Breaking the Rules (Pushing the Limits #1.5)(102)

Before walking over to him, I study my scars, and what unnerves me is that the flash of disgust is missing. When it comes to the scars, there’s nothing lurking. No hidden hate. No surge of embarrassment. No sadness. There’s nothing more, either. No giddiness. No awe, but I’m okay with that. It’s just an acknowledgement. A presence.

I glance up at Noah. “They don’t bother me. Not now, at least.” Hopefully, not ever again.

Noah stands and takes my hands, stretching my arms out in front of me. “Can I show you something?”

I nod, curious about why Noah’s pushed pause when we’re so close to naked and in bed. Keeping his eyes locked on mine, he brings us over to the mirror. Then from behind me, he gently flips over my arms to reveal the scars and he brings my arms together as if I was shielding myself. “Do you see it?”

“See what?”

“How you fell.”

My eyes shoot straight to my scars, and my heart pounds so quickly that it skips beats.

Noah swipes his thumb over the pulse point on my wrist. “Easy, baby. Just take it slow.”

I breathe in, and Noah exhales along with me. Releasing one of my hands, Noah traces one finger along a scar on my right arm then connects that scar directly to the one on the left.

“This one must have been the deepest,” he says gently. “It’s the longest, too. There are some that don’t connect, but these...” Another slow caress against my skin, then another highlighting of areas. “They’re the same cut. You must have brought your arms up to shield yourself.”

My mouth dries out and like the constellations in the sky, I notice how the lines connect, how a gut reaction probably saved my life. I prevented those sharp pieces of glass from piercing my lungs, my heart.

“Do they ever bother you?” I ask.

Noah draws my arm toward his lips. “Never.”

Letting him handle my weight, I lean back against Noah. I stare at our image in the mirror and see two people who love each other very much and will do anything to help heal old wounds.

There’s an intimacy in this moment, and it’s not the kind I originally thought we would share when we first walked in. It’s a better type. The kind that lasts. “What if I said I just need you to hold me tonight?”

“I’d say that I could do that every night for the rest of my life and die a happy man.”

Noah takes my hand and leads me to the bed. “There’s something else I’d like to tell you.”

“I’m listening.”

“My mom named me Noah for a reason.”

With my head on his chest and our arms and legs tangled, I close my eyes and listen to Noah recall the rest of what his uncle had to say. I smile with the newfound hope in his voice. Noah was his mother’s second chance, and I wonder if he knows that he’s also my second chance at happiness.

I cuddle closer to him and rest, knowing that Noah is mine.

Noah

“I’m going to take a shower.” Echo blows me a kiss then grabs her robe.

I sit at the desk and wait for Echo’s laptop to boot. We checked in an hour ago at the hotel in Denver, Colorado. Beth and Isaiah left five minutes ago to scout out what trouble they could find since we’re in the heart of the city.

“Want me to join you?” I swivel in the chair and enjoy the sight of her tight ass swaying from side to side.

“I have an hour to get ready, Noah. Walk in this door, and I’ll redefine frigid.”

I chuckle and turn back to the computer. With a swishing sound, Skype automatically loads, and as I click on the browser to check my email, my eyes drift to the list of people signed in to Skype. Mrs. Collins is one of them.

Figures. She and Echo have a session scheduled so Echo can drop her worries on Mrs. Collins before we head to the gallery.

Rehashing the crap that’s happened this past week, I select her name and wait to see if she accepts the call. Two seconds later, I’m greeted by my overenthusiastic therapist.

“I thought it would be you,” says Mrs. Collins. “How are you, Noah?”

“Good.” And it’s an honest answer. “Got a few minutes?”

She’s wearing a Poison T-shirt and no makeup. “For you, I’ve got plenty of time. What’s going on?”

I inhale deeply and jump, telling her about the party, getting arrested, getting free and meeting my uncle. Watching her reaction was like seeing snapshots of a person on a rollercoaster determined not to let the rider next to them know that they are terrified of the hills. Mrs. Collins is good at hiding her expressions, but meeting with her so much has taught me that her eyes can betray her. In them I’ve read disappointment and elation.

I shut the hell up, and there’s a moment of silence. Mrs. Collins nods like I’m still talking then says, “So where does that leave you now?”

“Here. In a hotel room with Echo, Isaiah and Beth. Getting ready to stand with Echo at the showing and preparing to be her shoulder for when she sees her mom.”

“How do you feel about everything that’s happened?”

I lean forward. “Like shit for hurting Echo. With my mom’s family, I feel like I’ve been run over by an oil tanker. Knowing that Echo and I can walk through hell together and come out stronger on the other side...” I halfway smile. “It’s the closest I’ve been to being a king.”