Breaking the Rules

by Katie McGarry

  The smile falls, and I rub my hands together as I relax back in the seat. Mrs. Collins tilts her head. “What?”

  “Do you believe in happy-ever-afters?” I ask.

  “I believe I’ve seen a few movies in my time, but I’d like to know your thoughts.”

  “Do you ever answer a question?” I push.

  “Yes. I answered that one. What are your thoughts on happy-ever-afters?”

  I pause. “I believe in happy for now. I want Echo and me to work. She loves me. I love her. I’ve seen enough already to know that life isn’t always shits and giggles. Life is hard, but it’s going to be easier with Echo by my side.”

  “Even with Echo a thousand miles away?”

  “Even with that,” I answer. “There’s no reason that we still can’t be happy.”

  “That’s all any of us can ask for, isn’t it?” She grins.

  I glance over at the closed door of the bathroom. “When this started, Echo covered her arms again. Hunter thinks she should cover them tonight. She doesn’t want to, and I’m in agreement with her, but am I wrong on this?”

  “It’s healthy for Echo to accept her scars. There will be people who can never understand Echo because of it, and then there will be people like you that love her regardless. It’s something she’ll have to learn to deal with.”

  I nod to let her know I get it.

  “And Noah?”

  “Yeah?”

  “There will be times that she backtracks. There will be days that it’s easier to cover them. A few days of doing so out of months isn’t a backslide. Sometimes we all need a moment to lick our wounds. And sometimes she might just be cold.”

  I chuckle. “True.” After a few beats: “I’m mad at my mom.” Though not as much as I was.

  Mrs. Collins places a hand over her heart. “It’s okay to be mad at her.”

  “I know.” I clear my throat when it threatens to choke me up. “When I get back, could I stop by? Maybe talk about it?”

  I swear the head shrink wags her tail and pants. “You paid me in advance, remember? Let’s schedule an appointment now.”

  * * *

  The bell rings, and the elevator doors open to the lobby. With marble floors and shiny shit everywhere, it’s by far the best hotel Echo and I’ve stayed since we’ve started this trip. The reason we’re here is because Hunter’s paying for the rooms for his artists in the show.

  I didn’t like the idea of accepting Hunter’s charity, but Echo described it as a business perk. That explanation I can respect, plus it’s something I’m going to have to get used to. That is until I make enough money to pay for anything Echo craves.

  I walk out of the lobby and into the late-evening sunlight. Isaiah texted me fifteen minutes ago, asking me to meet him in the parking lot. He and Beth bailed out of our joint room two hours ago so I could help calm Echo’s nerves and to allow us time to get ready.

  “Going to prom again?” Isaiah asks as I walk up to Echo’s car. He extends a cold beer to me. Condensation drips down the bottle.

  “Fuck you,” I mumble, but I take the beer. Isaiah and Beth continue to rip my outfit: white button-down shirt, black slacks, dress shoes. The works.

  “Is that a tie?” Beth cracks a rare genuine smile.

  “Yeah.” I stare her down.

  “Noah Hutchins has gone like the beer,” she says, “domestic.”

  “Got a problem with that?”

  She shrugs. “I’ll have a problem with it later. Today, I have beer.”

  I can deal with that.

  “Where you’d score this?” I motion to the beer in my hand then at the bottles they hold in theirs.

  “I have my ways,” says Isaiah. “Figured you’d need it. Got an extra one for Echo if she wants it.”

  “She might.” My gaze wanders to the eighth floor. Echo’s talking with Mrs. Collins for some last-minute pointers on how to handle tonight. I’m also nervous as fuck, but I’m going to follow the advice Mrs. Collins gave me—stick tight to Echo, yet give her space. Love and accept her needs and wants. While the woman can’t predict what will happen, she makes me better at facing it.

  Isaiah runs a hand along the tattoo of the tiger on his arm and peers out onto the traffic moving at a snail’s pace on the road in front of the hotel. “I don’t feel right about Echo paying for these tickets.”

  My stomach twists, and I pop off the top of the beer. The small cap clanks when I toss it into the bag. Isaiah and Beth thought they’d be hitching a ride back to Louisville with me and Echo. I thought that was the plan, too, but Echo prefers to keep the car in Colorado then fly back so she doesn’t have to drive back by herself after she returns home to pack for the year. I offered to drive from Louisville to Colorado with her and then ride the bus home, but Echo didn’t want me to miss the first week of college.

  “Echo feels bad she’s not driving back so let her do this,” I tell Isaiah. Because I’m eating my damn pride by letting her pay for my bus ticket, too. It’s a partnership, she told me, and Echo’s right. Some days she’ll be on an upswing, some days she’ll be on the down. This is her upswing.

  “I’ll pay her back,” says Isaiah.

  “I know.” So will I. With a big-ass house on the tallest mountain and all the damn little dogs she desires. But they’re still not sleeping on my bed. “And Echo knows. It’s all good, bro.”

  When Isaiah cracks his neck to the right, I try again. “We’re family, Isaiah. You, me, Beth and Echo. I know we’ve all had shit handed to us, but we have something now. I’ve got your backs and you’ve got mine, which means every now and then you’ve got to let us help you out, too. You got it?”

  Beth dips her head so that her hair hides her face, a sign the words I said breached that damn wall she keeps guarded, and Isaiah won’t meet my eyes. Emotion...someone giving a shit...we’re not used to it and when anyone offers any semblance of affection, none of us, including Echo, have a clue what to do with it.

  But those days are over. Long gone. It’s time the four of us start writing our own stories...our own destinies. I raise my beer in the air. “To family.”

  Beth’s head jerks up. “Are you fucking kidding me? Are we seriously doing this?”

  “Are you going to leave me hanging?”

  She laughs, and her beer joins mine. “You’re a crazy son of a bitch.”

  We both look to Isaiah. He scrubs his knuckles against his jaw then raises his bottle to ours and repeats, “To family.”

  With a clink, each one of us swallows from the long neck then scrambles for another topic, but I don’t care. I’ve finally found what I’ve been searching for...a family.

  Noah

  Echo wears blue. Royal blue, and I love how it makes her green eyes shine. The dress is simple, made of smooth fabric, and is cut in ways that highlights her curves. She’s drop-dead gorgeous, but she’s nervous as hell.

  We’re inside the largest gallery known to man with towering walls, a black ceiling and the best lighting available. In a few minutes, the doors will open, and Echo has been reduced to wringing her hands.

  “Mrs. Collins told me to breathe,” Echo says.

  “Then I suggest trying it. Air in. Then air out. I hear it helps.” I’m not kidding.

  Evil glare from my girl.

  “Echo?” A woman in a black dress approaches us. “Do you have a few minutes? I’d like to ask your opinion on the lighting on your painting.”

  Echo agrees, and when she looks at me I gesture to the woman who has already left. “I’ll stay here. You can find me when you’re ready.”

  She flashes that glorious smile. “Thanks.”

  Damn, Echo’s sexy as hell when she walks—especially in heels. When she rounds the corner, I push off the wall and pretend to understand the pain
ting with red-and-black marks slashed across the canvas. Some things I just don’t get.

  “But you said there was room!” A girl’s voice grabs my attention and farther down the hallway Hunter and a dark-haired girl I’ve seen from his studio are deep in conversation. “You said last month that I could extend past the summer session for the year.”

  I should move so I won’t be accused of eavesdropping, but I told Echo I’d stay put. Plus, they’re the ones talking loud enough for people in China to hear.

  “Meredith,” Hunter starts. “There was room. An artist I had seen potential in earlier in the year decided along with me that it was best that we didn’t work together.”

  “So they came back?” Her voice breaks.

  “No, they didn’t.” Hunter crosses his arms over his chest, and the poor girl crumples against the wall.

  “You’re giving my spot to Echo.” The girl sways on her feet like the statement was a blow to the head.

  “Next year, Meredith. I promise you’ll have a spot for the one-year program next year.”

  Hunter turns away from Meredith, and my stomach drops. Fuck. This is the girl that Echo had told me asked her to lunch. The girl that Echo felt could have been her friend. There’s no way Echo will be okay with this, and there’s no way gossip like this won’t eventually be burning her ears.

  “Noah?” Echo rounds the corner on her way back to me, and her eyes are wide with concern. “Did I hear that correctly?”

  The urge is to tell her no. To keep her protected. To keep her happy. But I tried keeping something once from Echo in the name of not hurting her, and it almost destroyed us.

  “Echo,” Hunter calls. “Are you ready?”

  She glances at him then at me. “I didn’t hear it all, but I think you did. I need you to tell me what happened.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  Echo

  The three people studying my painting, gesturing at my painting, talking in front of my painting are three of the biggest gallery owners in the world. I’m going to puke everywhere then die.

  Near the wall opposite them, Noah and I watch. My foot taps continually against the floor, and the clicking sound from my high-heeled shoe is probably driving Noah to the brink of insanity.

  Instead of telling me to chill out, he places a hand on the small of my back, leans down and whispers, “Let’s go see something else.”

  I nod and with a gentle nudge, Noah guides us through the throngs of people. I smooth down my blue dress and berate myself for the hundredth time for wearing something that rides up when I walk.

  “Stop it,” Noah breathes into my ear, and the fine hairs along the nape of my neck deliciously stand on end. “You look great.”

  “You’re fine if my butt hangs out.”

  Noah chuckles. “Not if other people can see it. And since you brought it up, there’s a broom closet to the left...”

  He trails off, and I imagine all of the sweet, sweet naughty things Noah and I could do in a small, private space. For three point one seconds, I consider it. My nerves were shot fifteen minutes into this showing. That was when the first person approached me and told me they loved my work.

  Hearing something like that—it’s comparable to being drunk on a high wire. It’s an overwhelming high, and I’m learning I don’t handle overwhelmed well. It sort of makes everything on the inside feel stretched while the smile on the outside becomes bigger.

  But one look at Noah, and the sounds and chaos fade away. He’s my secret weapon tonight. The reason I haven’t run screaming from the building. I wish I wasn’t going to be away from him so much this coming year.

  “Outside?” Noah jacks his thumb to a door leading to a patio, and I immediately turn right, cutting off a waiter with a tray full of drinks.

  I inhale deeply the moment the cool evening air nips at the exposed skin on my arms. The scars have received a few pointed stares, but for the first time in my life I’ve felt nothing about it. I can’t change my scars any more than I can change the color of my eyes. They’re a part of me. It’s who I am, and I like the person I’ve become.

  “You cold?” Noah rubs his hands up and down my arms.

  I shiver, not from the cold, but from the heat of his palms on my skin. It’s like a flick of a switch and the attraction awakens. “Not when you’re around.”

  He cocks his head to the brick wall behind me. “You know, I’ve got a thing about backing you up against walls. It’d be a shame to let that wall go to waste.”

  I laugh, and as I start to wind my arms around his neck, I remember Meredith. The high crashes. Meredith and Hunter were arguing. They mentioned me and Meredith and the spot for the program, but... “What happened between Meredith and Hunter?”

  Noah rolls his shoulders, attempting to ease the tension. Oh, crap. This is going to be bad.

  “Before I tell you this, I want you to know that it’s okay to stay. You earned everything that’s happening to you, but I want you to be prepared for the fallout.”

  “Now you’re scaring me.”

  “Hunter’s pushing off Meredith’s spot in the program for a year. That’s how he created a space for you.”

  My intestines cramp. I had no idea I was stealing anyone’s place, much less Meredith’s. “This is awful. She left her home over this. Her family practically kicked her out.” Panic causes adrenaline to rush in my veins. “Noah, I don’t think she has anywhere else to go.”

  Noah cups my face and inches it up so that I’m staring straight into his eyes. “This does not diminish what you’ve worked for. No one can fault you for choices Hunter makes. You didn’t know that you were bumping Meredith out when you accepted, and you still wouldn’t if I hadn’t told you.”

  “Until I started the program.” Then plenty of people would have been more than happy to gossip about it, hence why Noah mentioned a fallout. He’s preparing me for the impending rumors.

  “You’ve done nothing wrong, Echo. Find Meredith. Make peace with her then take the spot and hold your head high.”

  I open my mouth to argue, but the patio door opens. With one glance, my heart jumps to my throat, inhibiting my ability to breathe. Going rigid, Noah wraps an arm around my waist and brings me closer to him.

  “Your call on this,” he says so only I can hear.

  I nod, because I can’t talk.

  “Hello, Echo,” Mom says as she releases the door from her grasp and steps into the night. She’s wearing a form-fitting red dress that spills out near her ankles. Sort of like she was a sparkly mermaid. Her hair is a blazing red and just as curly as mine, but she wears it up, and I wore mine down.

  I’m not my mom. My choices are different.

  “Hi.” It comes out garbled, and I clear my throat to try again. “Hi.”

  “You look beautiful tonight,” Mom offers softly. “And may I ask who your friend is?”

  “This...” Can’t seem to think or talk. “This...ah...is Noah. He’s my boyfriend.”

  Mom surveys him like he’s one of the paintings in the gallery, and I can’t tell if she likes what she sees. “I’m Cassie, Echo’s mother. It’s nice to meet you.”

  I blow out a long stream of air. I can imagine the two million replies Noah would prefer to give her, and I’d bet my brother’s car that most of them begin with a word that starts with the letter f.

  “Echo said you would be here,” Noah says.

  Oh, Noah, I could kiss you. No bad words. No telling her she’s the antichrist. I don’t kiss him, but I do peek up at him in appreciation. It’s lost on him as his focus remains on my mother.

  Mom points behind her, to the gallery. “I saw your work. It’s beautiful. Especially the constellation Aires.”

  Her forehead wrinkles, and she readjusts the silver bag attached to her wrist. “I lik
e that you painted Aires, and I like your technique, with the deep black around where the star Hamal is...like you created a hole.”

  “Thanks,” I say, and the word tastes weird. All summer I’ve been searching for other people’s approval. To be honest, part of me was hoping for her approval, but now that I’m here, listening to her, listening to other people, I realize the approval I desired was my own.

  “But what I really appreciated,” she continues, “was how you portrayed Hamal as a new star, like it had just been born out of the dark hole. It spoke to me, Echo.”

  I altered the constellation. It’s something I did after Noah and I laid out our pain. The spot where Hamal should have been is dark, but off to the side...close by but far enough away to alter Aires, I painted a new star. One that had just been born. One to show that new things can come to life after there’s a death.

  “Your painting spoke to me,” Mom repeats. “It spoke to me and, from listening to others, it’s reaching them, as well.”

  I know. It’s what I want to say, but I don’t. This is where I experience the high, the giddiness. Not that people like my work, but that my work spoke to them. That there was a part of their soul that was touched.

  “It made me feel like anything is possible,” she says so quietly that I strain into the night, wondering if I heard her correctly.

  I added the star to the painting because I lost a piece of me I’ll never reclaim. The blackness of the loss will always be there, but I’ve gained new things in my life. A new path. A new love. A new outlook. Like the star, I’ve been reborn.

  Mom’s gaze flickers between me and Noah. “Can I talk to you alone?”

  “No.” But I do ease away from Noah. “But we can talk over here while Noah stands over there.”

  The patio is the size of my father’s living room, and there’s no doubt Noah will hear everything we say, but it will give Mom the illusion of privacy, and it will confirm I’m not alone.

  With a kiss to my temple, Noah heads to the wall that had shown lots of promise moments before and leans his back against it. His eyes narrow on us, a hawk set on the mice.