Текст книги "Crash into You"

Автор книги: Katie McGarry

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Текущая страница: 24 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

Chapter 73

Isaiah

RACHEL BARELY PARKS HER MUSTANG when I open the door and undo the harness. She yanks the helmet off and shakes her blond hair into a mess that only makes me want to touch her more. I slip her out of the car.

She laughs as she knots her arms around my neck. Both of my arms are steel bands on her waist as I lift her feet off the ground. From this angle, she’s higher than me and I have to tilt my head up to meet her lips.

Rachel sends hot shivers down my spine as her hands caress my neck and cheek. Her lips move smoothly against mine. She’s drawing me in by conjuring up images of being alone with her, and forcing me to forget that we have an audience. Until Noah coughs.

Her eyes have a contagious gleam. “I want to do that again.”

“You’re going to make scaring the shit out of me a habit, aren’t you?”

Her lips whisper against mine as she speaks. “And you won’t do a thing to stop it.”

“No.” As much as it kills me. “I won’t.” I reluctantly set Rachel on the ground. Abby extends the thousand dollars to me and I put it in the envelope.

“Mind taking a walk with me, Noah?” I ask.

“Let’s end this,” he says.

Eric leans against the fence line on the other side of the lot. His boys loiter a few feet down, and they keep their eyes on us.

Echo places her hand on Rachel’s arm. “Should you really leave your car here?”

Rachel’s violet eyes stay trained on me. “No. But it’ll be okay.”

“Rachel.” Echo gently nudges. “Let’s move your car.”

“It’s all right, angel. We won this one.”

With reluctance, Rachel slides back into the driver’s seat of her car, and Echo slips into the other side. Rachel drives off, and Abby starts off after them on foot.

“Take care of her,” I call out.

“I will,” Abby says without looking back.

The envelope feels heavy in my hand. Not long ago, I went to Eric so I could stay out of foster care. Now I’m handing him five thousand dollars, and I’m still losing my home.

“Think he’ll keep his word?” I mutter to Noah.

“No,” he answers. “It’s not his style to lose.”

It’s not. “I’ve told Abby to get Rachel and Echo the hell out of here the moment the first punch is thrown.”

“Thanks,” he says. “This is killing Echo, but she knows what to do and will help Abby get Rachel out.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

Noah flashes the same jackass-crazy grin as the day he moved into Shirley and Dale’s. “Yeah, bro, I do. This is what brothers do for each other.”

Brother. Years without a mom. Years without a dad. Knowing that no other blood relative existed on the face of the planet for me. But within two years, water becomes thicker than blood.

I hold my hand out to Noah and when he has a firm grip, I pull him in for a fast hug. We both clap each other’s back.

“We’re family,” he whispers.

“Family,” I repeat.

I let him go and we start off for the fence line. Eric watches us approach. He says nothing so I offer him the envelope. “Count it if you want.”

The skinny asshole doesn’t bother opening it, but instead shoves it in the inside pocket of his coat. “You say you have it, you have it.”

A pair of cars roar down the dragway, silencing the conversation between us. When the noise dies down, Eric continues, “I don’t understand why you want to race here. There’s no money to be made.”

“You didn’t have to involve Zach,” I say.

“I like insurance policies, and Zach was one that didn’t pay out...at least for tonight. As with any policy, the interest builds with time.”

I assess the area and notice Zach’s car missing. He’s caused me problems over the past several weeks, but once he was a friend. No one should be underneath Eric, and what I hate is there’s nothing I can do about it. Zach made his choice and I’ve made mine. This is how forks in roads are created.

“Come back to the streets, Isaiah.” Eric pushes off the fence. “That’s your home.”

If Eric keeps living this life, someone will steal from him again, and one day, they may take his life in the process. Mistakes I refuse to make. “Naw, Eric. I’m done.”

“Never say never, my brother.” Eric gives that sly grin. “You’ll find me when you’re short on money again. That’s when we’ll stop this bullshit and you work for me. You’re not the first foster kid to age out of the system.”

My chin rises as he speaks my fears. “What makes you think I’ll come crawling to you?”

“Because I’m letting you and your girl go home injury-free. You’ll remember how I’ve given you grace and realize that I’m not your enemy. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got other business to attend to tonight.”

Noah smacks my shoulder and the two of us leave, both occasionally glancing back. But we don’t need to. Eric’s moved on and so have we.

“That won’t happen,” says Noah. “You’ll make it after you age out.”

“I know.” I don’t, but I shove the doubt away. I can only handle one battle at a time.

Laughter representing our futures guides us to a streetlight. For Noah, the future includes a redhead, and mine includes a blonde.

When Rachel sees me, she runs right into my arms. “Are we free?”

“Free.”

“We should celebrate.”

“I know this place,” I say real slow. “On a hill.”

She blushes. “Think I’ve heard of it before.”

“Have you?” I ask too innocently.

“Yeah. From this really hot guy. You’d like him. He has a couple of tattoos and some earrings.”

I lace my hand with hers, but the smile on my face fades with the sound of one voice.

Chapter 74

Rachel

“RACHEL.”

My head snaps in the direction of my father’s voice. “What are you doing here?”

With his black tie off and the top couple of buttons of his wrinkled dress shirt undone, my father appears worn. The circles under his eyes indicate exhaustion. “Let’s go home.”

There’s no way...none... “How did you find me?”

“Your new phone. It has a GPS tracking device.” My own thoughts haunt me—too many bells, too many whistles.

Isaiah squeezes my hand. He subtly moves one shoulder in front of me, and I realize he senses danger. My eyes search for what alarms Isaiah and my mouth goes dry. A police officer strolls up to my father.

“What are you doing, Dad?”

He places his hands on his hips. “I want you to come home.”

The police officer talks into his shoulder unit and gestures to Isaiah. “Sir, we need you to step away from the young lady.”

I hold tight on to Isaiah. “Why did you bring the police?”

Dad’s lip pulls back. “He abducted you.”

Abducted? “I left with him.”

“Running away is just as bad. You created chaos and left your mother and me wondering if we’d ever see you again! How can you do this to her?” Dad turns his head to the police officer. “She’s seventeen. He either took my daughter or this is a runaway situation. I have an entire ballroom of people who can testify to that.”

“We weren’t running away!” Dad is twisting everything, and no matter what I say, no one will believe us.

“Arrest him,” Dad snaps. “Let’s go, Rachel. We’re going home before your mother sinks too low because she thinks she’s losing another daughter.”

What I feared from my brothers is now happening with my father. He’s separating me and Isaiah. “Please. We haven’t done anything wrong.”

Not true. We’ve done lots of things wrong, but for the first time in weeks, we have the chance to do something right.

“Sir,” says the police officer with more force. His hand moves to his belt and my heart trips in my chest. “Step away from the girl.”

“No,” says Isaiah in a voice so cold I shiver.

“She’s a minor,” Dad reminds Isaiah. “And has no business being here or with you.”

Noah approaches from the side with his hands in the air to show he’s peaceful. “Sir, Isaiah’s only seventeen. Officer, if you’re arresting him, I’d like to know the charge.”

The officer glances at my father. “Is that true?”

Agitation leaks into my father’s tone, and his jaw jumps. “I don’t know how old he is. He came into a party and took my daughter.”

“I left with him,” I hiss. “He didn’t kidnap me and we weren’t running away. I was coming home.”

“Let’s see some ID,” says the officer. “Then we’ll start to sort this out, but you should go home with your father.”

“Isaiah,” Noah interjects in an overly calm voice. “Show the man your ID. Now.”

“Step away from the girl first.” The officer’s hand twitches on his belt. “And slowly take out your ID. Everyone can go home if we do this right.”

Still grasping me, Isaiah slowly removes his wallet and tosses it in the direction of the police officer. “And no. I don’t have a record.”

The way they both stare at him, I know what they see: the tattoos and earrings and every worst nightmare. But Isaiah is nothing like that. He’s gentle and kind and strong... My body starts to quake and it’s not a panic attack. It’s my heart—breaking and ripping into shreds. “Isaiah.”

Isaiah’s silver eyes have turned to ice. “It’ll be okay, Rachel. Won’t it?” He nods at my father.

Dad all but sneers. If I had introduced them properly, would my father have given him a chance? “You either come with me peacefully or I have this police officer physically put you in the car. Your choice, but this entire fiasco you’ve created is done.”

“I don’t give a fuck who you are,” says Isaiah in a low tone that indicates the threat is very real. “No one touches her.”

Off to the side, Noah lets loose a string of profanities. “Go with them, Rachel. Otherwise Isaiah will give them a reason to put him in jail. We’ll work it out.”

“Not if you’re afraid of them,” Isaiah whispers. “I won’t let you go if you’re afraid of them.”

I glance at my father—years older than he was this afternoon. The way he rubs his eyes shows the worry mixed with the anger.

“I’m not scared of him.” I edge so that I stand beside Isaiah. “I’m scared of losing you.”

“Say goodbye to him.” Dad barely keeps his voice low as he glares at Isaiah. “Do not come looking for my daughter again. Contacting her in any way is out of the question.”

My arms go around Isaiah’s waist and my eyes immediately flash to his, searching for a solution. Isaiah always has a way to fix things, and too panicked to think, I’m desperate for help. “Isaiah?”

Isaiah touches my face. The same warm, loving caress he’s tenderly given me since I first met him. “We’ll be okay.”

My hand covers his. “Promise me.” Because Isaiah always keeps his word. He’ll move hell if he has to. Isaiah never breaks a promise.

“I swear it.”

The trembling turns to shaking. I can’t lose Isaiah. We just found the place where the world could be good. “I love you.”

“Don’t say it like that.” Isaiah lowers his head so that his mouth is near mine. “Don’t say it like goodbye.”

“Rachel!” my father snaps.

My lips touch his and I try so hard to memorize how they feel: warm and a bit sweet. I don’t want to forget this, ever. When I force myself to step back, my eyesight is so blurry that I can barely see in front of me. Isaiah shoves his hands in his pockets and shifts. Knowing he has to let me go—commanding his body to comply. “It’s okay. I promise. It’ll be okay.”

It’ll be okay. I repeat the words over and over again. He promised. Isaiah never breaks his promise.

As I get closer to my father, he extends his hands. “Give me your keys.”

“You can’t drive a stick,” I choke out.

“I’ll figure it out,” he snaps. “I don’t trust you anymore.”

Staring at Isaiah, I suddenly wish I had taken more pictures of us. I only have two. One of him I took for my phone. Another of us being silly next to my car. Two pictures. It doesn’t feel like nearly enough.

Feeling the loss, I snap a mental picture of Isaiah. His dark hair shaved close to his scalp, the stubble on his chin, the muscles of his arms, the kind tilt of his lips, even though his gorgeous eyes tell me that he’s in pain.

I reach into my pocket and hand my father my keys. The policeman offers Isaiah his wallet back and mumbles something to him. Isaiah locks his eyes on me, never once responding to the officer.

“Get in the car,” Dad says as he opens the passenger-side door to my Mustang.

I do, wondering if I’ll ever see Isaiah again. Not so long ago, I asked Isaiah if he ever thought love could hurt so bad. Little did I know, at the time, I had no idea what I was asking or how awful saying goodbye would really feel.

I slip inside, and the passenger side feels off and unnatural. Dad slams his door and thrusts the keys into the ignition. “I have never been so disappointed in anyone in my life.”

His cell phone begins to ring, and Dad yanks it from his pocket. With one glance, he drops it into the drink holder. It’s a familiar number—a work number. One he typically picks up immediately. I never thought I’d see the day when his anger would surpass the love he has for his job.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and wipe my eyes. “It’s not what you think.”

“Then what is it?” he bites out, so forcefully that I shake.

My hand slams over my mouth to stop the sob. My throat begins to close as I desperately search for a way to explain. “You don’t understand. I love him.”

His cell ceases ringing and seconds later begins again. The same number, but this time it feels louder in the small confines of the car.

“You’re too young to understand what love is! He’s a thug. A user. Look where you are! Look at what you’ve done to your mother! What the hell are you even doing here?”

Dad presses the clutch and the gas while trying to shift and the engine completely stalls out. “Dad...you need to—”

“I can do it,” he yells, and the pure fury shooting from his eyes shuts me up. Again the cells stops then starts all over again.

In the rearview mirror I watch as Abby eases toward Isaiah. I’m losing the two people I love the most. Dad tries again and the engine roars to life. He successfully shifts the car into First, and I close my eyes as he grinds the gears.

“Just let me drive. I’ll take us home, I swear.” No matter how I try to stop them, the hot tears in my eyes overflow down my cheeks. “You can’t drive a stick!”

“You ruined today.” Dad ignores me completely. “You’ve made your mother sick. This isn’t what I expect from you.”

The cell stops and when it begins again, Dad reaches for it. “Goddammit!”

The light at the entrance of the dragway begins to change, and my eyes dart between the cell against his ear, the light and my father’s inexperienced hand off the gearshift. “Dad, I don’t think you should—”

I suck in a breath at the sound of the horn, and all I see is the grill of a semi. “Dad!”

Chapter 75

Isaiah

I SLIP MY WALLET INTO my back pocket and watch as her father murders the clutch. The ache in my chest is enough to kill me, but I hold on to the words I said to her: I swear we’ll be together. Rachel knows I’ll never break my word. This love between us—it will never stop.

Noah places a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“I love her,” I say. “And she loves me. She’ll be eighteen in less than a year. Graduate in less than a year and a half.” Then no one can keep us apart.

“And you have me.” Abby appears on my other side. “Maybe my cover will work, and I can keep you connected. You never know.” But she doesn’t say it like she believes it.

Abby stares after Rachel as if she lost her best friend. I place an arm around her. That’s because she did. “We’ll get her back.” I don’t know if I’m trying to convince her or me.

She wipes at her eyes. “This is why I don’t do relationships.”

At the intersection leading out of the dragway, the police officer turns right. The brake lights release as the Mustang rolls forward on a yellow and a tightness overwhelms my throat. The sensation that I dread, the tingling between my skin and muscles, crawls over me. I release Abby and take several steps. Terrified that if I lose sight of Rachel, I’ll lose her forever.

The light switches to red and the Mustang stalls in the middle of the intersection. I hear the attempt to turn over the engine, and my feet move faster as I watch the tractor trailer move into the intersection—speeding. My world goes into slow motion as my legs pump hard to reach the car, to protect Rachel.

There’s a sickening crunch and the white pony flips onto its side and rolls again and again. Like a ball hurling down a hill. From the other direction another car hits, and I scream out Rachel’s name. Brakes screech, glass shatters, more cars collide. The carnage lies in front of me as her car comes to a rest. The entire body smashed beyond recognition.

Buzzing fills my head as I continue to scream her name. I push my body harder, faster, but I can’t reach her. A few wisps of smoke puff from the hood.

And then fire.

I jump onto the hood of a sandwiched Civic. “Rachel!”

People are crying. Others screaming. Glass falls to the pavement. “Rachel! Answer me!”

The windshield of her car is a spiderweb, allowing me no visual access. Noah joins me on the hood of the Civic, and both of us use our arms as shields when a burst of flame shoots in our direction. Heat warms my arms. My eyes flicker, hunting for her exit. She’s wedged in. Both doors blocked by other vehicles. “Rachel!”

“We gotta move this car,” Noah shouts.

Her car is on fire. The thought races in my head. We slide off the hood and run to the back end of the Honda Civic. “Pick it up.”

The driver of the Civic joins us. Blood stains his cheek. “It happened so fast.”

Noah and I say nothing to him as we raise the back end with our bare hands. We both yell as the end lifts. My fingers scream in agony, but we keep going until we create a space. The Civic slams back on the ground. The gap isn’t much, but enough to wedge through. I cough as I inhale smoke and open the driver’s-side door. Blood soaks her father’s white shirt, but his eyes are open and he blinks. Beyond him, Rachel lies completely broken.

“Get her out,” her father coughs. “She’s not responding.”

Panicked adrenaline surges through my body. She can’t be dead. She can’t. “Noah!”

“Pull him out!” Noah says on top of the Civic. “Hand him to me.”

I squat down, in order to get a better grip. “Can you stand?”

He tries to move and groans instead. “Get her out!”

Smoke rises from the dashboard, and my heart rate increases. Using my shoulder, I lean into her father and yank him out of the car. He yells in pain and screams again when Noah pulls him up. The second his body is off me, I dash into the car.

“Rachel.” I say her name calmly, hoping she’ll answer. “Angel, I need you to open your eyes. Come on. Talk to me.”

I place my arm behind her back and the other beneath her legs. She flops like a rag doll. “You’re not fucking doing this, Rachel. I made a promise, and that means you made a promise to me. We’re going to be together. Do you hear me?”

I tug and Rachel’s body jerks back toward her seat in response. Readjusting my grip, I yank harder, and her body resists. My lungs burn from the smoke, and I wave at the air, trying to see the problem.

My hand reaches to the floorboard, exploring, and the world halts. I swear. No, no, no, no. The floorboard collapsed up and the side smashed in, metal twists around her legs. I cradle her sweet face in my hands and talk to her as if she can hear me. My voice breaks. “Your legs are stuck, angel. Your legs are stuck.”

I’m going to lose her. Please no, I’m going to lose her.

“Isaiah!” yells Noah. “You’ve got to get out! Get out, get out, get out!”

Chapter 76

Isaiah

May

I SPENT A GOOD PORTION of my life trying to figure out where I would get my next meal or how to avoid physical pain. In other words—how to survive. I never had a reason to contemplate death—too busy worrying about living.

Standing in this cemetery, it’s hard not to think about the end of life. Noah told me that his parents are buried in the section across from here. Echo’s brother’s final resting place is on the other side of the massive graveyard. No one is immune to mortality.

A light misty rain makes the warm spring day humid, causing my shirt to stick to my skin. I stay motionless, staring at the plot. There’s a heaviness inside of me that could produce tears. But I push it away. I’ve got too many emotions running rampant.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

My mother squats and touches the tombstone. “Yes. I knew he was your father the moment you walked into that visitation room. You look exactly like him, Isaiah.” She glances at me with a weak smile and glassy eyes. “He was handsome, too.”

My father. Unable to stand anymore, I sit on the wet grass. James McKinley. “I’m Irish?”

She laughs. “I guess. We never discussed family trees. He was a good guy. Decent. He died before I knew I was pregnant. So I crossed him off the list of possible fathers. Once again, a stupid mistake on my part.”

We’re not close—me and Mom. She wants to bond. I’m okay with knowing she’s alive. She pressures me for more, but I tell her she should be happy that the anger I feel for her is receding. Too much time passed between six and seventeen. Too many hurts. Sometimes it’s best to forgive someone and keep them at arm’s length.

“James had a big family. A little odd, but great people. I wish I had known then that you belonged to him. They would have taken us both in.” She goes silent. “Or at least you. You should find them.”

I scratch the back of my head. Somewhere in Kentucky, I have a big family. “I’m not sure I’d want to go through a paternity test.” And be proved wrong.

“I can’t say they wouldn’t ask for one, but one look at you and they’d know. You’re all him. Right down to the earrings and tattoos.”

The thought makes me smile. “No shit?”

She laughs again. “He would have said that, too. James was good to me. We were friends, and I got stupid and took advantage of him. I never forgave myself for hurting him, and I feel awful that he never knew you existed.”

“How’d he die?”

“Car accident.” She stares at the tombstone as if he’d appear if she focused hard enough.

“Will you tell me about him?”

Mom relaxes back on her bottom. The rain mats her dark hair against her face. “I don’t know much, but I’ll tell you everything I do know. James loved motorcycles...”

* * *

At the McDonald’s across the street from the cemetery, I wait in a corner booth. Courtney slips me a container of vanilla ice cream before sitting across from me with her own. She opens her purse and produces a bottle of multicolored sprinkles. She shakes some on hers and pours a whole shitload on mine.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Buying you ice cream.” Courtney drops the bottle into her purse and digs into her soft serve. “Don’t tell me that at eight you didn’t wish someone would have bought you ice cream with sprinkles.”

Courtney can do this now. Extract a memory buried within me with scary ease. There are times I think she’s a mind reader, then I remember she’s not. She was a foster kid, raised by the system, just like me. A pang in my chest makes me think of being eight and watching families buy ice cream. Courtney smiles when I take a bite.

“Do you feel like you ratted by becoming a social worker?” I ask.

She’s silent as her forehead furrows. “I choose to think about how I can help other kids in ways no one helped me.”

Fair enough.

“You and your mom talked a lot today.” Courtney observed us from her dry car.

“Met my dad.” So to speak.

“Sort of figured. How are things going with her?”

I shovel the ice cream in my mouth so I don’t have to answer. My eyes narrow at the way the sweet sprinkles roll on my tongue. Courtney giggles. “By the way, gummy worms on ice cream are way overrated.”

“Noted.” I mix the ice cream. “I can’t give her what she wants.”

“You don’t have to,” she says. “I never said a relationship with her is healthy, just that you should talk to her. From experience, you eventually would have had an ache to see your mom. I thought it would be better to deal with her while you’ve got me to buy you ice cream afterward.”

“You should have told me when we first met you were system-produced.”

She squishes her lips together. “I was once pissed-off-seventeen. You weren’t ready to listen.”

True.

“Congrats, by the way. Heard you aced the exam.”

“Thanks.” I passed my ASE...again. My internship and job secured. I nudge the ice cream away and relax back in my seat. Lately, I feel like I’ve been drifting. I’m back in foster care at Shirley and Dale’s. Noah lives in the dorms. We still talk, but not nearly as often. There are times I feel...alone.

“I know people who have families,” I say. “They graduate from high school and they get a job or go to college and if they fuck it all up they go back home.” I pause, tapping my finger on the table. “What do I do if...” I fuck it all up. I clear my throat and my eyebrows move closer together. “Where do I go?”

Courtney shoves her ice cream away, too. “Foster care sucks, but so does aging out. It’s weird. You spend the entire first part of your life fighting to get out and then one day...you are out. Then you want to scream at the closed door that you’re still a kid, but everyone is pretty damned insistent you’re an adult. I cried a lot when I first aged out.”

My lips quirk. “I don’t think I’ll be crying.”

Courtney snorts. “Or whatever boys do.”

I swallow and find the courage to say the words. “I don’t want to be homeless.”

“You won’t be.” She waggles her eyebrows and pulls a folder out of her bag. “I have a plan. You don’t turn eighteen until this summer, so we have a couple more months before you age out. I can teach you how to budget and help you find a place to live and all sorts of fun adult things. And here’s the cool part. I’ll still be around when you turn eighteen. I may not be mandatory, but I don’t disappear.”

The alarm on my phone rings, and Courtney smiles, knowing why I’m ready to bolt. “We’ll start this next week.”

I stand. “Thanks. For everything.”

“No problem. And next week we’re getting hot fudge.”