Crash into You (Pushing the Limits, #3)(49)

Her ripped blue jeans and blond hair with black streaks scream that she’s fine with danger. She’s beautiful, and by the way she holds herself, she’s confident—strong. I wipe at my eyes and angle my body in the opposite direction of her. My chest moves with the heavy beating of my heart and a moronic, traitorous tear falls.

Isaiah lowers his head and utters a curse. I can tell by how he tries not to look at her, yet keeps doing so that this girl means something to him. Guess he just got busted for cheating on her—with me.





Chapter 27

Isaiah

“HELLO, ISAIAH.” MY NAME ON the lips of few can cause my world to stall. As if in slow motion, I turn my head and watch her sweep into my life as if she never left.

“Fuck,” I mumble. Would it be so damn difficult for the universe to give me a break? Rachel flips her golden hair over her shoulder to prevent me from examining her face.

“Am I interrupting?” Beth asks as she glides farther into the garage. A million questions form, but the return of the dull ache in my body deters me from voicing any of them. She’s still gorgeous: a tiny pissed-off fairy, but her hair is different. She wears it chin-length now and blond has replaced the black except for two stripes of the color I knew.

“Yes,” I say with way too much anger. Beth notices and mockingly raises one brow.

A guy I don’t know strolls in. I straighten and feel my muscles flex. What the hell? Has she already run through the guy she chose over me and come here to show off another? Beth glances behind her before squaring her gaze back on me. “Isaiah, this is Logan. He’s a friend of mine...and Ryan’s.”

Dressed in a jock jacket with a big letter B on the front and his name embroidered underneath it, the kid nods at me. On the white arm of the coat, two baseball bats cross over each other. The guy Beth fell for, Ryan, was also a baseball-playing jock.

I roll my shoulders. I don’t want to hand Beth the opportunity to rip me into pieces again. Not now. Not when everything has gone to shit. Not with Rachel in my life. “You need to go.”

“I’ve tried calling you,” she says, ignoring me and the fact that Rachel stands completely broken not two feet away. “And texting.”

She has. Since Thanksgiving, but I’m not ready to forgive her. “Leave.”

Beth stops in front of Rachel and gives her a once-over. “I’m Beth,” she says. “Since Isaiah has lost his manners.”

Rachel lifts her chin in the air. A surge of pride courses through my blood. Damn if she’ll permit Beth to get the better of her. “I’m Rachel.”

“She’s with me,” I say, causing Rachel to meet my eyes. Come on, angel, I know we’ve got stuff to work out, but stay with me. Beth is the one who doesn’t belong here.

Beth clears her throat. She wants my attention, but she’s not receiving it. “Logan inherited a car, and I told him you could help him fix it. I told him you were the best.”

“I only do favors for friends,” I respond while holding Rachel’s gaze. That’s right. Keep those gorgeous violet eyes on me. Instinctively, you trust me. Keep on doing it.

I need time with Rachel: time to explain why I never called, time to explain that our one night together meant something and time to explain why I said those words to Eric that hurt her so badly. Time to understand why the hell I care so much that Rachel’s mad at me. Because the world never works in my favor, I have no time.

“I used to be your best friend,” Beth sneers. “Is she your friend now?”

Clearly curious for the answer, Rachel pushes her hair behind her ear as if to hear me better. I don’t want Beth involved in my life anymore, plus I don’t know what to say about me and Rachel. I like her. She’s a mystery. And I’m seriously attracted to her. I guess we’re friends, but something stops me from saying that aloud. “Shop’s closed, Beth.”

Rachel’s eyes shut, and when she opens them, she looks at Beth. “He owes me a favor.”

Beth’s shoulders visibly relax, and I wonder why she cares who I’m spending time with. Beth left me. “So, Isaiah, what type of favor do you owe her?”

“I need money,” Rachel answers with a boldness few have used with Beth. Anger shoots through me. That’s business strictly between me and Rachel. Not information for Beth. “And Isaiah is going to drag race my car in order to help me get it. So when I’m finished with him, you can have your friend back.”

The sadistic smile I remember so well from when Beth feels threatened slides across her face. “Thanks, but I don’t need your permission.”

Rachel swings her purse onto her shoulder and cocks her head at me. “You want to race my car, fine. You can race my car. Text me the when and where and I’ll be there. And don’t worry about coming up with the full amount. I can come up with some of it on my own.”

“Rachel...” I start.

But she’s already across the garage. Her coat falls off the hook when she slams the door.

Just f*ck. I stalk past Beth and glance out the door’s small window. The engine of her Mustang growls as it pulls out of the lot. I pick up her coat. It smells like her—like the ocean. I gently place it back on the hook. “Get out of my life, Beth.”

“Beth,” says jock boy. “Let’s go.”