The Novella Collection: A series of short stories for the Pushing the Limits series, Thunder Road series, and Only a Breath Apart

by Katie McGarry

  Noah pulls away and his dark brown eyes bore into mine. “Back to the hotel?”

  “I thought you wanted to go swimming,” I say with a tease.

  “Still the plan.” The way he’s currently undressing me with his eyes says he honestly has different ideas for future events.

  “Are you sure about that?”

  Noah straightens, puts on his seat belt and places the car into Drive. “The way I see it, if we’re swimming, we’re going to have to change.”

  “Is that so?”

  “That’s so. And if we’re going to have to change, I’m just saying we don’t have to rush. In case you forgot, there is a bed in our room.”

  Noah Hutchins is and will forever be so much trouble. “Wow, I guess I did forget.”

  “It’d be a damn shame to waste it,” he says. “Damn shame.”

  I giggle at the implied memory of how he said those same words to me in a hospital room long ago to help me relax. “You’re relentless.”

  “Yes, I am.” Noah rests his hand on my thigh and squeezes. “But being so landed me you.”

  Can’t argue with that.

  Chapter 2

  Noah

  Wind rushes in through the open sliding glass door of the balcony overlooking the ocean, and the breeze brings in the scent of salt and sand. The white curtain billows out and the sound of seagulls fills the hotel room. Don’t want to know how much this hotel room costs. Kills my pride to let Echo pay for it. When she told me about this trip and how it was a gift for my birthday, I nearly declined.

  But then, like only Echo can do, she flashed me that siren smile, brushed her fingernails along my back as she tucked herself tight to me and I belonged to her. Agreeing to whatever words she sang in that soft Southern drawl.

  “I sold a painting,” she whispered in my ear. Then she kissed my neck and I didn’t hear words. I only heard my pulse whooshing in my temples and felt the heat seeping into my blood. “I have enough to cover the room. Let me do this. For you. For me. For us.”

  Somewhere between my shirt on my body, then off, I agreed.

  Echo Emerson owns me. I should go ahead and have those exact words tattooed across my chest. Hell, they’re already branded on my soul.

  I lean my shoulder against the wall near the bathroom and watch Echo. This is one of my favorite simple, silent moments, besides when she’s painting: when Echo’s getting ready and is lost in her own head.

  After moving out of the apartment I shared with Isaiah to save money, I drew the lucky straw and ended up in a single-person dorm room. Echo has spent plenty of nights there; I’ve spent nights with her in her room, which means we’ve spent plenty of mornings together, too.

  After my parents died when I was fourteen, I spent too many years living in a constant state of noise and chaos, but then she entered my life and she smoothed out all my rough edges.

  I love her.

  More than I love my own life.

  Echo runs her fingers through her thick curls multiple times. Flipping them to the right, then the left and as always settling them to the same side as before. She fights with the renegade curl that constantly falls over her right eye.

  She then turns to check out her outfit and brushes her fingers along the scars of her left arm, then her right. As if confirming they’re still there. As if maybe one day she’ll slide her fingers along her skin and the scars will be gone and maybe the worst night of her life didn’t happen and was just a bad dream.

  Last summer, she used to frown when she touched them, but now she doesn’t react. Touching her scars has turned into subconscious movement, something she did for years and that’s become muscle memory even though Echo has found a way to accept her past and her scars.

  Echo straightens the top of her bikini and my gaze lingers on her curves. It’s tough not to drop to my knees in worship over that bathing suit. It’s royal blue, my favorite color on her, makes her fire-red hair stand out and her brilliant green eyes pop. And I have to admit, I’m a fan of Echo’s body and a bigger fan of her wearing anything that shows it off.

  The second she steps out of this room, every guy within a twenty-foot radius is going to be thinking of ways to hit on her, but they don’t stand a chance. Echo pivots again and catches me staring. She offers a smile, the one she reserves just for me, the siren one, the one that shoots straight through my chest and awakens parts south of my belt.

  Echo ties a wrap around her hips, then pins me with her gaze. “Enjoying yourself?”

  Immensely. Watching her is one of my favorite hobbies. “Not my fault it takes you forever to get ready.”

  Not her fault all I have to do is slip into swimming trunks, and then I keep distracting her with kisses. With a roll of her eyes, she straightens the covers we tangled up.

  “Housekeeping has already been through.” I help with the comforter from the other side of the bed.

  Echo’s cheeks turn a seductive shade of crimson. “Sometimes they come back, and we wouldn’t want them to think we didn’t appreciate their work.”

  “It’s a hotel. They’re aware people do things in bed.”

  The blush spreads down her neck and onto her chest and it makes her look too damn hot. Hot enough we may mess up this bed again.

  “But they don’t have to know that we do things in the bed.”

  I scratch my chin to hide the smile, but with the death glare she sends me, she caught it.

  “How about this, Noah Hutchins? We don’t do anything for the rest of the trip and then I don’t have to make the bed.”

  Use of my full name. I hold my hands in the air as an act of submission. “Baby, I’ll make the bed by myself every time. Army corners and you could bounce a fucking coin on it.”

  She tries not to, but Echo grins as she shoulders the beach bag and I grab the cooler. We’ve been here six days and we’ve settled into a routine I could live with for the rest of my life. Bed, breakfast, walk along the town, bed, lunch, bed, beach, bed, dinner, more walking and then more time in bed. We’ve made this bed so many times I could do it with my eyes closed.

  Hate that tomorrow is our last day, hate that we’re on the countdown until she’ll be over a thousand miles away from me, hate that I want to propose marriage and I don’t have a decent engagement ring.

  But a friend of mine was in need and hurting and it was more important to give her the money. Echo will understand, she’d approve, but it still makes me feel like shit that I can’t provide for her yet the way I want.

  We’re on the eighth floor, so it’s a long ride down the elevator, especially when we stop at every floor. On the sixth we’re joined by a family of five. A mom holding a chubby baby with a head full of black curls, a dad, a toddler who is ready-to-punch-someone pissed because he’s being forced to carry a sand bucket, so he keeps dropping it on my foot, and another little girl, who is the oldest of the bunch, maybe eight, with the same black curls but she’s wearing a pink robe.

  Echo frowns and I have to admit I’m with her. This kid stares at the ground, eyes filled with tears, and her lower lip trembles. The mom and the dad both watch their oldest with a worry that causes a pain in my chest. A combination of missing having parents who would worry over me that way and my own worry over my younger brothers, who are now being taken care of by their adoptive family.

  Echo takes my hand, and when I glance over at her, she flickers her eyes from me to the child.

  I tilt my head to let her know I see that the kid’s upset, but then Echo subtly shakes her head. She moves her arm, then inclines her head to the girl. My eyebrows draw together as I look at Echo’s arm, then to the kid, and then it hits me so fast I have to quit breathing so I don’t suck in air with the blow.

  Everyone in that elevator would hear that intake and would know what I had seen. Being around Echo for as long as I have, I get that such a reaction is understandable but can bring pain, and that’s the last thing I want to do.

  The girl’s leg is scarred and I’m bettin
g a beach vacation is the last thing this kid is looking forward to.

  A ding, the elevator doors open, and Echo and I let the family pile out first. They head in the direction of the pool, and Echo hesitates outside the elevator doors and watches them.

  She glances up at me. “I know we were planning to go to the beach and that we’re running out of time together, but do you mind if—”

  “Let’s go to the pool.” I cut her off, and Echo falls into me for a hug. I put down the cooler so I can hold her tight and kiss the top of her head.

  Echo has the biggest heart of anyone I know. She loves me, loves my friends, loves my brothers and loves strangers. Screw my pride. I don’t have the ring she deserves, but regardless, I’m going to ask her to marry me. I need her to know before she drives halfway across the country that it’s her I want to spend forever with.

  Chapter 3

  Echo

  Dog bite. The girl’s name is Jane and she was bitten by a stray dog when she was playing in the front yard of her home. It happened a month and a half ago, the vacation was already planned and her parents had been hoping that coming to a place their daughter had loved so much in the past would help her break out of the shell she’s lived in since the attack, but so far, their daughter had only seemed to further withdraw.

  Little Jane sits at the edge of the pool, her legs in the water, her arms wrapped tight around her body. The pink terrycloth robe still on. The poor thing is sweating to death in the unforgiving hot August sun.

  Noah and I sit on a beach chair side by side listening to Jane’s mother explain the events and how they unfolded. I walked up to this woman, politely asked what happened to her daughter, and before she could tell me to go to hell for asking, she saw my arms and sank to the chair. She’s been explaining things since.

  In the pool, her husband plays with the toddler who was throwing a fit earlier and the two laugh and laugh often. Her husband often tries to entice Jane to play, but Jane ignores him and I understand why. Being in a shell is hard to break out of, even if you want to. Noah Hutchins helped me break out of mine. I have only a few minutes to spare, but I’d like to be a stepping-stone to help Jane break out of hers.

  The woman places the chubby baby on a cushion of blanket on the ground and then hands the sitting baby some sort of biscuit. A squeal of delight and the baby begins to gnaw away. I glance over at Noah helplessly. I wouldn’t have a freaking clue how to take care of one of those things on my own. The ends of Noah’s mouth edge up as if he’s reading my mind. He, of course, due to his younger brothers, has changed hundreds of diapers and probably knows what that hunk of cracker thing is called.

  “Can you throw me the float?” her husband shouts.

  Noah goes to stand. “I’ll do it.”

  “No, let me,” she says, reaching behind her to the blown-up piece of plastic and taking the few steps to the pool. Her husband talks to her in a low voice and her answers are equally quiet, but they are so close we can still hear.

  He wants to know who we are, she’s explaining and his expression softens when she tells him the story I told her—there was an accident and I fell through broken glass a few years ago. No one else needs to know about my mother’s involvement. No one else needs to know anything at all. My therapist helped me realize that these scars belong to me. It’s my decision what I want the world to know and the world can know the truth—it was a terrible, terrible tragic accident that no one could have ever predicted.

  The baby drops the biscuit onto the blanket and crawls. Her big brown eyes are glued on me and her devious smile indicates I’m her destination. I fight the urge to scoot away and brace myself for when the little ball of black curls pats the top of my flip-flopped foot with her even chubbier fist.

  “You’ve found a friend,” says Noah.

  “I wouldn’t know what to do with one of these.” My baby brother, Alexander, has been my only trip into the realm of things that cry and have no teeth, and it irritates me that Noah is better with my brother than me. Alexander laughs with Noah, blows cute baby bubbles for Noah, and Alexander spits up and poops on me.

  Noah’s grin is so fast and so glorious that my heart skips a beat. “Babies aren’t as complicated as you think.”

  A phsh sound leaves my mouth. “They’re plenty complicated.”

  “They are. Alexander is tough—babies are tough—but I’m saying when the time comes, you’ll be a great mom.”

  A thrill runs along my veins and it’s such a strong tickling sensation that I avert my gaze back to the baby. Me a mom and Noah a dad and someday we will be a real family. “I’m going to bake cookies. Chocolate chip. I want to be the mom who makes cookies with her kids.”

  To be the mom who makes her children a priority. I’m going to be better than my parents and I can be and I will be.

  “I can live with that,” Noah replies.

  “Sorry.” The woman returns and scoops her baby into her arms and her mini-me giggles. Maybe babies aren’t so bad. That is, when Noah and I have them years and years and years from now. “My husband was curious about who you were.”

  “I’d be the same way,” Noah admits.

  He would be, and if his best friend Isaiah was around, he’d be curious, too. Thank God both of them are maturing and are finding more subtle ways of protecting the people they love, like asking for a float so they can politely ask what’s going on instead of throwing people into walls for answers.

  “Do you mind if I talk to Jane?” I ask. “Show her my scars? I’m not at all suggesting that it’s going to solve her problems, but maybe it will help if she knows of someone who is also scarred. Maybe it’ll help that I’m not hiding them and maybe one day she’ll find the strength to live her life full throttle.”

  Jane’s mom offers me a sad smile with eyes full of moisture. “I’d like that.”

  I stand, Noah stands with me, and when we return to where we left our stuff, I take off the wrap around my hips and step out of my flip-flops. “Do you mind if I talk to her alone?”

  “Not at all.”

  A rush of guilt and I bite on my lower lip. My time with Noah is dwindling so fast that it scares me, but I can’t live with myself if I don’t try with Jane.

  “Hey,” Noah says, and I look up at him.

  He places a hand on my hip and gently brushes his thumb along my skin. “We’ve got all night tonight and all day tomorrow. You want to talk to Jane, and I want you to do this.”

  Relief washes through me, and I extend up on my toes and give him a fast kiss. Before he can tempt me with kissing him any more, I press off his chest with both hands and head for Jane.

  Chapter 4

  Noah

  Echo has been sitting next to Jane for twenty minutes and I had no idea, except for my younger brother, a nine-year-old could look so intense during a conversation. Echo talks, Jane talks, and they both have their feet in the pool. Echo offers Jane her arm and my heart stops as Echo nods her head in encouragement for Jane to touch.

  Jane’s hesitant as she reaches for Echo’s skin, but she does touch and Echo smiles as if that moment wasn’t huge for either of them. When I first met Echo, she wouldn’t let anyone see her scars, much less touch them. Pride swells within me and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with this woman.

  The cell in my hands vibrates, and a text message pops along the top. Isaiah: You’ve got problems.

  The muscles in my neck tense because the last fucking thing I need is problems. I’m done with problems, and any time Isaiah is the messenger, it means my world is about to go to hell. What?

  Three dots as Isaiah types and the wait kills me. If something was wrong with my brothers, Carrie and Joe, their adoptive parents, would contact me, so this is an internal family problem.

  Isaiah and I created a tight family of friends and my mind is racing with the possibilities of who could be in trouble and why. Did something happen to Abby, Isaiah’s girl, Rachel, or West’s girlfriend, Haley? West had a fight this
week—did it go bad? The son of a bitch has been on a winning streak and he has a mean right hook that scares even me, but it doesn’t mean he couldn’t take a bad hit in the ring.

  Logan’s had it tough lately and we just learned about his health problems. Wouldn’t shock me if it’s him. He’s looked like a damn zombie the past two times I’ve seen him, and until Abby is back home, he’ll probably continue to look like a living dead man. Beth and Ryan were supposed to go to Tennessee with her uncle and aunt on a fast trip before college began. Did something happen to them?

  Isaiah: Lila contacted Rachel. Lila messed up and told Echo she thought you were going to propose on the trip. Lila thought you were doing the original plan of asking her at the beginning of the week and was fishing for Echo to tell her she was engaged. The fishing backfired. Echo now knows.

  Damn. And I bet Echo’s now expecting a diamond ring. It was going to be bad enough to propose to Echo without a diamond, but at least I had the element of surprise. Bet she has guessed how the night is supposed to go—Echo in her favorite dress, me in a white shirt and tie, dinner by the ocean, dancing at the restaurant under the stars, a walk on the pier, and me down on one knee asking her to spend the rest of her life with me.

  Only in her head, I’d be offering what the entire world expects. I reach into my drawstring pack in the beach bag and at the very bottom is a small black velvet box. With the box still in the beach bag, I open it.

  The claddagh ring is sterling silver, and the stone in the center is emerald colored. My father’s mother had Irish roots and because of that, my father gave my mother a claddagh ring for Christmas once. At the time, they had been married for years.