Where Echoes Die by Courtney Gould EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Courtney Gould
- Language: English
- Genre: Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
In Arizona, on the road between nowhere and somewhere, there is a
moment where sunrise and sunset look the same.
Or maybe Beck’s been driving too long. She’s got that twitch in her
calves, the kind that scuttles through her legs and begs her to get moving
beyond the shift of her foot from the gas pedal to the brakes. She holds a
hand up to block the light from her eyes, palm facing the sun, and she feels
the last heat of the day die behind the jagged horizon.
Roads in the Southwest aren’t like the roads back in Washington, all
tunneled with trees so thick you can’t see the sky. There’s no deer crossing
signs, no falling rock warnings—actually, Beck can’t think of the last sign
she saw on this highway. Deep in the desert, the road is like a weathered
conveyor belt, rolling the car through an unchanging backdrop of red dirt
and sky. They crossed the California border in Yuma three hours ago, but
parked on the sloped shoulder of the highway, it feels like it’s been days
since she saw another car. The world is all one long horizon, unchanging
even as dusk washes the sky pink.
She shouldn’t have pulled over, not when they’re almost there. The
goal was to soar down the coast, tear past LA, and get to Arizona without
stopping. But there’s something about the sky just now that eats at Beck.
The pink’s not quite right, too light, watery as a washed wound.
Beck unearths her mother’s notes from her backpack and sighs, wipes
away the sweat beaded on her nose. She leafs through the loose papers until
she finds a plain piece of printer paper with a sketch of a desert sunset. She
traces her finger along a shaky pencil line that points at the sharp cliffs.
Next to it, her mother has written, Not here.
“What does that mean, Mom?” Beck asks under her breath.
If it was her mother here, she would probably take a thousand pictures.
She’d snap this horizon from every angle and pin the photos to her office
wall. She would stare at them until they untangled for her. Ellery
Birsching’s greatest talent was looking at a thing until it let her understand
it. The sheer force of her will was usually enough to get what she wanted.
She’d done it to story subjects, to broken sinks and stuck garage doors, to
morning crosswords and jigsaw puzzles littered around their little green
house. To Ellery Birsching, everything had an undercurrent of real truth; the
raw kind most people tried to hide.
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