Echoes Read Online Free Page A

Becca, his ex-fiancèe, instead of mooching off him and pretending it would all work out on its own.
    Ryan held up his empty lager. "Mind grabbing me another?"
    Matt went to the kitchen. He filled a bowl from the half-empty slow cooker, tore off a chunk of bread, and carried Ryan his beer. The ball game was as good a means as any to decompress, and Ryan probably needed that too.
    "This is the night"—Ryan twisted the lid off the bottle—"that the Raiders put one in the win column."
    Matt shook his head. "That giant sucking noise you hear? That's your team in the drain."
    "And the Niners aren't?"
    "I don't take it personally if they are."
    "How can you say that? It's your team, man."
    "Oh yeah? Does Al Davis call you on Monday morning to see how your weekend went? Does he stress out when your sales are down? It's just a business."
    "I haven't evolved into the complete mature man you are, Mattski." Ryan pulled on his beer. "When I was a kid, I thought they'd win the Super Bowl every year. Now I'm not sure they'll ever get there again, but I don't stop hoping. Sure you don't want a brew?"
    Matt expelled a breath. "Just watched a man get ugly on the stuff, so I'll pass for now."
    "Whether or not you have a beer won't affect what happens to some poor kid whose parents think he's a punching bag. You'll still be the schmuck pulling him out and trying to make something out of nothing. Maybe a brewski would help you forget."
    "I really don't want to forget." He kept every face like a collection, small reminders of a world gone wrong. Ryan preferred to look the other way, even when his own house was burning down over his head.
    When the game ended and Ryan showed no sign of leaving, Matt put on a jacket and hit the streets. The cold Sonoma night chilled his cheeks and neck as he strolled along, imagining a world where kids were safe. The town was quiet, in tune with the vineyard rhythms. The vines were dormant, cut back to gnarly Ts, and tourists nonexistent.
    A car came toward him, a Z3 that stopped in the lane beneath the streetlamp. "If it isn't my favorite bleeding heart."
    "Hey, Sybil."
    "Contemplating the universe?"
    "Yeah."
    "I can think of more exciting ways to pass the time." Her silky hair looked like a shimmery veil as she tipped it over her shoulder.
    Hard to tell if she was teasing. Her reputation suggested not.
    "Buy me a drink and unwind?"
    He glanced over his shoulder. "I've got Ryan at the house."
    "Converting his sob story to a hangover?"
    Matt shrugged. "Not his best of times."
    "You cut everybody slack, don't you?"
    He shook his head. "Not the mean ones."
    "No, of course not." She smiled and zoomed past.
    He stuffed his hands into his pockets and turned toward home.

C HAPTER T HREE
    I t was after dark when Lance caught the rumble of Rese's truck outside her workshop. Anticipation rose inside until he heard another truck pull in behind and guessed whose it was. He was out the back door and heading for the shed before he thought of a reason not to. Stopping outside the shed door, he caught the scent of cigarette smoke and low male tones. Brad Plocken, her partner.
    Rese said, "Just consider it before you argue."
    "I am considering it. That's why I'm here."
    "Okay, look." A rustle of papers. "We move this wall and have the staircase line up with the entrance here in the foyer. It draws everything together."
    "Our whole budget'll be in those stairs."
    "Then adjust the bid. It'll be the focal point of the lobby instead of a necessary transport to the upper level."
    "You'd like being the focal point, showcasing your woodwork."
    Something banged, maybe a palm on wood. "That's not what this is and you know it. You just won't admit I'm right." Rese rarely lost her cool. In fact Lance had thought the knack for getting under her skin was his alone. He opened the door and took in the two of them facing off, a half-burned cigarette dangling from Brad's lips.
    Rese turned. "Can I help you, Lance?"
    Her frustration was with