“I hear you’ve been fucking with my girl.”
My lips twitch with how fast Mrs. Collins’s eyes snap up to see me coming through her screen. Without missing a beat, she masks her shock. “Language, Noah.”
“I graduated.”
“From high school, yes, but those rules that are put in place in school are meant to help you learn how to function out of it. So...” She rests her chin on her linked fingers. “This is a nice surprise. How has your summer gone?”
“I asked about Echo.”
“You did, but if you remember correctly, I won’t discuss Echo with you, but you’re more than welcome to tell me how things are going with her.” She practically bounces in her chair. “In fact, I’d love it. Dish all the details.”
I snort. “I don’t dish.”
“Neither of you ever do. So what’s up?”
Less than a minute and she’s already digging. Six months ago, I would have stormed out of her office and slammed her door, but it’s the familiar that puts me at ease. “Not much.”
“In all seriousness, is Echo okay?” she asks.
I answer because Mrs. Collins cares more for Echo than her own parents do. “She’s good.”
Mrs. Collins kneads her red eyes. It’s ten here so it’s one there.
“Up a little late, aren’t you?” I ask.
“I keep strange hours.” She flashes a weak smile. “What’s going on with you?”
“I’m eighteen now.”
“Happy belated birthday, but that doesn’t answer my question.”
“The state dropped me from your program the day I walked across the stage. Can’t afford your overpriced fees.”
“Consider this a conversation between two people who know each other.”
I toe the legs of the table. I contacted her. I’m the one that’s forcing open this door. “My mom’s family is looking for me.”
Not an ounce of surprise, and I swear under my breath. “You already know.”
She frowns as a yes.
“How?”
Her head moves to the side, and I answer for her. “Jacob.”
Mrs. Collins still works with my younger brother on his night terrors. He harbors guilt because he’s the one that lit the candle that started the fire that killed our parents. Because of this, she’d be privy to anything regarding him, including if my mother’s parents requested to meet him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Mrs. Collins blows out a long stream of air then bends out of view. A zipper rasps, then paper crackles and she reappears on the screen. She holds a dollar in her hand. “You see this?”
“Yeah.”
“You gave it to me.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“You left it on my desk on the last day, remember?”
Barely. “That’s because you bought me a Coke.”
“No, the Coke was a gift, but you did give me this dollar because...”
She drifts off, and her eyes are begging me for something. I’ve got no clue as to what that something is so I repeat her last statement to see where that gets me. “I gave you the dollar.”
Mrs. Collins nods like I gave her the correct answer for final Jeopardy. “Yes! You gave me a dollar because you knew that you would possibly be asking for...”
She circles her hand for me to finish. Aw, fuck me. I suck at charades. “Your help?”
“Yes! Exactly! So that means that you’re asking me to be your therapist again?”
Got it. “I left payment for you so you can be my therapist again. So, yeah, I’m asking.”
“I accept! Yes, Noah, your mother’s family is trying to find you.”
“And you couldn’t tell me because you’re Jacob’s therapist, not mine.”
“But I’m yours now, so we can talk.”
“I’m in Vail, and I have their address.”
Mrs. Collins slumps back in her chair like I announced I detonated a nuclear bomb in a day care. “Who told you about your mom’s parents?”
“Carrie.” I pause. “I got the address from Keesha.”
“Have you visited them?”
“Not yet.”
She picks up a pen and taps it against the table. “How does the idea of meeting your mother’s family make you feel?”
“How much do you know about them?”
“Enough.”
“More than me?”
“Probably.”
Conversations with her have always been like playing an intense poker match, but usually she’s on the fact-finding mission, not me. “Are you going to download what you know, or am I going to continue to waste my time?”
She halfheartedly grins. “If that’s all you wanted to know, you could have asked Carrie or Joe or Keesha. All three of them know more than me. In fact, you have your mother’s family’s address in your hands. Who better to ask than the source?”
I readjust, and the chair squeaks beneath me.
“But you didn’t do that. You called me. What’s going on, Noah?”