Pushing the Limits (Pushing the Limits #1)

Pushing the Limits (Pushing the Limits #1) Page 33

Was that why Jacob had night terrors? Did he not feel safe? “I’ll sneak into your room one night and we’ll give it a shot. Sleep only, I promise.”

“My dad would kill you and then lock me up in a convent.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“So….” Echo said in an extremely light tone. “I told you the ACT story wouldn’t work.” She giggled, enjoying being right.

Ten minutes into Echo’s therapy session, I’d walked into Mrs. Collins’s office and announced my sudden interest in college. I was right about one thing. Mrs. Collins did shit her pants. Instead of jumping up to get the information, she spoke rapidly, telling me she needed time to gather crap. She then handed me an appointment card for Thursday, right after school and moments before Echo’s hypnosis appointment. “And you love being right, don’t you?”

“Shhh. I’m basking in my moment.” Echo yawned loudly. Her nightmares had increased in frequency and terror thanks to her therapy sessions. My gut told me she slept only a handful of hours each night, forcing herself to stay awake to avoid the dreams.

My mind wandered to Jacob and his nightmares. “If you knew the cause of your nightmares, would you talk to Mrs. Collins about it?”

“Are you high?” She didn’t even wait for my answer of no. “She knows the cause of my nightmares, but to answer your question, yes. The lady is crazy, but I think she knows what she’s doing. Well … kind of … a lot more than the other idiots I’ve seen. I don’t know. I guess I kind of like her.” Her voice slurred toward the end.

“Go to sleep, baby. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

Echo yawned again. “I’ll get off, but I think I’m going to read for a while. Love you.” She hung up, knowing I wouldn’t say it back. I wished I had her courage.

“Tell me you broke up with her,” Beth called out.

I hopped off the dryer to find Beth and Isaiah curled up on the bed watching television. “Why would I do that?”

“Because she’s crazy. And before you defend her, remember I saw her little breakdown.”

I took off my shirt, tossed it in my laundry basket and settled down on the couch to sleep. First thing I planned on buying when I got my own place was a bed. A big king-size bed with fluffy pillows and sheets.

“Don’t you dare ignore me! Isaiah, tell Noah he’s breaking some sort of guy code. For instance, you don’t date crazy chicks.”

Too easy. I opened my mouth to shove it back at Beth, but Isaiah stopped me. “Don’t, man. Just don’t.”

I picked up an old stained pillow and tucked it under my head. “Quit being a bitch.”

“Thanks,” Isaiah mumbled. Beth hated being called a bitch. But when the shoe fit …

“Whatever. Keep telling yourself you’re not dating Sybil. Does she have different names for her personalities?”

“Tone it down, Beth,” Isaiah said.

This needed to stop. The harder Beth pushed at me and the more I defended Echo, the greater the odds of Beth laying into her. She had enough shit going down without having to deal with my loudmouthed, non-blood-related sister. If she ever found out, Echo would be beyond pissed, but I had to do it—for everyone’s sanity. I swung an arm over my face, hoping once I said it, I could finally go to sleep. “At the end of her sophomore year, she was attacked. Echo’s mind repressed the memories and Mrs. Collins is trying to help her remember. What you saw in the garage was her remembering a sliver of that night. Give her a break.”

A laugh track played on the television, followed by a smartass comment by an actor. I waited for Beth’s shitty comeback. I readjusted my arm and caught her horrified expression. Isaiah smoothed hair away from her face and whispered something to her. She blinked back to life. “I’m sorry, Noah,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“… AND I PUT SOME information in there regarding the University of Louisville and the University of Kentucky, though the state will pick up the tab for any state school. They both have admirable architecture programs.” Mrs. Collins took her first breath in five minutes. The afternoon sun made her office into a prison hot box.

“Architecture?” I checked her eyes to see if she’d taken a recent hit.

“Architecture.” She smiled brightly.

I halfheartedly flipped through the mountain of brochures sitting on my lap. My father had been an architect. He designed the Habitat houses we’d built, even let me help him with it. I began to read the requirements for admission. What was I doing? I shut the folder.

“Echo trusts you,” I said. Not sure where that came from, but I needed to redirect myself from paths I couldn’t visit.

Her eyes softened, but she quickly put on her puppy game face. “Now, now, I already told you we won’t discuss Echo.” She swiveled back and forth in her chair. “I take that back. We can discuss anything that involves your relationship with Echo. I’ll be honest. I’m dying to know the details.”

I didn’t gossip, especially with my therapist. But Echo had looked exhausted today and I thought she may have fallen asleep during calculus. If her nightmares were that bad, what was life like for Jacob? “I’m not sure if I trust you. I have a shitty track record with adults.”

“Yes. You do. What’s troubling you, Noah?”

I ran a hand over my face and swallowed. What if I was wrong about her? She could destroy Jacob and also my chances of getting my family back together.

Mrs. Collins leaned her arms on the desk. “I swear to you, whatever you say will stay between us unless you tell me differently.”

“Do you believe in God?” I asked.

The question caught her off guard, but she answered, “I do.”

“Swear it to your God.”

“I swear to God that I’ll keep whatever you say private unless you direct me to do otherwise.”

Damn her to hell if she lied to me. “Jacob started the fire.”

She sucked in a breath and quickly regained her composure. “That’s not what the report from the fire marshal said. It was ruled an accident.”

“It was an accident. He didn’t mean to do it.” I kept eye contact. She had to believe me. Jacob would never intentionally hurt anyone.

She rubbed her eyes and shook her head as if trying to dispel what I had said. “Are you sure? Maybe he misunderstood something and only thinks he started it.”

“He started it. But it’s my fault.” The guilt of my decisions that night would hound me forever. “Instead of staying home to camp out with my brothers, I went to the county fair with some girl. At the time that date seemed so important, I …” The guilt I tried so hard to bury underneath layers and layers of avoidance rose to the surface in the form of nausea. I fought to keep myself from dry heaving.

I shoved the emotion back down. This wasn’t about me. “It doesn’t matter.” I wiped my nose as anger began to seep into my bloodstream. If I couldn’t make it through this session without crying, I didn’t deserve my brothers. I cleared my throat.

“Mom told Jacob we’d do the campout the next Friday instead, but Jacob was pissed. After Mom and Dad put them to bed, Jacob woke Tyler up to make s’mores. Mom had a candle in the hall bathroom. I guess she left the matches out. Jacob lit the candle, they roasted marshmallows and then they went downstairs to sleep in the living room. Dad had set up the tent there before he knew I was going out.”

Mrs. Collins held her hands to her face as if she was praying. Her eyes glistened. “The fire started in the hall bathroom. They assumed one of your parents lit the candle and forgot to blow it out. They had no idea it was your brother.”

She knew the rest. My parents died in their bedroom and I came home to a roaring fire. “Jacob told me in the hospital and I promised never to tell anyone.” A promise I’d now failed to keep.

“Why?” Her exasperation was clear. “Why didn’t you tell someone? A social worker could have helped him.”

I welcomed the familiar edge of betrayal and anger. “They separated us. Who would you have trusted?” Now to complete my own betrayal. “Help my brother.”

She wiped her eyes. “I will. I promise.” She checked the clock, our therapy session over.

Having nothing left to say, I stood, shoved my arms in my jacket and prepared myself to see Echo on the other side of that door.

“And Noah,” Mrs. Collins said. “I plan on helping you, too.” I didn’t want help. I didn’t need help, but I wasn’t going to argue with the woman who could save my brother. I opened the door to find Echo leaning against the counter and staring at the floor, her foot tapping uncontrollably.

Echo

Noah looked drained. His dark eyes were heavy and his shoulders slumped forward. He closed the door to Mrs. Collins’s office behind him and I met him halfway. “Are you okay?”

He gave me a halfhearted smile and pulled me into his body. “I hope I’m doing the right thing.” He clutched me tighter.

I rested my head on his shoulder and tried to reassure him by rubbing his back. “I’m sure you are.” He worried about Jacob and the possibility of trusting Mrs. Collins. “You’d never do anything to harm your brothers.”

“Thanks.” He kissed my hair and came close to squeezing the breath out of me. “I needed to hear that.”

We stood still for several seconds before he released his death grip. “I’m going to wander the hallway to give you time to set up in the sickroom, then I’ll sneak into her office.”

This sounded oddly like breaking and entering, moving our plans into the land of illegal. My stomach shifted uneasily. “I don’t know. Maybe we shouldn’t. I don’t want you to get caught in her office.” Or get in trouble or get thrown out of school or go to jail.

Noah shot me his mischievous grin. “Have I ever mentioned you’re paranoid?”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Several times.”

He kissed me as Mrs. Collins opened her door. “I’m pretending that I’m not seeing this.”

Noah winked at me before he left the office. Mrs. Collins grinned from ear to ear, wagging her imaginary tail. “You two are a very cute couple. Is he taking you to prom?”

What a very strange question. “I don’t know. Prom’s over a month away. Anyway, Noah doesn’t give me the impression he does dances.”

“He came to the Valentine’s Dance.” She walked past me and down the hallway of the main office to the sickroom, beckoning with her fingers for me to follow.

“I think that was a one-time deal.” I followed, reluctantly. “You know, I never agreed to this.”

She laughed—actually laughed at me. “Oh, Echo. You’re going to, if only on the principle that I’m asking you to do it. Your authority issues sure come in handy at times.”

I stood in the middle of the sickroom and shoved my hands into my pockets. “Doesn’t that break some sort of therapist code? You know, using my issues against me.”