Crash into You (Pushing the Limits #3)(100)

Chapter 66

Rachel

ISAIAH PARKS MY CAR A block from the security gate of my neighborhood. Headlights flash behind us as Abby follows his lead. Her lights turn off, indicating that she’s granting us time.

We’ve been silent—Isaiah and I. Not that silence is unusual between us, but it’s never been so heavy. We’re both angry, hurt. I’ll admit to being scared. “We’re not going to make the money, are we?”

“Eric will be paid off this weekend,” he says. “What happened tonight, the panic attack, that’s been going on for a while, hasn’t it?”

The unspoken accusation that I’ve lied to him slices like a knife. I rest my head on the back of the seat. “How are we coming up with the money?”

“You vomited blood,” he says, ignoring me. “I’m not talking about anything until we discuss this.”

“Isaiah—”

“You vomited blood,” he repeats.

“I know.”

“Rachel...you need help.”

I laugh and it’s the same bitter laugh I remember him giving when we met so many weeks ago. “So do you.”

“I love you.” Isaiah says it so simply that my heart soars and sinks at the same time.

“I love you,” I whisper. “Did you ever think that loving someone could hurt so bad?”

Isaiah shakes his head and stares out the window.

“What’s going to happen to us?” I ask. Because I don’t know how the two of us can continue forward. Isaiah refuses to let me in. It’s sort of cruel. He’s brought me close with his stories of his childhood and with his words of love, but he can’t relinquish control. I refuse to be with someone who won’t treat me as an equal.

Isaiah clears his throat. “I failed the ASE.”

Dread washes over me. “You said you passed....”

“They accused me of cheating so they failed me. Once Pro Performance finds out, I’ll lose the internship and the job. I have nothing left to offer you.”

I grow numb as my mind races to understand. “Why would they think you cheated? I mean, there’s no way you would, so why would anyone else think it?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s over.”

“It’s not. You can retake it. Prove to them that you know everything about cars.”

His hands hover over the wheel as if he wants to hit it, but he doesn’t. Instead he slowly lowers his palms to the leather covering. “It’s over. The certification. The job. The hope we could pay Eric off by racing.”

“I’m going to race Zach.” It’s the only way. “And I don’t need your permission to do it.”

Isaiah slams his hand against the steering wheel and I flinch. “With what, Rachel? Our seven hundred? Let’s say you win, we’re still down over three thousand dollars. We tried and we failed. Playing by the rules is no longer an option.”

“Then we’ll take on more races. I’ll race Zach more than once. He said money wasn’t a problem—”

“Because he’s betting Eric’s money.”

My face whips as if I’ve been smacked. “What did you say?”

“Zach’s working for Eric.”

There’s a disorientation like I’m having an out-of-body experience. He’s known this and he hasn’t told me.

“I’m going to steal cars to make the money to pay Eric.” There’s no mistaking the determination in his voice or the set of his jaw. He’s made his decision, and nothing I can say will change his mind. I open the door to the car.

“Rachel,” Isaiah pleads.

I pause, long enough to give him the opportunity to apologize for keeping the secret. To tell me that I misheard about stealing the cars.

“Even if it wasn’t the case, we’d need to race Friday and Saturday night. Are you going to walk away from your mom’s charity event to race? Just give me time to fix this and then—”

“Then what?” I snap. When Isaiah says nothing, I point at his door. “Get out of my car.”

With a click of the handle he does, and he meets me in front of the hood. Without looking at him, I reach into my coat, extract his lighter and hold it out to him.

Isaiah’s forehead wrinkles as he looks away. “Don’t do this, Rachel.”

“I’m not the one doing this.” I hold my palm out, waiting for my keys. Isaiah’s hand covers mine. The keys feel frozen against my skin and the lighter is gone.

“I’m doing it to protect you,” he says.

“No, you’re not,” I whisper to the ground. “You’re doing it to protect yourself. You never really let me in, did you?”

His hand falls away and I slide behind the wheel. Isaiah stands off to the side and I drive home without looking back. Isaiah says he’s protecting me. My brothers and father say the same thing about my mom. For the first time in my life, I wonder if my mother wants to be protected.

* * *

It’s supposed to be used as a windowless conference room, but Mom fashioned it into her command center. The ballroom across the hall is decorated with thousands of mini pink roses and shimmering crystals. Dressed in their best gowns and tuxes, hundreds of people nibble on hors d’oeuvres. There will be a salad, followed by a choice of fish or steak, and during the cheesecake dessert, I’ll stand and tell everyone how much I loved Colleen. Then there will be dancing.