Katie McGarry - Crash Into You

“What are you doing here?” Isaiah asks.

I say nothing. We both know how bad this is—how this borders on a betrayal that is unspeakable.

Isaiah tugs at his bottom earring—a sure sign of inner turmoil. The silence builds between us and I’m the first to crack. “Did Abby get two systems?”

“No,” he says.

Red-hot tears of anger well in my eyes. “I thought we agreed...”

He cuts me off. “We didn’t agree. You and Logan wanted the system in your car, and I didn’t. End of story.”

Isaiah doesn’t argue. How many times has he told me that? “So what? I don’t get a vote? You aren’t the only one on the line here. Eric is coming after me, too.”

A string of curses leaves his mouth as he stalks over to me. “Every second of my day is consumed with the knowledge that you’re under him. I’m doing this to protect you.”

“By lying to me?”

Isaiah seems taken aback. “I didn’t lie.”

The first stupid tear breaks through and I quickly wipe it away. “You knew I expected you to put the system in my car. Regardless that you never said the words, it’s a lie.” My mind reels with the implications of what’s happened. “It’s worse than a lie. This is major. You made a decision without me.”

“That’s bull. You, Logan, Abby and I discussed the options.”

“But you decided our fate without me.” My hand pounds at my chest. “I thought we were a team. I thought we were partners.”

Isaiah places his hands on my shoulders. His gray eyes are waves crashing between anger and fear. “I don’t have much, Rachel, and I refuse to lose you.”

“I told you, I won’t ever touch the system. It’ll only be used on the dragway. We’ll take it out after we pay the debt.”

“These systems are dangerous. If someone hits you or the system malfunctions or you accidently set something off...” Isaiah runs through the impossible scenarios. His eyes dart as he talks, as if he’s searching for a way to fix all of the problems. My energy fades as I realize that’s exactly what he is doing. He’s trying to fix one more thing.

“The risks are small. You can’t control everything.”

“You’re wrong.” His hands move to my face—warm, strong, and I notice they tremble. “Let this go, Rachel. The decision is made. I’m doing this to protect you.”

To protect me. Because I’m not capable of making my own decisions. My hands shoot up and smack his arms off me. “I am not weak.”

His eyes widen. “I never said you were.”

I pull a hand through my hair and tug at the strands, hoping that I’m wrong. But I’m not. “You’re just like my brothers. You see me as fragile and stupid and as someone who can’t make her own decisions.”

Isaiah reaches out. “No, it’s not like that. I love you. You know this.”

I step away from him. “Yeah, that’s what they say, too.”

Isaiah

THE PHONE RINGS THREE TIMES and Rachel’s sweet voice answers again, “Hi, this is Rachel Young. Leave a message after the beep.”

Like the other ten times, the beep happens, and I sit with my head hanging down listening to static. I should say I’m sorry, but I’m not. I should tell her I’m wrong and that we’ll install the system in her car, but that would be a lie. What I want is for her to walk through the door of the garage and tell me that she understands my need to protect her, my need to fix things.

From cars to situations to myself. Because if I didn’t take care of me, no one else would. This is me doing what no one ever did on my behalf—I’m protecting her because that’s what you do when you love someone. It’s what I always wanted someone to do for me.

“Call me.”

It’s Tuesday afternoon. The day’s dragged as I’ve waited for Rachel to contact me, and the seconds continue to stretch now that I know she’s out of school. The door to the garage squeaks open, and my heart speeds up in anticipation. I stand, wiping my hands against my jeans. I’ll tell her I love her. I’ll tell her that there’s nothing I won’t do to make her happy. I’ll tell her...

Logan strolls in and I silently curse. I forgot I asked him to spot me when I tested the nitro system. If I weren’t so damned screwed in the head, I’d laugh at his jock baseball uniform. “Nice getup.”

“Came straight from an exposition game. Spring season starts soon.”

I close the hood of my car. “Baseball seems tame for you. I would have pegged you for football.”

“Naw,” says Logan. “Catcher is a crazy position. Bats flying near your head, a guy that hurls one-hundred-mile-per-hour fastballs at you and a runner going at full speed trying to take you out as you stand over home plate. That’s an adrenaline rush.”

Speaking of adrenaline rushes. “Follow me in your car. We’re going to head out past Fox Lane and test the system.”

* * *

The sky turns pink as the sun prepares to set. Logan and I stand in front of my car, staring at the mile stretch of new blacktop that will someday shepherd people to a crapload of new homes. Currently, it leads to construction vehicles and woods.

I motion toward the side. “Wait over there.”

“No way,” says Logan. “I want in on this action.”

I shake my head. “I haven’t driven with nitro before. If it weren’t for Eric breathing down our necks, I wouldn’t even be dealing with the shit. And if I did decide to play with it, I’d be testing this car on the drag strip during Test and Tune. But I’m short on time.”

Logan pats my shoulder. “Let’s live a little.”

He opens the door to the passenger side and closes it. The space between my skin and bones begins to vibrate; the dread that something nuclear is on the verge of exploding. I’m out of time, and something worse is going to happen if I don’t make money. I slide into my car.

* * *

My eyes flutter open and my vision blurs. I blink and it doesn’t help. I shut my eyes and press my thumb and forefinger against them, hoping to rub away the issue. Pain shoots through my body and when I open my mouth I taste blood.

The car spun. It kept spinning. I lost control.

“Logan.” My voice doesn’t sound like my own.

Silence. My eyes stay closed and everything floats on a haze—like a dream. Maybe I am dreaming. No. We crashed. My eyes won’t open again so I throw my hand out toward the passenger side. It claws through the air and smacks the empty seat.

“Logan, answer me, man,” I call out louder. Something trickles down my nose and my mind drifts. Maybe this was only a dream.

Rachel

I IGNORE ISAIAH’S MESSAGES. I’M in love with a guy who thinks I’m as weak as my brothers say I am. The sad part is, I almost believed I was strong.

Three knocks on the door and I know it’s Mom. “Come in.”

With her blond hair slicked back into a ponytail at the nape of her neck, Mom pops her head in with a glowing smile. “Abby’s here.”

“Abby?” I sit up. Mom fell in love with private school–going, rich Abby. Not that Abby wowed them with her personality as much as Mom is wowed I have a friend. I wonder how much she’ll love her if she discovers my new best friend deals drugs.

Mom widens the door to reveal Abby dressed in her typical black hoodie and painted-on jeans. I start to smile until I notice she won’t meet my gaze. She’s only avoided me once, and that was when Eric revealed her real job.

I slide off the bed and dismiss my mother with one word. “Thanks.”

“Do you girls want anything?” Mom asks as she stands between us. “Food or drinks?”

Abby enters my room and handles a picture of me and my brothers. Her behavior is seriously freaking me out.

“No, thanks,” I say. “But we’ll let you know if we change our minds.”

Mom claps her hands against her legs. “All right then. Oh.” Her eyes brighten. “Abby, would you like to come to a charity event I’m throwing for the Leukemia Foundation on Saturday? It’ll be at The Lakes Country Club. Rachel will be speaking.”

“Sure,” says Abby.

“Great!” Mom rattles out a few details neither Abby nor I catch before excusing herself.

When the door clicks shut, Abby puts the picture down. “Think of a good lie to leave, and think of it fast. Isaiah and Logan are in the hospital.”

Isaiah

MY HEAD THROBS. A PULSE that originates from the twelve stitches on my forehead and vibrates my skull. If it weren’t for my head, I’d probably feel the rest of my body. The doctor called me lucky. Lots of bruises. No broken bones. No internal injuries.

I’d feel luckier if someone would tell me about Logan. The bastard...my friend...a lump forms in my throat...I saw blood.

I raise my hand to my head. The tubing of the IV line rubs against my forearm.

“You shouldn’t touch it.”

With the sight of her, my stomach twists to the point that the doctor may have to rethink internal injuries. “I’m not in the fucking mood, Beth.”

A chair scrapes against the floor, causing the pounding in my head to increase. “We could be twins,” she says. “I’ve got a nice-size scar over my eye, too.”

I drop my arm and stare at the girl I had thought I loved since I was fourteen. When I met her, she had straight black hair and an attitude that scared the shit out of bikers. The prickly disposition Beth used to carry as a physical shield no longer drapes her aura. There’s a peacefulness that surrounds her that I never noticed in all our years together.

“You got your scar because you wouldn’t listen,” I say.