no longer simply coping. She’s living.”
“And her memory loss?” asked Mrs. Collins. “The nightmares? Her insomnia? The fact that Echo refuses to expose her arms to anyone?”
My stomach churned. I craved my father’s answer, but to my utter mortification, Noah Hutchins had already heard too much. I reached out to disconnect the line, but Noah shook his head and placed a steady hand on my back.
Dizzy from nerves, I swayed to the right. Noah took a small step toward me while guiding me into him using gentle pressure on my back. I shouldn’t be touching him, but I wanted to hear the answer and I needed someone to lean on. Just one time—this one moment only—would I rely on him. I allowed my muscles to relax when he combed his fingers through the curls hanging near my shoulder blades.
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