Pushing the Limits (Pushing the Limits #1)(22)

Three weeks ago, Mrs. Collins had begun the term wearing business suits and then jeans and a nice shirt on casual Fridays. Each week casual Friday moved up a day. Today, Tuesday was the new Friday. From behind her desk, she flashed her never-ending smile. “Mr. and Mrs. Emerson, how wonderful to see you, but our group session is next week.”

With eyebrows raised, my father sent a questioning glance to Ashley, who sat stunned with her mouth open. “No. The family calendar clearly stated …”

I cut her off. “I told them to come this week.”

Mrs. Collins did that weird thing where she shifted her entire mouth to the right. “I know we had a rough session last week, but did you really think you needed to bring bodyguards?”

“Echo?” My father asked. “What happened last week?”

My heart squeezed and dropped. His concern sounded real. I’d give anything if it was. I stood and walked to the window. Students mingled in the parking lot before heading home. This session had the possibility of stinking as much as last week’s. “Something good.”

“That’s fantastic. This family needs good news.” Ashley’s perky voice grated like sandpaper against my skin. “I read in a magazine that babies can sense negativity.”

A car pulled out of its spot, revealing Noah sitting on the hood of his rusting car next to some guy with lots of earrings and tattoos and biker chick Beth. His two friends stared at me when he gave me his mischievous grin. His friends gave me the creeps. Noah’s smile gave me flutters.

Not that I should have flutters for Noah Hutchins. I was dating Luke, not him—that is if you called Luke’s one-sided nighttime phone conversations and a single awkward group outing to the local pizza place dating.

I sighed and shook Luke out of my head. Noah and I had made a deal and I intended to uphold my end of the bargain. The plan was simple: I needed to push back my appointment so he could move his session from the morning to my current afternoon slot. With our appointment times near each other, one of us would distract Mrs. Collins while the other snuck a peek at the files.

“Echo?” my father prodded, the hint of concern still present. “What’s good?”

Inhaling deeply to calm the nerves squeezing my stomach, I turned to face him. I loathed confrontation and I hated confrontation with my father more. “Why didn’t you tell me I won the Governor’s Cup?”

“Excuse me?” No concern left in my father’s tone now.

A twinge of hurt joined the nerves. Why, on top of everything else, did he take art away from me, too? “I wanted to win so badly. You could have at least told me that much.”

Mrs. Collins eyed me warily and kept her hands folded on her lap. I expected her to jump in and defend herself, but she remained annoyingly cool. Ashley placed her hand over my father’s. “Owen?” Was that guilt flickering in her blue eyes?

Scaring the crap out of me, he turned an unusual color of gray. “You remember?” His eyes grew round, making him look lost and terribly sad.

I thought he wanted me to remember. My forehead wrinkled in confusion. Wasn’t that the point of all this therapy?

Gray turned to red as he faced Mrs. Collins. “This is unacceptable. We saw two psychiatrists and had three separate psychological evaluations. Each of them had a different opinion of how to proceed, but after her breakdown, every single one of them told us to leave that day alone. I knew when you asked for that ribbon to put in this room we should have opted out of your program. How could you force her to remember?”

“I didn’t force anything, Mr. Emerson. I simply placed the ribbon on the desk during her sessions. It’s called desensitizing. Her mind decided it was safe to remember, so she did.”

Springing from his chair, my father ran a hand through his hair. “My God, Echo. Why didn’t you tell me earlier? You have to understand …”

“Mr. Emerson, stop!” Mrs. Collins tried to keep her voice level, but I felt the slight urgency in her tone. “She only remembered receiving the ribbon. That’s all.”

My father’s chest rose and fell rapidly. He reminded me of one of those paper bags people blow into during a panic attack. Then, as if to prove the impossible possible, he pulled me into him and hugged me. One of his arms wound around my back. His other hand cradled my head against him. I stood stiff.

Yet I felt warm. Secure. Safe. Like when I was a child and my mother spiraled into an episode and I was scared. Memories of my mother wide-eyed, yelling incoherently, her wild, red hair falling from a ponytail filled my mind. I used to run to my father and he would hold me—just like this. He protected me and kept me safe. I listened to his heart beating and I almost allowed myself to hug him back. Stilettos clicked against the floor when Ashley fidgeted.

Unbelievable pain stung my heart and I pushed him away. “You chose her.”

My father held a hand out to me, his mouth hanging open. “What?”

“You chose Ashley. She weaseled her way into our home and she tore our family apart. You chose her over us.”

“Echo, no. It wasn’t like that.” Ashley’s plea was pathetic and fake. “I loved you and then I fell in love with your dad. Your parents’ marriage was over way before the divorce.”

My foot tapped the floor. Liar. She was a liar. “Yes, because of you.”

“We’re going home. This is a family matter.” My father reached for his jacket and Ashley stood. “Mrs. Collins, I appreciate the state’s willingness to place Echo in your program, but I believe it’s best if my family seeks private counseling someplace else.”