As I walk past him, toward my coat, toward the door, Isaiah grabs my hand. “What’s wrong.” It’s not a question. It’s a demand.

“You said I was a one-night stand.” I jerk my hand, but he doesn’t give. Anger flares through me and I jerk harder. “You said I meant nothing!”

His hand slips away. “I never said you were a one-night stand. Rachel...I could never think of you as a fuck.”

I wince from the word leaving his mouth and hate how he inclines his head in pity as he notices the weakness.

“But Eric did,” I say. “And you didn’t argue.”

“I’m sorry,” he says simply as if that will wash away a week’s worth of ignoring me.

My throat burns as tears threaten my eyes. I should keep my mouth shut and bolt. Instead, I stay and say the stupid words. “I waited for you to call. You said you would. You said you liked me. And then you tell Eric I meant nothing.”

“I showed for you.” A bit of irritation leaks into his voice. “I got into Eric’s face for you.”

“Because you owe me! Because I stopped my car and let you drive it until we ditched the police.”

His expression becomes a brewing storm. “It’s not like that.”

I throw my arms out in a mock parody of not caring, but the truth is I do. I care so much about this guy that he’s tearing me to shreds. “So you don’t owe me?”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters as his hands fist at his sides. “I do owe you.”

He wants to say more, but I can’t listen to lies. “Just say it, Isaiah. Cut the crap and say that I was a game. Tell me how I was the stupid, pathetic rich girl you tried to sleep with. Just say it and then we’ll figure a way out of this mess without you having to charm me into doing what you want.” Without you breaking what’s left of my soul. “Just say it!”

But before he can say anything, the door to the garage creaks open. I turn my head reluctantly in time to catch two people who look roughly our age shuffling in. The guy is tall, looming over the girl who, if it’s possible, is shorter than me. Her eyes dart between me and Isaiah and finally settle on him. “Hello, Isaiah,” she says.

Her ripped blue jeans and blond hair with black streaks scream that she’s fine with danger. She’s beautiful, and by the way she holds herself, she’s confident—strong. I wipe at my eyes and angle my body in the opposite direction of her. My chest moves with the heavy beating of my heart and a moronic, traitorous tear falls.

Isaiah lowers his head and utters a curse. I can tell by how he tries not to look at her, yet keeps doing so that this girl means something to him. Guess he just got busted for cheating on her—with me.

Chapter 27

Isaiah

“HELLO, ISAIAH.” MY NAME ON the lips of few can cause my world to stall. As if in slow motion, I turn my head and watch her sweep into my life as if she never left.

“Fuck,” I mumble. Would it be so damn difficult for the universe to give me a break? Rachel flips her golden hair over her shoulder to prevent me from examining her face.

“Am I interrupting?” Beth asks as she glides farther into the garage. A million questions form, but the return of the dull ache in my body deters me from voicing any of them. She’s still gorgeous: a tiny pissed-off fairy, but her hair is different. She wears it chin-length now and blond has replaced the black except for two stripes of the color I knew.

“Yes,” I say with way too much anger. Beth notices and mockingly raises one brow.

A guy I don’t know strolls in. I straighten and feel my muscles flex. What the hell? Has she already run through the guy she chose over me and come here to show off another? Beth glances behind her before squaring her gaze back on me. “Isaiah, this is Logan. He’s a friend of mine...and Ryan’s.”

Dressed in a jock jacket with a big letter B on the front and his name embroidered underneath it, the kid nods at me. On the white arm of the coat, two baseball bats cross over each other. The guy Beth fell for, Ryan, was also a baseball-playing jock.

I roll my shoulders. I don’t want to hand Beth the opportunity to rip me into pieces again. Not now. Not when everything has gone to shit. Not with Rachel in my life. “You need to go.”

“I’ve tried calling you,” she says, ignoring me and the fact that Rachel stands completely broken not two feet away. “And texting.”

She has. Since Thanksgiving, but I’m not ready to forgive her. “Leave.”

Beth stops in front of Rachel and gives her a once-over. “I’m Beth,” she says. “Since Isaiah has lost his manners.”

Rachel lifts her chin in the air. A surge of pride courses through my blood. Damn if she’ll permit Beth to get the better of her. “I’m Rachel.”

“She’s with me,” I say, causing Rachel to meet my eyes. Come on, angel, I know we’ve got stuff to work out, but stay with me. Beth is the one who doesn’t belong here.

Beth clears her throat. She wants my attention, but she’s not receiving it. “Logan inherited a car, and I told him you could help him fix it. I told him you were the best.”

“I only do favors for friends,” I respond while holding Rachel’s gaze. That’s right. Keep those gorgeous violet eyes on me. Instinctively, you trust me. Keep on doing it.

I need time with Rachel: time to explain why I never called, time to explain that our one night together meant something and time to explain why I said those words to Eric that hurt her so badly. Time to understand why the hell I care so much that Rachel’s mad at me. Because the world never works in my favor, I have no time.

“I used to be your best friend,” Beth sneers. “Is she your friend now?”

Clearly curious for the answer, Rachel pushes her hair behind her ear as if to hear me better. I don’t want Beth involved in my life anymore, plus I don’t know what to say about me and Rachel. I like her. She’s a mystery. And I’m seriously attracted to her. I guess we’re friends, but something stops me from saying that aloud. “Shop’s closed, Beth.”

Rachel’s eyes shut, and when she opens them, she looks at Beth. “He owes me a favor.”

Beth’s shoulders visibly relax, and I wonder why she cares who I’m spending time with. Beth left me. “So, Isaiah, what type of favor do you owe her?”

“I need money,” Rachel answers with a boldness few have used with Beth. Anger shoots through me. That’s business strictly between me and Rachel. Not information for Beth. “And Isaiah is going to drag race my car in order to help me get it. So when I’m finished with him, you can have your friend back.”

The sadistic smile I remember so well from when Beth feels threatened slides across her face. “Thanks, but I don’t need your permission.”

Rachel swings her purse onto her shoulder and cocks her head at me. “You want to race my car, fine. You can race my car. Text me the when and where and I’ll be there. And don’t worry about coming up with the full amount. I can come up with some of it on my own.”

“Rachel...” I start.

But she’s already across the garage. Her coat falls off the hook when she slams the door.

Just fuck. I stalk past Beth and glance out the door’s small window. The engine of her Mustang growls as it pulls out of the lot. I pick up her coat. It smells like her—like the ocean. I gently place it back on the hook. “Get out of my life, Beth.”

“Beth,” says jock boy. “Let’s go.”

“Now, that you’ve decided to speak up,” I say to him, “take Beth and get the fuck out.”

“No, Logan,” Beth interjects. “Give me a few minutes with Isaiah.”

The guy with dark hair releases a frustrated breath. “I promised Ryan I wouldn’t let you out of my sight, so whatever you have to say or do...” He shrugs his shoulders.

I wait for Beth to tell the guy—Logan—where to shove what he said. She only crosses her arms over her chest. I let out a sarcastic chuckle. The girl’s been domesticated. I head back to my Mustang, deciding it’s best to ignore them both.

Beth follows and stands a foot from me. “Noah and I talk,” she says.

Silence.

“You and I were friends before, and we can be friends again.”

More silence.

“I miss you.”

And she went too far. I turn to the jock. “What type of work are we talking?” I’m desperate for additional sources of income and maybe he can pay.

Logan moves his head in a who-knows fashion. “It runs, but makes strange noises when it hits forty. I’d like it to not explode on the freeway and for it to run faster.”

“Can you pay?”

“Yes.”

Beth knew I could help. “Bring the car in sometime. Without her.”

He jerks his thumb behind him. “I got it out in the parking lot.”

It. As if the car means nothing. I remind myself he can pay. “Slide her in.”

Logan assesses Beth in a way that says he’s put up with her antics before. “Can I leave you for two seconds without you starting a world war?”

“I used to like you,” she says to Logan.

He leaves and Beth stays. Why did she return? To screw with me? To rub it in that she’s happy? I glance at her from the corner of my eye. She touches the pink ribbons on her wrist that that asshole Ryan gave her. He makes her happy. I hate the guy.

“So are you into her?” Beth asks.

“Does your uncle know you’re here?” I push the button to open the bay and then busy myself with some wrenches. Rachel is the opposite of Beth with her brilliant smile and joyous laughter. A beam of light. Even when I was into her, Beth was nothing but darkness.

“Yes,” she answers immediately.

A muffled humph leaves my throat because I don’t buy that.

“Fine. No, he doesn’t. And before you ask, Ryan does.”

I move onto the screwdrivers. “When did you become a dog on a leash?”

“Fuck you,” she growls then sighs. “I’m not. Ryan knows I miss you and he knows I love him. He’s okay with you and me being friends.”

Yeah. Right. I’m sure he prefers not to be the prick who said no, so he’s depending on me to tell her to go. At least the asshole called that move correctly. I turn my head to the sound of an engine rumbling and briefly smile when I see a red ’57 Chevy roll into the bay.

Beth walks up beside me. “I knew you’d like her.”

Her. Because Beth knows I love cars. In fact, she knows too much about me. Beth is like a bad trip. She always has been, and I don’t want to be on a ride with her anymore. “Go.”

“No. Not until we’re friends again.”

Logan cuts the engine, gets out and pops the hood. “What do you think?” he asks.

I think I could get a hard-on with a car like this. “This car was made to race.”

Logan snaps to attention. “You think you could get the car to go fast?”

I pause while assessing the kid. It was there in his voice and still present in the expectant way he holds his body. Speed. He craves it. Wants it. Maybe the jock’s not so bad. “Are you interested in keeping her street legal?”