Crash Into You (26 page)

Chapter 57
Isaiah

I ROLL A GLASS JAR
full of nuts against the tool bench at the garage. Completely broken, Rachel sits a few feet from me in the chair Abby dragged out of the office for her when her sobs became too intense for her to stand. Logan leans against the office window with the back of his head resting against the glass. This isn’t his problem, but he treats it like it is. For that, I have respect.

Abby crouches in front of Rachel, doing what I should be doing, consoling. Saying the words I should be saying, that’s it’s not her fault and it’ll be okay. Abby’s right. It’s not her fault. She did nothing wrong by protecting our money in her room. Her brothers on the other hand...

I grab the jar and throw it across the room. Glass shatters against the wall. My chest moves rapidly. We have seven hundred dollars. Four-thousand three hundred dollars short of what we need.

“Feel better?” asks Logan with absolutely no inflection.

My head falls back. “Some.” At least the anger is under control. That is, until I get my hands on her brothers. “The nitro system goes in my car.”

“Isaiah,” Logan says again. “Rachel’s car is the better one. Add the system to hers. We’ll have a better shot at winning.”

I cross my arms over my chest, unmoved and unconvinced. Movies and television make nitro look like child’s play, but it’s not. The systems are tricky and too many things can go wrong. Even though she won’t be the person drag racing with it, I don’t want her in a car with that type of danger. “Not your call.”

Rachel wipes her eyes and stands. “Then it’s mine. I don’t understand why you’re fighting us on this. We have a better chance to win with the system in my car.”

“No.”

Her hair moves with her frustrated breath. “If you won’t put the system in my car, then let me race against Zach.”

Tension cramps my neck and I pop it to the right. Drag racing is dangerous. Nitro is dangerous. If Zach is working with Eric, then Zach is lethal. Rachel is the one thing in my life I can’t lose. Why can’t she see how much I love her? That I need to protect her?

Logan pushes off the wall. “The way I see it, you’re outvoted. It’s her car. If she wants the system in it, install it. Besides, you’ll be the one firing the tanks, not her.”

Because I don’t argue, I stay silent, but let my arms drop. Rachel misreads me and wraps herself around me. Last night, I spent a few hours in heaven by holding my angel tight. Rachel went home, and we were both sent to hell. I kiss the top of her head. I promised I’d take care of her, and I’ll do anything to keep that promise.

* * *

It’s Monday morning and because
Pro Performance insists on a high school diploma along with the certification, I have to ignore my problems and go to school. The moment I walk into the building, Abby joins my side.

“You’re actually going today?” I ask.

She shrugs. “Might as well. Occasionally I like to throw people off. By the way, I got my hands on a nitro system.”

“How much?”

Abby matches my strides up the stairs. “Consider it a gift.”

I freeze on the landing. “I thought you had to stay financially out.”

Reaching the second floor, Abby walks backward. “You aren’t the only one who had people owing them favors.” She enters the second room on the right and I smirk. I never knew she took honors math.

Mr. Holden calls me from the steps below and waits as I head back down. I jack my thumb in the other direction. “I don’t want to be late.”

“I’ll give you a slip,” he says, as if he ran to catch me. “We need to talk.”

I nod and follow him. Instead of going to the school’s auto shop, he chooses an empty classroom and closes the door. “What’s going on?” I ask.

Mr. Holden fiddles with his safety glasses. “There were some irregularities with the certification testing.”

I say nothing, having no idea how this involves me. I knew everything on that test.

“Several of the guys you tested with had the same scores, missing the same questions. They reviewed the tapes and caught them cheating.”

“I didn’t cheat.”

“I know,” says Mr. Holden. “But this scandal has the testing facility questioning everything from that day. They’re zeroing in on you because of your score. They have adults who don’t score as well as you did, so it makes them wonder if you had outside help.”

I slam my books on the desk beside me. “I studied for years for this test.”

“I know,” says Mr. Holden.

“I didn’t cheat.”

He runs a hand over his salt-and-pepper hair. “I talked to the facility’s manager. Told him you’re a good kid so he agreed to let you retake the test.”

My teeth click together. Retake the test. For once in my life, I followed proper society’s rules, and all I got was a kick in the nuts. “What happens when I ace that one? Are they going to accuse me of cheating again? Because there is no way a street punk foster kid can have a fucking brain?”

I hold my hand up, not wanting to hear the answer, and back away. The bell rings. Class has started for everyone else but I don’t see the point of attending anymore.

Out in the hallway, I catch Zach staring at me from a few doors down. Without a word, he slinks into a classroom. There’s no doubt in my mind now that the boy is working for Eric, because the guy I know would have never done something as low as this. Good thing for him that he’s on Eric’s payroll. Otherwise, he’d be dead.

Chapter 58
Rachel

BESIDES THE TINKLING OF SILVERWARE
against plates, dinner is unusually silent. The presence of Gavin and Jack at the dinner table every Monday usually means plenty of banter between my brothers, but each of them appears lost in their own thoughts.

The long cherry table is made for eight people. Mom and Dad sit at either end. Gavin and Jack are seated closest to Dad. Ethan and West share the middle seats. My chair is next to Mom, and I stare at the only empty seat: the one meant for Colleen.

“Everyone’s quiet tonight,” says Mom. Her blue eyes jump to each of our faces.

My brothers throw out excuses: work, school or tired. I say nothing.

I shove at the enchilada on my plate. The last thing I want touching my raw throat is anything spicy.

“Rachel,” Mom says. “Are you feeling okay? You’ve got circles under your eyes.”

Every single person gawks at me, including my father. “I’m fine.”

No one drops their gaze. In fact, no one eats. Dad leans his elbows on the white tablecloth as he studies me closer. “Your mom is right. You don’t have your typical bounce.”

No, I don’t. I’m exhausted and worn and on the verge of collapsing. I’m mad at my brothers, I’m pretty sure they’re angry with me, and my boyfriend and I are going to get our butts kicked by Eric when we can’t pay him five thousand dollars.

“She’s been overpreparing for that speech on Saturday, right, Rach?” Gavin shoves a forkful of rice into his mouth.

“I want to make everyone proud,” I say. At the word
proud,
Gavin glances away.

With the mere mention of her event, Mom fills everyone in on the details. How every seat is sold and how there is a waiting list and how five hundred people will be attending. My stomach cramps. Eric may not be an issue after all since this speech will possibly kill me first.

* * *

I escaped after dessert, asking
Dad in front of everyone for permission to go to Abby’s. Understanding that I probably wasn’t going to hang with my new “rich” friend and was instead going to hang with Isaiah, Ethan and West slammed their silverware. My mother raised an eyebrow at their behavior, but said nothing. Once Dad confirmed I had finished homework, he told me to be home by ten.

Isaiah texted earlier today that he had work to do in the garage this evening. Needing to be someplace calm, I park next to the auto shop. I scan the lot and wonder if he went home when I don’t see his car. The puzzle is solved when I walk into the garage. In the bay, the hood to his Mustang is open and so are the doors. “Isaiah?”

I’m greeted by the buzzing of the overhead heaters. Isaiah mentioned that he was concerned about his engine overheating. I look to see what he’s done, and I rub my eyes. No.

A weariness overtakes me. A weariness that sleep could never solve.

I hit my hand against the open passenger door in my haste to peer inside the vehicle. In the backseat are two tanks of nitro. The door to the garage squeaks open. Isaiah’s eyes meet mine, and I swear I hear my heart ripping in two when I spot guilt.

“What are you doing here?” Isaiah asks.

I say nothing. We both know how bad this is—how this borders on a betrayal that is unspeakable.

Isaiah tugs at his bottom earring—a sure sign of inner turmoil. The silence builds between us and I’m the first to crack. “Did Abby get two systems?”

“No,” he says.

Red-hot tears of anger well in my eyes. “I thought we agreed...”

He cuts me off. “We didn’t agree. You and Logan wanted the system in your car, and I didn’t. End of story.”

Isaiah doesn’t argue. How many times has he told me that? “So what? I don’t get a vote? You aren’t the only one on the line here. Eric is coming after me, too.”

A string of curses leaves his mouth as he stalks over to me. “Every second of my day is consumed with the knowledge that you’re under him. I’m doing this to protect you.”

“By lying to me?”

Isaiah seems taken aback. “I didn’t lie.”

The first stupid tear breaks through and I quickly wipe it away. “You knew I expected you to put the system in my car. Regardless that you never said the words, it’s a lie.” My mind reels with the implications of what’s happened. “It’s worse than a lie. This is major. You made a decision without me.”

“That’s bull. You, Logan, Abby and I discussed the options.”

“But you decided our fate without me.” My hand pounds at my chest. “I thought we were a team. I thought we were partners.”

Isaiah places his hands on my shoulders. His gray eyes are waves crashing between anger and fear. “I don’t have much, Rachel, and I refuse to lose you.”

“I told you, I won’t ever touch the system. It’ll only be used on the dragway. We’ll take it out after we pay the debt.”

“These systems are dangerous. If someone hits you or the system malfunctions or you accidently set something off...” Isaiah runs through the impossible scenarios. His eyes dart as he talks, as if he’s searching for a way to fix all of the problems. My energy fades as I realize that’s exactly what he is doing. He’s trying to fix one more thing.

“The risks are small. You can’t control everything.”

“You’re wrong.” His hands move to my face—warm, strong, and I notice they tremble. “Let this go, Rachel. The decision is made. I’m doing this to protect you.”

To protect me. Because I’m not capable of making my own decisions. My hands shoot up and smack his arms off me. “I am not weak.”

His eyes widen. “I never said you were.”

I pull a hand through my hair and tug at the strands, hoping that I’m wrong. But I’m not. “You’re just like my brothers. You see me as fragile and stupid and as someone who can’t make her own decisions.”

Isaiah reaches out. “No, it’s not like that. I love you. You know this.”

I step away from him. “Yeah, that’s what they say, too.”

Chapter 59
Isaiah

THE PHONE RINGS THREE TIMES
and Rachel’s sweet voice answers again, “Hi, this is Rachel Young. Leave a message after the beep.”

Like the other ten times, the beep happens, and I sit with my head hanging down listening to static. I should say I’m sorry, but I’m not. I should tell her I’m wrong and that we’ll install the system in her car, but that would be a lie. What I want is for her to walk through the door of the garage and tell me that she understands my need to protect her, my need to fix things.

From cars to situations to myself. Because if I didn’t take care of me, no one else would. This is me doing what no one ever did on my behalf—I’m protecting her because that’s what you do when you love someone. It’s what I always wanted someone to do for me.

“Call me.”

It’s Tuesday afternoon. The day’s dragged as I’ve waited for Rachel to contact me, and the seconds continue to stretch now that I know she’s out of school. The door to the garage squeaks open, and my heart speeds up in anticipation. I stand, wiping my hands against my jeans. I’ll tell her I love her. I’ll tell her that there’s nothing I won’t do to make her happy. I’ll tell her...

Logan strolls in and I silently curse. I forgot I asked him to spot me when I tested the nitro system. If I weren’t so damned screwed in the head, I’d laugh at his jock baseball uniform. “Nice getup.”

“Came straight from an exposition game. Spring season starts soon.”

I close the hood of my car. “Baseball seems tame for you. I would have pegged you for football.”

“Naw,” says Logan. “Catcher is a crazy position. Bats flying near your head, a guy that hurls one-hundred-mile-per-hour fastballs at you and a runner going at full speed trying to take you out as you stand over home plate. That’s an adrenaline rush.”

Speaking of adrenaline rushes. “Follow me in your car. We’re going to head out past Fox Lane and test the system.”

* * *

The sky turns pink as
the sun prepares to set. Logan and I stand in front of my car, staring at the mile stretch of new blacktop that will someday shepherd people to a crapload of new homes. Currently, it leads to construction vehicles and woods.

I motion toward the side. “Wait over there.”

“No way,” says Logan. “I want in on this action.”

I shake my head. “I haven’t driven with nitro before. If it weren’t for Eric breathing down our necks, I wouldn’t even be dealing with the shit. And if I did decide to play with it, I’d be testing this car on the drag strip during Test and Tune. But I’m short on time.”

Logan pats my shoulder. “Let’s live a little.”

He opens the door to the passenger side and closes it. The space between my skin and bones begins to vibrate; the dread that something nuclear is on the verge of exploding. I’m out of time, and something worse is going to happen if I don’t make money. I slide into my car.

* * *

My eyes flutter open and
my vision blurs. I blink and it doesn’t help. I shut my eyes and press my thumb and forefinger against them, hoping to rub away the issue. Pain shoots through my body and when I open my mouth I taste blood.

The car spun. It kept spinning. I lost control.

“Logan.” My voice doesn’t sound like my own.

Silence. My eyes stay closed and everything floats on a haze—like a dream. Maybe I am dreaming. No. We crashed. My eyes won’t open again so I throw my hand out toward the passenger side. It claws through the air and smacks the empty seat.

“Logan, answer me, man,” I call out louder. Something trickles down my nose and my mind drifts. Maybe this was only a dream.