Crash Into You (30 page)

Chapter 68
Rachel

OUR ENTIRE FAMILY SITS AT
a large round table. The waiters remove the remains of dinner and replace it with beautifully decorated pieces of cheesecake. Everyone claps as the last eloquent speaker, a doctor who specializes in leukemia, finishes his speech. Mom flashes me a smile as she slides out of her chair so she can introduce me.

I draw in air and release it, a continual action. I try not to obsess over how this is the longest speech I’ve ever given in public or how this is the largest crowd I’ve ever spoken to or how people will stare or how they’ll laugh when they hear my trembling voice.

I try not to think about Isaiah stealing cars or Eric appearing on my doorstep tomorrow morning or how Gavin is antsy and how the news of his gambling addiction will affect our mother. I try to ignore the heat crawling up my neck and the way my stomach cramps. I try not to think about vomiting in public.

My hands ball in my lap and from under the table, Ethan grabs them. “Don’t do it.”

My eyes hold his. “What?”

“This is wrong. You can’t do this to yourself, and I shouldn’t let you.”

“We’re doing this for Mom,” I whisper, as Mom starts to introduce me by explaining who Colleen was, because let’s face it, my entire life is defined by her oldest daughter.

“But who’s looking out for you?” he asks.

“...my youngest daughter, Rachel Young.”

People applaud at my name. I stand, and Ethan still clutches my hand. We stare at each other as he also straightens. He wraps his arms around me and I allow the embrace.

“I forgot I was supposed to be your best friend,” he says.

I hug him tightly. “So did I.”

The applause continues and I leave my twin for the podium. Typically this time of year, Mom’s so low, she can barely get out of bed, but this year, it’s different. Her eyes shine as she kisses my cheek and the pride and love radiating from her creates a blanket of guilt over my skin. Who does that pride and love even belong to? It can’t be for me.

On the podium, the speech Mom prepared is laid out—typed and double-spaced. I brush the hair from my face and ignore my shaking hand as I lower the microphone. Silence spreads across the room. Occasionally someone coughs or there is a clink of a fork against china.

I concentrate on the words on the paper, not on the eyes on me. “Colleen was barely a teenager when she discovered she had leukemia...”

My stomach aches and I shift my footing. I sip water and a man clears his throat. The crowd grows uncomfortable. I refocus on the speech and freeze on the next words...
my sister.

Somewhere deep inside of me, this horrible emptiness folds in like a black hole.

My sister. I search the crowd...looking for Ethan. I have a brother—a twin—and I have older brothers, but I’ve never known a sister.

People begin to whisper, and Ethan stands. He thinks I’m on the verge of an attack. West joins him. I take a deep breath, and for the first time in my life in front of a crowd, I’m able to breathe. “I never met Colleen.”

I cover the speech with my hands and focus instead on my two lifelines: Ethan and West. “I have brothers. Lots of them.” And people laugh, and that makes me almost smile.

“But I don’t know what it’s like to have a sister. For weeks, I’ve talked about how great Colleen was and about her beauty and strength, and the entire time I talk all I can think is how I sort of hate her because I can never be as awesome as her.”

I swallow as my throat tightens. “If she didn’t die then maybe she could have taught me all those things that I lack that she possessed—like grace and compassion and how to be an extrovert. Maybe if she didn’t die, then my parents and my oldest brothers wouldn’t have spent so much of their lives living in the past. I used to think I hated Colleen, but I don’t. I do hate cancer.” I stop as my lips quiver. I hate cancer. So much.

“I hate how it took someone wonderful and destroyed her. I hate how cancer ripped apart a family. I hate...I hate...that I would have never been born without her death. Cancer wasn’t fair to Colleen. It wasn’t fair to Mom and Dad. It wasn’t fair to Gavin and Jack.”

A tear escapes from the corner of my eye as I stare straight at my parents. “And it sure wasn’t fair to West, Ethan or me.”

My mother places a hand over her mouth, and a sickening pain strangles my gut when I realize I spoke every thought I’ve had since I can remember. My body shakes and I run a hand through my hair. What have I done?

A million eyes gawk at me. The back door to the room opens and I almost weep with relief: Isaiah.

Chapter 69
Isaiah

THE ENTIRE ROOM TURNS AND
stares. There’s no doubt what they see—ripped jeans, a black T-shirt, tattoos and earrings. I don’t care what
they
see. All I care about is what
she
sees: a person unwelcomed or the guy she loves.

A tear flows down her face, and the hand wrapped at her waist tells me she’s paralyzed. In a long gold ball gown that’s more skirt than dress, Rachel is truly the angel I believe her to be. A man in a tuxedo stands. “Son, I think you have the wrong room.”

“No. I don’t.” I stride between the tables, keeping my eyes locked with hers. The closer I get, the more she straightens. Her hand falls from her stomach, and the tear clears from her face. Rachel gazes at me as if I’m a dream. I extend my hand, palm out. “I need help.”

Her blue eyes lose their glaze, and the hue of violet I love so much returns. “So do I.”

My fingers tighten around hers and I gesture to the parking lot. “Is your car here?”

She nods. “Good,” I say. “Because Zach will only race you in your Mustang.”

The smile she flashed to me the first night we met brightens her face. “Then let’s go.”

Chapter 70
Rachel

WITH MY HAND IN HIS,
Isaiah sets a blinding speed and I match it. People stand, unsure what to do. Confused and rapid conversation erupts around us. I should be freaked by the way they stare at me, but instead, I get hit with an adrenaline rush and I feel—alive.

In the hallway, I’m desperate to keep pace, hoping to leave my family behind. I kick the heels off my feet, and Isaiah flashes a crazy grin. “Blacktop’s cold.”

“I can’t drive in heels. Besides, you can carry me.”

I love how he laughs.

“I’ll need clothes,” I say.

“Zach would pay double for you to race him in that.”

“I’m serious.”

“We’ll call Abby and Echo once we get in the car. They’ll find something.”

“Rachel!” my father yells from down the hallway and I stop cold. The blood drains from my body.

Isaiah rounds on me, concern clouding his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I need my keys.”

He yanks a key out of his pocket. “Had one made. In case you lost yours.”

“Rachel!” My father slows and warily eyes us as Isaiah moves in front of me.

“My father won’t hurt me,” I whisper to him.

“It’s not him,” he mutters. “It’s your asshole brothers I’ve got a problem with.”

Taking his hand, I step by his side. Isaiah shoots me an unsaid warning.

“Dad,” I say with a mixture of complete fear and courage. “This is Isaiah.”

Isaiah nods. My father gapes. Overall, the first introduction could have gone worse. One by one, my brothers join my father. Each one of them a different level of angry.

“What’s going on?” Dad asks.

I turn my back to my family. “Go get the car,” I whisper to him.

Isaiah glares at my brothers. “I won’t leave you here.”

“I’m going with you. Just do as I ask.”

As if it physically hurts him, Isaiah walks out the door. I inhale deeply, hoping I made the right decision as I confront my family. With wide eyes and a hand on her dress, Mom slowly joins my father. “Who was that, Rachel?”

“My boyfriend,” I say. “His name is Isaiah.”

My father’s skin becomes a strange shade of purple as he loosens his tie. “What you’ve done tonight...with that boy...and that speech...”

I cut him off. “I only did what you and Mom asked. You wanted me to talk about Colleen, and I did.”

His anger grows, as does the level of his voice. “That was an embarrassment!”

“It was the truth!” I scream.

My father blinks and my mother tilts her head. She peers at me as if looking at someone she’s never seen before. Maybe she is, because the person in front of them
is
me: the Rachel I’ve hidden for years. I grab Mom’s hands, squeezing, begging for her to see. “Look at me.”

“I am,” she says softly.

“Look at me!” I scream. “I’m not Colleen. I’m not even a bad replica. I’m Rachel. I hate purple and I hate malls and I hate shopping and I hate being a disappointment.”

“But you said you learned to like...” And she closes her mouth.

“Because you wanted to believe.” I snatch my hands away and point at my brothers. “At least look at them. Two of them want nothing more than for you to love them, and the other two spend their entire lives trying to be perfect. Meanwhile all of us are screwed-up.”

“Rachel.” My father’s tone drops to a mixture of sad and tired. “Not now.”

“Why not now?” My skirt swirls as I face him. “Have you ever thought that you created this? If you had given Mom an ounce of respect and treated her as an equal instead of like a child, that she would have found a way to get over her grief?”

Mom’s eyes flit between me and Dad. “What is she talking about?”

I glare at Gavin, waiting for him to confess. Instead he lowers his head and leans his back against the wall. Disgusted, I stare at Mom. “They do the same thing to me that they do to you—protect. But I don’t need their protection. I’m strong and I have a feeling you’re strong, too.”

“She still has panic attacks,” says West. “I know you think you’re strong on your own, Rach, but you need us.”

My heart hurts as West and I stare at each other. Lines worry his forehead and the hurt that I see—is it possible that all his concern, his worry, his overprotection...could it be that he really just needs me to need him?

Mom’s face becomes blank and pale as if she’s going to pass out. “Why would you lie about being over them?”

“Because,” I say with way too much anger and then force myself to calm down. “Because the real me made you sad, and when I changed you became happy. You wanted me to like shopping, so I did. You didn’t want me to like cars, so I hid it. My panic attacks made you cry, so I lied.”

The rumbling sound of my Mustang echoes behind me. I slowly back away from them and toward the door. “I’m done making this family happy.”

West and Jack begin to move in my direction and I realize I won’t make it.

“Rach!” Ethan yells, waving them off. They give him space as he grabs my arm. I jerk, but he subtly shakes his head. Ethan shoves my small purse into my hand and abruptly opens the door. “You owe me.”

Chapter 71
Isaiah

AT THE DRAGWAY, I PARK
Rachel’s Mustang next to Echo’s ’65 Corvette and smile when I hear the sharp intake of air from Rachel.

“She’s beautiful.” Either forgetting or not caring she has no shoes, Rachel plops out of the car in full ball gown and heads for the ’Vette. “Are those the original fenders?”

Standing next to each other, Echo and Noah laugh. Echo answers, “I don’t know.”

Completely floored the owner of such a classic doesn’t know the answer, Rachel turns to me. I sweep her up into my arms, hating that she’s barefoot on gravel, and she squeals when I do it. “The car belonged to Echo’s brother.”

“Oh,” she says, remembering how I explained that he died.

“I’m rethinking that double date,” says Noah. “One car freak is enough.”

“Tough,” I tell him. I nuzzle the top of Rachel’s head, inhaling her sweet ocean scent. Part of me is higher than I’ve ever felt in my life. She chose me and I chose her. Nothing will stop us. “Echo, do you have clothes?”

“Yep.” She shows a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. “They’re mine so they’ll be a bit too long.”

“And I brought shoes.” Abby magically appears beside Echo. She gives Rachel the pair Abby most often wears, and I set Rachel down. With a quick peck to my lips, Rachel goes off to change.

“Do you have the money?” I ask Noah.

He hands me an envelope and it feels heavy. This is how much it cost me to be free from the system. “You really did have my back,” I say to him.

Noah shifts so that his hair hides his eyes. “I would do anything for you or Beth.”

“Sorry, man. I’ve been a dick.”

“Yeah, you have.” He smiles and so do I.

“We’ve got two hours until this place closes.” I take the rest of our money and slip it into the envelope. Thumbing through the cash, I realize there’s more here than there should be, even with the money Beth put up. “I thought you said you only borrowed two thousand.”

“I did,” says Noah. “Abby said she chose a side. We need to win nine hundred.”

The girls come out of the bathroom. Rachel drags the dress along with her. “We could use this thing as a parachute.”

I stare at Abby as she walks by, and my never-ending gaze makes her squirm.

“What’s your problem?” she asks.

“Thanks,” I say.

“Pissing Eric off is fun. Besides, it was your money to begin with.”

No, she did it because she and I are friends.

“I got us races.” Noah leans on the driver’s-side door of the Corvette. “Since you were taking your time winning the girl.”

Over the loudspeaker, the announcer calls the next set of races. I look at Noah and nod with my chin. “Mount up.”

Chapter 72
Rachel

THE DRAGSTERS’ ENGINES SCREAM INTO
the night. From the top row of the bleachers, Eric looks down on me, waiting. Our money is due to him by midnight. We’re twenty minutes away and five hundred short.

Standing next to the bleachers, I watch from a distance as Echo and Abby wait for Noah and Isaiah to bring her Corvette back around to the side. The engine burned at the line, costing Noah the race and Echo her car.

I suck in my bottom lip as I glance at Echo again. It was her brother’s car. The only piece she has left of her best friend that died in Afghanistan. I think of Gavin, Jack, Ethan and West. Right now, I’m mad at them and they’re mad at me, but it would kill me if they died.

And I cost Echo his car.

Loose rocks roll on the blacktop and Zach appears at my side. “I hear you’re finally taking the race against me.”

I nod. Isaiah didn’t have to tell me that we’re down to desperate. “What happens if I lose?”

Zach’s eyes shoot up behind me, and I don’t have to follow his gaze to know that he’s looking at Eric. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Zach steps closer to me and whispers, “Don’t take this race.”

Ironic how Isaiah had tried to warn me away from racing on that first night we met, but I don’t regret a single decision. Because I stuck around, I fell in love with him. “I don’t have a choice. Now tell me what happens if I lose.”

“You do have a choice,” he pleads. “I thought I did, too, but I don’t now. I have to win and I will. I’ve seen you race before. You don’t have it in you to win.”

“If I lose, Zach.”

“He’ll own you. He’ll own Isaiah. Details don’t matter at that point.”

I suck in air and slowly release it. “I’ll see you at the line.”

Noah and Isaiah push the Corvette into a vacant spot and when they pop the hood they both curse as smoke billows out. I wander to stand beside Echo and Abby. Echo’s finger taps anxiously against her arm.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. To see something that means so much to her fall apart is heart-wrenching. Knowing that Isaiah and I are responsible is devastating.

“So am I,” she says. “Noah lost two hundred because the ’Vette broke down at the line.”

“Echo...” How do I say this so she doesn’t deck me, because she obviously doesn’t know. “Fixing the engine on a ’65 Corvette is going to cost a lot more than two hundred dollars.”

Echo rips her gaze from the car. “We have forever to fix the car. We’ve got twenty minutes to come up with five hundred. You and Isaiah are more important than any car.”

Abby elbows me. “Shocking, isn’t it?”

“What I don’t get is how this guy knows we’re here.” Echo looks over at Eric, who seems all too happy with the turn of events.

“Because he’s Satan,” says Abby.

With his shoulders hunched over, as if preparing to tell a loved one the news of a death, Isaiah slowly strides over. “I’m sorry, Echo. I swear to you, I’ll fix it.”

“It’s okay, Isaiah. I knew what I was getting into.”

His heavy storm-cloud eyes glance at me. “We’re short.” Isaiah draws me into him. “This scares the shit out of me, angel.”

I place a slow kiss against his cheek and a longer one against his lips. “I won’t lose.”

At least I pray I won’t. The confidence I’m exuding on the outside doesn’t exist on the inside. Isaiah worked hard to prohibit this race, but in the end, couldn’t stop it. It’s on me to save the two of us.

The loss of control, the fact he can’t protect me in this moment, wages war on his face. “If you lose this race, you don’t stop the car. You keep driving. This time you go to the police. You tell them everything. You get someone to protect you.”

“I won’t leave you.”

His hands weave into my hair. “Please, Rachel. I’m trying here.”

“Echo will get Rachel out,” says Noah. “Rachel, I’ll stay by his side.”

I go to protest, but the grumble of Zach’s engine interrupts. Isaiah places an arm around my waist to tuck me close. Zach yells over his engine, “What’s the bet?”

“Five hundred,” answers Isaiah. “Abby’s holding.”

“And I think I’ll watch Abby.” In his half strut, Eric slinks over with a few guys from the night I street raced with him.

“Pole dancers are down the street,” says Abby in a bored voice. “And if I let you watch, I’d cost more.”

Without waiting for his retort, Abby walks over and shows Zach our five hundred. He motions to Eric, and Eric produces a wad of cash that he holds between the slits of his fingers.

“I’ll take that,” she says.

“You’re not neutral,” Eric replies.

“And you’re a jackass. Public place, Eric, and think about whose territory you’re standing in. I believe at the moment I outrank you.”

Eric bends his elbow to hand her the cash. She collects and counts. Once she nods to Isaiah, he crushes his lips to mine. It’s a fast kiss, yet intense. Hands warm on my face, on my back. His lips moving rapidly, with such desire that when I go to catch my breath he pulls away. “I love you.”

Isaiah opens the door to my Mustang, finds his helmet, flips my hair behind my ear and straps the helmet on my head. Behind me, Noah edges the fire-retardant jacket onto my arms.

Isaiah speaks at such a fast pace I can barely keep up. “If the car makes any funny sounds, does anything strange, you brake, do you understand me? Don’t try to win the race. Don’t floor the gas. That’s when the wrecks happen. Listen to your instincts. Anything weird, you hit the brake.”

I’ve watched Isaiah put the jacket and helmet on dozens of times, and each time my heart ached with the thought of what would happen if the car wrecked. My eyes widen as I see the sweat breaking out on his forehead. “The fire extinguisher is under the passenger seat. If the car crashes, you get out. If you can’t, you grab the extinguisher, and I swear I’ll be there.”

“There isn’t a nitrous system in the car,” I remind him blankly.

His fingers pause on the zipper. “Even without it, this is dangerous.” A pause. “It’s okay to back out. I swear to God I’ll protect you.”

“I’m doing this.”

“Tell her about the torque,” says Noah as Isaiah zips up my jacket.

“I know what torque is,” I whisper.

“Not this, angel.” Isaiah secures the straps to the jacket and double-checks the helmet. “You’ve played with the car in parking lots, learning how to go for the light, but I’ve put enough torque and horsepower in your pony that she’s going to kick up on you. Nothing like those bad boys with the million-dollar engines, but she’ll ride up. It’s a good thing. She’ll come back down. Don’t fight her, Rachel. Just let her run.”

In the driver’s seat, I numbly reach for the seat belt until Isaiah leans in. His hands quickly maneuver around the five-point harness he installed for racing. “Can you see?”

One hand grips the steering wheel, the other the stick shift. The harness has me locked tight to the chair. “Yeah.” And then I start to think. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to see the lines.”

Isaiah squeezes my hand. “I’ll walk you through it.”

He closes the door and I start my pony. I rev the engine a couple of times because I need the calmness associated with her singing. Taking a deep breath, I shift into First and follow Isaiah to the starting line.

My entire life I tried to be all girl with bows and painted nails, but feeling my baby purr beneath me, knowing that I’m about to push her—I feel very alive.

Curling his fingers as a sign to continue or using his palm as a stop, Isaiah guides me around the water to avoid a burnout and slowly edges me to the staging area. I hit the first light and Isaiah throws his hand to a stop. My heart pounds in my chest. I’m going to drag race.

The smell of rubber hangs in the air as Zach completes his burnout. The roar of his engine grows as his car joins mine. Isaiah nods at me as he walks away. This is it. This is me on my own. Zach creeps forward, his second staging light hit. Once I hit the second line, I’ll have seconds before the race starts.

I inhale deeply and tap on the gas. My second light flashes on. In rapid succession, the yellow lights count down...three...two...one...

My foot falls off the clutch as the other rams on the gas, a perfect coordination of shifting and moving. The engine roars as my body presses into the seat. Adrenaline shoots through my veins as the front wheels pop up and slam back onto the dragway. The same gravitational forces that pulled me back push me forward.

Becoming one with the car, I shift with her sounds, letting her rip, letting her run. And in seconds, I pass the finish line, laughing, soaring like a bird in flight.

I just won.