Crash into You (Pushing the Limits #3)(95)

“Do you know why I asked to be your social worker?” Courtney asks.

I peer at the blood pressure machine, wishing I could stop feeling. “Why?”

“Because I grew up in foster care, too.”

The heart rate monitor increases speed, and Courtney pretends she doesn’t notice that her bombshell affects me. “Entered at six, just like you. I had the good homes, the bad ones and the group homes. I even have a tattoo from my pissed-off years.”

My chest moves faster as my emotions threaten to consume me. I reach for anger, because it feels better than hurt. “Is that what you think I am? Pissed-off?”

“Oh, Isaiah.” Courtney stares straight into my eyes. “Pissed-off is the easy emotion. Having been in the same exact position you’re in...” She flutters her hand at the hospital bed and then grows still. Her mouth attempts to quirk up, but her lower lip trembles. “I’d bet, right now, you’re feeling very alone.”

Alone.

Logan’s got a dad beside him. Me? I’ve got a social worker. I shake my head, fighting the hurt. “What’s wrong with me that nobody wants to keep me?”

Why no one wanted to love me. Right now, I don’t feel badass. I feel seventeen and crave for someone to tell me that my friend will be okay.

Her fingers find mine and I don’t draw away. “Nothing,” she says firmly. “There is nothing wrong with you.”

I suck in air, close my eyes and exhale out the emotions. Courtney withdraws her hand, and I’m grateful she doesn’t push me further.

“Can you find out about Logan?” I ask.

“Yes,” she says. “I’ll be back.”

Chapter 62

Rachel

ABBY GRIPS THE PASSENGER DOOR. “I’m going to be sick.”

“Throw up in my car, and that will be the last thing you ever do.” Spotting the exit for the hospital, I cut over two lanes and shift down. Isaiah’s been teaching me some tricks after school. Never in a million years would I have thought I’d be using those skills to race to the hospital to see if he’s alive.

“You were doing ninety and switching lanes like we were being chased by the police.”

“Are you sure he’s here?” Because I’d prefer for Isaiah to be at any of the other hospitals in the county over University. This is where they bring the awful trauma cases.

“Yes.” Abby loosens her hold on the door as we approach the stoplight at the end of the ramp. “Echo told me.”

Isaiah called me and I never called back. My last words to him were in anger. What if he thinks I don’t love him? My fingers beat against the steering wheel, counting how long it takes for the cross light to turn yellow. “Are you sure she said University?”

“Yes.”

“That’s where they take the worst trauma patients.” I admit my fear out loud.

Abby releases a heavy sigh. “It’s also where they take people with no insurance. He’s a foster kid, Rachel, and a line item on the government’s budget. That is where they’d take him. Not the fancy-ass hospital with the flat-screen televisions.”

Like Isaiah taught me, my foot hovers over the gas while my other presses on the clutch. My fingers grasp the gearshift. A solid wall with no windows, a practical fortress, University Hospital looms over us two blocks ahead. I watch the cross light turn yellow, and my eyes flick to my light, waiting for the green.

In one instantaneous movement, I lay off the clutch, step on the gas and shift into gear the second the light flips. Next to me, Abby curses.

* * *

Abby and I run past the sliding glass doors of the hospital and hesitate. The bland waiting room with beige-painted cinder block walls is cramped with people. Wet coughing hacks, crying babies and the sound of someone vomiting makes me turn my head. In the corner, wearing too many layers of clothes that haven’t been washed, a man hunches over and talks to himself.

Abby nudges my elbow. “Over there.”

My heart soars out of my body when I spot Isaiah. He’s hugging his roommate, Noah. Strong arms wrapped around each other in a brief embrace. They separate, and I cover my mouth when I see the wound on his head, the bruises forming on his face, the blood dried on his clothing.

Stepping forward out of the shadows and touching Isaiah’s arm is one of my many nightmares: Beth. She smiles up at him, and when he smiles back my heart shatters.

Chapter 63

Isaiah

WITH NO CLUE ABOUT LOGAN’S condition, I walk into the waiting room. Hearing that Noah was on his way, Shirley and Dale left, but told me I could crash in their basement if I needed. After all, the state still pays them for me.

I see red hair and curls first. Echo chokes me. It’s nice to have a sister. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good.” I glance at Noah from over her head. With his hair hiding his eyes and hands on his hips, I can’t read my best friend. “How’s Noah?” I mutter.

“Scared,” she whispers. “Mad.”

I nod at Noah. “S’up, man.” He embraces me—a strong crush of arms and muscles. We hold it for a second, keep it tight and then let go. The two of us are brothers.

“Give me a reason why I shouldn’t kick your ass,” says Noah. “What were you thinking?”

“Damn, Noah,” says Beth from behind me. “He already has stitches.”