I knew all about scar tissue. Problem was, helping her was only going to increase mine.





Echo

I slammed the door to my car and ran up the dark driveway. Thank God, Isaiah was under the hood of Aires’ car.

“I am so sorry I’m late. I had this thing—” I met my mom, whom my dad would freak about if he found out I saw “—and it got screwed up—” she’d rather I spend years never sleeping again because she’s scared of what I’d think of her and then pointed out I’m a heartless, unforgiving bitch “—and I lost track of time.” I’d driven around trying to convince myself she was wrong.

Isaiah poked his head out from under the hood and gave me a crazy smile. “S’all good. Your dad told me I could go ahead and work on it.”

Okay. Sort of not my father’s style to let pierced, tattooed people hang out alone in our garage, but maybe he was too busy with Ashley to care. The door to the kitchen closed and Beth entered the garage with a can of Diet Coke. “All you’ve got is diet shit in your house. And fruit. Lots of f*cking fruit. Don’t you have any frozen pizzas?”

“Ashley doesn’t like preservatives.” What was I doing? “Why were you in my house?” I glanced around and my heart dropped. “Where’s Noah?” My slow mind caught up with the fact that my father’s car was gone. “Where’s my father?”

Beth stared at me blankly, then snapped out of her trance. Lovely, she was high. “Oh, yeah, your stepmom went into labor and your dad said something about telling you.” She scrunched her eyes together. “Was there more to the message, Isaiah?”

He mumbled from under the hood, “Fuck, I don’t know. You were the one who was supposed to be listening.”

Beth giggled. “Right. I was.” Her giggling stopped. “Wow. When did it get to be night?”

My heart tripped in my chest. “Ashley’s in labor? She can’t be. She still has like …” I don’t know—something weeks left. Crap, how come I never paid attention? Dad had to be freaking out. “Lots of time left. The baby isn’t done yet.”

Beth tilted her head. “Do babies have timers?” Her smile grew. “If not, they should.”

Isaiah shut the hood with a feverish look in his eyes. “I need the keys.”

I experienced mind whiplash. Oh. My. God. He’d never asked for the keys before. I pointed crazily in the air toward the hook on the workbench, unable to do more than stutter, “There … there … they’re there.”

He grabbed the keys and hopped into the front seat of the car. I swore time moved in slow motion as he placed his foot on the gas pedal and inserted the key into the ignition.

In my mind, I saw Aires. His brown hair, long legs and ever-present smile. “It’s gonna run someday, Echo,” he once said. “Can’t you just hear the engine purring?”

Tears burned my eyes and I swallowed down the sob. Yes, Aires. It is going to run. I did this for you. How I wished he was here.

Isaiah turned the key and the sweetest rumbling sound filled the garage. He pressed his foot against the gas and hollered as the engine roared with life. “Oh, yeah, baby, that’s what I’m f*cking talking about!”

He stepped out of the car with his arms wide open. “I’m getting me something for this.”

And I happily complied. I jumped into those arms and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”