“Yeah?”
“I’m kind of done hugging you.”
Reluctantly, I let go. One shot. One fucking shot. What the hell do I do now? What the hell do I want? Echo. To feel her body wrapped around mine, to smell her enticing scent, to let her deliver me to that place where I would forget everything but her.
She packed her books in her bag, speaking the words on my mind. “What’s going on between us?”
I don’t know. I rubbed my hand over my face before glancing at Echo. A hint of her cleavage peeked from her shirt. Damn, she was sexy as hell. I wanted her, badly. Would one night be enough, even if she gave it to me? Echo already felt like a heavy drug. The kind I avoided on purpose—crack, heroin, meth. The ones that screwed with your mind, crept into your blood and left you powerless, helpless. If she gave her body to me, would I be able to let go or would I be sucked into that black veil, hooks embedded into my skin, sentenced to death by the emotion I reserved for my brothers—love? “I want you.”
Echo zipped up her pack and threw it at the door to the house. It smacked the wood with a bang and slid to the floor. “Do you? Really? Because these scars are sexy.”
How did she see herself? “I don’t give a fuck about your scars.”
She stalked toward me, hips swaying side to side, eyes hardened with anger. Echo pushed her body against mine, parts of her fitting perfectly into parts of me. I swore under my breath, fighting for control over my body.
“How are you going to react when we’re this close and you take off my shirt? Are you still going to want me when you see red and white lines? Are you going to flinch each time you accidentally touch my arms and feel the raised skin? How about when I touch you?”
She pulled away from me, leaving my body cold after experiencing her warmth. “Or will you forbid that? Will you tell me how to dress or what I’m allowed to take off?”
Her anger only fed mine. “For the last time, I don’t give a fuck about your scars.”
“Liar,” she spat. “Because the only way anyone will ever be okay with me is if they love me. Really love me enough to not care that I’m damaged. You don’t love people. You have sex with them. So how could you want to be with me?”
She’d summed me up perfectly. I didn’t love people—only my brothers. Echo deserved more. Better than me. One shot. Take it or go home. Kiss her and risk an attachment or leave her and watch some other guy enjoy what could have been mine.
Echo
When I graduated from high school I planned on painting a plaque for Mrs. Collins: Therapy Stinks. Pink and white with polka dots to match the curtains on the windows.
“Sorry I had to reschedule your session and take you out of business technology. The conference in Cincinnati was fabulous! Are you ready for the Valentine’s Dance tomorrow? When I was a teenager, we had dances on Fridays instead of a Saturday like you.” Mrs. Collins hunted through the growing stacks of papers and folders on her desk for my file. How could she misplace the thing? Thanks to her copious note taking, my three-inch file had grown to four.
She placed a folder off to the side and the name caught my eye—Noah Hutchins. We hadn’t talked in a week and a half. Okay—not totally true. Last week, he’d taken thirty seconds before calculus to download his latest plan of attack. He planned on disrupting my therapy session to ask Mrs. Collins for some type of form. He hoped she’d leave the office and I could gain access to our files. It didn’t happen. Noah stormed out of her office ten minutes before the end of his session and never returned.
I wanted to talk to him on Monday when he, Beth and Isaiah came over for the next tutoring/car repair session, but he kept our conversation exclusively on calculus. When we finished studying, he cut up with Beth and Isaiah, purposely keeping me out of their loop.
Not that I blamed Noah for avoiding me. I’d said some pretty horrible things to him in my garage. Things I had no idea how to take back. Besides, how would I even begin to explain why I’d been in such a foul mood?
Earlier that day, I’d learned that Ashley carried a boy in her precious little baby bump. Ashley had lain on the table, staring at the black-and-white swishing screen, and said, “Oh, Echo. You’ll have a brother again.” Again. Like I lost a puppy and she cooked me up another. I wasn’t interested in a replacement.
Noah had come over to my house that afternoon and rocked my world with Isaiah’s car knowledge. He didn’t have to bring Isaiah, or share memories of his family. Once again, he showed me what an incredibly awesome guy he really was and what did I do? I threw it in his face that he slept with every girl who offered herself up to him. I told him he didn’t know how to love because he couldn’t tell me what I wanted so badly to hear from him. That he wanted more than my body—that he wanted me.
“Yes. I’m ready for the dance,” I told Mrs. Collins, returning to reality.
“Fantastic. Ah, there it is.” She flipped open my file and rewarded herself with a sip of her new addiction, Diet Coke. “I’d like to discuss your mother today.”
“What?” No one discussed my mother.
“Your mom. I’d like to discuss your mom. Actually, there’s an exercise I’d like to try with you. Can you describe her in five words or less?”
Bipolar. Beautiful. Erratic. Talented. Unreliable. I chose the safe answer. “She loved Greek mythology.”
Mrs. Collins sat back in her seat, revealing jeans and a blue button-down shirt. “I think of chocolate chip cookies when I think of my mom.”
“I’m pretty sure you know my mom isn’t the cookie-baking type.” Or the mom type.
She chuckled. I didn’t mean it to be funny. “Did she teach you the myths?”
“Yes, but she focused on the constellations.”
“You’re smiling. I don’t see you do that in my office very often.”
My mom. My crazy, crazy mother. “When she was on, my mother was on. You know?”