Crash into You (Pushing the Limits, #3)(101)

His hands hover over the wheel as if he wants to hit it, but he doesn’t. Instead he slowly lowers his palms to the leather covering. “It’s over. The certification. The job. The hope we could pay Eric off by racing.”

“I’m going to race Zach.” It’s the only way. “And I don’t need your permission to do it.”

Isaiah slams his hand against the steering wheel and I flinch. “With what, Rachel? Our seven hundred? Let’s say you win, we’re still down over three thousand dollars. We tried and we failed. Playing by the rules is no longer an option.”

“Then we’ll take on more races. I’ll race Zach more than once. He said money wasn’t a problem—”

“Because he’s betting Eric’s money.”

My face whips as if I’ve been smacked. “What did you say?”

“Zach’s working for Eric.”

There’s a disorientation like I’m having an out-of-body experience. He’s known this and he hasn’t told me.

“I’m going to steal cars to make the money to pay Eric.” There’s no mistaking the determination in his voice or the set of his jaw. He’s made his decision, and nothing I can say will change his mind. I open the door to the car.

“Rachel,” Isaiah pleads.

I pause, long enough to give him the opportunity to apologize for keeping the secret. To tell me that I misheard about stealing the cars.

“Even if it wasn’t the case, we’d need to race Friday and Saturday night. Are you going to walk away from your mom’s charity event to race? Just give me time to fix this and then—”

“Then what?” I snap. When Isaiah says nothing, I point at his door. “Get out of my car.”

With a click of the handle he does, and he meets me in front of the hood. Without looking at him, I reach into my coat, extract his lighter and hold it out to him.

Isaiah’s forehead wrinkles as he looks away. “Don’t do this, Rachel.”

“I’m not the one doing this.” I hold my palm out, waiting for my keys. Isaiah’s hand covers mine. The keys feel frozen against my skin and the lighter is gone.

“I’m doing it to protect you,” he says.

“No, you’re not,” I whisper to the ground. “You’re doing it to protect yourself. You never really let me in, did you?”

His hand falls away and I slide behind the wheel. Isaiah stands off to the side and I drive home without looking back. Isaiah says he’s protecting me. My brothers and father say the same thing about my mom. For the first time in my life, I wonder if my mother wants to be protected.

*

It’s supposed to be used as a windowless conference room, but Mom fashioned it into her command center. The ballroom across the hall is decorated with thousands of mini pink roses and shimmering crystals. Dressed in their best gowns and tuxes, hundreds of people nibble on hors d’oeuvres. There will be a salad, followed by a choice of fish or steak, and during the cheesecake dessert, I’ll stand and tell everyone how much I loved Colleen. Then there will be dancing.

I’ll excuse myself, with grace I hope, and spend the rest of the evening in the bathroom—dying.

Taped to the mirror my mother brought in so the two of us could fix our hair and makeup is a picture of Colleen. Mom’s right. Everyone’s right. I resemble her. Long blond hair. Dark blue eyes. Even the smile. Except everything about me looks better on her.

I hate Colleen. Hate her. I’ve never met her and I despise her.

How dare she be perfect and beautiful and everything everyone could have ever dreamed of in a sister and daughter. How dare she get sick and die and leave this entire family in shambles. How dare she haunt me from her grave, taunting me with how I will never be good enough.

I glance at my cell resting on the table. Like the first few days after I met Isaiah, I carry it around, hoping for a call or a text. I’ve received neither. Abby and I talk. She says he’s miserable, a bear to be around, and that he’s stealing the cars tonight.

The deadline to pay Eric is midnight.

I don’t want Isaiah to become a criminal. My heart thuds faster when I pick up the phone. The worst that will happen is that he doesn’t respond. I’ve already proved once that I can live through that. Me: :(

The door opens, and the sound of laughter and conversation drifts in with my mother. She’s radiant in red, and she’s complete happiness and smiles. My mother lost Colleen, but she’s content living with the replacement who fakes every moment.

“The party is going beautifully. You should come out, Rachel. There are several nice-looking young men from school in attendance. Is Abby here yet?”

Abby. I forgot. She told Mom she’d come. “No.”

“Do you like your new phone?”

I stare at the device in my hands. After I tossed my old phone at the top of the hill and left it in the rain while Isaiah and I sought shelter in his car, it stopped working. I told my parents I dropped it in the toilet. Dad purchased me something ostentatious. Too many bells. Too many whistles. “It’s fine.”

My fingers brush over the screen, praying for his response. From out of the corner of my eye, I peer at my mother as she reapplies her lipstick. A sinking desperation claws at me. Isaiah’s off becoming a criminal to save me when he was right. Too terrified of losing my mother’s love and approval, I wouldn’t have walked away from this event to race.