Dare You To (Pushing the Limits #2)(74)

“No,” he says. “Everyone knows Trent’s in jail. The worst thing that’s going to happen to you here…” He glances over at the closed door of my old bedroom. “Maybe I should toss you over my shoulder again. This place is no good for you, Beth.”

“I know.” And that is exactly why I want to leave…with my mom. A small part of me is curious as to what Isaiah knows that I don’t. I could open the door to my old room and find out, but I shake away the thought. I don’t want to know. I really, really don’t.

“You should go back to work,” I say. He changed from his work clothes to his favorite black T-shirt and jeans, which means he intends to stick around. I don’t want to be responsible for him losing a job he loves. The garage he works for is across the street from the strip mall, which explains why he reached me so quickly.

“I got off an hour ago. I stuck around to bullshit and to tinker with a newer Mustang someone brought in. She’s real pretty. I think even you would like her.”

I’ve missed this. Isaiah telling me about his day and his excited tone when he talks about cars. With his gray eyes, Isaiah looks me over. I’ve missed him. His voice. The tattoos covering his arms. His constant, steady presence. The last is what I miss the most.

Isaiah is that one relationship I’ve never had to question. The one relationship where I don’t wonder if it’ll change when I wake in the morning.

I take the two steps and wrap my arms around his chest. One arm at a time, Isaiah embraces me. I love the sound of his heart. So steady. So strong. For a brief few seconds, the chains lift. “I’ve missed you,” I say.

“I’ve missed you too.” Isaiah rests his head against the top of mine. One hand reaches up and cups the back of my head. His fingers graze my cheek and my spine straightens.

We’ve touched many times over the past four years. All those times we touched we were high. Since my arrest, Isaiah has touched me way too much sober.

One night last year, we pushed too far when we were high. Sort of like me and Ryan.

Unlike me and Ryan, Isaiah and I pretended it never happened. If it weren’t for Ryan, I probably would have forced amnesia on our night together in the barn.

And then I remember…Isaiah told me that he loved me.

“When we graduate, Beth, I promise I’ll take you away from here.”

“Okay,” I say, knowing I’ll be long gone before graduation. I slip out of his grasp and wonder if I misunderstood Isaiah. Maybe he didn’t tell me he loved me. Maybe he did and once again we’re ignoring things. “Denny call you again?”

“Yeah, and he’ll keep calling me. Do all of us a favor and just call me first. If you have to see your mom, let me be by your side when you do it. I’ll kill Trent if he touches you again and I’d rather not go to jail.”

“Sure.” Even though I won’t call. The next time I come into Louisville, it’ll be to collect Mom and leave town for good.

“Rico’s throwing a party tonight,” Isaiah continues. “Noah’s going to be there. I promise the two of us will have you back at your uncle’s before you can be missed.”

A sinking hollowness dwells in my soul. I hit Noah. “Is he mad at me?”

Isaiah shakes his head. “Mad at himself.

Same way I am. We should have approached everything different with you, but we arrived right after Trent. Noah and I were terrified Trent was going to hurt you again.”

I pull out my cell and check the time. I have five minutes to get back to Ryan. Running a hand through my hair, I consider my options. I want to see Noah and I want to spend time with Isaiah. I’d like to push Ryan in front of a bus for what he did to his brother. My heart trips over itself. What I really crave is for Ryan to give me his gorgeous smile and tell me he made a terrible mistake.

What is wrong with me?

I bite my bottom lip and face Isaiah. “I need to talk to Ryan first.”

Ryan

BETH WALKS OUT of the shabby apartment complex, Isaiah on her heels. The same mantra circles in my brain: I’m not losing Beth. I’m not giving up on us.

I could have approached her earlier, but I decided to respect Beth and stick to our original plan: go shower and change at the pitching facility, then pick her up an hour later.

I modified one part of her request—I’m picking her up where I last saw her. An hour ago, I watched as Beth followed Isaiah into this building with a grown woman passed out in his arms.

Giving Beth her space—knowing she was with him and not me—was one of the hardest damn things I’ve ever done. But I’m going to keep Beth. Regardless of the words I say to her, she is my girl.

Beth stops when she sees me leaning against the passenger door of my Jeep. Her eyes widen and her face pales. “What are you doing here?”

“We have dinner plans.”

She blinks and Isaiah stiffens behind her. He may be looking for a fight, but I’m not. “Can we talk for a second, Beth?” I stare at Isaiah.

“Alone.”

“I go only if she tells me to go.” Isaiah has a cool demeanor, almost friendly, but all of it is forced.

“Isaiah,” says Beth. “I need to talk to him.”

From behind her, Isaiah places a hand on her shoulder, kisses the top of her head, and stares straight at me. Bile rises in my throat. The only thing keeping me from punching him is Beth’s expression. Her striking eyes become too large for her face. Good girl. I like that she didn’t expect a move like that from him.