Crash into You (Pushing the Limits, #3)(98)

Isaiah touches me. His warm palm to my face. A soft slide of his thumb. My body has memorized the motion. I lean into his hand and close my eyes. I’ll miss this. I’ll miss everything about him. A tear escapes and creates a wet trail down my face.

Isaiah has always been gentle, and he is again as he wipes it away. “Why did you leave?”

Hundreds of pounds of weight stack on top of my chest, restricting air. I open my eyes, not daring to meet his stare. “Are you okay?”

“Some stitches and bruises, but yeah, I’m fine.”

“And Logan?” I ask with as much strength as I can muster. I fight the tingling in my blood, a reaction to the shortage of oxygen. I have seconds before I lose control. Breathe.

“Stitches, too. But fine. Rachel, look at me.”

Because his hand on my cheek prods me to face him, because I’ve hardly ever been able to defy him when he speaks to me in such a deep, soothing voice...my eyes rise to meet his. Confusion and hurt swirl in a murky storm in his gray eyes. I’d do anything if that pain was for me, but it’s not. It can’t be.

I don’t want to hear his words, not yet, so I ask, “Your car?”

His head drops as he presses his hands to his face. “Totaled.”

Pain for him, pain for me, rips at my heart. Another tear escapes. The car was his—a part of his soul. The sorrow he must feel—there has to be a better word than mourning.

Yearning to touch him, longing to comfort him, my fingers instinctively brush against his temple. Isaiah takes my hand and knots our fingers together, squeezing a little too tight. “This is why I didn’t want the system in your car.”

We’re back to this—so easily. His words are a sandblaster against my soul, decimating my insides, crushing my bones, leaving me as a completely empty shell. “Because your car, your life, is worth less?”

“Yes,” he answers with stubborn resolve.

The hospital doors open, and Beth steps onto the sidewalk. My throat thickens, and the warning contortion of my stomach tells me my time is up. I yank my hand from his. “She’s waiting for you.”

He glances over his shoulder, and I take advantage by fleeing. Quickly. Turning into the maze of cars. Hoping to disappear. Words fly in my head—all related, yet not; all tangible, yet slipping through my fingers: Eric and debt and Isaiah and love and Beth and strength and weakness...

And my mother and my brothers and my father and Colleen...

All of us dominoes on a board where one event results in chaos. One tip of a piece and everything scatters. There’s no control. Like everyone else, I’m a piece to be overturned. I will never control my destiny.

My hand grabs at my coat, jerking it off as heat consumes me and chokes my neck. At the intersection of four parked cars, I fall to my knees and convulse with the first dry heave. Searing pain cuts through my throat and I become light-headed.

“Rachel!” Isaiah lifts me upright, wiping my hair from my face.

“No hospital.” They can’t know...they can’t know...they can’t... “Promise they won’t know....”

My stomach cramps, and I roll away from him with the blast of heat rushing through my body.

“Jesus!” Isaiah scrambles beside me. “There’s blood.”





Chapter 65

Isaiah

PROMISE THEY WON’T KNOW...

Craving a physical connection, I slide my finger along the back of Rachel’s hand. She’s asleep. Has been for a while. Curled in the fetal position in the middle of my bed, Rachel wears the mask of a ravaged person. Somehow, I missed the signs: dark circles under her eyes, the clothes that once fit perfectly now hang, her skin so pale it’s translucent.

Rachel told me she had attacks, that she ended up in the hospital once, and that she hides them from her family. I never thought to ask if she was concealing them from me.

Her eyes press tightly in her sleep, and she flinches as she swallows. I wish she’d sleep deeply, but she doesn’t. Staying restless, Rachel turns her head. I tuck the blanket back around her, whispering for her to rest.

“Isaiah,” Abby says softly from the doorway. “Everyone’s here.”

I nod and Abby slips behind the door. Everyone being here would be Noah’s doing, not mine. He found us—me cradling a broken Rachel in my arms—and drove us home. Took everything I had not to rush Rachel into the E.R., but she made me promise not to. I’ve never considered going back on my word as much as I do right now.

The world is stacked against Rachel and me. The money is due this weekend. We’re down a car and we aren’t even close to the amount. Rachel’s body is worn, her spirit drowning. If we don’t pay off this debt, a nightmare will visit us both. Eric will come after me and he’ll hurt her. My fingers ball into a fist. I’ll die before I let that happen.

A rustle of sheets, then soft fingers glide against mine. I glance at Rachel and meet glazed-over blue eyes. The spark is gone, taking the violet hue along with it.

“How are you?” I ask, and focus on not demanding why the hell she’s kept all this from me. We’ll have the conversation, but not in this moment.

“Okay,” she says in a hoarse, cracked voice. “I’m sorry.”

I shake my head, not wanting her apology. “Me, too.” I lace my fingers with hers. “Why did you run from me?”