Текст книги "Crash into You"
Автор книги: Katie McGarry
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Текущая страница: 20 (всего у книги 27 страниц)
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.”
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.
