Noah peers over. “Know what I see when I look down?”
“Water?” I grin way too wide and innocently.
“Rocks,” he answers as his other hand claims my waist. “Sharp rocks.”
“What happened to Noah Hutchins—thrill-seeker, rush-finder, willing to do whatever?”
I meant to make him smile, but the opposite happens. His face falls, and his hold on me tightens. “I thought I messed us up, Echo. Beyond repair and the thought of not being with you anymore...” He briefly closes his eyes and swallows. “I’m not anxious to watch you jump toward rocks.”
I reach around and link his hands with mine then swing them at our sides. “What if we jump together? You can scare the bad rocks away.”
Half of his mouth tips up. “What’s the deal, baby? Why this? Why now? You don’t need to do this to prove anything to anybody.”
Ugh...and that would be the reason why. “I want to jump. To prove it to me. Not to Hunter. Not to you. Not to anyone else. I’m sort of mad at myself. I spent an entire summer trying to prove that I had talent by waiting for someone else to tell me that I did. That I was someone separate from my mother and you know where it got me? Right back where I started. With her in my face.”
Noah scratches the stubble and seems to be weighing his words. “What’s that have to do with jumping?”
“Because she wouldn’t have jumped.”
When Noah raises a questioning eyebrow, I push forward. “Mom wasn’t the type that would have left an art gallery. She made every decision about her life based on her art—a showing came first over dance recitals or kindergarten orientation. Her number one most stated reason for coming off her meds was because they supposedly killed her creativity.
“She came off in order to create, and she almost killed me, and she has yet to say she’s sorry. If I go to this showing, she’ll be there, and I’ll have to face her again so I need to jump. I need to know, when I’m standing face-to-face with Mom, that I’m not her. That I realize there’s more to life than a job.”
“You’re not her,” says Noah.
“I know that,” I answer honestly. “I know that now, but sometimes a girl has to jump.” I stare at the ground and nudge a pebble. “And I’d like you to jump with me—and before you say no, you already promised you would.”
“I did.”
Because I have this problem with not stopping while I’m ahead... “And as I explained in the note that you obviously didn’t read, I’d like you to be with me, by my side, when I go to the showing in Denver and when I see Mom. I realized that...you’ve always supported me. You left Louisville, your brothers, Isaiah and Beth, your home and family to follow me. You’ve always supported me, and I’m being selfish and asking you to support me some more. Please be with me in Denver.”
A shadow crosses Noah’s face, and my heart plummets. “I know that you’ll have to miss Jacob and Tyler’s game, and that makes me feel awful, but this means a lot to me, Noah, and—”
“You’re asking me to come with you to Denver for when you see your mom?”
Aw, crap. Here I thought we were doing well. I shift my footing. “I also told you to come here. I was going to set up camp and be waiting for you and everything...you know, to surprise you. I found out that a bus was leaving Vail for here an hour after I left and—”
Noah’s hands fly up and cup my face, and I snap my mouth shut because if I tried to continue it’d be this weird muted mumble.
His dark eyes flare with unwavering intensity. “You left a note asking me to come here then to be with you when you meet with your mom?”
I nod, but it’s more of a centimeter since he still has control over my head.
“Echo Emerson...” Noah moves into me. His feet brush mine and so do many other amazing parts of him. “I love you.”
Not the reaction I was expecting, but one I’ll definitely take. “So you’ll come?” It comes out garbled, but he seems to understand.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“But your brothers—”
Noah glides his thumb over my lips. “I made a promise to you, Echo. Months ago in that hospital room and the night we made love. I’ve been waiting for you to let me keep it.”
He’s so near that I lick my lips, waiting for him to kiss me. Begging for him to kiss me. Thinking I’m going to combust if he doesn’t kiss me. But with one inhale, Noah steps back and grips my hand. “Ready to get wet?”
“Definitely.”
With my fingers safely locked in his, Noah and I jump.