“Ashley answers every call at home and my cell phone has lost its service. Dad tells me he’s working on it, but I don’t believe him.”
Mrs. Collins talking to her about restraining orders? Her father taking away her ride and her means of communication? Red flags shot to the sky. Echo’s mother meant danger. “Has your mom contacted you?”
Her head fell back. “Not you, too.”
Well aware that wasn’t an answer, I felt a menacing coil churn inside of me. No one messed with my girl. “Echo?”
“No.” With a defeated sigh, she relaxed into me. “I know it sounds crazy, but sometimes I miss her.”
It did sound crazy, yet at the same time it sounded sane. I kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back. Echo either didn’t see the signs or refused to acknowledge them: her family and Mrs. Collins were worried about her mother making a reappearance in her life. A tug of war raged in my brain between telling Echo my theory and keeping her happily in the dark.
But then again, they could be upset for other reasons. “Is it me? Are they giving you a hard time because you’re with me?”
Echo pressed against my arms for release and I let her go. I rubbed my neck to ease the tension. “It’s okay to tell me.”
“Ashley and my father don’t even know about you. I was going to introduce you this weekend when we went out, but now I’m not so sure.”
That entire statement was loaded. “I’m going to meet your parents this weekend and we’ve got plans?”
Her face reddened. “Sorry. I, um, assumed that, you know, that since you said I was yours, that we would kind of, I guess …” Damn, she was cute when she stammered.
“I planned on taking you to a party tomorrow night, but if you’ve made other plans, I’m flexible. I’m okay with meeting your dad. I can’t promise he’s going to be okay meeting me.”
The blush remained on her cheeks, but I got a smile out of her. “No, the party is fine.” Her forehead wrinkled. “Though I don’t know of anyone throwing one. My dad will be okay. Just don’t curse. You are capable of not cursing, right?”
“I was a Boy Scout.”
She giggled, then returned to the painting of the night sky, all traces of humor disappearing.
“It really is a beautiful painting,” I said.
“Mom constantly painted the constellations. Now, I’m stuck doing the same thing.” She paused. “On the rare occasion my mom decided to be a mom, she would tell me the story of Andromeda and Perseus before I fell asleep. Why was she telling it to me the day I got hurt? I’m so close to the truth.”
My heart hurt to see her in pain and, for one second, I shut down all emotion. One day, she’d figure out she was too good for a loser like me and when she left, I didn’t know how I’d deal with the pain. Echo tapped the paintbrush against her face. Hell, she was worth it. I enfolded her into my body once more, kissing the side of her neck. “Then let’s get serious. Tuesday, we’re getting into your file.”
Echo
“They’re brooding.” I snuck a peek out my bedroom window, searching for any sign of Noah while holding the cordless phone tight to my ear. No cell phone service for twenty-four hours. Living prior to the nineties must have stunk.
“Because Noah is every father’s dream come true,” Lila said, her disdain clear. “And I’ve asked around. There’s no party. I’ll bet you his party consists of drugs, a parked car and him showing you the backseat.”
“You said you were going to support me.”
“I said that you will always be my best friend. Anyhow, I kind of thought you’d make out with the guy and move on. Not get all serious about him.” Lila sighed. “Come with me and Stephen to the movies. Bring Noah if you must.”
Images of Noah standing stoic next to a ticked-off Stephen filled my mind. Noah had agreed to be with me, not become BFFs with the popular crowd. “Maybe next weekend.” Or never. A rumbling engine grew louder as it approached the house. “Gotta go. Noah’s here.”
I bounded down the stairs, hoping to answer the door before Ashley or my father.
“Echo.” Too late. Brainless swept into the foyer. “You know your father’s rules. He answers the door while you wait in the living room. It’s only proper that we meet your date.”
“We,” meaning Ashley, created this rule when she found out I dumped Luke.
My father’s recliner snapped shut in the family room and he entered the foyer. His typical worry lines were carved deeper than normal and dark circles of exhaustion hung under his eyes. The annoyed set of his jaw said he was just as excited as me about “his” rule.
Ashley primped in the hall mirror. I probably should keep an eye out since she did have a thing for other women’s men. So far, I’d been able to keep her away from Noah since we studied during the time she watched her favorite talk show.
My father leaned against the corner of the wall, waiting for the doorbell to ring. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back. My father always wore worry and stress like a St. Bernard carried medicine, but today he appeared worse than normal. It reminded me of the days before he and mom divorced or when I’d returned to school after the incident. “You okay, Daddy?”
His eyes popped open. “Yes. Work has been demanding.”
We stared at each other for a second, both searching for a topic of conversation or, heck, a coherent sentence. What was Noah doing out there? Did the engine rust and fall out so he had to push his car up the drive?
My father cleared his throat. “Some odd things happened with your cell phone account and you’ll be getting a new number on Monday. Do me a favor and try to hand it out only to people who really need it.” Because my popularity equated to large phone bills.
“And my car?” It should look like a Porsche after all that detailing.
The doorbell rang, saving my father from answering. He placed his hand on the doorknob and sent me his you-can-change-your-mind look. “I really liked Luke. You should give him another chance.”
I shoved my hands in my pockets, making a mental note to grab my gloves before I left. “I like Noah, Daddy. So can you try not to be—” overbearing, controlling, mean “—you.”
My father actually smiled and it touched his eyes. As quickly as it appeared, it disappeared and he opened the door. My father and Noah exchanged a muffled greeting. Seconds later, Noah stinking Hutchins stood in my foyer looking hot as ever and unrepentant for being so sexy. When my father turned his back to close the door, Noah flashed a pirate grin and winked.
His face fell solemn as my father entered the living room, beckoning both of us to accompany him. Noah walked beside me and whispered, “He’s kidding.”
“Wish he was.” In eighteen years, I’d only had two boyfriends, Luke and now Noah. Although the term boyfriend didn’t seem to fit Noah. I liked to consider us … together. When I was a freshman, my first date had consisted of Luke’s mom driving him to my house so we could watch a DVD. My father had no such silly dating rules then. Luke’s driver’s license opened up a whole new world for the two of us, but my father had had close to a year to warm up to him by then. Noah came out of nowhere.
I sat on the couch and squeaked in shock when Noah took a seat right beside me, resting his hand on my knee—a motion noticed by my father’s overly observant eyes.
My obviously pregnant stepmother eased into the new three-hundred-dollar glider she’d bought for the baby and my father sat in his recliner. “So, Noah, how did you meet Echo?”
Wow, had it gotten really hot in here? My eyes shifted to Noah, expecting to see panic. Instead, a relaxed smile settled on his face. “Echo and I have class together.”
Ashley brightened and pressed a hand to her belly. “Really? Which one?”
“Calculus.”
“Physics,” I added. “And business technology.”
“Español.” Had he purposely made his voice all deep and sexy? His hand moved up a fraction of an inch and squeezed my leg, exerting delicious pressure on my inner thigh. I twisted my hair away from my neck to release some of the heat. Noah either choked on his own spit or stifled a laugh.
Thankfully, my father missed the show. “What do your parents do?”
Uh-oh. I should have prepped Ashley and my father for Noah’s home situation. Okay, I’d considered it, but then I hoped the subject would never come up. I opened my mouth, but he answered, “Shirley stays at home and Dale works at the truck factory.”
My father and Ashley exchanged a long, concerned look. Ashley shifted in her chair and cupped both hands over the balloon meant to replace my brother. “You call your parents by their first names?”
“They’re my foster parents.”
I swear to God, I heard myself blink. I possibly could have heard Ashley and my father blink, but neither of them had done that yet. Noah withdrew his hand and rubbed the back of his neck. “At the end of my freshman year, my parents died in a house fire.”
My father clasped his hands and leaned forward in his seat, staring a burning laser hole through Noah. Ashley placed a hand over her mouth. “Oh, my, I’m so sorry.”
I inched toward the edge of the couch, wanting to get out of here before they asked him anything else. “We should probably get going.” Not that I had any idea where we were getting to.
“Where are you taking my daughter?” My father spoke to Noah with the malice I thought he reserved only for my mother. He’d clearly stopped listening after the words foster parents.
The temperature jumped another ninety degrees. Why couldn’t anyone in my life see how awesome Noah was? I shoved up my sleeves, welcoming the cold air on my skin.
“Echo, stop!” Ashley propelled herself out of the glider.
I froze and then remembered Ashley was damaged. I was going on a date, not to Vegas with Noah to elope.
Noah’s strong hand slipped over my wrist before he entwined his fingers with mine. The sensation of warm flesh against an area I allowed no one to see, much less touch, caused me to shiver. My eyes widened, realizing my mistake. This was what had freaked Ashley out. What had come over me? I never pulled up my sleeves. I spent all my time pulling them down. When had I become … comfortable?
He rubbed his thumb over my hand. “I planned on taking her to my house to meet some of my friends.”
Noah could have told them he was taking me to the ghetto and buying us crack and they wouldn’t have heard him. Ashley stood in place, staring at my exposed scars while my father stared at our combined hands. I reached over to pull down my sleeve, but Noah casually placed his hand over my forearm, preventing me from doing it. My lungs squeezed out all the oxygen in my body. Noah Hutchins, in fact, a human being, was overtly, on purpose, touching my scars.
I’d stopped breathing moments ago, as had Ashley. Noah continued as if nothing earth-shattering had happened. “What time does Echo need to be home?”
Blinking myself back to life, I answered for them, “My curfew is eleven.”