Crash into You (Pushing the Limits #3)

Crash into You (Pushing the Limits #3) Page 40

Noah and Beth were the only people I’d told about where my mom was, and I never discussed the why. “Armed robbery.” Plus child endangerment.

Her thumb moves against my wrist as a silent acknowledgment of how much it cost me to tell her the truth and that she’s done asking questions. I kiss her forehead, a thank-you for not pushing me to places I can’t visit.

Rachel shifts forward on my lap, unbuttons her coat and slides it off. “Little warm.”

I take the lighter she still grasps in her hand and place it in the cup holder. When I go to move the blanket she stops me by cuddling back into my body. “I chose the blanket over my coat.”

Tonight has been a constant give-and-take between us, and I’d like her to give a little more. “Do you see a therapist about your panic attacks?”

When I’m greeted with the sound of the rain tapping the top of the car, I switch tactics. “Noah’s girlfriend, Echo—she’s had some issues and she sees someone. It helps her.”

“I used to. In middle school and a little in my freshman year, but then I stopped.” Rachel’s pause highlights her struggle for words. “My mom worried. Constantly. It wasn’t normal. She wouldn’t let me out of her sight. My older brothers said that she was just as manic as when Colleen had cancer. And then I had several panic attacks in high school.”

Her breath catches as if the memory causes her physical pain.

“I had a couple of harsh attacks in a short period of time and ended up in the hospital. I...I...” It’s as if the words are programmed not to leave her body. “I hated it. I hated how Mom hovered. I hated how my oldest two brothers would compare me to Colleen. I hated how West and Ethan would look at me as if I was dying.

“So...when I got out of the hospital...I found a way to hide the attacks...the anxiety...and eventually my family believed I defeated the panic and for the first time in my life they didn’t see me as weak.”

Weak. I hate the word, especially from her. “If you still suffer from this, you should get help. Screw your family.”

“There’s no way for me to get help without them knowing. Isaiah, I can’t...”

“I see you, you see me, remember? You’re going to have to trust me on this. If you have these attacks then we’ll fix them. I only care about you. Not your family.”

“You are bossy.”

“Protective,” I counter, and run my hand along the length of her leg.

Rachel lets out a contented sigh. “I wish we could be like this forever.”

“We will be.” I break a cardinal rule and dream of the future. Rachel is a future kind of girl, and I’m going to have to work hard to give her a world worth living in. “With this certification and internship, I’ll have the best jobs. I can’t give you the world, Rachel, but I’ll give you all I got.”

Her soft lips kiss my jaw and my body temperature spikes. Holding on to Rachel is like holding on to a flame. It’s a soothing burn and an addictive burn. Her kiss is pure fire.

“Being with you is enough.” She adjusts so that she can look at me, and I love how the spark has returned to her eyes. “We could open our own shop.”

I curl her silky hair around my finger and tug lightly. “You and me alone in the garage with you bent over the hood of a powerful engine. I think I can handle that.”

She blushes at my words, but keeps the banter alive. “We’ll only take fast cars or clients who want faster cars. The faster the better.”

I like how she thinks. “If you’re touching cars in our shop, then you’ll have to get your certification.”

“Will you tutor me?”

I shouldn’t, but I can’t resist. Cradling her face in my hands, I brush my lips against hers. “I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

She rests her forehead on mine. My hand stays against her cheek, and my thumb glides over her soft skin. Rachel’s chest moves faster, almost matching my pace. Energy rushes into my veins and the heat between us teeters on the edge of flames.

“My brothers are going to try to keep us apart,” she whispers, then presses her mouth against my bottom lip. My grip on her waist tightens in response. “What are we going to do?”

I don’t know, but the way she curls in my arms makes me feel like I’m the hero. I like being her hero. I like the way her eyes shine at me, the way her body melts when I touch her, her soft lips on mine. I love her warmth and every curve.

I love her.

My fingers draw up her back and tangle into her hair. “They’ll never separate us.”

“Never,” she repeats.

Our lips crush together, our bodies pressed tight. An inferno of lips and hands and movements that continues to grow in heat. The blanket falls away as Rachel slides her legs so that she straddles me. On the verge of burning up completely, I groan and cling to her small frame. Her hands drift under my shirt, leaving a singeing trail.

We’ve become a wildfire. Almost unstoppable. I kiss her neck and the beautiful sounds escaping her mouth encourage me further. My hands skim under her shirt, up her back, linger for seconds near her bra, and I gently nip her ear when I feel lace.

Images pour into my mind of what she’d look like with her shirt off, then her jeans. My fist traps strands of her hair. “I want you, Rachel.”

And because I do, I kiss her fully on the mouth—nothing left to the imagination. Every fantasy becomes a reality with that one embrace. Then, summoning more willpower than I possess, I end the kiss, cupping her head to my chest.

We both breathe hard. Blood pulses in my temples, throughout my entire body. Need screams for me to bring her back into my arms. But I love Rachel, and the physical between us has to go slow.

“Can we stay here?” Rachel asks. “For a little longer?”

We can stay here for life. “Yes.”

Chapter 52

Rachel

MY BROTHERS FOLLOW ME TO class. Every class. I ditch one brother when class starts and pick up another when class ends. I tried losing them at lunch by seeking refuge in the library, but one or both still trailed behind me. I’m furious with my unwanted bodyguards.

The bell rings. The collective sigh of it’s-Friday relief from the English class visiting the library is tangible. Books snap shut and zippers on backpacks close into place. I shelve the remaining books, grab my stuff and head into the hallway. My skin feels as if it’s going to peel off my bones. I haven’t seen Isaiah since Saturday and I miss him—desperately.

Against the wall of lockers, Ethan waits with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his dress khakis. “You’ve never gone this long without talking to me.”

For the first time in a week, Ethan and I look at each other without glaring. I attempt to ignore the hurt swimming in his dark eyes, but I can’t. Ethan is my twin—my best friend. “You started this.”

“Tell me you aren’t seeing the punk and it’ll end.”

My grip tightens on my pack. “He is not a punk.”

“West and I are trying to protect you. That’s all.” Ethan reaches out as if he’s going to take my hand, a reaction to his hurt and mine. A comforting touch we’ve shared since toddlerhood. “We saw the picture. Tattoos. Earrings. The guy looks like a damn serial killer.”

“He’s not.”

Ethan’s arm falls to his side. My hand twitches, not used to feeling empty.

I step toward him, pleading. “I know he looks tough, but he’s an amazing guy on the inside. If you and West would try to get to know him...”

“Then bring him home to meet Mom and Dad. To meet us.”

“I can’t.” I shift from my left to right foot. “Not yet.”

Because if Mom and Dad discover I’m dating Isaiah they’ll become grime caked on an axle, and I’ll never be allowed out of the house. Isaiah and I agreed that we need to pay off Eric before we drop the dating bomb on my parents.

Ethan and West want me to dump Isaiah, and they’d prefer for me to do it without anyone, meaning my parents and our older brothers, finding out that he existed. I’m gambling that their need to protect Mom and Dad, coupled with the fact that Gavin and Jack will kick their asses for letting me get close to a guy, will keep them from ratting me out. So far, I’ve been right. This weekend, I may have to be home by ten, since Ethan won’t cover for me anymore, but at least I can make it to the races.

Ethan pushes off the lockers. “You won’t introduce him to Mom and Dad because he’s bad news and you know it.”

I roll my eyes and walk alongside Ethan. My heart aches. I miss my best friend. I miss not being able to tell him everything in my life. He can blame Isaiah for our strained relationship, but that’s not the case. Our relationship started to deteriorate years ago when I began to lie about the attacks.

My head tilts when the words he said to West in the locker room last week haunt me. “You told West that you knew that I’d been lying about my panic attacks.”

Ethan dips his head, as if he’s counting the floor tiles. “I know you better than anyone else. At least I thought I did. I know when you’re in pain. I know when you hurt.”

Neither one of us say anything as we pass a group of seniors cutting up. Both of us scan the crowd for West. In the middle, dark blue eyes that mirror mine peer at me. West’s smile falters, but he’s quick to hide the concern. My chest hurts. Both of them love me.

“If the two of you suspected, then why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because...” He takes a deep breath. “Because we’re selfish assholes who wanted Mom for a few seconds. She was always so obsessed with you and your attacks that we got nothing. When you claimed to be better, she was still up your butt, but at least we got something.”

“I never asked for this,” I say as we go down the stairs. “Any of it. For the panic attacks. To be Colleen’s replacement.”

“I know,” he says. “And to be honest, that’s why West and I pity you instead of hate you.”

How on earth has my family become so dysfunctional? We walk outside, and Ethan places a hand on my shoulder to stop me. My stomach cramps as if I’ve been sucker punched when he immediately removes his arm. We’re so distant we can’t even touch.

“Talk to us—me and West. Tell us the whole truth about the attacks. We’ll find a way to make everything work between you and Mom and the speeches. And dump the punk. It’s not like you’re going to see him anyway. I won’t cover you anymore, and if I don’t cover you, Mom will start asking questions about where you’re going. There’s no way you’ll be able to think of a good enough excuse as to why you suddenly have a life.”

Ethan is right, and I start to wonder how I’ll make it to the dragway without his help. If I tell Ethan the truth about Eric, he’ll go ballistic and he’ll possibly snitch on me to my parents. Movement near where I parked my car causes me to shift so I can look past my brother.

Holy hell. I brush past Ethan and try to think of something coherent to say other than, “What are you doing here, Abby?”