25. Echo

25

Echo

B yrd kicks me out while he makes the call to Reggie.

"Run to the Navarro store, Echo. You can buy the beer now."

Going on a beer run softens the sting of being dismissed so the grown-ups can talk, but I'm still a wreck for the entire twenty-five minutes it takes to make the trip. For a moment, pulling out of the potholed parking lot of the country store, I fantasize about turning left and driving off the other way. If I disappeared, would he be sorry? Or secretly relieved?

He'd be worried.

And I'd be useless and devastated and come crawling back before the end of the night anyway. Plus, I can't steal his 4-Runner. He'd never forgive me for that.

So I sit in the driveway and chain-smoke, terrified to go inside and discover my fate. I know why Byrd sent me off on this bullshit errand, beyond preventing me from hearing him get chewed out and most likely fired. He's determined to salvage my commitment to NCC, and he didn't want me butting in .

I want to be angry at him, and at my dad, but I'm pretty sure that even without the latter's threats, Byrd would still be pushing me to go.

"You're not making the same mistake I did."

In my darker moments, I wonder if it's more than that—if he'd still want me if I didn't follow through on the potential he sees in me. Why does being Byrd's Echo mean I have to give up Byrd?

Our sex after the bath had an air of finality to it. One we both tried to fight—me with frantic need and him with extra care, which only ended up adding to the desolation. Now my ass is sore, I'm wrung out, and there's a burn behind my eyes that feeds off the ache in my chest.

He finds me in the driveway before I muster up the strength to go inside, leaning on the open window in a strange moment of reflected déjà vu.

Maybe he'll surprise me and climb into my lap.

Irrationally, I reach to slide the seat back, but he stops me with a hand on my neck.

"Two weeks," he says, and I blow out a slow breath. Better than tomorrow, but I feel a flash of bitter nostalgia for my hatred of August.

How many heartbeats in fourteen days?

"What happens in two weeks?" Is there any answer I'm not dreading ?

"I take you to San Francisco. One of Reggie's contacts will be in town, and she'll meet us at Circus Center. Reggie will pull some strings so you can do the evaluation there."

"I'm not ready." It's not enough time.

"You are. You've been ready since your birthday."

I lean back into his hand and close my eyes. Another audition, and I'm out of excuses .

I'm not afraid of the rope anymore. I've remembered how to fly. The rest of the tricks—the double pirouette and the quad switches and the handful of others I haven't tried—will come back eventually. Especially once I'm training every day with the coaches at NCC. I'll learn new skills, meet new people to challenge me, make connections to launch me into the wider circus world. I can still have all the things I wanted for so long.

Assuming leaving Byrd doesn't tear a new hole in my soul.

But if I keep letting him prop me up, I'll turn into the thing Elke was afraid of. I'll disappoint him and force him to keep loving me anyway.

Byrd was right. Love is something to be afraid of, and it's time for me to grow up.

"What happens after the eval? Do I stay in SF and train with this new coach?" I ask, not opening my eyes. It's easier if I can't see his face, can't read the feelings there and risk being shattered by them.

"If you nail it, like I know you will, then that's it. You have your spot, and you can do whatever you want with the rest of your summer."

I open my eyes. He's smiling at me.

"I can come back here? Until—" I'm back to hating August, and the relief bursts out of me with a laugh.

"If that's what you want." His lips twitch in amusement as I scramble out the window and into his startled arms. He stumbles back a half step but regains his balance quickly, twisting to lean against the side of the truck as I lock my arms around his neck so I can kiss him breathless.

"What do I get when I crush the eval?" I ask, tilting my head so he can nibble down my neck.

"Besides a place at a top international circus school?" How dare he sound amused when I was three seconds from a complete breakdown?

"What do I get from you ?" I clarify.

"Why do I feel like you're about to tell me?" He sinks his teeth into the muscle of my shoulder, and I arch into him.

"I want to top you."

His head lifts to study my face.

"Echo—"

"I'll make it good for you, I promise." I don't remind him how much practice I've had.

"That's not…" He shakes his head and runs his hands up my back. "You know my feelings for you aren't contingent on how you handle the evaluation or your performance on the rope, right?"

"I know." Mostly . This isn't about that. It's about something I'll be giving up to give him what he wants, even if, deep down, I know I want it too. It's about claiming another piece of him before I lose him, even if it makes it harder on us both. It's about closure I don't want but think I might desperately need. "Think about it?"

"I don't need to think about it. And I don't need to wait to parcel it out like a reward." His voice drops to that dangerous octave. "You're not the only one with those fantasies."

My dick is wide awake now, any residual guilt I might have felt at asking for another sacrifice gone in the rush of blood his words provoke. Yesnowrightnowplease.

"No." What am I doing ? "You wouldn't be yourself if you didn't tease me with it as long as possible." I keep my voice light, but the truth is, I need him to hold out. I need a reason not to throw— or fail —the eval. Yes, I'd have to spend a few weeks in SF faking it for a new coach, but then I'd be free to spend the rest of my life in Byrd's bed.

Most of me has already discarded the idea. Most of me knows I do still want to train in Tilburg. But the small, weak, right now needy part of me might still decide to sabotage the whole thing. My mortar is fragile, and I don't entirely trust it. I need an extra incentive.

Byrd will know if I throw the audition, and it will crush him.

Yeah, but this incentive is way more fun.

I reluctantly peel myself away from his body and lean against the truck beside him.

"How did the rest of the conversation go?" I ask, changing the subject to one more likely to get my dick to behave. "Obviously you're fired, but is she really pissed?" I don't want to be the reason he loses his best friend.

He scrubs a hand down his face, but he's got one finger casually hooked in the waistband of my jeans, tracing the groove along my hip. Not helping.

"As my very temporary boss, she's livid, but mostly at having to cover her ass. As my friend, she's curious. And not as surprised as she's pretending to be." Stroke .

"Huh."

He gives me a sideways look at the nonresponse, then circles his finger lower with a smirk. "I've never known anyone better at reading people than Reggie."

"She's barely met me."

"She knows me very, very well."

"Does this mean—" I suck in a breath. My dick is still hard, and he just brushed across the head. "Does this mean she's actually on our side?" I was expecting a reaction like Elke's, skeptical and protective.

"She wants you at Cici. "

Right. Preferably not dragging around the corpse of her best friend's heart, I'm sure.

Maybe Byrd and I don't have a side. Maybe all we have is a bubble of time to enjoy our miracle before it pops and spits us back out into the real world.

Byrd is on his knees on the rough blacktop of the driveway, unbuttoning my jeans.

And I know I'll take whatever I can get, for as long as I can get it.