Breaking the Rules (Pushing the Limits #1.5)(20)

My fingers clutch the phone. “If she did this I need to know. I need to know if she asked people to buy those paintings from me.”

“What if she did? Why does it matter?”

“Because if she did, I’m a failure!”

He halts, and his eyebrows furrow together. “That’s bullshit.”

“But it’s true.”

“It’s not. Nothing good happens when you talk to your mom. What makes this different? What she says to you, what she’s done—it f*cks with you!”

“She’s my mom!”

“And I’m the one holding you in the middle of the night when you can’t decipher what’s real and what’s a dream. She’s not here. I am. Not her!”

Anger explodes up from my toes and spirals out of my body. “You don’t understand! It’s more than the paintings. It’s more! She’s my mom. You don’t understand what it’s like to be torn between wanting to hate someone and wanting them in your life, then hating them all over again!”

“Fuck that, because I do. My mom’s family contacted me. They want to meet me. The goddamned people she ran from want me in their f*cked-up lives.”

Noah

Echo and I stare at each other, and I suck in air to get my breathing under control. Her eyes are too wide, and my heart’s pounding too fast. It’s not how I meant to tell her, but it’s out, and I can’t take it back. The edges of my sight are blurry. I’ve drunk too much, but I’m glad the truth is out.

“What did you say?” she asks.

I yank the folded email out of my back pocket and offer it to her. Echo reaches for the paper like she’s seconds from handling a ticking time bomb. She unfolds it, and I slump against her car. Rainwater pooled on the hood, and it soaks through the bottom of my jeans. Damn this entire week to hell.

Too many emotions collide in my brain, and I rake both hands through my hair to ward off any spinning. The alcohol was supposed to help, not hurt.

“It’s not that long, so quit stalling.” The email is short, to the point, and every misspelling informs me that the shit I’m in is deep.

Ms. Peterson,

We no the adoption is compleet, but we’d like to see the boys for a visit. My Sarah wood have wanted that. If not the younger ones, then Noah. He’d be a teen by now. Let him decide.

Diana Perry

The paper crackles as Echo folds it again, and her heels click against the blacktop. Her sweet scent surrounds me followed by the butterfly touch of her fingers on my wrist. “Noah.”

She lowers her hand to my thigh and damn if fire doesn’t lick up my leg. Even when I’m drunk, my body responds to her. My legs automatically drop open, and the tension melts as she eases herself closer. Her fingers caress my face and with gentle pressure, she edges my chin up. I lose myself in those green eyes.

“What are you going to do?” she asks.

I wind my arms around her waist and slide one hand down her spine. Echo’s my solid, my base, my foundation. She has no idea that the single fear that keeps me up at night is knowing one day she’ll discover she doesn’t need me like I need her.

“Noah,” she whispers again. Echo’s always been a siren, calling me to her even when I don’t want to be captured. “Please talk to me.”

Her lips brush the corner of my mouth, and my fingers fist into her hair. Echo’s warm and soft. I shouldn’t kiss her now. I shouldn’t crave to kiss her now, but damn, she owns me.

“Talk to me,” she murmurs. “I can’t help if you don’t talk to me.”

As she sweeps my hair away from my eyes, I hear myself say, “They’re in Vail.”

Her head nods against mine in understanding. “We’ve got time before we have to be back.”

“Mom ran from them.”

“You don’t know that.” She pulls back to look at me, but my grip on her hips keeps her near. “There could be a million reasons why your mom left.”

“Carrie and Joe said that Mom’s family is bad news.”

“Carrie and Joe said that you shouldn’t have been around your brothers. They were wrong then. They can be wrong now.”

The same thought has circled in my brain since Carrie broke the news. “What if they’re right?”

“What if they’re wrong? And if they are right, what if your mom’s family did screw up? Maybe they deserve a second chance.”

My eyes flash to hers, and my blood goes ice-cold. “Are we talking about my situation or yours?”

She tilts her head. “They may not be so different.”

“Fuck that. There’s no comparison.”

“You’re drunk, Noah.”

“I am.”

Her foot taps against the ground, and she does that thing where she glares off in the distance. It’s not hard to read she’s silently tearing me a new ass, but has enough grace to leave the internals internal. One of these days, she’ll snap.

She’s torn into me before, and the last time she did, she left me. My stomach plummets as I wonder if she’ll walk again.

Reaching behind me, Echo lifts the glass of champagne she brought with her from the gallery. “Well, there’s good news. It looks like we’ll be free tomorrow. The curator and I decided it would be best if we no longer share breathing space...or continents.”