Crash Into You (25 page)

Chapter 55
Isaiah

RACHEL’S LIGHT FOOTFALLS CAUSE THE
wooden stairs to groan. “Seven hundred dollars. If you asked me two weeks ago if we could make seven hundred dollars in one week, I would have said yes, but after tonight...I don’t know.”

As predicted, we found plenty of guys willing to race us, but not as many who were willing to place bets. I carry her overnight bag in one hand and hold her fingers with the other. “Logan and I knew that this could be a problem. But I think we can make seven hundred in the next week. It’ll be tight, but it will happen.”

She continues to stare at the floor as we walk to my apartment. “I could hock more of my jewelry, but Mom figured out I got rid of one of the pieces. I told her I lost it. I’m not sure if she’ll continue to buy the excuse if I ‘lose’ any more.”

I let go of her hand, unlock the door and push it open. She enters first, flipping on the light as she goes. I love how she feels comfortable here.

“It feels hopeless,” she says. “Like we get two steps forward and take a trillion back.”

I can’t help but smile. Rachel does this sometimes—wallows, but I don’t mind. It never lasts long, and she’s usually repentant when she’s done.

“Do you trust me?” I ask as I close the door and lock the dead bolt.

Rachel blinks and the crimson on her cheeks tells me she snapped out of wallowing. “Yes.”

“Then you know that when I say I’m going to fix something, I do. On my life, Rachel, Eric will be paid back in a week.”

She fidgets with the ends of her hair. “I’m sorry. It’s just that everything seems so big all the time and...”

And here comes the repentance. I wrap my arms around her waist. “I want you to forget about it. At least for tonight.”

She bites her bottom lip and glances up from below heavy eyelashes. “Okay.”

Nerves are written all over her face. I kiss the top of her head and give her the room she needs by going into the kitchen and cocking a hip against the counter. Rachel’s never stayed the night with a girlfriend, much less a boyfriend.

She leans against the back of the couch. “If I ask you something, will you be honest?”

“Always.”

“Did you know that Abby is a drug dealer?”

Damn, straight to the point. I pull at my bottom earring. Abby warned me at the dragway about this conversation. I had no idea Rachel would yank out the guns this early. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She inspects her nails like this is casual for her, but I know better.

“Because it’s Abby’s story to tell, not mine. She promised to keep her business away from you, and when Abby gives her word, she means it. If I thought you’d be in danger, I’d be in the middle of this.”

She scoffs like I told a joke. “You can’t get in the middle of anything.”

I say nothing because I don’t argue. Rachel’s safety and happiness is my priority. “What you did for Abby tonight was nice.”
Nice
is an understatement. For the first time since I’ve known Abby, someone gave her love.

“She’s my friend,” she says softly.

Rachel laces her hands together, unlaces and repeats. Something’s digging at her and I want her inner thoughts. “What’s bothering you?”

She lets her hands fall to her sides. “Zach offered to race against me. Since we need money, I should accept.”

The guy is becoming a switchblade in my thigh. “Did he say something to you tonight?”

“Yes, but he first brought it up weeks ago...”

“I know.” And I told him to stay clear of her. It’s too coincidental, Eric showing at the garage this evening then Zach approaching her at the dragway tonight, and I don’t believe in chance. Zach’s trying to pull Rachel into a race, but I can’t see the benefit of it. I can’t see how that would help Eric win.

“I want to help.” There’s hurt in her eyes, and it dawns on me that there’s more to her and Zach’s conversations than cars.

“What’s he saying to you?”

Rachel pauses as she chooses her words. She doesn’t do that often and my gut twists. “Do you trust me?” she asks.

A combination of dread and anger pummels my insides as the answer slams into my head. Zach is trying to create doubt. They’re trying to place a wedge between us.

“I trust you.” And she needs to trust me back. “I’ll take care of the money, Rachel. All right?” I’m not asking permission, but I am asking her to drop it. “And stay away from Zach.”

“Why? I know he can come on a little strong, but he really doesn’t bother me.”

My neck tightens as I contemplate telling Rachel my theory on Zach and Eric. But then I wonder if that would scare her. She already mentioned a few minutes ago how she feels overwhelmed by it all. “Can you just trust me?”

“Okay.” She glances around the empty apartment, reminiscent of her first night here. “Do you mind if I take a shower? I smell like burnt rubber.”

“Sure.” If she does, then I must reek like I bathed in it. “I’ll take one after.”

* * *

The subflooring is cold beneath
my feet, and after the heat from the misty bathroom my body shudders against the temperature of the apartment. I change to a fresh pair of jeans and walk into the dark bedroom for a shirt.

In a tank top and pair of cotton drawstring pants, Rachel sits in the middle of my bed with her knees drawn to her chest. Her hair is blown dry and angles around her face. Light from the street highlights her perfectly, casting a heavenly glow.

I’m reaching into the laundry basket next to the bed for a T-shirt when delicate fingers touch my wrist. “Can I look at your tattoos?”

My mouth dries out when I meet her eyes. There’s no seduction there, but honest curiosity. My heart beats faster when I nod and join her on the bed. Rachel traces the dragon. Playing with fire again, her tickling caress strikes a match and creates a slow burn.

“Did it hurt?” she asks. “The tattoos?”

“Some areas more than others.”

“What was it like?”

As her fingernails slide down my arm to the knot tattooed on my forearm, shivers run through my blood. “Like someone with sharp nails scratching a sunburn.”

“Why do you do it?”

It’s a simple question, but a complex answer. “So I’ll always remember.”

Rachel traces the twists and turns of the Brothers of Arrow Knot, granting me silence. It’s my decision whether or not to continue the conversation. My angel does this—she opens the door and allows me the freedom to decide whether or not I want to step through. It’s strange, my entire life I’ve had doors closed on me and now that one’s open, I’m not sure how to enter.

I suck in air, guessing one way is headfirst. “That one’s for Noah.”

Rachel’s eyes flash to mine, and I take comfort in the happiness I created there.

“It’s a Celtic knot—it means warriors bonded as brothers through battle.”

The right side of her mouth tips. “Does that mean you and Noah have been on the same side of several fistfights?”

I chuckle, remembering a few we probably shouldn’t have taken on. “Yeah. But it’s more than that. Noah accepts people as they are. Doesn’t ask. Doesn’t judge. He’s family.”

Though lately he’s been inching away by following his dreams. Someday, he’ll graduate from college, get a real job and marry Echo. Then they’ll be a family without me.

Rachel moves to kneel in front of me. Everything about her is softness and curves. Too innocent. Too beautiful. She admires her favorite tattoo—the tiger.

I sweep the bangs from her eyes. “I used to be weak when I was younger. The smallest kid in the class and the group home. I kept waiting for someone to save me.” Like how that old tiger must have waited for someone to release him from his cage. “One day I decided to save myself, and I stopped being weak.”

She touches the tiger. “So you got the tattoo.”

I shrug. Such honesty makes me uncomfortable. “Earrings first. Then I started hanging out with the type of people most avoided. Got in fights just to prove I’d never run. Then, when I scraped up enough money, I got the tattoo.”

Rachel withdraws her hand and prepares for the other question Abby warned would be coming. “Do you do drugs?”

“I have.” I won’t lie. Not to her. “I do drink. But I don’t like the feeling of being high or being drunk. Losing control isn’t my style. I make people believe I do drugs. It’s better if people are scared of me.”

“Why?”

I jerk my chin toward the window. “Life is different out there. I’ve survived because of what I make people think. No one messes with me, and that same reputation has kept you safe because no one would mess with anything that’s mine.”

She wipes at her forehead, but her bangs were already swept to the side. “Eric messed with me.”

“Because he knows we’re close to paying him off. He wanted to push my buttons and I fell for it. He wants us to fail. Eric wants more than money. He wants power, and it would be a strong message to a lot of people if he held power over me.”

Rachel picks at the lint on the blanket with her eyes cast down. My iron wall, the one she expertly maneuvered around, becomes cold underneath my skin. I’ve bared my soul and she has to be second-guessing being with me.

“This is who I am, Rachel. Accept it or not. The tattoos won’t wash off. The earrings will never change. I am who I am and nothing more. I’m loyal to a chosen few, I always keep my word and I’ll protect you with my life.

“I scare the hell out of most people, but you will never have anything to fear from me. Choose. Love me or don’t. But tell me now.” Because I can’t leave my heart open for her to rip out later. If I belong to her, then I do, and nothing will stand in our way.

She sits up on her knees and inches closer to me. Giving me my answer, she lets her warm, smooth fingers caress my cheek. “What’s the dragon for?”

I tunnel my hand through her hair, enjoying the silky rain, and I take a deep breath. She’s chosen me. Rachel’s decided to love me beyond the sharp edges. I have no idea what I’ve done to deserve her. “The dragon’s for the only good foster father I had. He’s the one who taught me everything about cars. He used to call me a dragon.”

Her forehead furrows. “Why?”

I smirk and the memory lightens my mood. “Because he said I was either breathing fire and destroying everything or I took the fire inside of me and created life.”

“Created life?”

“Fire can destroy, but it can also create—provide warmth, protection.” I still remember him explaining when I asked the same question. “He told me until I chose my path, I would always be capable of life and destruction.”

“Did you choose?” She weaves her arms around my neck.

My hands melt into the indentation of her waist as I wonder how far we should go tonight. Rachel takes my bottom lip between hers, and the kindling bursts into flames.

“I don’t think it’s up to me,” I answer. “My path chooses me.”

“You’ve chosen, Isaiah.” She kisses the side of my neck. “You’re life.”

“I’m still destruction.”

“Not to me,” she whispers.

“How far?” I ask while I still have a voice. Cupping her face, I reclaim her lips and gently guide her body next to mine on the bed. Rachel’s tank rides up and my fingers explore the satin skin of her belly. There are so many places I long to go, so many places I crave to take her.

“I want to go further,” she whispers. When I skim the waistband of her pants, her breathing hitches.

Further.
Damn, my entire body responds. I don’t miss the way her hand fidgets with the hem of her shirt. Scared I’ll spook her, I don’t push her too far, but I’m all for reading body language. I place my hand over hers and her smile appears.

“You sure?” I ask.

She nods and her hand falls away. I lower my head as I slowly edge the material of her tank off her stomach. Jesus, her stomach is gorgeous. Flat and smooth. As my lips press the spot above her belly button I confirm how undeniably sweet Rachel is.

I kiss each and every centimeter of her exposed skin as I move up her tank. I linger over the material of her bra and Rachel fists the sheet with both hands. She’s so damn hot I’m about to forget slow and go for fast.

But I ignore those urges and guide the material up and over her head. I don’t know what the hell I did to have such a beautiful creature in my bed, but she’s here and I’m going to spend tonight worshipping this gift in front of me.

I roll my body over Rachel’s, and her legs tangle with mine. Elvis’s deep voice drifts from the apartment below. He sings about wise men and fools who rush in. I know as I hold Rachel in my arms that I, too, had no choice in falling in love.

We become lost in kisses, warm bare skin and touches. I move, and this time Rachel moves along with me. There’s a building, a sweet pressure. It’s as if we’re not even two separate people anymore, but one.

Hands are everywhere. Kisses on the lips, the neck and shoulders. I move faster and Rachel keeps the pace as her thighs press against my hips, bringing me closer.

Right as my world is about to be pushed over the edge, Rachel grasps on to my body and calls out my name. I wrap my arms around her, holding on as if I’m saving myself from dying. My body jerks, and behind my closed lids there are bright colors. I inhale, and it’s the scent of jasmine and when I open my eyes, I see an angel.

“I love you,” Rachel whispers, and her eyelids flutter with the delicious exhaustion.

I slip to the side and gather her into my arms. I want Rachel here every night for the rest of my life. It’s what feels right, what feels natural. “I love you.”

“I’m tired,” she yawns.

“Sleep, angel.” I rub my hand up her spine and revel in the feel of her body pressed tight to me. “Sleep.”

Chapter 56
Rachel

MY EYES POP OPEN AND
a nervous adrenaline beats through my system. A nightmare. Just a nightmare. One of my mom and my father and of speeches...

I’m in the same position as when I fell asleep: one leg draped over Isaiah’s and my head resting against his bare chest. His heart has the same steady rhythm that I’ve come to depend upon. Slants of light filter into the room from the streetlamp. Time lost all meaning hours ago. With one hand wrapped around me, keeping me tucked close to his body, Isaiah dozes.

Tonight, Isaiah took me places I’ve never been, and the memory almost drives away all the fear from the nightmare....

The nightmare. Isaiah was in it, too. His words became a mantra:
I’ve survived because of what I make people believe.

I swallow and cringe. My throat is raw from vomiting with the panic attacks. I’m exhausted, unable to sleep for long periods of time, and my body is wearing out further every day.

My mother wants me to give a twenty-minute speech at a dinner party for hundreds of guests. I’m not sure how much more my body can take, but I risk too much if I tell my parents the truth. If I can hold on until we pay off the debt, then I can introduce Isaiah to my family, and if I give this speech, then my mother will be proud.

Proud of me like she was always proud of Colleen.

While Isaiah creates an outside that pushes everyone away, I’ve created an outside in order to draw in my family. No, I’ve done it to win my mother’s love.

My body is breaking down because of what I make people believe.

I snuggle closer to Isaiah, and he locks his other arm around me. I ignore the voices in my head and focus on the one person who loves what no one else can: the real me.

* * *

My mind separates from itself
as I scan my bedroom. I said goodbye to Isaiah an hour ago, and now my world is in tattered pieces. I did this damage in my search. My purple comforter is ripped off the bed. The pillows strewn across the floor. Every possible container opened and the contents poured out. Last night’s meager winnings crunch in my hand as I close my fist.

My body trembles as I circle the room again. The money...it’s gone.

Maybe I missed it. Maybe I got so panicked that it was right in front of me and I didn’t see it. I reach for my jewelry box again, and this time toss the contents as I come across them. As I dig to the bottom, I do see something new: a note. Before I can read the entire thing, I scramble across the floor to my bathroom and discover that my panic has entered a new stage: vomiting blood.

* * *

The door to West’s room
bounces against his wall as I throw it open. Ethan and West drop their video game controllers and jump to their feet when they see what I can only assume is pure anger radiating from my face. My body shakes and I sway slightly to the side. My strength is gone. Damn them for doing this to me.

Ethan grabs my arm. “Jesus Christ, Rach. You’re dead on your feet.”

I smack him off, choosing to be supported by the wall instead. “You took my money.”

Ethan and West share a knowing glance, and for some reason they both appear relieved as their shoulders lose their tension. West readjusts the baseball cap on his head. “Yeah. That. Did you bother reading the note? We said we’d pay you back.”

Over months. It said they would pay me back over months. “That was my money!”

Ethan’s eyes flicker over me and his head falls back. “You had a panic attack over the money, didn’t you? Shit, West, I told you we should have taped the note to the outside of the box. You didn’t see the note, and I bet you freaked out when you found the money gone.”

West flops back into his chair. “A little overdramatic, don’t you think, Rach? I mean, who else is going to take your money? We said we’d pay you back, and we will.”

“That was my money!” I scream. “Give it back! Now!”

Like always, the two continue their conversation as if I don’t matter. Ethan turns to West. “You’d flip if someone took over four thousand dollars from your room. By the way, Rach, what type of part were you planning on buying? You had to be saving for a while.”

“Can you two even try to pretend that you feel bad for stealing?”

West turns his back to me, preparing to rejoin his game. “We said we’d pay you back. Chill the fuck out.”

Screw it. I walk over to West’s desk and begin pulling on drawers, tossing papers and pens and books and crap onto the floor. If they won’t give it to me, then I’ll find it. My brothers shout as I rummage through the room. When they figure out yelling won’t stop me, one of them restrains me from behind. His hands become iron bands around my arms.

I’m done being weak. I’m done being controlled. I kick and I scream and I only snap out of it when Ethan gets in my face. “Rachel!”

My twin’s dark eyes bore into mine. When we were children, those eyes used to be right there when I fell asleep at night and there when I’d wake in the morning. Even when our parents forced us into our own rooms, we’d sneak away to be with each other. For years, we fought to be together and now, we seem forever apart.

“You stole from me.”

West holds my arms at my sides. “I stole from you. Ethan objected. Blame me.”

I stare at Ethan. He’s been keeping something from me, and like he did with me over the panic attacks, I never asked. Maybe because I never wanted to know. “Why?”

Ethan presses his lips into a fine line. “Gavin has a gambling addiction.”

West releases my arms. “Ethan!”

Ethan throws out his arms. “What? We took over four thousand dollars from her, West. That’s not money you take because you need gas.”

The two of them argue as I stumble across the items I had tossed on the floor. Gavin, my oldest brother, the head of all of us, the strongest, the leader, has a problem. I sit on the bed and clear my throat, ignoring the raw pain. “How bad?”

West shoves his hands in his pockets with such force that his boxers stick out. “Bad. None of us ever meant for it to happen. You know those nights you’d cover for Ethan, we figured out it worked for me, too, so the four of us started hanging.”

Of course they did. Leaving me out would be the thing to do. I rub my forehead as the migraine from the panic attack sets in.

“We wanted to have fun,” says Ethan. “Away from Mom and Dad. It’s hard on Gavin and Jack. They hate being a part of this family. They look down the hall and they see Colleen’s room. They look at how Mom treated you and they felt like they were reliving the cancer. They saw you and...”

They saw her.

“So one night we went to the riverboat.” West continues Ethan’s story, no doubt hoping I wouldn’t make the connection. “I’d scored me and Ethan some fake IDs. Gavin got hooked and we tried to help, but...”

“He found other ways to gamble when we stopped him from going to the boat,” finishes Ethan. “He owed some bad people money. Thank God you had enough to pay them off.”

I lower my head into my hands. Isaiah and I are screwed. “You have no idea what you’ve done,” I whisper.

The bed shifts, and I peek to find Ethan sitting beside me and West standing in front of me. Both of them hold their shoulders slouched forward.

“We’re not enabling him.” West clearly believes that what I said means something completely different. “Gavin tried going to Dad, but Dad was too busy to listen, so Gavin came to me. He agreed to get help if I helped him pay the debt. And he’s going to get help. Gavin just didn’t want Dad to know how bad it was, and he never wants Mom to know.”

“Rach,” says Ethan. “Gavin’s going to rehab after the charity dinner. Dad wants Mom to have one perfect night before Gavin goes and then Dad will tell Mom everything.”

I massage my temples, wishing the throb would disappear. This entire family is one big mess. When I think my legs won’t give out, I stand. Ethan joins me, and West braces his arms as if I’m going to fall. I push past them and go for the door.

“Where are you going?” asks Ethan.

I pause and choke back the automatic lie. What would this family have been like if Colleen had never died? “I’m going to see Isaiah, and you aren’t going to stop me.”