Crash into You (Pushing the Limits, #3)(79)

“I don’t know.”

Me: you’re paranoid

Ethan: r u with the guy you skipped school with?

Adrenaline shoots down my arms and into my fingers as I break out of Isaiah’s embrace and press buttons on the phone.

“Rachel?” Isaiah’s eyes become storm clouds as he watches me raise my cell to my ear. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” I glance at the beautiful skyline. Isaiah brought me here to celebrate his and Logan’s wins tonight at the dragway and to celebrate his passing of the ASE. This glorious overlook is Isaiah’s special place, a place he’s never brought anyone else. This moment was huge and Ethan is ruining it.

Ethan answers on the first ring. “Come home, Rachel.”

Fire rages inside of me as the voice sinks in. It’s not Ethan—it’s West. “Give the phone to Ethan.”

“No,” says West. “You two have that screwed-up twin thing, and he’ll cover for you.”

Yes, he will. “This is between me and Ethan. Not me and you. He covers for me. I cover for him. And in case you never noticed, both of us have been covering for you for years.”

I hear shifting, a button hit wrong on the phone, then static. “Rachel,” says Ethan. My head drops. They put me on speaker. “Come home.”

“We had a deal!” I kick at a rock and it skips into the brush. “Twin amnesty, remember? How can you sell me out?”

“We had amnesty when I thought you were going for a drive.” There’s an unfamiliar edge to Ethan’s voice. The same tone Dad used on West when West was caught fighting at school. “Guess what we just heard about at a party? Something about you skipping school with some punk in a black Mustang. I told them they were crazy and then they showed me the damned picture on their cell phone. I’m going to say this one more time. Get home, Rachel, and get home now.”

I could crush brick with the amount of anger seething in me. “Both of you are such hypocrites!”

“Don’t want to hear it,” says Ethan. “It’s like we don’t even know who you are anymore. Running around with some punk, ditching school, lying to us about the panic attacks....”

Something cracks inside of me. A dam I had created over the years to hold in every emotion unwanted by my family. “You want me to lie about the panic attacks, remember? Anything to keep Mom happy!”

On their side, the phone rattles as if someone grabbed it. West lets loose a string of profanities. “Rachel!” he shouts. “Here’s the truth, baby sister, you need someone to take care of you. You always have. It’s our job to keep you from making bad decisions and the one you’re making right now is colossal. Your track record proves you need Ethan and me making these decisions for you.”

I end the call, throw the phone across the crumbled blacktop and shriek at the top of my lungs. West’s words roll in my mind. You need someone to take care of you. You always have.

“It’s not true!” I yell out into the night. “It’s not.” Tears burn my eyes.

The warm touch first slides against my hip, followed by a brush on my cheek. My bones become weary, almost too heavy for my skin. Isaiah heard the conversation. He heard me admit my weakness. I said out loud, in front of him, that I suffer from panic attacks.

“Are you in trouble at home?” The urgency in his tone is clear.

I nod, then shake my head. “With my brothers.”

“Are they going to rat?”

I tremble at the malice in his tone. “I don’t think so. Somebody saw me skip with you. This is bad. So bad. Without them covering for me, I can’t make it out. And if I can’t make it out then you can’t drive my car.”

And I can’t see you.

It’s like I’ve been sucked into a tornado and I’m a rag doll being torn apart. My thoughts all twist and my body begins to feel cold and warm all at the same time. “And if you can’t drive my car then you can’t race and we can’t make money if you don’t race and then there’s Eric—”

“It’s okay.” Isaiah cups my head and guides me into his chest. His lips graze my forehead as he whispers, “It’s okay. Calm down. It’s okay. I promise.”

I don’t know what to say, and as hard as I try to keep from crying, more tears fill my eyes. I suck in air and each inhale shakes. I sniff and I sniff, but none of my efforts keeps the chaos on the inside from trying to break free to the outside. “I don’t know how to make my family like you.”

“I don’t care if they like me. I only care about you.” Isaiah soothingly rubs my spine and hair.

A winter wind blows, freezing my cheeks, but a single traitorous hot tear escapes from my eyes and I hold tighter to Isaiah, terrified of becoming unglued. “But they cover for me. This is how I see you! What if I can’t see you?”

“We’ll make it work.” His words are all low-pitched, all gentle, but the twirling tornado inside of me picks up speed, becomes a monster all its own.

“It won’t work.” The strangled words emerge between a sob, and I hold my breath to keep any more from bursting free. I can feel my brain tearing away from my sane mind, the sadness and anger spiraling into panicked hysteria. “I don’t want to be without you. I like who I am with you, and I don’t want to go back to who I was before.”