Crash into You
Page 21

On her own? She’ll get herself killed, and that’ll take my already-serious problems with Eric into the realm of lethal. If he hurts her, he’ll die. And then his boys will hunt me like a dog and take me down. My goal is to get us the fuck out of this situation without all that Romeo and Juliet bullshit.
Both of my hands slide up to her shoulders. “Do you know what some of the gangs in town do for initiation?”
“What?” The hysteria leaves for a second as she tries to understand my question.
“They have to rape someone.”
Her eyes study my face. “What does that have to do with Eric? With me?”
I hesitate, the words frozen on my tongue. His boys could rape you, Rachel. I brought this up on purpose—so that she’ll understand the lethal reality of Eric. To push her away from me, toward the cops. But the innocence and terror in her eyes stop me. Is it possible to spook an angel to death?
I should resist, but it’s like I’m physically drawn to her. I loosen my grip and allow one hand to caress her cheek. Her skin burns under my touch. “You’re in danger, and without five thousand dollars, I can’t protect you from my world.”
Beneath me, Rachel’s body crumples in defeat. She sways, and I wrap an arm around her to keep her from collapsing.
“We’ll give him my car,” she whispers. “It’s worth three times that amount.”
My thumb traces the path of her cheekbone. I’ve missed her. I’ll miss her again when she sees I’m right about the police. “If Eric wanted your car, he would have taken your car.”
“But he said...” she starts with a mixture of exhaustion and frustration.
She’s searching for hope, and I have none to offer. There’s no pot at the end of the rainbow. No spell that will undo what’s been done. This isn’t a fairy tale, but a nightmare. “He said he’d take your car if you don’t pay the debt. He meant after he beats the life out of me and—” rapes “—hurts you. This isn’t about the money. This is about control.”
Her body presses against my arm for release, and I let her go. She stumbles back and I silently curse myself. I gave her the truth, but it’s a truth a girl like her should’ve never heard. Her chest moves rapidly, and she claws at the material of her sweater as if she’s choking. I understand. With each passing second, I feel the noose Eric placed on me tightening.
Rachel’s lower lip quivers and the words tumble out. “I can’t go to the police.” Her eyes snap shut and the way she fights to keep tears from falling rips me in half. “My family will hate me and I’ll destroy her. Making her happy is the only reason I’m alive.”
Her words make no sense, but the pure agony underlying her tone tells me she means them. She yanks again at her sweater, threatening to tear it. “Why is this happening?”
It doesn’t matter why. It’s happening. I close the distance between us and fold her smaller body into mine. She fights me at first—her fists knock against my chest. Each swipe stings, but it’s nothing like the hurt beating at me because of her pain. Eventually, she stops hitting and rests her forehead on my chest. Her body quakes with sobs.
“What am I going to do?” she whispers.
I kiss the top of her head. The early-morning sun warms her hair and I linger so I can inhale the delicious scent of jasmine mixed with salty waves. I gave her up once and touching her like this again... I refuse to abandon her again. She needs me.
“I’ll fix this.” I have no idea how, but I can’t stomach her tears. “Give me twenty-four hours and I’ll have a way to fix this.”
Chapter 24
Rachel
STANDING IN THE GARAGE AT home, I stare at Isaiah’s phone number programmed into my cell. Isaiah said that he’ll fix things with Eric, but what does that mean for us? For our relationship? Or our lack of a relationship? If he had given me his number last week I would have been full of joy. Now—I feel tired.
Isaiah told Eric I was a debt.
Eric called me a fuck.
I close my eyes and cringe at that last word. Was Isaiah right? He called me dense. I have to be, because I honestly believed that the kiss in his apartment meant something to him. That our moment together, that my first kiss, was more than a lead-in to...to...sex.
With a sigh, I swing my pack over my shoulder and head to the house. It’s early. Not even ten yet. There’s no way I can return to school, not when my mind’s a turbulent mess over Eric and Isaiah and five thousand dollars. It all seems overwhelming and impossible. It probably is, but Isaiah told me not to worry. He told me to have hope. I’m torn between the two emotions.
The same words circle in my head: I’m a debt. I. Am. A. Debt.
I unlock the back door, enter the kitchen and disable the alarm. Dad’s at work, West and Ethan are at school, Mom is...who knows where. My fingers brush where Isaiah stroked my cheek before we parted ways. My heart flutters and then crashes to a halt. I’m a debt. A debt.
Eric pops into my mind and my skin crawls because he touched my hair. My head starts to ache. What I need is a hot, pounding shower and a new train of thought.
I’m a debt.
“Rach? What are you doing here?”
A jolt of shock causes me to drop my backpack and turn. My oldest brother, Gavin, stands next to the pantry, a bag of chips in his hand. It’s just Gavin! I scream in my mind, but after Eric, everything seems like a threat. Especially Gavin. My brother is huge: played football in college and was good at it, too. He’s smart and opinionated and he just plain intimidates me.
“I asked what you were doing here,” he demands.
My fingers twine and untwine. “I didn’t feel good so I came home.” The lie comes easily. Guilt follows.
His eyes lower to my pack on the floor by my feet. “You’re too young to sign yourself out.”
“I never made it into school. I sat in the parking lot until I felt well enough to come home.” Please believe me. Please believe me.
“Does Mom know?”
“No.” Crap. Mom. I’m not ready to face Mom. “But I’ll tell her. Is she here?”
Gavin scratches the back of his head, and the chip bag crackles in his hand. I glance around the kitchen and realize that everything about this moment is wrong. “Where’s the staff?”
“Mom gives them Friday mornings off,” he says.
I didn’t know that. “And Mom?”
“Out,” he says. “You should go upstairs if you aren’t feeling good.”
Yeah, because Gavin always looks out for my best interests—and by always I mean never. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a job?”
The bag crackles again, and that’s when I notice a gym bag full of food on the floor. And the jeans he’s wearing...and T-shirt. “What’s going on?”
Gavin drops the chips and steps in my direction. Remembering Eric, I stumble back. I’ve already been threatened by one guy today. I don’t want to be threatened by another. Faster than me, because let’s face it, who isn’t, Gavin grabs my wrist to steady me as I ram into the fridge.
“Calm down, Rach. What’s gotten into you?” He doesn’t wait for my response as he continues, “I lost my job.”
All of me sinks. “Oh, Gavin. I’m sorry. When?” Gavin became an energy broker after college. Mom and Dad were so proud. As Mom announced at parties: one in medical school—referencing Jack—and one moving straight to the top in business.
“A couple of weeks ago,” he rushes out. “I’ll find something else soon.”
My head tilts as I understand. “You haven’t told Mom and Dad.”
“Dad knows.” He omits that Mom doesn’t and frees my wrist. “He wants to tell Mom after you agree to speak at the fundraisers. That way she’ll be in a good place, not a bad one.”
I try to rub away the worry lines forming on my forehead. Why is it always on me to fix everything? “That’s not fair.”
“Life’s not fair,” he snaps. “When are you going to grow up and accept that?”
It’s too much. All of it. Eric and money and Isaiah and now Gavin. “I never asked for this.”
“And I did?” Gavin says. “Do you think this is the life that Jack and I wanted? To watch our sister die? To watch Mom’s soul die? But it’s what we got. We all have roles to play, Rachel, and I’m tired of having to remind you of yours.”
His hands go to his hips, a certain sign of an impending lecture, but at least he softens his tone. “Look, we all know you’re the best of us. You’re sweet, kind, possibly the only one of us who has the natural ability to stay out of trouble. So why are you being so selfish? You can make Mom happy and you’re choosing not to. You’re a better person than that.”
I’m not. My arm brushes against the handle of the fridge as I withdraw farther from him.
My fingers massage the painful pulse that’s penetrated the frontal lobe of my brain. Gavin dips his head to look me in the eye. I’m not afraid he’ll see a lie. I really do feel awful. My stomach gurgles with distress.
“You’re not looking good, kid,” he says. “Do you want me to stick around? Watch some movies with you?”
My lips fall into a frown and tremble. Gavin loves me and all I do is lie.
“Ah, Rach. I’m sorry.” He envelops me in a bone-breaking bear hug. “I’m sorry I yelled and I’m sorry that you don’t feel good. I’ve just got a lot on my plate right now.”
I rest my head on his shoulder. Gavin loves me. He always has, just in his big-brother way. Would Eric hurt them, my family? Or would Gavin be able to scare off this threat if I told him? “Have you ever been in trouble?” I ask.
Gavin releases me. “Are you scared Mom’s going to be upset that you came home from school without asking? Rach, I swear, you look like shit. She’s not going to care. Well, she’ll care, but in the obsessive way and not the pissed way.”
And I’m reminded that once more everything is about Mom’s reaction and that my brothers could never imagine me in trouble. “I’m going to go lie down.”
“I’ll stay if you want,” he says as I pick up my pack and turn for the stairs.
“I’m okay.” But I’m not. I’m not sure anything will be okay again. I’m slow on my way up the stairs. I’ve run this staircase a million times. Slid down the banister until Mom caught me at the age of seven. Today, my legs throb as if I’m climbing a mountain.
Five thousand dollars. How will Isaiah and I find five thousand dollars?
At the top of the stairs, I take a left, away from the four rooms that currently house West and Ethan and the two other rooms where Jack and Gavin used to live. I pass one of the guest bedrooms and a sickening nausea claws through my bloodstream at the sight of the cracked door of the room across from mine. There’s only one person who goes into Colleen’s room—Mom.
Leaving my backpack leaning against my door frame, I inhale slowly and peek into the room I wish would disappear. The walls are pink, Colleen’s favorite color. The canopy bed is perfectly made. One doll and one stuffed bear still wait on the pillow for their owner to return.