“I thought Marcus was nice. I thought he…well, I’d heard rumors, but he was always really sweet with me, until we went to that party. He got me super drunk and dragged me up to a dark, empty room, and he put his—his hand over my mouth and—I couldn’t stop him. I thought it was my fault at first. I’d teased him. He knew my reputation, but I cock-teased him. I wouldn’t put out right away, just to—to play with him, I guess. I don’t know. I thought it would be fun. I don’t know. I just…after it happened, I got even more messed up in the head. Bray finally got through to me and helped me see it wasn’t my fault. Even if I had been a cock-tease, it didn’t justify what he did.” She stifles a sob. “God, Bray has saved me so many times.”
“Shit, Echo. Just…shit.” I don’t know what else to say.
She nods, lets out a slow, shaky breath. “So there it is.” She stands up, rolls her shoulders, and drags her hands through her hair, pulling it back over her shoulders, straightens her dress.
And then she starts to walk away.
“Echo? Where are you going?”
“Now you know the truth about me. And you’re…good. You were a virgin until you met me. So you and I, we’re just not—”
I’ve caught up to her, and I grab her by the shoulders, spin her around, pull her against me.
I kiss her. I capture her face in both of my hands, cup her cheeks and feel the wetness of tears, pull her close and feel the soft press of her breasts against my chest and her hips bumping against mine, and I kiss her. My lips slide boldly across hers, feel the plump softness and slight moisture of her lips, and then her mouth opens and her tongue scrapes over my teeth and finds my tongue, traces my lips. Her hands are pinned between our bodies, and her fingers dig into my shirt, they bunch and twist the fabric until she’s got double-fistfuls, and she’s pulling at me, lifting up on her toes and gasping into the kiss.
And then she breaks away with a sob, lowering herself slowly, eyes wet, shimmering, hands still fisted in my shirt. “Ben…” She lets go of my shirt and smooths it with her palms. “Didn’t you hear anything I just said?”
I catch her wrists. “Every word, Echo. And I know what you’re doing.”
She frowns up at me. “What am I doing?”
“You’re still pushing me away, this time with the truth. Or with what you think will scare me away.” I refuse to let her go when she tries to free her hands. “And it’s not going to work.”
“You said you didn’t know anything about me, and Brayden told me I push people away and shut them out, so I was just…trying to be open.”
“Yeah, I’ll buy that. But you’re scared shitless, Echo. I can see it, I can hear it, and I can feel it. Your instinctive reaction is to push.”
“How am I pushing, Ben? I’m just telling you the truth.” She jerks, but I keep a grip on her wrists. “Let go, Ben!”
“The truth? Maybe. But you clearly thought that if I knew your history, it would push me away. It’s not working.”
“So you don’t care?”
“About what?”
She finally rotates her wrists hard and fast, breaking my hold on her, and backs away. “That I’m a—”
I cut in over her. “No, Echo, I don’t. Why should it matter to me how many sexual partners you’ve had? Is that supposed to be a turn-off to me? Is it supposed to scare me? Make me jealous?”
“Yes! To anyone with a lick of common sense, yes!” she shouts.
“Then I’m clearly lacking in sense.” I follow her as she backs away from me. “Echo, stop trying to get away from me and fucking listen, okay? I like you. I like who you are. I liked who you were in Texas, when I didn’t know a damn thing about you except your name. I liked you before I knew you were this—this insanely talented musician, before I heard you sing, before I heard the things you write about. I liked you before I met Brayden, your very confusing friend. I liked who you were before you had a nervous breakdown or whatever that was, and I still like you now. More, even, because you woman-ed up and handled your shit, and I respect that. I respect you as an artist, and when Kylie Calloway is your best friend, you learn a bit about music, just by the process of osmosis or whatever.”
“Kylie Calloway?” Echo repeats. “That’s the best friend you fell in love with?”
I nod. “Yeah, why?”
“I’ve seen her and Oz play, and they’re incredible. I’ve had a couple classes with her, actually. She’s wicked talented.”
I sigh. “Yeah, she is. And so is Oz.”
“And Oz, her husband, he’s your cousin, right?”
I shrug. “I guess so. I’m still working on that part.” I cup the back of her neck. “Quit trying to change the subject.”
“I’m not.” She’s frozen under my touch, gazing up at me, eyes wide and wavering and fearful and hopeful. “I just…I don’t get how you can just not care that I’ve been with so many guys I can’t count them on both hands, or even both hands and feet.”
“We’ve all got our journeys, Echo. I can’t change who you are, I can’t change where your life has taken you, or the choices you’ve made. Is knowing you’ve been with however many other guys, like…I don’t know—something I feel great about? No, if you want honesty. I really don’t know how I feel about it. A little uncomfortable I guess, but mostly jealous. I want you all to myself. But does it make me care for you any less? No. Does it make me think less of you as a person? No.”
She tries to look away, but I tilt her chin up with a forefinger so she’s looking at me, so she sees my honesty, my vulnerability. “All of that, your past…Echo, it’s part of who you are. You can’t pick and choose which parts of a person you love, Echo. You love the whole person, or no part of them. Good and bad, all of it.”
“Don’t play with me, Ben.” She backs away, shrugging off my touch, and stabs at me with her finger. “Don’t say shit you don’t mean, don’t—don’t make promises you can’t keep. Just…don’t.”
“Why are you getting defensive, Echo? What did I say to make you angry?” I stand still, a foot away from her, hands at my sides.
She turns away, crosses her arms under her breasts. “Love, Ben. You said ‘which parts of a person you love.’ Using that word, it’s…just cruel. How can you say that to me? How can you act like you could—like you could…” her shoulders shake, and she has to gasp for breath, “like you could love me?”