Page 57 of Summer's Echo
“The hell it doesn’t, Sunshine.” I was pacing now, dragging a rough hand over my face. “I spent years wondering why you left without a word. Years thinking I didn’t mean enough for you to even say goodbye.”
She reached for me then, wrapping a hand around my arm, halting my erratic pursuit of relief. “E, I would never do that. I wanted to… God, I tried, but he looked me in the eye and told me you didn’t need me anymore.” Her voice cracked, breaking me open. “I felt so dirty…like a cancer poisoning you.” The way she said it, like she believed it, nearly crippled me. “He said the best thing was for us to go our separate ways.”
“And after everything we’d gone through, you just listened?” The bitter words left my mouth, and I immediately wished I could swallow them down because this wasn’t her fault. Summer’s arms dropped to her sides. She exhaled shakily, taking a step back.
“Echo, I was eighteen.” Her voice was biting and pained. “My world had already fallen apart. I thought…maybe he was right. Maybe I had done enough damage. Maybe walking away was the best thing to do. For you. For both of us.” She turned away from me.
“Sunshine,” I said, unable to quell the rawness in my voice. “Summer, look at me.”
She stood at the window, motionless, focus fixed on the night, as if searching for answers neither of us could grasp.
I couldn’t take it. The distance, the ghosts of everything we’d lost pressing between us. I closed the space, wrapping an arm around her waist, drawing her back to me. She didn’t resist.
“You were never something I needed to be protected from,” I said, my lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “You were the only thing I ever wanted, Sun.”
She exhaled, her head tipping back to rest against my shoulder. “Every day, I thought about marching to Morehouse, banging on every dorm room door to find you. Wishing that maybe we’d just run into each other at an event or homecoming.”
I let out a bitter snicker, but not a damn thing was funny. “He took Morehouse away from me, too.”
Her head snapped up, those wide, pretty brown eyes locking onto mine. Confusion. Concern. The beginning of something breaking open inside her. “What?”
I clenched my jaw. The anger simmering beneath my skin was old, but it still burned like fresh embers. “He didn’t trust me to stay away from you, so he tightened the leash. Made me stay home. Forced me to go to WashU.”
A sharp, quiet inhale slipped through parted lips, regret threading through the space between us. “E…I’m so sorry,” she whimpered. “I didn’t know. I chose not to chase after details. I knew enough to know that you were okay.”
I shook my head. “It’s cool, Sunshine. I had the experience I was supposed to have, but like you said, it doesn’t matter now.” It was a lie. It did matter. The years, the choices, the love stolen from us under the guise of protection. I kissed her temple, my grip constricting like I could make up for the time we had lost. “We lost years because of them. Because of him. Because they thought they knew what was best for us.”
Summer nodded her silent agreement. I ran my thumb along her cheek, guiding her gaze back to mine. I needed her to see me—to hear me. “But I’m telling you right now, nobody decides for us anymore. You hear me?”
Her lips trembled for a moment, but when she spoke, her voice was stable, certain. “Nobody.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Summer
October 2019, The Calm After the Storm
These had been the longest three days of my life. Only two days had passed since I had called off my wedding, but it felt like I had been drifting through time, caught between what was and what could have been. I still hadn’t gone back to my house, instead finding comfort in the familiarity of my old tiny bedroom. The same four walls that had once held my teenage dreams and whispered secrets now held the woman I was trying to rediscover. And with my siblings still here, it felt like old times. I needed them more than they knew. Our mother, overjoyed to have all her babies under one roof, had taken it upon herself to feed us three times a day. If I stayed any longer, I was sure to leave at least ten pounds heavier—but I wasn’t complaining. There was something healing about home-cooked meals and the kind of love that didn’t require explanation.
I still hadn’t checked my emails or social media. Didn’t have the energy to. I could only imagine the speculation, the whispers, the carefully worded posts that weren’t so carefully disguised. Thank God I worked for myself. My clients were already squared away, and I had planned to be offline for three weeks after the wedding anyway. The original plan was to spend that time basking in newlywed bliss. Instead, I would spend it figuring out my next steps without the weight of an almost marriage pressing on me.
Hailee, Brooke, and Trinity had come over multiple times demanding that we find somewhere—anywhere—to wear their bridesmaids’ dresses. I had laughed, like truly laughed for the first time in days. They were a reminder that life moved on, even when I felt stuck. And finally, a full day turned to a night without me crying. I hadn’t expected Deshawn to respond when I finally gathered the courage to check on him, but he did. A short, civil response. We still needed to settle some things—namely, the outstanding wedding expenses—but I was giving him space. I was prepared to cover the remaining costs and reimburse my parents for everything they had lost because, no matter the cost, I had to clean up what I had messed up.
And then there was Echo. He was leaving tomorrow. He wanted to change his flight—offered to, even. But he had a client waiting, and I insisted that he go. Not because I didn’t want to spend more time getting to know the man Echo had become, but because I needed time to get to know the woman I was becoming. His disappointment was fleeting, but unmistakable, the silent question lingering between us. Was I planning to run away from him, too? I wasn’t. I couldn’t. Not anymore. But I needed time, and for the first time in my life, I was giving myself permission to take it.
I’d never been a morning person, but today, I was awake before the sun. Instead of lying in bed drowning in thoughts I couldn’t organize, I got up and grabbed my sketchbook before heading to the kitchen. A cup of coffee and a doughnut was just what I needed. Sitting at the table allowed my feelings to run free in my art. I was so focused on drawing that I hadn’t noticed the moment when the dark gave way to the light. The house was still quiet, but outside, the sun was beginning to rise, casting a golden haze over the backyard. I took a slow sip of my coffee, letting it warm my insides. This moment—this stillness—belonged to me. Soon, my siblings and their families would be up, filling the house with noise and laughter and chaos. But for now, for just a little while longer, I allowed myself to sit in the quiet and exist.
The sound of footsteps interrupted my haze. I turned toward the kitchen entrance and saw my mother standing in the threshold, the silk of her floral-print robe just grazing the floor, her hair still wrapped tight in a scarf. Even this early in the morning, she was a beauty.
I smiled. “Good morning, Mama.”
“Good morning, baby girl,” she said around a yawn. “You hungry? I’m going to cook after I have my tea and say my prayers.”
I shook my head. “Not only am I unwed, but you’re going to make me fat, too,” I quipped, but Mama did not share my amusement.
Her lips pressed into a firm line as she prepared her morning cup of tea. “Summer Sierra, don’t say things like that,” she fussed.
I sighed, looking at my shero. After days of crying, my mind was finally clear enough to see it—the quiet hurt lingering beneath her expression. My smile faded. “I’m sorry, Mama.”
