29. Echo

29

Echo

I am fearless, flawless, and I can still fly.

The handstands are a bitch, but the coach lets me do them first, and then I have the rope in my hands. If her eyes are blue and impersonal, I know now what it's like to be in the air under Byrd's warm hazel gaze, and the adrenaline is an old friend welcoming me home. I flow through first the mandatory and then the elective skills without hesitation. My limbs are strong and exultant as a part of myself, once withered and dead, wakes to the familiar challenge.

Beyond the fear that paralyzed my brain, my hand was pieced back together from a serious trauma. The bones might be reinforced with surgical steel, but muscles and tendons take time to strengthen. I'd neglected my grip while running pathetic circles around my studio last winter. But none of that matters now because Byrd had me conditioning the basics even before he coaxed me from my panic with kisses and dirty words.

I'm probably imagining the surprise on the coach's face when I complete all five of the required one-arm straddle-ups, but a flush of pride that has nothing to do with my burning muscles warms me anyway. Even if it's only half as many as I pulled off at my original audition.

My beats are weightless, and I show off my flexibility by landing the last one in a perfect scorpion. And I finish with my double pirouette—even though Byrd assured me the single would be enough—because fuck it, I feel like a badass, and I know as soon as my hands leave the rope for the first rotation that I'm gonna nail it.

When it's over, I'm so giddy with relief, I can barely make myself thank the woman.

"I'll let you break the good news to your family," she says, shaking my hand with a smile. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Jericho."

Family . My heart leaps in my chest. I want Byrd to be my family. Flush with victory and high on endorphins, anything seems possible. He could come with me to Tilburg. We could get married. I could spend the rest of my life being his Echo and have it all.

Rein it in, idiot . You don't even know if he wants those things. Smothering my shit-eating grin, I step into the hall.

As soon as I appear, Byrd stops his obvious pacing and turns toward me, shaking out his fisted hands. My dad looks up from his seat on the metal bench, pocketing his phone as I lean against the door with a slow smile. He throws Byrd a quick look I can't read and gets to his feet.

"Getting along with your future son-in-law?" I blurt. So much for reining it in. Jesus. Byrd comes to an abrupt halt and my dad scowls.

"Very funny," he says, shifting his narrowed eyes to Byrd.

"I just got divorced," Byrd chokes out, but his eyes are hot and possessive on mine, and a thrill runs up my spine. Or rather down my spine and straight to my dick .

"First wives don't count. Right, dad?"

" Echo ," Byrd growls.

"Enough." My father rolls his eyes, but he's more amused than angry after Byrd's obvious shock. To be fair, he's been dealing with my mouth a lot longer than Byrd has. "Clearly, you weren't spanked enough as a child."

"Oh!" I bounce away from the door. "Byrd likes—"

He's on me in two strides, clapping a hand over my mouth and pinning me against the wall. Never say my man's not a fast learner.

"How. Did. The. Evaluation. Go?" he grits out, then grimaces when I stick my tongue out and lick his palm. " Someone's getting spanked tonight," he hisses. But he lowers his hand. Cautiously.

"I nailed it." I grin. "So that someone won't be me."

He throws up his arms and leans against the wall next to me with a groan. In spite of our shenanigans, my dad's smile is proud—once he's dragged his eyes from the ceiling.

"I knew you would," he says. Byrd drops his hand from where it's covering his face and grips mine, hard.

"I'm ready to celebrate," I declare, bouncing on my toes again and squeezing back.

"I made reservations at Angler," my father says, glancing at his Rolex. I cut my eyes to Byrd.

"We kind of have plans."

Byrd got us VIP tickets to the Cirque show in town, and the gates open at six. Which gives us just enough time at the hotel for me to rock his world before we have to get dressed and head to the tent.

"Go to lunch with your dad," he says, leaning in to press a kiss to my temple. "I have an errand to run anyway."

"An errand? "

What errand could be more important than my dick in his ass ? He winks at my obvious incredulity. "It's a surprise."

His eyes shimmer with illicit promise, and I sway into him, caught. Nope . Not actually helping . As much as the idea of a surprise—especially one that sparks that look—intrigues me, I'm all about instant gratification when it comes to Byrd. Call it conditioning after the weeks of torturous teasing he put me through.

"You're getting me a present? I wanna come." I'm definitely not whining.

"It's a surprise ," he repeats, and actually has the audacity to push me gently toward my dad with his fingers on my chest. "I'll see you back at the hotel after your lunch."

Fine . He's gonna pay for that later, though.