“It’s healthy for Echo to accept her scars. There will be people who can never understand Echo because of it, and then there will be people like you that love her regardless. It’s something she’ll have to learn to deal with.”
I nod to let her know I get it.
“And Noah?”
“Yeah?”
“There will be times that she backtracks. There will be days that it’s easier to cover them. A few days of doing so out of months isn’t a backslide. Sometimes we all need a moment to lick our wounds. And sometimes she might just be cold.”
I chuckle. “True.” After a few beats: “I’m mad at my mom.” Though not as much as I was.
Mrs. Collins places a hand over her heart. “It’s okay to be mad at her.”
“I know.” I clear my throat when it threatens to choke me up. “When I get back, could I stop by? Maybe talk about it?”
I swear the head shrink wags her tail and pants. “You paid me in advance, remember? Let’s schedule an appointment now.”
* * *
The bell rings, and the elevator doors open to the lobby. With marble floors and shiny shit everywhere, it’s by far the best hotel Echo and I’ve stayed since we’ve started this trip. The reason we’re here is because Hunter’s paying for the rooms for his artists in the show.
I didn’t like the idea of accepting Hunter’s charity, but Echo described it as a business perk. That explanation I can respect, plus it’s something I’m going to have to get used to. That is until I make enough money to pay for anything Echo craves.
I walk out of the lobby and into the late-evening sunlight. Isaiah texted me fifteen minutes ago, asking me to meet him in the parking lot. He and Beth bailed out of our joint room two hours ago so I could help calm Echo’s nerves and to allow us time to get ready.
“Going to prom again?” Isaiah asks as I walk up to Echo’s car. He extends a cold beer to me. Condensation drips down the bottle.
“Fuck you,” I mumble, but I take the beer. Isaiah and Beth continue to rip my outfit: white button-down shirt, black slacks, dress shoes. The works.
“Is that a tie?” Beth cracks a rare genuine smile.
“Yeah.” I stare her down.
“Noah Hutchins has gone like the beer,” she says, “domestic.”
“Got a problem with that?”
She shrugs. “I’ll have a problem with it later. Today, I have beer.”
I can deal with that.
“Where you’d score this?” I motion to the beer in my hand then at the bottles they hold in theirs.
“I have my ways,” says Isaiah. “Figured you’d need it. Got an extra one for Echo if she wants it.”
“She might.” My gaze wanders to the eighth floor. Echo’s talking with Mrs. Collins for some last-minute pointers on how to handle tonight. I’m also nervous as fuck, but I’m going to follow the advice Mrs. Collins gave me—stick tight to Echo, yet give her space. Love and accept her needs and wants. While the woman can’t predict what will happen, she makes me better at facing it.
Isaiah runs a hand along the tattoo of the tiger on his arm and peers out onto the traffic moving at a snail’s pace on the road in front of the hotel. “I don’t feel right about Echo paying for these tickets.”
My stomach twists, and I pop off the top of the beer. The small cap clanks when I toss it into the bag. Isaiah and Beth thought they’d be hitching a ride back to Louisville with me and Echo. I thought that was the plan, too, but Echo prefers to keep the car in Colorado then fly back so she doesn’t have to drive back by herself after she returns home to pack for the year. I offered to drive from Louisville to Colorado with her and then ride the bus home, but Echo didn’t want me to miss the first week of college.
“Echo feels bad she’s not driving back so let her do this,” I tell Isaiah. Because I’m eating my damn pride by letting her pay for my bus ticket, too. It’s a partnership, she told me, and Echo’s right. Some days she’ll be on an upswing, some days she’ll be on the down. This is her upswing.
“I’ll pay her back,” says Isaiah.
“I know.” So will I. With a big-ass house on the tallest mountain and all the damn little dogs she desires. But they’re still not sleeping on my bed. “And Echo knows. It’s all good, bro.”
When Isaiah cracks his neck to the right, I try again. “We’re family, Isaiah. You, me, Beth and Echo. I know we’ve all had shit handed to us, but we have something now. I’ve got your backs and you’ve got mine, which means every now and then you’ve got to let us help you out, too. You got it?”
Beth dips her head so that her hair hides her face, a sign the words I said breached that damn wall she keeps guarded, and Isaiah won’t meet my eyes. Emotion...someone giving a shit...we’re not used to it and when anyone offers any semblance of affection, none of us, including Echo, have a clue what to do with it.
But those days are over. Long gone. It’s time the four of us start writing our own stories...our own destinies. I raise my beer in the air. “To family.”
Beth’s head jerks up. “Are you fucking kidding me? Are we seriously doing this?”
“Are you going to leave me hanging?”
She laughs, and her beer joins mine. “You’re a crazy son of a bitch.”
We both look to Isaiah. He scrubs his knuckles against his jaw then raises his bottle to ours and repeats, “To family.”
With a clink, each one of us swallows from the long neck then scrambles for another topic, but I don’t care. I’ve finally found what I’ve been searching for...a family.
Noah
Echo wears blue. Royal blue, and I love how it makes her green eyes shine. The dress is simple, made of smooth fabric, and is cut in ways that highlights her curves. She’s drop-dead gorgeous, but she’s nervous as hell.
We’re inside the largest gallery known to man with towering walls, a black ceiling and the best lighting available. In a few minutes, the doors will open, and Echo has been reduced to wringing her hands.
“Mrs. Collins told me to breathe,” Echo says.
“Then I suggest trying it. Air in. Then air out. I hear it helps.” I’m not kidding.
Evil glare from my girl.
“Echo?” A woman in a black dress approaches us. “Do you have a few minutes? I’d like to ask your opinion on the lighting on your painting.”