Dare You To (Pushing the Limits, #2)(59)

I search for the anger I felt earlier and try to find a way to      blame her. She was the one that left. She was the one that spent time with those      two guys. But the only thought turning in my brain is the accusation Isaiah spat      at me: I make her cry.





Chapter 32

Beth

LIVING IS LIKE BEING       CHAINED at the bottom of a shallow pond with my eyes open and no air.      I can see distorted images of happiness and light, even hear muffled laughter,      but everything is out of my reach as I lie in suffocating agony. If death is the      opposite of living, then I hope death is like floating.

I’ve never fought with Isaiah and Noah like that. I never      thought Isaiah would betray me, but he has. I trusted my best friend with      secrets—secrets I’ve never told another living soul. He knows about my father,      he knows about my mother, he knows how many times a man has slapped a hand      across my face...he knows that Ryan, the way he offers friendship when I know      he’s only playing me, hurts.

Resting my forehead against the glass of the passenger-side      window, I watch the multiple white lines in the middle of the road speed by. On      the two-lane road leading to my uncle’s house, Ryan passes a tractor trailer,      easily doing sixty in a forty-five. I sort of wish I had the courage to open the      door and fall out.

It would hurt, but then the pain would be over when I died.      All the pain. The indescribable ache in my chest, the heaviness in my head, the      hard lump in my throat—it would all be gone.

We’ve ridden in silence. I’m not sure if it’s been an      uncomfortable silence as I am on the verge of numb. I’m striving for numb. I      crave numb. I want to be high.

The Jeep veers to the left and we begin the trip down the      long driveway. My stomach growls. We never ate.

When he reaches the house, Ryan places the Jeep in Park and      immediately turns off the engine. I hate the country. With no lights, the woods      and fields become the playground of my nightmares. My skin pricks at the thought      of the devil waiting in the darkness to snatch me up and expel me into      nothingness.

There are so many things Ryan can do. He can yell. He can go      inside and tell Scott everything. The latter would make him the upstanding kid      that Scott wants me to be. It would also crush the remains of my life. Scott      will send Mom to jail.

And me? I’ll want to die.

Four hours ago, pride would have never let me say the words,      but there’s nothing left inside me. “I’m sorry.”

Frogs croak near the creek that borders Scott’s farm. Ryan      says nothing back and I don’t blame him. There really is nothing for him to say      to a girl like me.

He examines the keys in his hands. “You played me for a ride      into Louisville.”

“Yes.” And if my plan had worked, I would be gone, and my      uncle would have blamed him.

“You planned to meet with that guy instead of spending time      with me.”

“Yes.” He deserves honesty and that is as honest an answer      as I can give him.

He twirls the keys around his finger. “From the moment you      walked into Taco Bell, you were nothing more than a dare. Chris and Logan dared      me to get your phone number and then I was dared to take you on a date.”

The words sting, but I struggle to keep the pain from      surfacing. What more should I expect? He’s everything that’s right with the      world. I’m everything wrong. Guys like him don’t go for girls like me.

“I almost got into a fight for you.”

“I know.” And I say those rare words again: “I’m sorry.”

Ryan sticks the key into the ignition and starts the engine.      “You owe me. I’ll pick you up at seven on Friday. No games this time. A simple      night. We go to the party. We hang for an hour. I win my dare, then I take you      home. You go back to ignoring me. I’ll ignore you.”

“Fine.” I should be happy, but I’m not. This is what I      thought I wanted. Behind the numbness is an ache waiting to torture me. I open      the door to the Jeep and close it without looking back.





Chapter 33

Ryan

STATE LAW KEEPS ME FROM      pitching more than fifteen innings a week. I’m only brought in on Thursday games      if our other two pitchers dig us a hole. Three innings ago, when Coach put me      in, we were so far deep we couldn’t see daylight. Not that the rain helps.