Текст книги "Crash into You"

Автор книги: Katie McGarry

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Текущая страница: 25 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

Chapter 77

Rachel

I DREAM A LOT. FOR the past three months, I’ve been sleeping more than I’m awake. Between surgeries, hospital stays, pain meds and rehab, I always seem tired.

I see Isaiah in my dreams. Giving that rare smile. Laughing that deep chuckle. Every now and then, I dream of his kiss. Those are my favorites.

Someone whispers and I open my eyes. The specialist appointment wore me out physically. My therapy appointment with my counselor knocked me out mentally. I stretch my arms on the bed and hear crinkling to the side. I turn my head and see a Mustang magazine with a note:

Tell me which one you want. I love you—Dad.

My fingers brush the note before I toss the magazine onto my bedside table. I don’t want to think about cars, not yet.

“Told you she wasn’t ready,” whispers a deep voice from across the room.

Propping up on my elbows, I lift my upper body. West and Ethan sit on the floor, both with controllers in their hands. Their eyes locked on the video game they play with no sound on my flat screen. The two of them practically moved in here when I came home from the hospital. Most of the time, I don’t mind the company.

Ethan glances over his shoulder at me. “Finally.” He tosses the controller on the floor, and West follows his lead.

“Field trip, baby sis,” says West. He flips his hat so that it’s backward.

I flop back on the bed. “I’ve got rehab in two hours.”

“That’s why we’re going now,” Ethan says. “You’ll be too tired later. How do you want to do this?”

It’s a question I’m used to, and one they’ve learned to ask. It’s been weird between my family and me. My entire life I never wanted to be the family weakling, and now there’s absolutely no doubt that I’m the physically weakest one under the roof. The casts are off, but both of my legs are in a full brace.

While it’s apparent to anyone that I can’t run as far as my brothers or dance like my mom, what can’t be seen by the naked eye is the real miracle. It was hard to ask for help at first. I made everything a million times harder by my need to do it all myself, and it was a zillion times harder for my family not to do things for me. But I learned to ask. And they learned not to jump in. And so my weakness has made me stronger.

“Let me swing my legs off the bed.”

My brothers both take two steps back and watch as I use my upper-body strength to readjust myself so that my legs are near the edge. My face goes red and my teeth clench, but inch by fought-after inch, both of my legs hover over the side.

I release enough air to move the hair hanging in my face. The small smile tugs at my lips. I did it. “Your turn.”

“Grab her wheelchair,” says Ethan as he slips his arms around me and lifts me into the air. West goes out the door of my bedroom first, and Ethan follows. The workmen in what used to be Colleen’s room stare at me, then at my legs, before returning to installing the custom-made shelves and desk. Mom is being paid to fundraise now and announced she deserved an office.

At the bottom of the stairs, West sets up my chair, and Ethan settles me in the seat. They gesture for me to follow and I do. Down the hall, through the kitchen, down the ramp, and I pause when they head to the unconnected garage. “I don’t have time to go anyplace.”

West walks backward. “Come on, slowpoke. You got wheels, use them.”

“You’re such an ass.”

West smacks Ethan’s arm. “She called me an ass.”

“You are an ass.” Ethan opens the garage door.

“Yeah, but she called me an ass.”

I blink when I roll into the garage. There’s a contraption with a plank of wood covered by a cushion. “What is that?”

“It’s for you.” West stands next to it and shoves his hands into his pockets with straight arms. “It’ll help you navigate the car.”

I raise a questioning eyebrow, and West holds out his arms. “Can I?”

I nod, and West lifts me from the chair and places me on the cushion. He motions to two cranks and begins to turn one. “This one moves you up.”

Surprised by the momentum into the air, I flinch and grab the sides. He continues to turn the crank until I’m level with the open hood of his SUV. “And this one will bring you closer.”

The plank extends forward and for the first time in three months, I can touch the inside of a car. As if it’s a dream, I sweep my fingers across the engine. Even from this position, I won’t be able to do much, but it’s better than doing nothing.

Feeling a little speechless, I pop open my mouth and say the mundane. “Thanks.”

“West built it for you,” says Ethan.

West sheepishly raises a shoulder. “Ethan helped. Besides, who else is going to change my oil?”

A wetness invades my eyes. I’m touched that they would invest time and energy into something for me...not just anything...they created something to help me return to what I love.

“Dad wants to get you a new car,” says Ethan.

“I know.” But that part is more complicated. I won’t lie. It hurts that I won’t be able to drive—for a very long time.

“All right,” says West. “Wasn’t joking on the oil change. Tell me what to do and me and Moron will do it.”

An adrenaline rush tickles my bloodstream. “Get me that rolling board and help me down. I’m going under the car.”

* * *

Gloriously covered in grease and oil, I sit on the top of West’s contraption and hover over West as he tries to figure out the oil filter. “This isn’t rocket science.”

“Says the car genius,” he mumbles.

A clearing of a throat grabs our attention and we all pause when we see Mom in the garage door frame.

West and Ethan share a guilty glance. “Mom,” Ethan says. “We were just about to bring her back to the house.”

“Will you boys give Rachel and me a second?”

West wiggles his grimy hands in front of my face and wipes one particularly greasy finger across my cheek. Ethan squeezes my wrist before he leaves. I readjust myself and lean over to inspect West’s work. Not too bad.

“What are you working on?” Mom asks.

I shrug. “Nothing.”

Mom’s dressed in a pair of gray dress pants and a blue sweater. Dad took me to my appointments this morning while Mom visited Gavin in rehab. Because of the accident, my father’s original plan for Gavin and rehab tanked. But a few weeks ago, Gavin finally entered treatment. “How’s Gavin?”

“Good. He’s worried about you.” Mom peers into the hood. “Your father said your appointments went well.”

“Yup.” It feels odd being here with Mom after lying about my love of cars for so long.

Mom looks at me. She does this now—actually stares at me with her blue eyes and sees me. Not being used to it, I always glance away. Mom tucks a wayward strand of hair over my shoulder. “Gavin and I had a group-therapy appointment today. He promised to not keep secrets like his addiction from me anymore. I thought about it on the way home. I think I want a promise like that from all of you. Secrets have come too close to ruining this family.”

I pick at my flaking thumbnail. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Gavin.”

Mom shifts her weight. “I care that you didn’t tell me about you.”

Confrontation has never been a strong suit for either of us, and I wonder if the silence is killing her like it’s killing me. “You didn’t want to hear it. You wanted me to be Colleen.”

“Rachel—”

Preferring not to hear her deny it, I stare straight into her eyes. “I spent a good portion of my life overhearing you tell people that you dreamed of me becoming like Colleen. It’s true, so please don’t pretend it isn’t.”

Mom touches her wedding ring and turns the band. “I wish I could tell you that you weren’t the replacement, but we’d both know that would be a lie. Regardless of what you think, I have always loved you.”

I fidget with the tools my brothers left on the board. Over the past three months, Mom and I have danced around this issue. “You loved her more.”

“Not true,” says Mom. “But I do miss her. Too much. I’ve thought about it and think there’s some truth to what you said that night. I loved you, but I don’t think I ever saw you. For that I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” And it is.

“In my defense, you never gave me the chance to know you.”

I open my mouth to protest, and she waves it away. “Rachel, the problem in this family is that no one gave me credit. Instead of changing to make me happy, do you ever wonder what would have happened if you had told me what I was missing?”

And I snap my mouth shut. Part of me thinks I could have screamed until I was blue in the face, but there’s another part that wonders what would have happened if I had truly tried.

“So what’s going on here?” Mom leans over the engine like it might bite her and I realize that she’s trying.

“I was teaching West how to change his oil filter.”

“Is it hard?”

“I could teach you.”

Her mouth contorts. “How about you explain and I’ll listen.”

It’s a start. “Deal.”

Chapter 78

Isaiah

THE FRONT DOOR OPENS, AND I come face-to-face with Rachel’s father. Strands of gray highlight the area near his ears. He looks older than that night at the dragway, but in truth, I probably look older, too. Sleeping in hospital waiting room chairs does that to a person. He and I got to know each other real well during those periods that Rachel had surgery or slept.

Her father refused to leave her side when he wasn’t at work. The same was said for me when I wasn’t at work or at school. Turns out we have the same business hours.

“Come on in, Isaiah.”

I step into the massive front hall and, like always, I’m still amazed that people live like this. “How’s she doing?”

“Nervous,” he says, and from the way he rubs his head I can tell he is, too. Rachel relearns how to walk today.

Mr. Young’s eyes flicker to the spot a few centimeters below the tiger tattooed on my biceps. I carry a burn mark from when I saved him and his daughter three months before. If it weren’t for the fact that the dragway required me to carry a fire extinguisher during a race, Rachel may have died. And me along with her—because I never would have left that car without her.

“I’ve discussed what you proposed with Rachel’s mother, and we both agree it would be good for Rachel to get out. But we’re going to start slow. An hour and a half.”

An hour and a half—alone—with Rachel. I feel like a man stepping out into daylight after years of incarceration. “I swear I won’t be a minute late.”

Her father wears a knowing smile. “No, you won’t be, or it’ll be another few months before you step out of this house with her again.” Mr. Young accepts me with the condition that I follow their rules. For Rachel, I’d shovel coal into the furnace in hell.

“Isaiah,” her mom calls from the living room. “She won’t start without you.”

Her mother turned their massive once-formal living room into their personal rehab clinic. My heart stutters when I see Rachel perched in her wheelchair. Her golden hair is pulled back into a ponytail and she wears a T-shirt and a pair of shorts. Gone are the casts on her legs, and in their place are large, full-length, black braces.

Her face brightens when she sees me. “Isaiah!”

Every time I enter this house she has the same reaction. I don’t know why. I’ve held her hand in the hospital, sat with her after the multiple surgeries and have supported her during every rehab session. I made a promise to Rachel, and I’m never breaking it.

As I walk over to her, her physical therapist, an ex-football player and one hell of a big son of a bitch, steps in front of me. “Naw, you don’t get to be beside her today.”

Big or not, I’ll take on any asshole keeping her from me. “Want to rethink that?”

“Isaiah,” Rachel says. “This is my decision.”

“But you’re learning to walk today,” I say, as if she doesn’t understand.

“I know.” The casual way she replies causes my hands to twitch.

“But you could fall.”

Rachel narrows her eyes. “I know, and you need to be okay with that.”

I release a long stream of air. Right. It all goes back to the same conversation—I’ve got to let Rachel make her own way, even if it means watching her stumble.

“I need you here, son.” Her therapist indicates for me to stand at the end of two wooden parallel bars. “Rachel, if you want to see your boy, then you’re going to have to work for it.”

Footsteps and rustling by the door catches my attention. One by one, except for Gavin, her brothers walk in, followed by her parents. Rachel doesn’t look at them. Those gorgeous violet eyes stay on me. Without help, Rachel uses the bars to lift herself out of the chair.

At my end, I grip the bars in a mirroring position, as if I could send her my strength. It took her weeks to grow strong enough to stand. It’ll take her weeks, if not longer, to walk again. Her physical therapist stays behind her in case she should lose her balance. “Okay, Rachel. You see what you want. Go get it.”

The right side of Rachel’s mouth tips up as a blush touches her cheeks. My heart pounds as I pray she doesn’t fall with her first try. I force a smile. “I’m waiting, angel.”

Because she’s always been a miracle, Rachel lifts her leg and takes her first step.

Chapter 79

Rachel

WITH A HIP COCKED AGAINST the door frame of my bathroom, Abby watches as I wrap one last strand of my hair around the curling iron. She showed halfway through my therapy appointment. As always, she just walked in, not announcing herself to anyone, and stayed in the shadows until I saw her lurking.

It’s weird, but it’s Abby.

“I don’t know why you’re doing all this. You could show up in a garbage bag, and Isaiah would still think you’re pretty.”

I release the strand from the iron and a hot curl bounces on my neck. “It’s our first official date. As in Dad knows and Mom knows and everyone’s okay with it.”

Pretty much okay with it. Mom and Dad are still a little hesitant about Isaiah, but they understand him better. He’s been shockingly open with them about his past, his present and his intentions with me. While I was in the hospital, he told them everything about Eric and the debt.

I don’t think what swayed them was his honesty as much as his devotion to me. Besides school and work, and he even skipped that some, Isaiah never left my side.

“Will your mom take pictures since it’s your first official date even though they know you’ve stayed the night with him?”

I cringe. Isaiah was a little too honest with them. “Why?”

“Can I be in the pictures?”

“Sure.” I move my wheelchair to the left so that I can get a better glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror behind me. Mascara. I need mascara. As if hearing my thoughts, Abby hands me the mascara from my cosmetic bag.

“Can we take one of just me and you?”

I meet Abby’s eyes and she looks away. That was very un-Abby to do. “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

Abby glances over her shoulder into my room. “Ethan alert.”

“Heard that, freak.” Ethan leans past Abby to poke his head in to see me. “There’s only so much small talk Tattoo Boy and I are capable of, so get moving.”

I sigh as I finish stroking on the mascara. While West and Isaiah have come to a surprising compromise, Ethan’s not entirely sold on my relationship with Isaiah. I have faith that will change with time.

Abby examines my brother in a very not-best-friend way. “Hello.”

“Uh...hi.” Ethan blinks as if he’s a fish that just realized he was hooked on a line. “How are you?”

“Better now that you’re here.”

I stifle the giggle when Ethan’s cheeks turn red. “Ah...Mom asked if you’re staying for dinner.”

“What are you having?”

“Steaks?”

“Count me in.” Mom’s oddly adopted Abby. No one’s asked outright, but they all seem to understand that she’s not private-school Abby, and while they observe her as if she’s a science experiment about to explode, they generally seem to like her.

“I’m not going to be here,” I remind her.

She flashes a smile that promises all sorts of trouble at my brother. “But Ethan will be.”

Ethan clears his throat. “Seriously, are you done?”

“Yep,” I say quickly to save him from Abby. My best friend loves to make guys squirm. God help any man that falls for her, because they’re going to need all the help they can get to keep up with her.

“Then let’s go.” Ethan swings me up and carries me down to Isaiah.

Chapter 80

Isaiah

IN THE BACKSEAT OF AN ’89 Mustang I bought off of Craigslist for two hundred dollars, Rachel gasps for air, and my lips trail down her neck. We both breathe hard, and our hands are everywhere we can possibly touch. Her legs rest across the bench seat as I cradle her in my lap. We were given an hour and a half and we’ve spent forty minutes of it kissing.

“I’m supposed to be getting you food,” I whisper in her ear.

Her hand squeezes my neck, bringing my lips to hers. “I can always eat.”

For three months, I’ve dreamed of having her in my arms again. Rachel is the kind of girl that requires a wait, and she is definitely worth waiting for. My cell chimes, and Rachel moans as she snuggles her head in the crook of my neck. “It can’t be time to go home yet.”

“No, but it’s getting close.” Hand-holding and the occasional quick, chaste kiss is all I’m allowed to do under Rachel’s family’s ever-present gaze. Recently, we’ve been promoted to a hug. I hold her tighter, my hands sliding up and down her back. “I was thinking that we could buy some land and build our shop and home there. That way we’re never apart.”

“I like that,” she says. “But don’t you think business will be better in the city?”

I smile. “We’ll be so good that people will flock to us just from our reputation.”

Rachel kisses my jaw, sending shivers along my spine. She cuddles into me. “I love you.”

My heartbeats become lighter and happier. She’s alive and loves me. “I love you.”

She sighs, showing some heaviness. “I miss driving.”

“I know.” I wish I could tell her when she’ll be able to do it again. I sit up straighter as the thought washes over me. “Come on.”

I gently help her back into the passenger side and jump into the driver’s seat. I start the car, and we both cringe at the sorry state of the engine. I press the clutch, take her hand and place it on the stick shift. “I can’t give you the complete feeling of being behind the wheel, but I can give you control. This car ain’t moving without you.”

That brilliant smile lights up her face. “How fast are you wanting to go?”

I shrug. “Your choice, but I don’t have problems with speed.”

Keeping our eyes locked on each other, Rachel shoves the car into First. I lift off the clutch as I step on the gas.

* * * * *

Acknowledgments

TO GOD: 1 CORINTHIANS 13: 11–13

For Dave—For all those nights you took me to the top of the hill and we watched the lights shining below and for letting me know at all times exactly where I belonged.

Especially for A, N and P—I hope the three of you always love each other as West, Ethan and Rachel did.

Thank you to...

Kevan Lyon—You always bring a sense of calm and a smile to my face. This journey would be impossible without you.

Margo Lipschultz—Thank you seems too small of a phrase for all the support, care and love that you show me and my characters. You continually go above and beyond what’s called for and I want you to know that I appreciate everything you do. You are truly amazing, Margo.

Everyone who touched my books at Harlequin Teen, especially Natashya Wilson. I’m so honored to work with such amazing people who have the ability to make me smile!

Drew Tarr (Street & Strip Performance), Terry Huff (Ohio Valley Dragway), Tommy Blincoe, Jason “Jayrod” Clark, Frank “Frankie” Morris and Anthony “Red” Morris—I appreciate your taking the time to answer my questions while I was plotting this book and for helping a non-car-person understand not only cars, but drag racing.

Especially for the people I met at Ohio Valley: Your love for the sport, Ohio Valley Dragway and the people who race there was evident every time we talked. You can expect to see me in the stands.

A special thank-you to Jennifer L. Brown for being brave enough to teach me how to drive a stick shift and for allowing me to learn in her car!

Mike Ballard—Thank you for sharing your incredible wife with me every other Wednesday and for taking the time to introduce me to your friends at Ohio Valley.

Colette Ballard—For loving Noah, Ryan and Isaiah, and being that ear when I needed someone to listen, and for talking when I felt like being silent.

Angela Annalaro-Murphy—You have no idea how much I appreciate our friendship. Thanks for the years of laughter, tears, prayers and more laughter.

Kristen Simmons—Because you loved Isaiah and Rachel just as much as I did. Meeting you has been one of the best parts of this entire experience!

To my continued support system of my crit group/Wednesday-night family—Kelly Creagh, Bethany Griffin, Kurt Hampe and Bill Wolfe—and the Louisville Romance Writers. Also, to Shannon Michael for the continued friendship and support. I love you guys!

Again, to my parents, my sister, my Mt. Washington family and my in-laws...I love you.