Pushing the Limits (Pushing the Limits #1)(80)

Lila’s lip curled back. “Speaking of wannabes, do you have plans to go after Echo’s leftovers again?”

Damn, not what I needed. Beth hurled herself at Lila, but Isaiah grabbed Beth by the waist and hissed at her to calm down. My chair flipped back when I stood. “Forget it. I’ll find her myself.”

ECHO SAT ON A STOOL STARING AT the canvas, but this time she didn’t have a paintbrush in her hand. Her gloved hands were propped on her knees.

“You know it’s rude not to call back.” I held my breath, waiting for her wrath.

She gave a sad smile, hurting my heart. I would have preferred her anger over her pain anytime. “It’s not the first time you thought I was rude.” She glanced up at me. “Hey, Noah.”

“Echo.” I permitted myself to get closer, but not too close. “It’s Monday, which means you should be tutoring me this afternoon.”

“You never needed a tutor, just motivation.”

Rubbing the tension out of the back of my neck, I continued, “Look, I f**ked up Saturday. I never should have brought up marriage. I was out of my mind. You drew that picture of my parents and then I thought about how much I love you and how I couldn’t keep you and have my brothers. I added a f**ked-up thought to another f**ked-up thought and I created a pile of shit.”

Echo’s lips twitched up. “That’s the worst apology I’ve ever heard, but I’ll take it.” She turned her gaze back to the blank canvas.

I’d uttered the words I never said to a girl—I loved her. Girls craved words like that, but the distance between us had widened. Maybe she didn’t catch it. “I love you, Echo. You could never marry me and I’d still love you. We’ll find a way to figure everything out. You are not responsible for my brothers.”

“I know.” She sighed and looked bone-weary. Her foot began to bounce on the leg of the stool. “I love you, too, and because of that, I think it’s time we end this.”

Pain seared through me, followed by a quick flash of anger. “But you said you forgave me.”

She picked up a paintbrush, dipped it in black paint and smudged dots on the middle of the canvas. “I have up to a twenty percent chance of inheriting my mother’s genes.”

“What does that have to do with anything? You’re not your mother. You are a far cry from that crazy bitch.”

“She’s ill, Noah, not crazy,” she whispered.

This entire conversation was crazy. “She cut you to pieces. That’s crazy.”

She shut her eyes tight and flinched. “I fell.”

I yanked the paintbrush out of her hand and threw it across the room. “Fuck that. If that was a damn accident, you’d remember.” I ran a hand over my face, trying to wipe away the anger. “What the hell does this have to do with anything? With us?”

Echo opened her eyes and revealed a mind-numbing pain. “Everything.”

The need to touch her overwhelmed me and I gave in. I stepped toward her, but Echo hopped off the stool and placed it between us. I shoved it out of the way and kept advancing. She pressed her hands against my chest and tried to push me away. “I can’t think straight when you’re this close.”

I backed her up against the wall. “I don’t like the thoughts running through your head. I plan on staying right here until you look me in the eye and tell me you’re mine.”

She lowered her head and hid in her hair. As she spoke, her tone reminded me of Jacob’s when he finally understood Mom would never hold him again. “This isn’t going to work. It never would have.”

“Bullshit. We belong together.” Echo sniffled and the sound tore at me. I softened my voice. “Look at me, baby. I know you love me. Three nights ago you were willing to offer everything to me. There is no way you can walk away from us.”

“God, Noah …” Her voice broke. “I’m a mess.”

A mess? “You’re beautiful.”

She finally raised her head. No tears, but the trails remained. “I’m a mental mess. In two months you’re going to face some judge and convince him that you are the best person to raise your brothers. I’m a liability.”

A nagging voice told me to shut up and listen. “Not true. My brothers will love you and you’ll love them. You are not a liability.”

“But how will the judge see me? Are you really willing to take that risk?” She swallowed. “Two months after the incident with my mom a therapist tried to reclaim the lost memories. Mrs. Collins said the person tried too hard. I cracked. I woke up in a hospital two days later with the memories still repressed. I’ve been lucky so far, but what happens to you if my luck runs out?

“Noah, look at it from an outsider’s perspective. I’m scarred with no memory of what happened to me. I’ve already had one mental breakdown because I tried to remember. My mother is bipolar. Most people who are bipolar start to exhibit the symptoms in their late teens or early twenties. What happens if the judge finds out about me? What if he discovers what a mess you’re dating?”

Breathing became a painful chore. Her lips turned down while her warm fingers caressed my cheek. That touch typically brought me to my knees, but now it cut me open.

“Did you know that when you stop being stubborn and accept I may be right on something, your eyes widen a little and you tilt your head to the side?” she asked.