Crash into You (Pushing the Limits, #3)(114)

“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.”