Echoes of Us

Copyright

Published by

Dreamspinner Press

5032 Capital Circle SW
Suite 2, PMB# 279
Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886

USA

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Echoes of Us

© 2013 Teegan Loy.

Cover Art

© 2013 Christy Caughie.

Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/.

ISBN: 978-1-62798-299-3

Digital ISBN: 978-1-62798-298-6

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition

November 2013

To my way-cool brother, who probably thinks I’m insane but loves me anyway.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I want to say thank you to my wonderful beta reader Nancy for helping me make this a better story. A special thanks to Laura for answering my music questions. And many thanks and a thousand smiles to all my C & B peeps. You all know the secrets behind this book and who inspired it.

Most people think falling in love is a wonderful thing. It isn’t. It fucking ruins everything.

“I’
VE
CHANGED
my mind,” I said as the town came into view. “Let’s go home.”

All I got out of my best friend was a headshake punctuated by a roll of her bright blue eyes.

“You don’t understand. I can’t handle my family or this stupid town,” I whined and pulled the car over to the side of the road, right next to the sign giving everyone a hearty welcome to Mayville, population 1,945 respectable citizens. I wondered if that number included my brother, who had recently moved back home because his life was in crisis again. Translation of a life crisis for Lucas was he just broke up with another girl.

“Rylan, how bad can it be?” Maggie asked.

A strange noise came from my throat, and my mouth fell wide open. She didn’t understand. We were walking into a shark tank with fresh bait dangling from our necks. We were different, and different didn’t fly in this town. People were more comfortable with cookie-cutter images of themselves. Neither of us fit into their idea of a perfect world.

Maggie sighed and straightened her short skirt. Her bracelets rustled when she raised her hand to run her fingers through her long dirty-blonde hair, with ends colored blue like her nail polish. She wore multiple earrings in both ears, and the only way her tattoos wouldn’t show was if she was bundled in a snowsuit. I didn’t think I could convince her snowsuits were in style here, not with the sun out and the temperature hovering around a near perfect seventy-five degrees.

The thought made me cringe. I didn’t want Maggie to hide who she was. No one should have to pretend. I’d done it the whole time I’d lived in this town.

My blond hair had always been too long, and I didn’t have enough muscles on my slender frame. My brother constantly made fun of me, telling me that sometimes I was more feminine than my sister. I slid my bracelets off my wrist and stuffed them into the glove box. There was no need to add extra fuel to the fire.

“What are you doing?” Maggie asked.

“I don’t know. Possibly having a panic attack,” I said. “I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t fit, and it drives them crazy. I have no idea why my mom even wanted me to come home?”

“You’re her kid,” Maggie said. “It’s a big day. It’s her fiftieth birthday.”

“I bet she sometimes wishes—”

“Don’t say it,” Maggie interrupted and scowled at me. “Come on, Rylan, let’s go to the party. I promise I won’t leave your side.”

I sighed and banged my head against the steering wheel. “Fine,” I said, flooring the gas pedal and sending gravel spraying everywhere as I pulled back onto the road. I felt like I was driving to my execution.

The Blake family house was on the outskirts of the small town. It used to be in the country, but the town had grown enough to catch up to our land. My dad said he wasn’t going to let urban sprawl swallow up his farm. Maybe that’s why I ran to Chicago the moment I graduated from high school. My parents didn’t like the city, and Chicago was one of the largest cities in the United States. It was a good way to keep them out of my life.

The gravel under the tires crunched when I turned into the driveway.

“Holy shit, are you kidding?” Maggie shouted. She rolled down the window and hung halfway out like a puppy enjoying the wind. “This is a farm?”

“My mom may love the rural life, but she likes nice things, and she has good taste. It’s a renovated barn.”

Questions poured out of Maggie as I pulled the car up to the house. I think I had to tell her four times we didn’t have any animals. My dad was a grain farmer; we’d never had cows or sheep or chickens.

“Every farm has animals,” she argued.

“Fine, we raise cats, and I’m sure there’s a dog somewhere,” I said.

Maggie smiled triumphantly. “I knew there were animals.”

As soon as I put the car in park, she jumped out, opened the back door, and dug for her bag. I stayed in the car, watching my foot twitch against the gas pedal until I noticed my mom standing on the porch waving at me.

“Christ,” I muttered.

“Rylan, hello,” my mom shouted.

My mom was either possessed or she’d hit the cocktails already. I reluctantly pocketed my keys and got out of the car, forcing a smile to my lips.

“Hi, Mom,” I answered. “Happy birthday.”

She glided down the steps and embraced me, awkwardly patting my back before she let go. I felt her fingers tangle in my hair where it touched my collar. I’m sure she was horrified.

Maggie popped out of the back seat and grinned. Mom’s face didn’t change, except for a small twitch that turned the corners of her mouth down for a few seconds when she spotted Maggie. She recovered quickly. Only a trained eye would notice the sour taste that filled her mouth when she scanned Maggie.

“Mom, this is Maggie Mae Stewart,” I said. The less information I released on Maggie, the safer it would be for her. I wasn’t going to label her as my roommate or my best friend. No one had to know what Maggie was to me.

“Hello, dear. Welcome to our home,” she said and gave Maggie a hug. “Please call me Kimberly.”

“Thank you so much for having me,” Maggie said, beaming back at her. “This place is phenomenal. Rylan said you had a hand in the creation of this magnificent home.”

My mother’s face brightened. “Yes, would you like a tour?”

“I’d love one,” Maggie said.

She was good. I don’t know why I ever worried about Maggie. Her major was public relations, and she knew how to work people. My mother would never know what hit her. Once she graduated, Maggie was going to be a star in the world of PR.

“Rylan, go help your brother. He’s in the back,” Mom said as she dragged Maggie away, talking a mile a minute about all the work it took to change a smelly barn into a home. It may be lovely to look at, but it had been stifling to live here. It was going to be a long week.

The house wasn’t much different from the last time I was home. A few updated pieces of furniture and a couple of new pictures on the walls. I noticed my face did not grace the Blake hallowed walls of fame. I did see a tiny photograph on the mantel of my dad and me when I was nine years old. We had just come back from the field where he’d let me drive the combine. It was probably the last time he had been proud of me.

A trip down memory lane was the last thing I needed right now. I sighed and hauled our bags up to what used to be my childhood room. The room had been changed to a reading room and a place for my mother to store her art supplies. She rarely painted or drew anymore, but she liked to pretend she was still an artist.

There was no sign I had ever occupied this room. It was even a different color. My mom had probably cracked open a bucket of paint the moment I headed for Chicago. The dark purple I’d painted the walls had irritated the shit out of her. For one year, she wouldn’t come near my room, and she let me keep the door closed at all times. It was a great success on my part.

The walls were now a lovely neutral taupe. A daybed and two stiff chairs had replaced my bed. There was a blow-up mattress leaning against the wall with a pile of sheets and blankets stacked on the chair. I grimaced when I thought about sleeping on the floor, but the daybed didn’t look much better. At least she hadn’t relegated me to the shed.

“Rylan,” my brother shouted from downstairs. “Mom said you were supposed to help me.”

Some things never changed.

“Get your scrawny ass down here!” Lucas shouted, louder this time. Lucas’s idea of me helping him was barking out orders, while I did all the work.

“Fuck,” I mumbled.

My brother waited impatiently for me at the foot of the stairs. I held my breath, anticipating some comment about my hair being too long or my earring or some other less than clever thing about my physical attributes.

“Hey,” Lucas said.

I gave him another minute, but he said nothing to me. Lucas looked the same except for the bags under his eyes. His brown hair was trimmed neatly, just like my mom liked it. The khakis he wore were the same color as my bedroom wall and his golf shirt was a lovely shade of stone with tiny red stripes.

“Um, hey,” I said back.

“I need to go pick up the ice. Could you finish setting up the bar?” Lucas asked.

“Where’s Dad?”

“Went with Kelli to get the cupcakes,” Lucas said. “I have to go now or Mom is going to shit her pants.”

He disappeared before I could say another word. Everyone was acting strange. No one had said one derogatory word to me. Dad and Kelli would have to pick up the slack or I was going to start checking ID’s.

I walked through the house and went out back. The largest blue tent I had ever seen was set up in the backyard. A small circus could put on a performance in it. It made me wonder how many people were coming to this birthday party. The bar was off to the side by the stage. I vaguely remembered Kelli telling me they were hiring some band that was popular in the area.