Take Me On (Pushing the Limits #4)(59)

She shakes her head. “Regardless of what you believe, the state isn’t interested in destroying you or your family, and, from what I understand, you’re living in a safe environment. We’re here to help, Haley. I’m here to help.”

At the word safe, a bubble of hysterical laughter wells up inside me and bursts out of my mouth. The sound is definitely out of place and instead of making me feel better the laughter twists an already too-tight spring. Dizzy with the crazy emotions, I stumble for the door. Right as I touch the knob, I sober up and freeze.

Not that I’m complaining. “What do you mean you aren’t allowed to take me on?”

She leans back in her seat and the quirky set of her lips and eyes reminds me of how Jax stares at his opponent before entering the ring—as if she’s trying to figure out my next move. “My job at this school is to help those who the state believes need a little extra push in the right direction. Regardless of how I tried to convince the powers that be, you don’t fit the requirements for my program.”

I slump against the wall in relief. Oh, thank God, I can stop worrying about CPS arriving at the door and dragging me and Maggie away. “That’s good.”

“I guess,” she says. “But my gut says you need to talk to someone, and I have a sinking feeling once you walk out, I’ll never see you again.”

A twinge of guilt rocks me because every word out of her mouth is absolutely true: I do need to talk to somebody. I want to open my mouth and vomit out all that has happened, to take the darkness and give it to somebody else. I want the nastiness and decay out of my body, out of my soul, and maybe if I expelled it in words, then maybe, just maybe, the rot would be gone.

But it’s like my windpipe has collapsed and my voice box was taken hostage. To tell her about my life—losing my home, what happened with Matt—that would mean exposing myself.

I trusted Matt and that didn’t work out, and I was stupid enough to talk to West and he hasn’t acknowledged a word I said since it happened.

“Thanks,” I say to her while turning the knob. “But I’m fine.”





West

In the cafeteria, Haley drops into the seat across from me and immediately pops a French fry into her mouth. “I’m considering tying your hands to your head. Maybe that way you’ll keep your guard up.”

I chuckle. Haley isn’t a “Hi” and useless conversation type of girl. She’s direct, to the point, not capable of bullshit, and I’m falling harder for her every day. I’m completely f*cked because she’s damned insistent that we keep things “simple.” “I’m keeping my guard up.”

“What. Ever.”

I’ve been waiting for some sort of confirmation that she might see us as more than friends. More than coach and student. I slather a French fry in the ketchup, then push my tray away, wondering how much Haley’s had to eat all week. “Want to go to dinner tonight? Before we work out? My treat.”

She shakes her head without looking at me. “I’ve got to work before we go to the gym. You know, bills and all.” Weak smile on her part.

“What time do you get off? I’ll pick you up and get you to the gym.”

Haley scowls at her plate. She hates accepting help, but she mumbles, “Seven.”

For the first time since Rachel’s accident, I spot Isaiah at school. He walks in the side door pure night of the living dead—pale, dark circles under his eyes, the whole dead-on-his-feet montage. I stare at him and he assesses me like I’m scum.

I glance away first. He’s been standing by my sister, holding her hand, making her happy when I can’t. That deserves some respect.

Haley’s gaze flickers between the two of us. “You know him?”

“He’s Rachel’s boyfriend.”

Both of Haley’s eyebrows rise. “No kidding.”

“Wish I was.”

“How’d that happen?”

I shrug because I only know what others have told me. “They met drag racing.”

“Wow. Adrenaline rushes must be a family thing.”

I chuckle, never having thought of it that way. “Do you know him?”

“He lives in the same neighborhood as me, but I don’t know anything more than rumors and we both know that rumors typically aren’t true.”

We drop the subject of Isaiah and move on to fight strategy. When a scuffle in the corner draws her attention, I toss my remaining French fries onto her plate. I hold my breath when she turns back and breathe again when she doesn’t appear to notice. If I got caught doing that shit, she’d kick my ass.

“So I have this thing,” she says.

Interesting. “A thing?”

“Yeah, a thing.” Haley rummages through her backpack and withdraws a stapled-together pack of papers. “It’s a scholarship. A full ride and I really need it.”

She pauses and I feel like shit.

“Anyway,” she continues. “I have to submit a video and I’d like to tape me training you and some of your workouts to show why I’m a good candidate for the scholarship.”

I wiggle my fingers and she places the paperwork in my hands. Haley sucks in her bottom lip as she watches me from across the lunch table. “I’ll understand if you say no.”