Isaiah opens the door to the bathroom, and steam pours out. He sports a pair of jeans and no shirt.
“Wear some clothes around my girl.”
Isaiah digs through his duffel bag. “Why? She already knows I’m the better-looking one. Echo chose you because you’ve got that smooth mouth.”

From the driver’s side, one of Echo’s jean-clad legs dangled.
“I’ve got a hard-on just looking at her, man,” said Isaiah as we strolled up the drive.
“You’re ate up,” I replied, hoping he meant the car, not Echo. I’d hate to throw down with someone I considered family.

Who’s winning?”
“I don’t have a f*cking clue nor do I f*cking care.”
Echo’s head ticks back.
“Back off, Beth.” I cross the room, drop a kiss on the curve of Echo’s neck and whisper in her ear, “She’d rip me to pieces, too, right now. She’s a b*tch when the Yankees play.”
Her eyebrows rise. “Is she a Red Sox fan?”
Isaiah chuckles and we both throw him a glare, but he doesn’t notice as he’s absorbed in a car manual.
“Beth hates baseball.”
Echo’s eyes dart from Beth to the television to me then she waves her hand in the air for an explanation.
“She watches,” I explain. “Yankees only. It’s what she does and there are some things we don’t question about each other.”
“Just the Yankees?” Echo whispers.
“Just the Yankees,” I repeat.
“And she hates baseball?”
“With a passion.”
“That’s...” Echo says in a hushed tone. “That’s messed up.

She’s leaving me!”
“Leaving? She’s been waiting for you to get your shit together.”
I step into him. “That Hunter bastard is offering her the world! What do I got to give? Nothing. I’ve got nothing.”
Isaiah slams his finger into my biceps. “She looks at you like you’re the whole universe! I’d kill to have a sliver with Beth of what you have with Echo. Wake the f*ck up!”
I pound my hand to my chest, mimicking the pain slicing it. “Echo’s leaving me.”
“No, man. You’re the one leaving her,” he seethes. “Get it together or she will walk.

Beth’s voice broke. “I can’t lose you guys.” And there it was. She sat here bleeding because she loved me and Isaiah. For the millionth time, I wished the system was a person. One person I could name, know and hold responsible for screwing every single one of us. Right now, Beth’s mom’s new boyfriend would have to do.

Noah’s hands ease down my arms, then he folds me into him. His front heating my back. He dips his head to my ear and whispers. “Lower your hands.”
“Nuh-uh.” My mind chants, can’t make me, followed by, la, la, la.
“Baby, I’ve got no problem turning you around, propping you up on the sink and kissing you until you look at me.