Page 8 of Mended Hearts

“It’s just…” She pauses, and I grab her hands, encouraging her to continue. I want her to feel safe with me—to be able to tell me anything and everything. “Have you ever felt like nothing you do is good enough? And just get tired of trying to be this person everyone around you expects you to be?”

“Yeah, I do.” I cup her chin, forcing her to hold my gaze. Staring into her chocolate eyes damn near puts me in a trance. And the way she looks into mine—like she can see right through me and the bullshit walls I’ve been known to put up—has me shaking my head to regain my thoughts. “Not trying to downplay what you’re feeling, but I believe a lot of us suffer what you’re going through. And it’s going to get worse before it gets better. They only have until we graduate to ingrain their values into us.”

Echo snickers. “I just don’t feel like they’re leaving my life choices up for option. It’s never been ‘here you go, decide what would be best.’ No, it’s always been laid out with no choice whatsoever. I want me to be my own person, but they want me to be this Jesus-praising robot.”

“I have a proposition for you,” I request, sparking instant interest in Echo’s eyes. They sparkle with curiosity, and I love that I provoke it. My heart thumps harder against my chest, and I chance glancing at her lips. Her pouty, pink lips look incredibly soft and kissable. I look forward to the day when I finally feel them against mine.

“When you are with me, be one hundred percent you.”

“I am,” she starts.

“I know we both have our own issues at home, and I don’t want us to use each other as an escape, but I think the beauty about us is how real we’ve been with one another since day one.”

Echo nods, biting her lip, making me want to taste it even more.

“We only have a good seven months left before we can blow this joint. The possibilities will be endless. We can make all the mistakes we want.”

Her smile falters, and she lifts her brow, questioning me.

“Fine. Not intentional mistakes.” I laugh. “Is that better?”

She grins and shrugs her shoulders.

“My point is, do what you gotta do to keep the parentals happy. And then”—I place my hand against her cheek and rub my thumb along her cheekbone—“come to me, and I’ll do whatever I need to do to make you happy.” I slide my hand down to her neck and lightly wrap my fingers around the back of it, pulling her face into mine. So close I can feel her breaths dance across my lips as they escape her mouth. I lean my forehead against hers and take in that feeling longer than I should. “Deal?” I ask as I peel my eyes away from her lips.

She looks up at me, and I see an adoration I’ve never seen before. She nods, repeating, “Deal.”

“Good. Now let’s get our asses to practice.”

“Shit!” Echo shrieks.

I laugh because I’m pretty sure that’s the first time I’ve heard her cuss. I pull her bag off her shoulder and toss it over mine.

I expect Echo to drop me like a hot potato as soon as we make it to the girls’ locker room. But she doesn’t. She slowly pulls her bag off my arm. As she watches the bag; I watch her.

“What do you have going on after practice?” she inquires.

“No plans. Why, what’s up?”

“Any chance you’d do me a favor?” she asks, looking down at the ground, kicking at the grass.

“Will I be spending time with you?”

Her head snaps back up, and a shy grin tugs at the corner of her mouth. Her answer doesn’t determine mine. The truth is, no matter what it is, I’ll do it.

“Of course.” She nods, giving me a full smile that makes my heart stop and I vow to do whatever she asks if it earns me that beautiful smile of hers.

“Then it wouldn’t be a favor. It’d be an honor.” I fake bow.

She laughs and calls me dumb before rushing into the locker room.

Yeah, she likes me.

I HAVE NEVER been to a youth rally before, but I’d use any and every excuse to hang out with Echo outside of school. Her parents don’t make it easy. It’s not like I’m a bad kid or one they should be wary of, but I have a feeling I could be the president’s son, and I still wouldn’t be good enough for their daughter.

There aren’t very many kids in the youth group as is, so we only have to take one church van to the rally. Dave, the youth pastor, has Echo and me wait until the other kids fill in the back first. I roll my eyes at the fact that we can’t even choose where we sit for the forty-five-minute ride.

Echo steps in close to me, presses her mouth near my ear, and says, “Sorry.”

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