Rush Into You (24 page)

“We have a lot more in common that I thought, Jay. You just trusted me with something huge, and I’m hoping I can trust you with something huge as well.”

She sat up intrigued, giving me her undivided attention. I took a sip of the vitamin water I’d grabbed for myself to buy time.

“You don’t need to feel different around me because you told me about your history with drugs.” I breathed deeply, hoping to calm myself down. “I have my own history with drug addiction. I’m a recovering intravenous heroin user. I’ve been clean for almost two years.”

I gave her a moment to digest the news and watched her closely to read her reaction. Besides a quick widening of her eyes, she didn’t react much. There was no judgement in her body language, just some expectable surprise.

“I never would have guessed. You seem so perfect,” she said finally.

“I’m far from perfect, Jay. I just choose what people see. Running around telling everyone I used to shoot dope isn’t ideal. It’s a part of my past I’m not proud of, so I don’t share with just anybody.”

Jay nodded, a friendly smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

When Jay left a couple hours later, I felt restless. Our conversation kept tugging at my mind, and nothing I did would calm me. I worked on a few projects to ensure I made the requested deadlines and tried to throw myself into studying for an upcoming exam, but I couldn’t focus on the material I needed to learn for Microbiology because my attention was elsewhere. I never would have guessed that my best friend was a recovering drug addict. What were the odds? In actuality, almost everyone was either directly or indirectly affected by drugs, whether you were addicted to drugs yourself, or someone you knew was affected by the disease of addiction in some way. I couldn’t recall the exact statistics, but I’d learned firsthand that this disease shouldn’t be taken lightly. Drug addiction was an epidemic.

The fact that I’d told Jay about my history with drugs by my own choice was a big step for me. Yes, she told me about her own history first which made me more comfortable, but that hadn’t given me reason to share my own experience with people before now. Openly admitting to something so personal was very unlike me.

As I stared at my textbook rereading the same paragraph repeatedly, an idea suddenly came to me. The more I thought about it, the more I knew it was what I needed to do. I closed my book and set it aside with my laptop, then went to the kitchen to grab my cell phone from the counter. I unplugged the charger and stared nervously at the dark screen for a few moments before I braved my anxiety and swiped the touch screen to unlock my smartphone. I tapped the ten numbers that I had memorized into the dialer — I’d pressed these buttons on my phone so many times over the last five years but never had the guts to hit send. It was a phone number that I’d never forget, not in a million years. I quickly hit send before I lost my nerve.

After a brief second, I heard ringing through the tiny speaker. My heart pounded, my chest felt tight, my hands were clammy and a sheen of sweat coated my brow. I was having a panic attack as I listened to the phone trying to connect the call. I turned the volume up all the way, not wanting to miss if someone answered, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn't pick up. I’d had my phone number changed since the last time we talked, and I knew how wary she was about answering calls from numbers she didn’t recognize.

The fifth ring sounded and I pulled the phone away from my ear, prepared to swipe the screen to disconnect the call. At the last second before my finger reached the display icon of a red phone, I heard a small voice come through the speaker.

“Hello?” She sounded unsure, nervous about who would be calling her from a number she didn’t know.

“Hi, Mom. It’s me.”

“MOM? ARE YOU there?” I pulled the phone away from my ear to check the screen. The call was still connected. “Hello?”

“Is that really you, Gabby?” My mother’s voice shook.

I closed my eyes, the hurt in her voice was a punch in the gut. I gripped the counter top to keep from crumbling to the tiled floor. “Yes, Ma, it’s really me.”

“Oh thank you, God!” she sobbed.

I listened to her cry, wishing that I was with her so that I could give her a hug. Hearing her voice now really made me regret my decision to walk away from my family. I should have given her the choice, but I knew that she’d choose me over the jerks back home. She would have happily took everyone’s shit as long as I was in her life. I just felt that she’d be better off without me. Trouble followed me everywhere I went.

“Please don’t cry. I’m so sorry, Ma.” I sighed, fighting my own tears. I cleared my throat. “I just…I just wanted you to know that I’m okay. And that I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. Where are you?”

“I live close, just a couple of towns over from Breckston.” I inwardly cringed, knowing that it must hurt her that she hasn’t seen me.

“Wow, that is close.”

“Listen, Mom. I’m so sorry about everything—”

My mother interrupted me before I could finish my apology. “Baby, I know. It’s okay. I’m just happy that you’re alive. I was…I was so afraid.” She hiccupped.

I felt like total shit for putting her in this situation. It had been years since I’d seen or talked to my mother and father, and I couldn’t even imagine how I would feel if I’d had a child do that to me. I shuddered at the thought.

“We should get together soon and talk in person. I’ve been doing really good, Mom. I’ve been clean and sober for almost two years. I feel great,” I told her honestly.

A burst of air sounded through the phone, and I knew my mother had sighed in relief. “You have no idea how happy that makes me. I’m proud of you. Your father and I prayed for you every night, Gabriella. We hoped you were safe and loved.”

My mind immediately went to Ryker. I had such strong feelings for him. He was someone I would love to introduce to my mother one day. “Well, I have met someone. He’s been amazing, and he respects me. He doesn’t judge me.”

“I’d love to meet him, sweetie. Um, I hate to ask…” She cleared her throat. “Does he know about what happened?”

“He knows about my addiction.” I didn’t say more. Some things are meant to be kept a secret.

We talked for another thirty minutes about how things were going back home. I could have listened to my mother talk for hours. My father got home from work as I was on the phone with her and I got to say hello to him. It hurt to hear the pain in my dad’s voice, but he sounded better by the time that we’d hung up.

My mom made plans to come see me on Sunday.

Two more days.

Night had fallen, and it was time to head to Ryker’s race. The thundering sound of his Harley pipes alerted me of his arrival, so I headed out to meet him. He was walking up the stone steps and carrying a handled shopping bag. He greeted me with a soft kiss, his mouth lingering on my full bottom lip before sucking it gently into his mouth.

“Well, hello to you too.” I sounded breathless. I would never get tired of his kisses.

“Hey, babe.” He lifted the bag slightly to show it to me. “Can I come inside for a minute before we leave?”

I stepped aside to let him through the screen door, then checked out the bag he’d placed on my kitchen table. “What’s up, sexy? Did a little shopping before your race?” I teased.

He whacked me on the butt playfully. “Wise ass. Actually, I did a little shopping for you. Check it out.”

Surprised, I walked the few steps over to the table and peeked inside the bag. I pulled out a stunning red leather jacket. It was buttery soft and absolutely gorgeous. I looked up at Ryker with wide eyes.

“Do you like it?” He sounded unsure.

“Ryker, I love it but isn’t this too much? I mean, it must’ve cost a small fortune.”

He shook his head and took the jacket from me. I unzipped the black fleece I was wearing and shrugged out of it, letting it fall to the floor, then he helped me into the new jacket. My fingers relished the feel of what must have been the softest leather in the world. I stretched my arms out and twirled around—it was perfect.

“You look beautiful, Gabby. It’ll be perfect to wear when you’re on my bike…or anywhere.”

I smiled and took his outstretched hand as I followed him out of the house.

I loved riding to Ryker’s races on the back of his bike.

As we rolled to a stop at the meeting location before we headed to the boulevard, I felt all the envious glares of the women around us. Ryker was a celebrity in the drag race community, and everyone knew him. The girls wanted to be with him, and the guys wanted to
be
him. I felt important when I showed up here with him.

I felt claimed.

He didn’t let go of my hand when he helped me off the bike. It was his show of possession, and I never wanted to be possessed more. It made me hot, and I already couldn’t wait to get back home with him and let him have his way with me. I followed Ryker into the crowd and we strolled right up to a few people Ryker associated himself with. Although everyone here wanted to be Ryker’s friend, there were only a few he
actually
considered friends.

“Hendrix, my man.” Ryker let go of my hand just long enough to slap hands with his friend. “You remember my girlfriend Gabby, right?”

Girlfriend.

My heart stopped. That was the first time he had ever introduced me as such. We hadn’t had any conversations about labels and exclusivity, but I knew it was what I wanted, and knowing that he wanted me in the same way sent excitement rushing through my veins. I squeezed his hand tighter when he reached back for me and smiled.

“Gabriella! Beautiful name for a beautiful girl! C’mere!” Hendrix pulled me in for a huge hug and kissed both of my cheeks. I laughed at his enthusiasm. There was something that I liked about Hendrix even if I didn’t really know him. He had good energy.

Hendrix was incredibly good looking. His hair was a dark blond that was styled in a faux hawk that he rocked like nobody’s business. He wore square, diamond studs in each ear, and a thick pink scar about four inches long going down his neck under his left ear. I wondered what had happened to him to have that kind of scar, but I didn’t know him enough to ask. He stood even in height with Ryker, and he definitely had muscles, but he was leaner than Ryker. His short sleeved t-shirt revealed intricately designed colored tattoos that rivaled Ryker’s and his shorts showed off the artwork covering his legs.