Authors: Katie McGarry
Chapter 49
Isaiah
I BUNCH RACHEL’S HAIR IN
my fist. The silky strands rub the spot between my fingers and I press my lips to her head. My heart hurts and soars and hurts again, all at the same time. I said I love her. Love her. Each repeat of the words confirms something I didn’t know or want to know and I scramble to figure out if I want to embrace it.
Love her.
Rachel.
Love has always been a dirty word. My mother said she did what she did because she loved me. Beth took the words I said to her and twisted them into saying it was only friendship. She broke my heart. My mother broke my heart. If I love Rachel she’ll have more power than both of them combined because this overwhelming pulse in my body...this overwhelming need to protect her and hold her close...
I nuzzle into her hair and close my eyes, inhaling the sweet scent of jasmine. I should let her go, let her go, just let her go. Walk away now. Hang on to what’s left of my sanity.
But as Rachel presses tighter to me, I know I’m too far gone to stand a chance alone. I’m in love, fucking in love, and I pray to the God that abandoned me years ago that He doesn’t use this to destroy me. “I love you.”
Chapter 50
Rachel
ISAIAH TRAPS ME CLOSE TO
his body and I press against his arms as I try to raise my head off his chest. He said he loved me. Me. The shy girl. The awkward girl. The one born to replace the girl everyone really wanted. The more I think about it, the harder I press back against his hold. This doesn’t make sense. Any sense. Why would he want to love me?
“Isaiah,” I whisper and push again. When he doesn’t react, I place both of my hands against his chest. “Isaiah!”
His arms give and I meet his eyes. “I know you heard what I said.”
He searches my face. “What?”
“The panic attacks.” I grab on to his forearms. “I have panic attacks. Often. You say you love me, but can you? Not when you don’t see me for who I am!”
“See you for who you are?” His forehead wrinkles. “I see exactly who you are.”
I’m shaking my head. “You don’t. It’s a fake. A mirage. What you think you see is a lie!”
“Rachel...” Isaiah’s chest rises as he inhales. “Come on.”
Taking my hand, he grabs a frayed blanket out of the backseat of his car and walks over to an area where the deteriorating wall ends and the ground slopes into nothing. A few feet away from the edge, he releases me, spreads out the blanket and sits with his bent legs spread apart.
I wipe my still-moist eyes and brush my bangs away, a bit unsure what to do.
“Sit with me,” Isaiah says. As I move to rest next to him, he stops me. “Not there. Here.” He motions to the spot between his legs.
Awkwardly, I settle in front of him. Isaiah, the king of secure, waves off any distance between us as he gathers me into the safe shelter of his body. The blood pulses faster in my veins. I like being this close to him. Maybe a little too much.
“You’re beautiful.” His breath tickles the skin behind my ear, and the small hairs stand on end with the joyous sensation. “You’re smart and funny. I love how your eyes shine when you laugh.”
He glides his fingers against my skin causing an addictive tingling. “I love how you lace your fingers and brush your hair from your face when you’re nervous. I love how you offer yourself so completely to me—no fear. You’re loyal and strong.”
“I’m not strong.” I cut him off. The panic attacks confirm that. Unable to be near him anymore, I attempt to untangle myself from him, but Isaiah becomes a solid wall around me and I jerk in his arms in protest.
His tender hold tightens, and the words feel like poetry because of the deep, soothing way he speaks. “You’re wrong. I see you exactly as you are.”
The anger loses its stronghold as his lips tease the sensitive curve of my ear. I swallow, thinking about the night in his room. Of how his body felt heavy over mine and how I loved feeling smaller under his touch. “You’re just repeating what I said to you.”
“What’s that?” he says in a breath that was barely words.
I shiver with pleasure. My thoughts become fragments, and I struggle to retain composure. “I told you that you don’t see yourself as you really are. You’re manipulating my words.” Words not meant for me.
He tucks his head next to mine. The rough stubble on his jaw seductively scratches my cheek, heightening my senses. I don’t want this feeling to go away: being completely immersed in Isaiah’s strength, his body, his love.
“When I’m with you, even my past seems like a bad dream,” he says. “I’ve sat on this hill a hundred times, and all I used to see were lights that represented places where I wasn’t wanted, where I never belonged. Now, when you aren’t with me, I look east and know that one of those lights represents you, and I don’t feel alone anymore.”
I stare out onto the east side of town. The sparkling lights in that area are more spread out than on the south side. “Where is your light, Isaiah?”
Isaiah shifts as his hand goes into his pocket and extracts a lighter. In one smooth motion, he flicks the wheel against the flint and a single flame bursts into the darkness. The small wild flame licks against the night and fights to stay alive as the wind blows over the top of the hill. Like a moth, my hand slides over the flame—craving the warmth, daring to be burned.
Maybe this is what happens when you fall in love. On the outside a lighter is nothing amazing, but it holds all the ingredients that can create something wonderful. With a few pushes in the right direction, you can inspire something so brilliant that it pushes back the darkness.
As Isaiah holds the light close enough to warm me, but far enough away to keep me safe, I wonder if this is the reason why I’ve always been drawn to a flame. I’ve been hoping to be burned. I’ve been hoping to be loved.
I turn my head toward Isaiah. His silver eyes glow as he stares at me with the same intensity as the first night in his apartment. That night, his gaze frightened me. Tonight, I know that it means love.
“You’re the first person to ever see me,” whispers Isaiah as he releases the lighter. He flips the top back on and in a swift motion he presses the still-warm metal into my hand. “I want you to keep it.”
My mouth drops open. He’s protective of that lighter. I’ve seen how he holds it, how he looks at it, and now understanding what it means, it would be like me giving him my car. “Isaiah...”
“I want to know I’m with you. It’s all I’ve got to give, so please, take it.”
I touch the double row of silver hoop earrings hanging from his left ear, trail along his jawline, his neck, down his shoulder, to the flaming tail of the dragon on his arm. He leans into the caress, and my own body feels on fire with the continued way his eyes gaze upon me. The first moment I saw him, the night people clamored over each other to step out of his way, I was frightened. The guy with earrings and tattoos and an energy radiating danger. Now—inside and out—all I see is beauty.
“Isaiah...I love you, too.”
Chapter 51
Isaiah
A NORTHERN GUST HEAVY WITH
moisture sweeps across the hill, and Rachel shivers. Cold water droplets hit my bare skin. There’s a chance we could lose our mild winter tonight to snow.
I stand, snatch the blanket off the ground and love how Rachel automatically accepts my offered hand as I guide her to my car. She hesitates as I open the passenger-side door. “I don’t want to go home yet.”
There’s innocence in her eyes, an innocence I lost years ago, so I know there’s no underlying meaning in her statement. I move the seat and Rachel slides into the back. Freezing rain pelts like bullets as I follow. I shut the door and rain patters against the car.
“Did you get wet?” I ask her.
Rachel shakes her head as she grabs for the blanket. I lean into the front, turn the engine over, crank the heat and click on the parking lights to illuminate the console. I slip back beside Rachel and wonder how the two of us ended up like this. “I’ve never had a girl in the backseat of my car.”
The wrinkles in her forehead scream disbelief. “I’m not stupid, Isaiah. I know I’m not your first kiss or...you know.”
No, she’s not. “Sounds awful, but I respected my car too much to bring girls...” I’m right. It does sound awful.
Rachel grows quiet. The rain drives harder against the windshield and even with the heater running, the temperature plummets. “Honestly, do you not want me in your car?”
“Rachel, you’re the only girl I’ve wanted in this car.”
Her body trembles as if she’s having a seizure. “Ar-re y-you s-sure?”
I wedge my hands beneath her legs and lift her onto my lap. Rachel relaxes her head into the crook of my neck as I bundle us in the blanket. “Never been more sure of anything.”
Resting my cheek against her, I inhale her sweet scent. “You remind me of the ocean.”
“It’s my perfume.” I hear the smile in her voice. Her hand peeks out of the blanket and I knot my fingers with hers.
“My mom took me to the ocean once,” I tell her. “I think her parents lived in Florida, and she went there for help.”
I don’t remember much other than the visit was short, there was a lot of yelling, and the wallpaper in the entryway curled near the floorboards. “We left and spent the day at the ocean before we drove back to Kentucky.”
Rachel squeezes my fingers. I like that she doesn’t feel the need to make me better with words when I tell her something from my past. She understands that all I need is the strength in her touch. “I’ve always wondered if Mom’s parents didn’t welcome her because of me. They refused to take me in when my mom went to prison.”
“What did your mom go to jail for?”
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.”