Pushing the Limits (39 page)

He extended his fingers and counted down. “But that’s at least three months.”

How could I explain to my little brothers why I needed to leave? How could I explain that for three years the only thing that kept my head above water was the thought of being a family with them again? I’d lost and I’d won. I’d lost the dreams I had, but won new dreams.

I needed time to rewire my brain, figure out how to be a responsible eighteen-year-old college student and carefree older brother. “I’ll call every day and I’ll send you presents and postcards from every place I visit.”

Jacob brightened at the word
presents
. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

Echo and Tyler laughed as Isaiah flipped Tyler over his shoulder, grabbed Echo’s hand and ran across the yard to keep Beth from “finding” them. Beth slowly followed, pretending she had no idea where the three of them had gone. My throat swelled at the sight. I finally had a family.

“Tyler likes her,” Jacob said as he watched Tyler reach for Echo.

I cleared my throat and swallowed down the emotions overwhelming me. “What do you think of her?”

When I first introduced them a month back, my brothers had been shy around her. Then Echo drew a picture of Jacob and Tyler and the wall between them shattered. They thought it was cool that a grown-up loved crayons as much as they did. It took them longer to warm up to Beth and Isaiah, but eventually they’d been won over by Isaiah’s tattoos and by the gifts “Aunt Beth” bought them.

Jacob shrugged. “She’s cool for a girl.”

I laughed. “Yeah. She is.”

“Where are you going when you leave?”

“Everywhere, but mainly Colorado. There are a couple of art galleries Echo wants to visit there.”

He tackled me in a hug. “Colorado. They have mountains. Cool.”

Cool. We played a few more rounds of hide-and-seek until Tyler couldn’t keep his eyes open. Echo left with Isaiah and Beth to pick up the rest of the items she needed for our trip and to make her dad swear, yet again, that he’d take care of Aires’ car until she came back to town. Though she wouldn’t admit it, I think she also wanted another few minutes to rock Alexander.

Carrie let me read stories to my brothers, listen to their prayers and tuck them in for the night. Tonight, Tyler slept with Jacob in the bottom bunk.

“Love you, Noah.” Tyler yawned and closed his eyes. I touched the side of his head. It wasn’t the first time he’d said the words to me, but it was the first time since Carrie and Joe allowed me back in my brothers’ lives.

“Me, too. I love you,” Jacob added.

“I love you both. Take care of each other and listen to Carrie and Joe.”

Jacob flashed me Mom’s smile. “We will.”

I kissed them both on the forehead and forced myself out of the room. The house had that peaceful quiet. The refrigerator hummed. The dishwasher quietly swished. The smell of rich coffee drifted from the kitchen.

I followed the scent and poked my head into the room. Carrie and Joe sat at the breakfast bar, sipping from mugs. “I’m not kidding. I plan on calling every day.”

Joe gave me a genuine smile. “We wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“Noah.” Carrie slipped off the stool. “I have something for you and I didn’t want to give it to you in front of your friends.”

She handed me a manila envelope. “Open it later, okay? I promise you’ll love it.”

“All right.”

Joe extended his hand. “Have a safe trip and don’t buy the boys anything too big.”

I laughed. Like I could buy anything bigger than the stuff in that toy-store basement of theirs. “I will. Thanks again.”

The moment I stepped out onto the front porch, I opened the envelope. Inside were lots of drawings from Jacob and Tyler, a picture of me and my brothers, and then a copy of the picture of my parents. I remembered this picture. I’d taken it after Mom and Dad handed over the key to the first resident of the Habitat neighborhood. The memory made me smile. Carrie and Joe weren’t the devil. They were people who loved my brothers and had hearts big enough to possibly love me, too.

I pulled out my cell phone and texted Carrie: thanks.

Seconds later she texted back: welcome. b safe.

Across the street, Echo sat on the hood of her gray Honda Civic. Her red curls shone in the street light and her spaghetti-strapped tank top dipped just low enough that my mind already wondered how I could get her to deviate from the plan of driving at least six hours tonight before setting up the tent.

Her siren smile lit up my world. “Noah.”

“Echo. You look …” I let my eyes wander up and down as I approached the car. “Appetizing.”

Her laughter tickled my soul. “I think we’ve had this conversation before.”

I settled between her legs and cradled her face with my hands. “And I think at the end of that night something like this also happened.”

Her lips feathered against mine and she giggled. “You ready for a new normal?” she whispered.

I kissed her lips one more time and plucked the keys from her hand. “Yes, and I’m driving.”

Don’t miss Beth’s story
,
DARE YOU TO,
coming soon from Katie McGarry
and MIRA Ink!
Read on for a sneak preview …

Chapter 1

Ryan

Ty Cobb once said, “I never could stand losing. Second place didn’t interest me.”

Doesn’t interest me either. Which sucks because my best friend is seconds from scoring a phone number from the chick working the Taco Bell counter, placing him in the lead.

What started as a simple dare had twisted into a night-long game. First, Chris dared me to ask the girl in line at the movies for her number. I then dared him to ask the girl at the batting cages for her number. The more we succeeded the more momentum the game gained. Too bad Chris owns a grin that melts the hearts of all girls, including the ones that have boyfriends.

I hate losing.

Taco Bell Chick blushes when Chris winks at her. Come on. I chose her because she called us redneck losers when we ordered.
Chris rests his arms on the counter, inching closer to the girl, as I sit at the table and watch the tragedy unfold.

Every muscle in the back of my neck tenses as Taco Bell Chick giggles, writes something on a piece of paper and slides it over to him. Dammit. The rest of our group howls with laughter and someone pats me on the back.

Tonight isn’t about phone numbers or girls. It’s about enjoying our last Friday night before school begins. I’ve tasted everything—the freedom of hot summer air in the Jeep with the panels down, the peace of dark country roads leading to the interstate, the exciting glow of city lights as we made the thirty-minute drive into Louisville and, lastly, the mouthwatering taste of a greasy fast-food taco at midnight.

Chris holds the phone number like a referee holding up the glove of the prize champion. “It’s on, Ryan.”

“Bring it.” There’s no way I’m getting this far to have Chris outdo me.

He slouches in his seat, tosses the paper into the pile of numbers we’ve collected over the evening and tugs his Bullitt County High baseball cap over his brown hair. “Let’s see. These things have to be thought through. The girl chosen carefully. Attractive enough so she won’t fall for you. Not a dog because she’ll be excited someone gave her a bone.”

Mimicking him, I shift back in the seat and fold my hands over my stomach. “Take your time. I’ve got forever.”

But we don’t. After this weekend life changes. On Monday, Chris and I will be seniors starting our last fall baseball league. I only have a few more months to impress the professional baseball scouts or the dream I’ve been working toward my entire life will dissolve into ashes.

A shove at my foot brings me back to the here and now.

“Stop the serious shit,” Logan whispers. He knows my facial expressions better than anyone. He should. We’ve been playing together since we were kids. Me pitching. Him catching.

For Logan’s sake, I laugh at a joke Chris told even though I didn’t hear the punch line.

“We close soon.” Taco Bell Chick wipes a table near ours and gives Chris a wink.

“I may call that one,” says Chris.

I raise a brow. He worships his girlfriend. “No, you won’t.”

“I would if it weren’t for Lacy.” But he has Lacy, and loves her, so neither one of us continues that conversation.

“I have one more try.” I make a show of glancing around the purple tex-mex-decorated lobby. “What girl are you choosing for me?”

A honk from the drive-through announces the arrival of a car full of hot girls. Rap pounds from their car and I swear one girl flashes us. I love the city. “You should choose one of them.”

“Sure,” Chris says sarcastically. “In fact, why don’t I hand you the title now?”

Two guys from our group hop out of their seats and go outside, leaving me, Logan and Chris alone.

“There she is.” Chris’s eyes brighten as he stares at the entrance. “That’s the girl I’m calling as yours.”

I suck in a deep breath. Chris sounds too happy for this girl to be good news. “Where?”

“Just came in, waiting at the counter.”

Black hair. Torn clothes. Total Skater. Damn, those chicks are hard-core. I slap my hand against the table and our trays shift. Why? Why does Skater Girl have to wander into Taco Bell tonight?

Chris’s rough chuckles do nothing to help my growing agitation. “Admit defeat and you won’t have to suffer.”

“No way.” I stand, refusing to go down without a fight.

All girls are the same. It’s what I tell myself as I stroll to the counter. She might look different from the girls at home, but all girls want the same thing—a guy who shows interest. A guy’s problem is having the balls to do it. Good thing for me I’ve got balls. “Hi. I’m Ryan.”

Her long black hair hides her face, but her slim body with its hint of curves catches my attention. Unlike the girls at home, she isn’t wearing marked-down designer labels. Nope. She’s got her own style. Her black tank top shows more skin than it covers and her skintight jeans hug all the right places.

Skater Girl turns her head toward me and the drive-through. “Is someone going to take my fucking order?”

Chris’s laughter from our corner table jerks me back to reality. I pull off my baseball cap, mess my hand through my hair and shove the hat back in place. Why her? Why tonight? There’s a dare and I’m going to win. “Counter’s a little slow tonight.”

She glares at me like
I’m
a little slow. “Are you speaking to me?”

Her hard stare dares me to glance away.
Keep staring, Skater Girl. You don’t scare me
. I’m drawn to her eyes though. Her eyes are blue. Dark blue. I wouldn’t have thought someone with black hair could have such brilliant eyes.

“I asked you a question.” She rests a hip against the counter. “Or are you as stupid as you look?”

Yep, pure punk: attitude, nose ring and a sneer that can kill on sight. She’s not my type, but she doesn’t have to be. I just need her number. “You’d probably get better service if you watched your language.”

A hint of amusement touches her lips and dances in her eyes. Not the kind of amusement you laugh with. It’s the taunting kind. “Does my language bother you?”

Yes. “No.” I don’t care for the word, but I know when I’m being tested.

“So my language doesn’t bother you, but you say—” she raises her voice and leans over the counter “—I could get some
fucking
service if I watched my language.”

Time to switch tactics. “What do you want to eat?”

“Fish. What do you think I want? I’m at a taco joint.”

Chris laughs again and this time Logan joins in. If I don’t salvage this, I’ll be listening to their ridicule the entire way home. I lean over the counter and wave at the girl working the drive-through. I give her a smile. She smiles back. Take lessons, Skater Girl. This is how it’s supposed to work. “Can I have a minute?”

Drive-Through Chick’s face brightens and she holds up a finger as she continues taking an order. “Be right there. Promise.”

I turn back to Skater Girl and instead of the warm thank-you I should be receiving she shakes her head, clearly annoyed. “Jocks.”

My smile falters. Hers grows.

“How do you know I’m a jock?”

Her eyes wander to my chest and I fight a grimace. Written in black letters across my gray shirt is Bullitt County High School, Baseball State Champions.

“So you are stupid,” she says.

I’m done. I take one step in the direction of the table then stop. I don’t lose. “What’s your name?”

“What do I have to do to make you leave me alone?”

“Give me your phone number.”

The right side of her mouth quirks up. “You’re kidding.”

“Give me your name and phone number and I’ll walk away.”

“You must be brain damaged.”

“Welcome to Taco Bell, can I take your order?”

We both look at Drive-Through Chick.

I pull out my wallet and slam ten dollars on the counter. “Tacos.”

“And a Coke,” Skater Girl says. “Large. Since he’s paying.”

Drive-Through Chick enters the order and returns to the drive-through window.

We stare at each other. I swear this girl never blinks.

“I believe a thank-you is in order,” I say.

“I never asked you to pay.”

“Give me your name and phone number and we’ll call it even.”

She licks her lips. “There is absolutely nothing you can do to ever get me to give you my name or number.”

Ring the bell. Playtime ended with those words. Purposely invading her space, I steal a step toward her and place a hand on the counter next to her body. It affects her. I can tell. Her eyes lose the amusement and her arms hug her body. She’s small. Smaller than I expected. That attitude is so big I hadn’t noticed her height or size. “I bet I can.”

“Eight tacos and one large Coke,” says the girl from behind the counter.

Skater Girl snatches the order and spins on her heel before I can process I’m on the verge of losing. “Wait!”

She stops at the door. “What?”

Her
what
doesn’t carry much anger. Maybe I’m getting somewhere. “Give me your phone number. I want to call you.”