Chapter 25
A chilly draft wakes me from sleep.
Pulled from peaceful dreams, the empty, cold spot beside me forces me to open my eyes. Rolling from my side, I sit up and look around the room to see if Echo may be in the bathroom, but I know that she isn’t already. This has been a recurring thing the last few nights. Each time I woke up, I realized that she was gone, and then I had to get her and coerce her back to bed.
I don’t voice it to her, but I am concerned with her lack of sleep and odd sleeping schedule. Lately, she’s been sleeping a lot during the morning and wakes up in the middle of the night. She assures me that nothing is wrong, but I’m positive that a lot of it is because we fly home later today.
A home that she’s mentioned multiple times she would rather not go back to. A home that’s more of a prison– A reality that she would love to escape.
She doesn’t always open up to me, but I’ve listened the few times she has.
With a groan, I get out of bed, pull on my pants that I discarded before going to sleep, and then head towards the nursery.
Walking through the dim halls across the house, I can’t help but wonder what I will find her doing. Last night, she attempted to paint flowers on the wall, but by the time I had found her, she’d covered it in a neutral light gray. Though the flowers had been strategically placed and looked professionally painted, she complained that she didn’t like their color.
As I get closer, I see that the door is wide open, and the smell of fresh paint permeates the hallway. A sigh escapes my mouth as I stand outside the doorway and prepare myself for the battle I’m about to endure.
I enter the room and am greeted with, “I’m almost done, then I will go to bed.”
My eyes don’t even fall on Echo after she speaks. Instead, I take in the room painted in the same light gray she used last night during her manic frustration. Compared to the rest of the house that is bathed in the stark white my mother chose, this color is a breath of fresh air.
It feels nothing like a hospital.
“Okay.”
I enter the room more. “What else do you need to do?”
If she had allowed me to help her these last few days, she would have completed the room by now. But as stubborn as I am, Echo is five times as stubborn – If not more.
Anytime I asked if I could help her, she said no and pushed me out of the room. So, for the last week, aside from taking her places and acting the tourist part, she has only been able to work on the room after we get home.
She happens to work on it when everyone else is asleep.
Because there’s nothing strange about that.
“Nothing, I’m almost done.”
She doesn’t bother looking at me.
“I see that, but you can’t be up all night working on this. You’ll be tired when we get home.”
She shrugs, still not turning to look at me. “Why not? The flight back is long. I’ll sleep then.”
I catch it – Not home, but back.
Without permission, I walk up next to her and grab the paintbrush that’s on a long stick. It’s still wet, so she had to have used it at some point tonight. I dip it in the paint. Next to me, Echo says nothing as I help her get to the higher areas of the room that she has missed or used a ladder for. At some point, I had offered to pay someone to complete the room, and she had told me that she didn’t want to look at a nursery that someone else worked on.
“Are you excited to go home?”
The question is loaded, and she knows it.
Releasing a huff, she drops the brush in the paint pan, her arms fall on her hips, and she looks at me. Heavy bags sit under her eyes, her stance is staunch and prepped for arguing, but she still looks beautiful. Curly hair surrounds her face, standing out like an untamed mane but giving her even more of a warrior look. “Really?”
I nod. “Really, really.”
It takes a second before she rolls her eyes at me. Not what I was expecting. “Honestly, no, I’m not eager to go home. I’m not excited to return to your house, where I’ll spend my days trying to figure out how to spend my days. I don’t look forward to returning to a place that feels like a caged fortress, and my every move is clocked like I’m a criminal or defenseless asset.”
She looks at me. “I don’t want to go back to what we were before.”
Confused, I look at her. “What we were before?”
“Yeah.”
Echo picks up the paintbrush again. “Fucker and fuckee. Captor and captive. Husband and submissive wife.”
“You don’t want to be married?”
Usually, I would be irritated by this revelation, but I’ve learned that Echo starts her rants as one thing until she unearths the real issue.
Next to me, she shakes her head. “That’s not what I mean– I just haven’t enjoyed myself as much as I have these past two weeks. I know that returning to your house means it’s over, and I’m not ready for that.”
I get it. That’s why my mother moved us here. She felt at ease. This was a place where she wasn’t constantly scrutinized for every minuscule thing she did or felt in danger. She definitely loved that she didn’t have to cower from my father or protect me. He had been the main reason my uncle allowed us to leave.
“It’s our house now.”
She scoffs. “No, it’s not. It’s not even your house. You stay and live there, but you don’t like it. You haven’t made any part of that house a home.”
Her words settle deeply within me. Even if I didn’t want to realize it, she’s right. When my father died, the manor was left to me. I moved into the master suite, did small renovations, discarded his furniture for mine, and made it comfortable. As far as I was concerned, I frequented two spaces – The office and the bedroom. I worked out with Ilya and Gio at Ilya’s boxing gym and ate when I was out. Until I met Echo, I’d spent most of my time in the city.
I continue to paint. “You could stay here. If that’s what you want.”
Echo scoffs again. “Yeah, right.”
Finally, I put the brush down, making sure it’s at an angle where it won’t fall and make a mess, even though plastic covers the floor. “I never suggest something I don’t mean. If you prefer to stay here, I will make it happen for you.”
“And what about you?”
I won’t be happy.
I shrug. “I will be exhausted from flying back and forth all the time to be with you, but it will be worth it. I won’t enjoy not waking up next to you every morning or being able to have you when I want, but your happiness, what little you can have, is more important.”
She stares at me for a long time. Her mouth isn’t moving, but I can see her talking to herself mentally. She’s working something out within herself. “What if I wanted to go back to school?”
A little surprised by her request, I feel myself frowning. I remember her file saying she was in college before disappearing, but I don’t remember her major. “School?”
“Yes.”
A sheepish look I’ve never seen comes across her face, and I’m unsure what it is.
Nervousness? Uncertainty?
“Okay,”
I find myself saying without thinking, “if you want to go back to school, I won’t stand in your way or stop you.”
This time, skepticism greets me. “Really?”
My body nears hers, as if it called to me somehow. Looking down at her, I take her hand in mine. My fingers play against hers until she seems to relax, her resolve slowly leaving. “Yes. Anything that I can give you, I will.”
She doesn’t believe me, and I don’t blame her. We stand staring for a long time, waiting for the other to falter or waiver, then she smiles at me.
Her fingers lock with mine. “Okay, then.”
“What were you going to school for again?”
Echo looks up at me. “Bioengineering, but I want to do something different.”
My exhaustion starts to set in, but I try not to show it. “Like what?”
Echo looks around the room. “Something useful in this life, I guess.”
She grows quiet, and I see that she’s thinking. “Maybe interior design. If most wives move into old houses, they’ll want someone else to fix stuff for them. You’ve got the connections, and I have the face.”
I’m not surprised by her answer, but don’t mention that she’ll have to be friendly to people– We all know that friendliness isn’t even a suit for her, let alone a strong one. Granted, she’s always been mature. She seems older than twenty-six compared to my thirty-six, but life has made her abrasive and distrustful of people.
I edge her towards the room door, hoping she’ll get some rest. “Good. When we return, we will get you in school and work on making the house a home.”
She doesn’t respond, and I don’t expect her to. At the moment, I need her to believe that I meant what I said when I told her I would do anything within my power for her.