Pushing the Limits (Pushing the Limits #1)(65)

“You honestly believe that Mrs. Collins is going to fall for it?” I asked. “First off, she’ll probably tell you to wait or she’ll get it for you Wednesday or she’ll see right through you and know we’re up to something.”

“She wants nothing more than for me to go to college and if I tell her I’m going to take the ACT she’ll shit her pants. She’s been dying for me to apply for late registration.”

Noah trailed kisses down my neck, interfering with my decision-making skills. I opened the door and slid out of the car. March had roared in like a lion, bringing severe but warm weather. I stood close enough to the edge of the open garage door that a few warm raindrops hit my shoes. Noah didn’t crowd me with his body, like he normally would. Instead, he leaned against the garage door frame, away from me.

We’d failed at our latest attempt last week to get into our files. Our high failure rate only pushed us harder to succeed. Every now and then, I wondered if the only reason we were together was because of our joint goal of stealing those files. At times, it was the only thing we talked about, but then I’d see the warmth in his brown eyes and I’d know—he cared.

“If this works, which I’m not saying it will, I think you should go for your file first,” I said. “I’m sorry the last name didn’t help.” He’d tried every avenue available—phone books, Google, Facebook—and had found nothing on Jacob and Tyler’s foster parents.

“No. I saw your dad and Mrs. Collins speaking privately this morning. Something’s going down and we need to figure out what.” Noah stared out into the rain, looking more like a Calvin Klein underwear model than a down-and-out foster kid. “Besides, I think we’ll have a good crack at both files since you’ll be doing hypnosis on Thursday. When I lure Mrs. Collins out tomorrow, you take a crack at yours then I’ll take a crack at mine on Thursday.”

“It’s not hypnosis. Its relaxation therapy and I haven’t agreed to it yet.”

“It’s perfect. You and Mrs. Collins will be in the sickroom and the office staff will be gone for the day. Besides, you said last week that Mrs. Collins thinks you’re on the verge of a huge breakthrough.”

The rain pounded against the roof of the garage. I glanced over to Isaiah and Beth. I hated seeing her perched on Aires’ favorite tool bench, but I liked the spark she put in Isaiah’s eye.

How odd would it be to finally put the pieces together? To understand why I kept painting the night sky over and over again. To understand why my mother had told me bedtime stories while I bled on her floor. Maybe the nightly terrors would finally end and I could sleep a full restful night for the first time in two years.

But what if it didn’t work? Mrs. Collins had said she thought my mind was ready to remember a little more—with appropriate prompting. That tidbit of information sent Ashley into a newsmagazine conversation binge about how we should try hypnotherapy again. It turned out she had already done the research, found another hypnotherapist and checked his credentials. Mrs. Collins knew the therapist so she was okay with it, yet not thrilled. Wanting to make Ashley happy, my father reluctantly agreed, and like always, I agreed by not disagreeing.

Besides, we weren’t going after the full memory. Instead, our goal was to see if I could remember some of the moments before my mom dragged me to hell.

Supposedly, this relaxation therapy would be different than the one that cracked my mind the summer after the incident. Mrs. Collins said that therapist was inexperienced and pressed too hard, too fast. Thursday, Ashley would bring in a reputable “professional.” Mrs. Collins assured me over and over again that she would be there to watch the session and that I would be safe—that my mind wouldn’t fracture again.

So far, she’d been right about most things, but … I whispered so no one else could hear, “What if my dad’s right? What if my mind can’t handle the truth?”

“Baby, you’ve got enough strength and tenacity to take down drug dealers. You’ll be fine.”

I wished I had Noah’s confidence and faith in me. Nothing ever shook him and for some reason, he thought I could climb mountains then juggle them. Someday, he was going to be very disappointed when he saw me for who I really was—a weak, pathetic person.

“Where’s your dad?” Noah asked. “He’s usually home by now.” Ever since my dad figured out that Noah and Isaiah spent every Monday afternoon in our garage, he made it a point to be home from work as soon as humanly possible. He may have accepted Noah as my boyfriend, but he didn’t like said boyfriend being alone with me.

My foot tapped nervously. Dad’s strange behavior had taken a turn onto Bizarre Boulevard. “The Neon didn’t make it through detailing. He’s picking up my new used car today.”

I’d loved that car. Aires and I car shopped for weeks, trying to find the right combination of deal and longevity. When I finally bought it, we picked up Mom to celebrate with a trip to Dairy Queen for chocolate malts. Good thing Isaiah had promised to fix Aires’ car. Otherwise, I would have curled into a ball and cried over another loss of Aires … and my mom.

I caught Beth sending me a death glare while listening to my and Noah’s conversation. We talked openly in front of her and Isaiah, but we never flat-out mentioned my issues. Noah considered them family and trusted them. I trusted Noah and liked Isaiah. I tolerated Beth.