Dare You To (Pushing the Limits #2)(76)

No way in hell is she going in there alone. I register the threat level of the neighborhood and the guys on the porch. “I can’t protect you here.”

“I’m not asking you to. You said you’d wait—”

I cut her off. “When you said you wanted to stop by and say goodbye to some friends. That guy is wearing gang colors.”

She hits the back of her head against the seat. “Ryan. I’m probably never going to see any of them again. Will you please just let me say goodbye?”

Those words, never going to see again and goodbye, are the only reasons I’m saying this.

“Then I’m going in with you.”

“Fine.” She hops out and I follow. She can live under whatever delusion she wants, but she’s no safer here than I am and I’ll go down swinging before anyone hurts her. We reach the front stoop and I see that Isaiah has disappeared. Is it too much to hope that he’s called it a night? The inside of the house is smaller than I expected, and I expected cramped.

The kitchen and living room are really one room put together and separated by the angle of furniture. Teenagers sit everywhere—on the furniture, on the floor. Others lean against walls. A haze of smoke lingers in the room.

Cigarette smoke. Other types of smoke.

I draw the stares of most everyone, but they continue their conversations. The guys size me up. The girls’ eyes wander to my chest. Some outright gawk lower. Beth entwines her hand with mine, then caresses her soft fingers against my cheek, enticing me to drop my head to hers.

“Stay close to me,” she whispers. “Don’t

talk and don’t stare. Things will be better in the backyard.”

For days, I’ve dreamed of Beth being this close to me again, but right now I can only focus on the multiple sets of eyes watching our every movement. Beth turns, holds tighter to my fingers, and leads me through the living room and out the back door of the kitchen.

Several strings of Christmas lights hang between three trees scattered in the narrow yard. A patch of grass grows in the far corner.

The rest of it is a mix of weeds and dirt. In the middle of a ring of worn lawn chairs, Isaiah talks to Noah, a redheaded girl tucked close to Noah, and one of the Latino guys from the stoop.

Noah breaks from the group when he sees Beth. She releases me and falls into his waiting arms. They whisper to one another. I don’t like how he holds on to her and don’t like how long he’s holding. That doesn’t look like brotherly love to me. I stare at his girl. Why is she so damned happy to see her guy hugging someone else?

When he lets her go, Noah extends his hand to me. “S’up.”

I take his hand and squeeze extra tight.

“Nothing. You?”

The moment I squeeze, Noah grins and squeezes back. “Chill, bro. Beth says you’re good, so that makes us good.”

Beth hugs the Latino guy and laughs as he playfully talks in Spanish. “That’s Rico,” says Noah. “Relax. We’ve got your back.”

“It’s Beth I’m worried about. She shouldn’t be here.”

Noah loses the easygoing front. “No, she shouldn’t.”

Beth glances over her shoulder and flashes me that joyous smile—the one I’ve only seen a handful of times.

“Is she wearing a ribbon?” Noah asks in clear disbelief.

Feeling proud, I answer, “I gave it to her.”

“Fucking wonderful,” Noah mumbles as he eyes Isaiah. “Don’t stay long.”

Noah returns to the group and pulls his girl onto a hammock strung along two posts in the ground. The hammock swings gently back and forth as they lie together. Propped up on an elbow, Noah focuses on her. “Echo, that’s Ryan. Ryan, this is my girl.”

Message received. Screw with his girl and he’ll screw with me. “Nice to meet you.”

Echo sits up, but Noah snakes an arm around her waist and drags her back down.

“Beth brought a guy who has manners,” Echo teases him. “See, it’s not so hard.”

Noah pushes her hair over her shoulder, then runs a finger along her arm. “I’ve got manners, baby.”

“No.” She swats at his hand and laughs.

“You don’t.”

Disgust weaves through me as I register what I’m seeing. Scars cover Echo’s arms. I rub a hand over my face. What the hell happened to her? Noah continues to tease Echo and she continues to laugh, yet his tone as he addresses me is a menacing threat. “Stare any longer, Ryan, and I’ll kick your ass.”

“Noah,” Echo reprimands. “Don’t.”

Beth returns to me. “What did I say about staring?”

“I apologize,” I say directly to Echo.

Echo smiles. “See? Manners.”

“Come on,” says Beth. “Let’s get you a beer before you give them a good reason to kick your ass.”

Beth

I MISS LAUGHING.

Most days I can find something amusing to make my lips flinch up. Sometimes it will be funny enough to make me chuckle. But I miss laughing. Really laughing. Laughing to the point that my insides hurt, my chest aches, my face is exhausted from holding the smile.

For effect, Rico stands in the middle of the circle of lawn chairs and in slow motion reenacts how Isaiah and I kept him from being busted for underage drinking this summer by distracting a pair of cops with a very bad mime routine.