Breaking the Rules

We both assess him, and he presses his hands into his pockets. “Tell me where she went, and I’ll take you.”


“Naw,” says Isaiah. “You give us the keys, I’ll drive, he’ll save the girl and I’ll let you live.” Isaiah looks over at me. “One of us is getting the happy ending.”

Because there’s never a discussion when Isaiah appears this pissed, Hunter pulls out his keys, and I smirk at Isaiah. “You’re driving?”

“Out of the two of us, I’m the one who knows how to drive fast.”

*

We had to walk back to Vail village to get Hunter’s car so Echo got a hell of a head start—even with Isaiah cruising beyond the speed limit. He passed cars like half of them were sitting still. It’ll be a miracle if Isaiah doesn’t burn out the engine.

I called Echo’s cell again and again. From the backseat of the energy-efficient car, Beth tried from her cell and used Isaiah’s twice. Didn’t make a damn bit of difference. Echo was either ignoring us or her phone was dead.

Longest two-hour drive in my life, and these last ten miles were going to murder me. With a forest ranger on our ass, Isaiah’s had to follow the fifteen-mile-per-hour speed limit.

“Want to tell us what’s going on?” Isaiah asks.

With her head against the window, Beth opens her eyes, ending what I thought had been a cat nap. One hundred and fifty miles. It’s what we’ve traveled, and every mile between here and Vail I’ve thought how I could be wrong. Maybe this isn’t where she went. Maybe she’s someplace else, hurting, alone...I punch the door...doing something stupid without me.

“We were here a few nights ago. Some guys were jumping off a cliff into a pool of water. I wanted to. Echo wouldn’t. She’s trying to prove something.”

Isaiah raises an eyebrow. “Why didn’t she wait for you?”

“She’s not proving something to me.” I knead my eyes as the images of the hundred things that could have gone wrong torture me in slow motion. “She’s proving something to herself.”

Echo finally understands it’s not about pleasing Hunter or her dad or me, and when she figures it out, she takes a risk that could kill her.

“There.” I point to the entrance to the campsite. “Park there.”

My heart pounds hard when I see Echo’s car. Barely placing it in park, all three of us fall out, and I’m already on the path. “This is on me. Stay here.”

“Her engine’s still hot, Noah,” yells out Isaiah. “She’s not far ahead.”

With that, I run. Down the path, through the trees, praying she’s over a bend, past a clearing. Hoping she’ll be there right before my eyes, but she never is. She’s out of reach. Just like my parents were.

“What do you see when you look down?” I asked.

“You sound way too much like Mrs. Collins.” That sexy irritation leaked into Echo’s voice. “And that’s not a compliment.”

“Answer the question.”

“Rocks. Lots of sharp, kill-me-by-impaling rocks.”

I’m through the woods, and sweat breaks out along my hairline as I spot Echo teetering on the rock wall.

“You can call it uptight all you want, but I call it not being suicidal. I have a four-inch—thick file in my therapist’s office, and I can guarantee not once does the word suicidal appear. Depressed? Withdrawn? Freak of nature? Sure. But not suicidal.”

I made love to her. I made love to her, and I made a promise. One that I broke the moment I walked away from her at the party. Echo’s been dealt a tough hand, and she’s always been strong. She has a fighter’s heart, but this week could have been the final push over the edge.

“S’up, baby.” My body practically quakes with the urge to grab her, but with her toes dangling off the cliff, I’m frightened I’ll spook her, and she’ll accidentally go over.

As if she’s in a dream, Echo slowly assesses me from over her shoulder. “You found my note?”

Jesus Christ, the thought of a note sends chills along my spine. “What type of note?”

“The one in our room? The one telling you I was coming here?”

“Nope.” Though I wish I would have thought of checking the room before we left. Maybe it would have saved a few years off my life. Or it could have fucked with me harder. “What are you doing here?”

“I want to jump.” Echo returns her gaze to the pool below. I ease up to the edge but still three feet from her. One slow inch at a time, and I’ll hold on to her and never let go.

“Why didn’t you wait for me? You know I like a good rush.” Not anymore. I’ve never been so sick at the thought of a high in my life.

“I was scared I’d lose my nerve.” Echo inhales deeply, and her fingers close tight then release several times, as if she’s considering jumping then not jumping then considering it again.

“You don’t need to do this, Echo.”

“I do,” she says plainly but then sucks in a quivering breath. “My mom is going to be in Denver.”

“I know.”

This forces her focus in my direction, and I’ll do anything to keep those gorgeous emerald eyes on me.

Katie McGarry's books