Crash Into You (33 page)

Chapter 78
Isaiah

THE FRONT DOOR OPENS, AND
I come face-to-face with Rachel’s father. Strands of gray highlight the area near his ears. He looks older than that night at the dragway, but in truth, I probably look older, too. Sleeping in hospital waiting room chairs does that to a person. He and I got to know each other real well during those periods that Rachel had surgery or slept.

Her father refused to leave her side when he wasn’t at work. The same was said for me when I wasn’t at work or at school. Turns out we have the same business hours.

“Come on in, Isaiah.”

I step into the massive front hall and, like always, I’m still amazed that people live like this. “How’s she doing?”

“Nervous,” he says, and from the way he rubs his head I can tell he is, too. Rachel relearns how to walk today.

Mr. Young’s eyes flicker to the spot a few centimeters below the tiger tattooed on my biceps. I carry a burn mark from when I saved him and his daughter three months before. If it weren’t for the fact that the dragway required me to carry a fire extinguisher during a race, Rachel may have died. And me along with her—because I never would have left that car without her.

“I’ve discussed what you proposed with Rachel’s mother, and we both agree it would be good for Rachel to get out. But we’re going to start slow. An hour and a half.”

An hour and a half—alone—with Rachel. I feel like a man stepping out into daylight after years of incarceration. “I swear I won’t be a minute late.”

Her father wears a knowing smile. “No, you won’t be, or it’ll be another few months before you step out of this house with her again.” Mr. Young accepts me with the condition that I follow their rules. For Rachel, I’d shovel coal into the furnace in hell.

“Isaiah,” her mom calls from the living room. “She won’t start without you.”

Her mother turned their massive once-formal living room into their personal rehab clinic. My heart stutters when I see Rachel perched in her wheelchair. Her golden hair is pulled back into a ponytail and she wears a T-shirt and a pair of shorts. Gone are the casts on her legs, and in their place are large, full-length, black braces.

Her face brightens when she sees me. “Isaiah!”

Every time I enter this house she has the same reaction. I don’t know why. I’ve held her hand in the hospital, sat with her after the multiple surgeries and have supported her during every rehab session. I made a promise to Rachel, and I’m never breaking it.

As I walk over to her, her physical therapist, an ex-football player and one hell of a big son of a bitch, steps in front of me. “Naw, you don’t get to be beside her today.”

Big or not, I’ll take on any asshole keeping her from me. “Want to rethink that?”

“Isaiah,” Rachel says. “This is my decision.”

“But you’re learning to walk today,” I say, as if she doesn’t understand.

“I know.” The casual way she replies causes my hands to twitch.

“But you could fall.”

Rachel narrows her eyes. “I know, and
you
need to be okay with that.”

I release a long stream of air. Right. It all goes back to the same conversation—I’ve got to let Rachel make her own way, even if it means watching her stumble.

“I need you here, son.” Her therapist indicates for me to stand at the end of two wooden parallel bars. “Rachel, if you want to see your boy, then you’re going to have to work for it.”

Footsteps and rustling by the door catches my attention. One by one, except for Gavin, her brothers walk in, followed by her parents. Rachel doesn’t look at them. Those gorgeous violet eyes stay on me. Without help, Rachel uses the bars to lift herself out of the chair.

At my end, I grip the bars in a mirroring position, as if I could send her my strength. It took her weeks to grow strong enough to stand. It’ll take her weeks, if not longer, to walk again. Her physical therapist stays behind her in case she should lose her balance. “Okay, Rachel. You see what you want. Go get it.”

The right side of Rachel’s mouth tips up as a blush touches her cheeks. My heart pounds as I pray she doesn’t fall with her first try. I force a smile. “I’m waiting, angel.”

Because she’s always been a miracle, Rachel lifts her leg and takes her first step.

Chapter 79
Rachel

WITH A HIP COCKED AGAINST
the door frame of my bathroom, Abby watches as I wrap one last strand of my hair around the curling iron. She showed halfway through my therapy appointment. As always, she just walked in, not announcing herself to anyone, and stayed in the shadows until I saw her lurking.

It’s weird, but it’s Abby.

“I don’t know why you’re doing all this. You could show up in a garbage bag, and Isaiah would still think you’re pretty.”

I release the strand from the iron and a hot curl bounces on my neck. “It’s our first official date. As in Dad knows and Mom knows and everyone’s okay with it.”

Pretty much okay with it. Mom and Dad are still a little hesitant about Isaiah, but they understand him better. He’s been shockingly open with them about his past, his present and his intentions with me. While I was in the hospital, he told them everything about Eric and the debt.

I don’t think what swayed them was his honesty as much as his devotion to me. Besides school and work, and he even skipped that some, Isaiah never left my side.

“Will your mom take pictures since it’s your first official date even though they know you’ve stayed the night with him?”

I cringe. Isaiah was a little too honest with them. “Why?”

“Can I be in the pictures?”

“Sure.” I move my wheelchair to the left so that I can get a better glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror behind me.
Mascara. I need mascara.
As if hearing my thoughts, Abby hands me the mascara from my cosmetic bag.

“Can we take one of just me and you?”

I meet Abby’s eyes and she looks away. That was very un-Abby to do. “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

Abby glances over her shoulder into my room. “Ethan alert.”

“Heard that, freak.” Ethan leans past Abby to poke his head in to see me. “There’s only so much small talk Tattoo Boy and I are capable of, so get moving.”

I sigh as I finish stroking on the mascara. While West and Isaiah have come to a surprising compromise, Ethan’s not entirely sold on my relationship with Isaiah. I have faith that will change with time.

Abby examines my brother in a very not-best-friend way. “Hello.”

“Uh...hi.” Ethan blinks as if he’s a fish that just realized he was hooked on a line. “How are you?”

“Better now that you’re here.”

I stifle the giggle when Ethan’s cheeks turn red. “Ah...Mom asked if you’re staying for dinner.”

“What are you having?”

“Steaks?”

“Count me in.” Mom’s oddly adopted Abby. No one’s asked outright, but they all seem to understand that she’s not private-school Abby, and while they observe her as if she’s a science experiment about to explode, they generally seem to like her.

“I’m not going to be here,” I remind her.

She flashes a smile that promises all sorts of trouble at my brother. “But Ethan will be.”

Ethan clears his throat. “Seriously, are you done?”

“Yep,” I say quickly to save him from Abby. My best friend loves to make guys squirm. God help any man that falls for her, because they’re going to need all the help they can get to keep up with her.

“Then let’s go.” Ethan swings me up and carries me down to Isaiah.

Chapter 80
Isaiah

IN THE BACKSEAT OF AN
’89 Mustang I bought off of Craigslist for two hundred dollars, Rachel gasps for air, and my lips trail down her neck. We both breathe hard, and our hands are everywhere we can possibly touch. Her legs rest across the bench seat as I cradle her in my lap. We were given an hour and a half and we’ve spent forty minutes of it kissing.

“I’m supposed to be getting you food,” I whisper in her ear.

Her hand squeezes my neck, bringing my lips to hers. “I can always eat.”

For three months, I’ve dreamed of having her in my arms again. Rachel is the kind of girl that requires a wait, and she is definitely worth waiting for. My cell chimes, and Rachel moans as she snuggles her head in the crook of my neck. “It can’t be time to go home yet.”

“No, but it’s getting close.” Hand-holding and the occasional quick, chaste kiss is all I’m allowed to do under Rachel’s family’s ever-present gaze. Recently, we’ve been promoted to a hug. I hold her tighter, my hands sliding up and down her back. “I was thinking that we could buy some land and build our shop and home there. That way we’re never apart.”

“I like that,” she says. “But don’t you think business will be better in the city?”

I smile. “We’ll be so good that people will flock to us just from our reputation.”

Rachel kisses my jaw, sending shivers along my spine. She cuddles into me. “I love you.”

My heartbeats become lighter and happier. She’s alive and loves me. “I love you.”

She sighs, showing some heaviness. “I miss driving.”

“I know.” I wish I could tell her when she’ll be able to do it again. I sit up straighter as the thought washes over me. “Come on.”

I gently help her back into the passenger side and jump into the driver’s seat. I start the car, and we both cringe at the sorry state of the engine. I press the clutch, take her hand and place it on the stick shift. “I can’t give you the complete feeling of being behind the wheel, but I can give you control. This car ain’t moving without you.”

That brilliant smile lights up her face. “How fast are you wanting to go?”

I shrug. “Your choice, but I don’t have problems with speed.”

Keeping our eyes locked on each other, Rachel shoves the car into First. I lift off the clutch as I step on the gas.

* * * * *

Acknowledgments

TO GOD: 1 CORINTHIANS 13: 11–13

For Dave—For all those nights you took me to the top of the hill and we watched the lights shining below and for letting me know at all times exactly where I belonged.

Especially for A, N and P—I hope the three of you always love each other as West, Ethan and Rachel did.

Thank you to...

Kevan Lyon—You always bring a sense of calm and a smile to my face. This journey would be impossible without you.

Margo Lipschultz—Thank you seems too small of a phrase for all the support, care and love that you show me and my characters. You continually go above and beyond what’s called for and I want you to know that I appreciate everything you do. You are truly amazing, Margo.

Everyone who touched my books at Harlequin Teen, especially Natashya Wilson. I’m so honored to work with such amazing people who have the ability to make me smile!

Drew Tarr (Street & Strip Performance), Terry Huff (Ohio Valley Dragway), Tommy Blincoe, Jason “Jayrod” Clark, Frank “Frankie” Morris and Anthony “Red” Morris—I appreciate your taking the time to answer my questions while I was plotting this book and for helping a non-car-person understand not only cars, but drag racing.

Especially for the people I met at Ohio Valley: Your love for the sport, Ohio Valley Dragway and the people who race there was evident every time we talked. You can expect to see me in the stands.

A special thank-you to Jennifer L. Brown for being brave enough to teach me how to drive a stick shift and for allowing me to learn in her car!

Mike Ballard—Thank you for sharing your incredible wife with me every other Wednesday and for taking the time to introduce me to your friends at Ohio Valley.

Colette Ballard—For loving Noah, Ryan and Isaiah, and being that ear when I needed someone to listen, and for talking when I felt like being silent.

Angela Annalaro-Murphy—You have no idea how much I appreciate our friendship. Thanks for the years of laughter, tears, prayers and more laughter.

Kristen Simmons—Because you loved Isaiah and Rachel just as much as I did. Meeting you has been one of the best parts of this entire experience!

To my continued support system of my crit group/Wednesday-night family—Kelly Creagh, Bethany Griffin, Kurt Hampe and Bill Wolfe—and the Louisville Romance Writers. Also, to Shannon Michael for the continued friendship and support. I love you guys!

Again, to my parents, my sister, my Mt. Washington family and my in-laws...I love you.

Look for West’s story, coming soon from Katie McGarry! Turn the page for an exclusive two-chapter sneak-preview of TAKE ME ON...

West

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!” I SLAM
on the breaks and practically push the pedal through the floor as I will my SUV to stop. My tires squeal, my body whiplashes and the car jerks to a halt. The headlights spotlight a girl. Her arms protect her face, and I try to process that she’s still standing.

Standing. As in not on the ground.

Not dead.

One thing went right today.

The relief flooding through my body is quickly chased by a strong helping of anger. She jumped out in front of me. Not taking one look. Jumped.

She lowers her arms, and I’m met by the sight of wide dark eyes. Her wild mane of light brown hair whips across her face as the wind picks up. She blinks and so do I.

She glances over her shoulder and I follow her line of sight into the shadows. Panic sweeps over her face and she stumbles, acting disoriented. Shit on it all damn day, what if I did hit her?

I throw the SUV in Park and, as I open the door, she points at me. “Watch it!”

Watch it? She’s the one who stepped out in front of me then froze like a damn deer. I launch out of the car. “Sidewalks, chick. That’s where you stop. Not in the middle of a street!”

With a shake of her head, she tosses her hair over her shoulder and actually steps into me. If it was anyone else, such a movement would send rage from the tip of my toes to my fists, but instead I smirk and cross my arms over my chest. She may be tall, but compared to me she’s a tiny thing, and for the first time today, I find amusement. I’ve seen that type of fire burning in people’s eyes a million times in my life. Just never from a girl, and never in eyes so hauntingly gorgeous.

“You were the one not paying attention!” the girl shouts. “And besides, this is a parking lot, you moron. Not a dragway. You were going, what? Fifty?”

The word
moron
slips underneath my skin and my muscles tighten. But she has me. I was speeding. “Are you hurt?” I ask.

“What?”

“Did my car hit you?”

The fire within her wavers, and she peers into the dark again. “No.”

I follow her gaze. Two huddled forms skulk near the back of the building. I refocus on the walking, talking inferno in front of me and despite my Calc teacher’s opinion of my intelligence, I’m able to do the math. “Is that trouble for you?”

Her eyes shoot to mine and in them is a blaring yes, but because girls make no sense she answers, “No.”

A crackling sound draws my attention. The edges of a small white paper bag poke from a plastic bag. It’s a prescription. I give her the once-over then turn to the guys hiding by the building. Dammit. Even the book geeks at my school who’ve never seen the outside of their PlayStation basement shrines are aware of the urban legends surrounding this neighborhood. She can deny it all she wants, but she has problems. “Get in my car.”

The fire returns. “Hell no.” She inspects the bruises forming along my jawline then surveys my scraped and swollen knuckles.

“Look, it’s me or them.” I motion toward the thugs with my chin. “And I’m telling you, I’m not the bad guy in this scenario.”

She laughs. And if it wasn’t such a beautiful sound, I’d be insulted.

“Because a guy driving an Escalade in this neighborhood is the equivalent of a Boy Scout.”

The right side of my mouth tips up. Did she call me a drug dealer?

“From the looks of you—” She glances at my knuckles again. “Well, let’s just say you must have your own baggage, and I’m not a baggage claim type of girl.”

“No, you’re the type who runs into traffic.”

She smiles and I like it. The anger that raced through me moments before vanishes. I rub my jaw then lean my hand against my open car door. Long light brown hair with waves, dark eyes that sure as hell suck me in as they sparkle, a tight body and a kick-ass attitude. Truth be told, I like more than her smile. Too bad I almost killed her by running her over. It’ll make asking her out awkward.

“Get into my car and I’ll drive you home.” I hold up both my palms. “I swear. No drive-by’s on the way.”

The smile fades when I say the word
home,
and her eyes lose the sparkle. Something deep within me hollows out.

She slides close, very close—as in her clothes brush mine. She angles herself so that she’s between me and my car door. The heat of her body rolls onto me, and my fingers itch to touch. I suck in air, and I’m overwhelmed by the sweet scent of wildflowers.

She lifts her face to look at me and whispers, “Getting into that car with you is as big a risk as walking down that viaduct. If you’re bent on helping me, do me a favor.”

“What?” I breathe out.

“Stand here and act like you’re talking to me. Convincingly enough that it’ll buy me time.”

And before I can process a word, she cuts past me, crouches against the Escalade, ducks behind the vehicle and escapes into the night. “Hey!”

The shadows emerge from behind the building. Two guys bolt into the beams of my headlights and in the direction of the neighborhood. Their feet pound the concrete.

In the distance, instead of two dark forms running into the night, there are three and the first one doesn’t have a decent head start. I jump into my Escalade and tear off after them.