Page 24 of Summer’s Echo

Summer

The flickering light from the TV stirred me from my sleep, but Echo’s arms were still wrapped tightly around me.

Carefully, I slipped free from his grasp, trying not to wake him, and padded across the room to the bathroom.

As I sat on the toilet, my gaze roamed the small space, reminiscing on the time I’d spent at the Abara home.

Most of them were good, filled with fun and amazing food, but one memory stood out, engrained so deeply in my mind, it would never fade.

After washing my hands, I caught my reflection in the mirror and paused, momentarily seeing the teenage girl I used to be.

My tears had dried hours ago, but my face still bore evidence of a long, grueling day.

I looked like hell. Leaning against the sink, I shook my head, mutely questioning, How the hell did I end up here ?

Not being honest with yourself, that’s how, I silently scolded.

I splashed cold water on my face, hoping it would somehow wash away the heaviness clinging to me. I was in for a long day, but right now, I wanted nothing more than to fall back to sleep and pretend none of this had happened.

Before I flicked off the light, I hovered in the doorway watching Echo.

His body was relaxed, but there was something about the wrinkle between his brows even while asleep that made me wonder what was going on in his head.

Did he see me differently now, after what I’d done today?

His cocoa-brown skin glowed faintly in the dim light, his chest rose and fell to the same rhythm of his soft snores.

My gaze traveled down the slope of his chest past the ripples of his stomach to be greeted by the slight bulge in his basketball shorts.

I caught myself biting the corner of my bottom lip before I yanked it free, as if that alone could stop the dangerous direction of my thoughts.

I had no right to be thinking like this—not now, not after the day I’d just had.

I cannot be this reckless. Lord, I gotta get the hell out of here.

Echo shifted, extending his arm, reaching for me. “Sun?” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. “You good?”

“Yeah. Go back to sleep, Echo Honor Abara,” I said, turning off the bathroom light before stepping back into the room.

“Damn, you’re using my whole government.” He rubbed his eyes, exhaling deeply. “If you’re up, I’m up.” He patted the empty space beside him and motioned for me to come closer.

I didn’t want to feel this—this kind of simplicity. Deshawn’s was safe. But Echo’s? His simplicity came wrapped in roses and butterflies.

“I’m not up,” I teased, walking back to the bed and pulling my hair loose from its tie. Sliding back under the cover, I found that perfect spot again. He reached out to take my glasses off, but I playfully swatted his hand away.

“You still can’t see shit, huh, Sunshine? Take off your glasses if you’re going back to sleep,” he said.

Without a word, I handed them over, the silence between us filled with the familiar ease of his presence, the recognizable comfort of being around him. But as I settled back in, my hand unconsciously moved to my ear, tugging at my lobe, and I cleared my throat—telltale signs of my anxiety.

“What’s wrong?” he asked in a soft tone. “Why are you nervous?”

“I’m not nervous,” I lied, knowing damn well I was.

My heart was pounding, and I could feel the heat between us, but it wasn’t just the unresolved feelings—it was everything.

Deshawn. The future. The terrifying reality of what this moment might mean.

And yes, the way Echo’s body was pressed against me, his hardness impossible to ignore, didn’t help.

“So, you’re just gonna pull your ear off for no reason?” he teased. “You forget, I know you better than anybody.”

“Shut up, E. Stop acting like you know me,” I snapped, even thoughwe both knew better.

He did.He always had. And despite my words, despite the weak protest I tried to put between us,my body gave me away, leaning into him, drawn to the comfort I swore I didn’t need.

His voicegrew gentle, his tone laced with something softer, but I could feel it—thetension simmering just out of reach, the restraint in the way he held himself back, like he was fighting a battle just as hard as I was.

“Sun, I know these are messed-up circumstances, but I have to admit, I’m really glad to see you—to have you here,” he said, pausing briefly before continuing. “I’ve missed you.”

I turned to look at him, his face partially illuminated by the light from the TV. His expression was vulnerable in a way I hadn’t seen in years.

“I’ve missed you too, E,” I murmured, the truth slipping out before I could overthink it.

The air was thick with things felt but not spoken…

unfulfilled longing. He cradled my chin, his thumb grazing my earlobe with a tenderness that sent a wave of heat through my core.

Then, softly, timidly, he kissed me on the lips.

A featherlight peck, fleeting, yet electrifying, reigniting a spark deep inside, sending a current through me that I wasn’t prepared for.

“Sweet dreams, Summer Sierra Knight,” he whispered against my lips, my full name rolling from his tongue like perfection.

“Oh, so we’re using government names now?” I teased, as our foreheads pressed together.

For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist, and everything felt right.

There was only us, cocooned in something nostalgic yet dangerously new.

Then, before I realized what was happening, before I could second-guess, his lips were on mine again.

This kiss was different—it wasn’t brief or unsure and far from friendly.

It was charged with urgency, longing, something ardent that had been simmering for years.

I thought I’d pull away, stop this before we crossed a line we couldn’t come back from, but I didn’t.

Echo faltered, his eyes intense as they searched mine, as if waiting for me to change my mind.

Instead, I reached for him, my fingers curling into his shirt as I pulled him closer, my hands finding their way to the chest I’d been curious about as the kiss deepened.

His hands roamed everywhere with an intentional gentleness, tracing the delicate lines of my face, sliding down my throat, and navigating the contours of my body, which he seemed to have memorized long ago.

“I missed you so much, Sun,” he murmured against my lips, his breath hot against my skin, his voice raw with yearning.

His words melted into me, soothing the storm of confusion and the ache swirling in my mind like a healing balm.

His touch was careful yet insistent, not a luxury, but a necessity, one I hadn’t allowed myself to crave until now.

His lips found my neck, pressing soft, reverent kisses along my skin.

A shiver ran down my spine as his mouth trailed lower, his thick lips leaving behind a heat that threated to unravel me completely.

Every rational thought clawed at me, screaming for me to stop him—to stop us, but I couldn’t.

Not tonight. Not when I needed this. Not when I needed him.

But then, like a sudden gust of cold air, reality struck me.

My reckless choices, my entangled emotions, the heaviness of everything I’d just done, everything I was about to do flashed before me.

I couldn’t be a runaway bride and a woman who crossed this line on the same night.

The words tumbled from my lips, breaking the spell we were caught in before we lost ourselves completely.

“E. E, I–I’m scared,” I whispered, my voice trembling under the strain of my emotions.

His lips hovered near my cheek, brushing against my skin as he whispered, “Scared of what, Sunshine?” The tenderness in the gesture was almost too much to bear.

“Everything. This. Us . Again,” I croaked as a lone tear slipped down the side of my face.

“I don’t know what this means for us,” I admitted.

And that was the truth. I didn’t know if we were reopening an old wound or healing it—if this was fate or just another mistake waiting to be made.

But I knew one thing for certain: I had never stopped feelingthisway about him—feeling the butterflies.

As I stared into his eyes, searching for answers I didn’t have, unchecked tears began to flow, narrating a silent conversation between us.

Words were unnecessary because the gravity of his touch said it all as his thumb caught my tears, wiping them away with the care only Echo could give.

Echo

October 2019, The Day After the Wedding that Wasn’t

I stilled instantly, my grip loosening as I leaned back, giving her space and taking a little for myself to absorb the burden of her pain.

Concern must have been written all over my face.

It was never my intent to put her in this predicament.

“Sun, I’m so sorry,” I said quietly. “We don’t have to do this. We probably shouldn’t do this.”

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breathing uneven, and I could see the conflict swirling inside her. Her heart was racing—I could feel it—and more tears threatened to spill over. The sight twisted something deep in me, making me wish I could erase her doubts, her pain, her fear.

I cupped her face gently, my thumbs brushing against the damp trails of her tears as I tried to calm the storm brewing in her.

“Sunshine,” I said, “we don’t have to figure it out right now. Not tonight.” I leaned in closer, hoping my words would sink past her fear. “You don’t have to be scared. Not with me.”

The way she looked at me, like she was torn between running away and leaning into me, made a heavy knot form right in my gut.

I could see the struggle, the fear tangled with something deeper—something I hoped was trust. I held my breath, silently willing her to believe me, to let herself feel what she was so clearly trying to resist.