Breathless 4 (Breathless #4) (2 page)

“Becky, please be safe, sweetie. If Johnny was
involved in something like this…and your dad says that the frat he’s involved
with is wild partiers…”

“Mom, I’ll call you back. Don’t worry about me.” I
finally convinced her that I was not going to get murdered in at least the next
twenty-four hours and hung up the phone, my whole body feeling numb.

Chapter
Two

After a few minutes of sitting in my room in shock, my
brain started to finally thaw. Mom had to be wrong about Johnny’s involvement
in that case. Even if he was a big deal hockey player in his hometown, it
wasn’t like the law could possibly have overlooked that, was it? He didn’t come
from a wealthy family. He didn’t come from the kind of family that had a lot of
clout. I had to talk to him about the situation, as much as it would put a
strain on everything between us. I had to know what was really going on.

As I sat in my room making up my mind, I thought about
all of the things I had heard and seen and done with and about Johnny. I
thought about the trip out into the woods and how simple and wonderful the date
had been, but how scared I had instinctively been when he’d turned onto the
trail in his huge truck, away from the town, away from prying eyes. I thought
about our trysts in the closet at the country club and in my bedroom. I thought
about the way that he had never been anything but sweet to me, but the way I
had seen him on the ice, pushing, shoving, and all but brawling with the other
teams’ players. I thought about my dream that I’d had — the nightmare of seeing
him beating Claire to death with his hockey stick.
But that hadn’t been even remotely based in reality
, I told myself
firmly. Claire’s death had been at her own hands.

But then I thought that if Johnny had been involved in
Claire’s rape, then it would be just as though he
had
beaten her to death. If he had even been one of the guys taking
pictures, sharing them around, laughing at the poor girl who had already been
victimized, it was just as bad as if he had abused her — it was abuse, even if
it wasn’t physical.

I had to find a way to get to the bottom of it. I had
no idea where Johnny was — if he was in class, if he was anywhere on campus, if
he was back at the frat house or in the dining hall. I texted him.
Hey Babe, you busy?
I couldn’t bring
myself to unload the whole horrific mess on him in text message form. That
wouldn’t be fair. I had to talk to him face to face. I fidgeted in my dorm room
while I waited for him to answer. Even if he was in class, I knew his phone
would be close at hand. He’d feel it vibrate and then he’d respond. I could
find a few minutes to talk to him alone — somewhere.

I started pacing my bedroom floor back and forth,
waiting. Minutes passed by achingly slowly. After five minutes, I knew I had to
try again.
Hey Babe, thinking about you.
How’s it going?
I sent it off and chewed on my bottom lip, pacing some
more. I felt like a lion trapped in a cage; all I wanted to do was break out
and run amok. I took a deep breath. Maybe Johnny didn’t have his phone on him.
Maybe he had it in his backpack and it was on the ground somewhere. Maybe he
didn’t know I was texting him because it was on silent. I tried one more time,
sending a quick string of emoji. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know where
he was on campus. I didn’t even know that he was on campus. But I absolutely
had to talk to him. I had to get his side of the story on the issue of Claire
White.

As I waited for a response from Johnny, I thought
about the fact that Claire’s memorial page had been full of comments about the
boys who had driven her to suicide. I thought about the person who had
anonymously said that Johnny deserved to be in jail with the rest of the boys.
That what he had done to the poor girl wasn’t love. I had memorized that stupid
posting in my head; I had worried about it so much. I had driven myself crazy
about it and then completely forced myself to forget it rather than confront
Johnny about it. I chewed on my bottom lip some more as I waited for him to
answer at least one of my texts. He had to have his phone near him; I couldn’t
imagine why he wasn’t replying. Scenarios flashed through my head. As
ridiculous as I knew them to be, they were so real in the instant — scenarios of
him being arrested, him committing a crime, or being lynched.

I had to get out of the room. I couldn’t just stay
there — not without answers, not without at least trying to talk to Johnny
about what my mother had uncovered. She was right about one thing: the Claire
White case was much bigger than just some girl who had been troubled, who
Johnny hadn’t been able to save. Whether or not he had any part in the attack
on her, he hadn’t been entirely forthright with me, and I would have to get the
full truth from him before I could put my mind at rest.
He told me he loved me. He told me he’d loved me ever since he set eyes
on me. How could he be as terrible as that and love someone?
He’d told me he loved Claire, too.

As quickly as I had run into the dorms, I found myself
snatching up my keys and ID card, slipping my phone into my pocket, and heading
out of the room. I nearly tripped over my own feet trying to get down the
stairs, too impatient still to wait for the elevator. I didn’t want to run into
anyone. I just wanted to find Johnny, talk to him about everything that was
going on. I didn’t have any idea of what to even believe anymore. How could
someone who was so gentle and sweet have drugged and raped a girl he claimed to
love? How could the charming, polite, smart guy I had fallen head over heels
for be the kind of guy who could bully and torment a girl to death?

I got to the ground floor, somehow managing to avoid
falling down the stairs after several near-misses when my feet didn’t quite
land fully on a step. My heart was pounding, and I could feel my eyes stinging.
I had to find Johnny. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, convinced I had felt
it vibrate — nothing. I put it back in my pocket; in my panicked state, I
didn’t want to drop it on the cement walkway and break it — that would put me
out of touch with everyone. I tried to slow down the rapidly beating of my
heart and get myself together, but every minute the situation weighed on me
more and more. I started out of the dorms, trying to think of where Johnny
could be. I checked the dining hall first.
If
he wasn’t in class, or at the frat, he would be there,
I thought.
Or at practice.
I peered in and didn’t
see him anywhere. I even pissed off one of the workers by not even bothering to
wait in line and swipe my card, instead making a beeline for the dining area to
see if a closer inspection would reveal him.

When I was sure that Johnny wasn’t there — none of the
hockey players were, nor any of the members of his frat — I started towards the
gym, thinking he might be training, working out to prep for another game. If he
was, that would make it harder to get him alone, but I absolutely had to try. I
hurried off across the campus, my blood roaring in my ears and my eyes burning
and tingling with tears I was on the edge of shedding. It was so hard to hold
them back. I had to keep a hold of myself. I had to keep my composure until I
could get Johnny alone, until I could talk to him. I told myself that it had to
be a misunderstanding, that I would confront him about it and that he would
tell me everything.

There was no one in the gym. I checked my phone again,
staring at my screen, opening up the lock screen just to make sure I hadn’t
missed anything. I clenched my teeth, trying to make myself breathe through my
nose slowly and steadily. I couldn’t think where else Johnny could be.
Why isn’t he answering my texts?
I had a
sudden paranoid thought that he knew exactly why I was trying to get in touch
with him and that he was avoiding me, just like I had avoided him when I had
been under the impression that he was some kind of sociopathic abuser.
You don’t know that he isn’t. Maybe being
sweet and kind is how he lures people in.
I heard my mom in my mind,
telling me that if he could do that to one girl, he could do the same thing to
me.

I didn’t even realize I was running as I left the gym,
frantic to find Johnny. I had to talk to him about this. I had to find out the
truth and tell him how scared and worried I was. I had to talk to somebody. I
had no idea of even where I was going; I just had to keep moving or I thought
the fear and sadness and frustration would engulf me.

As I was hurrying across campus with no idea of where
I was trying to go, I spotted Georgia near the dorms.
Maybe,
I thought,
maybe she knows
where Johnny is. Maybe she’s seen him.
If nothing else, I had to unload
what my mom had told me about the whole sorry Claire White situation, the
horror of it all. “Gigi!” I called out to her, running towards her. She turned
on her heel at the sound of my voice and I realized that I was already starting
to cry.

“Becky, girl, what’s going on?” Georgia pulled me off
to the side of the walkway, towards the “smoker’s circle,” a group of tables
that almost no one except for the campus smokers seemed to ever use. No one was
there; it was, for once, almost totally vacant. Everyone was either in classes
or the dining hall, giving the area around the dorms a deserted feeling.

The words began to tumble out of me as I cried, hiccupping
and gasping for breath from all the running I had done in such a short time. I
felt a sharp ache in my side and tried to regain control of myself. “The
p-p-private investigator — he thinks — he thinks Johnny was involved…” Georgia
stared at me in shock, shaking her head.

“First of all, who the hell hires a private
investigator to dig up dirt on their daughter’s boyfriend?” she shook her head
again in disbelief. She paused for a moment. “That poor girl. That poor girl.
God.”

“I have to find Johnny and talk to him,” I said,
starting to gradually get my breathing back to normal. My side was aching so
much I couldn’t help but rub at it, even though I knew it wouldn’t do anything
to help the stitch there. I sagged against the table, rubbing at my face. “I
can’t just…I…” I looked at Georgia. “I never actually talked to him about it,”
I admitted. “But with this…how can I not? I have to talk to him, like, soon.”

“Becky, he’s not even on campus,” Georgia said,
looking at me in bewilderment. “Remember? The team has an away game. He’s — I
have no idea, but he’s probably hours away somewhere. I don’t even know what
time the game is.” I groaned. I couldn’t believe it; not only had I totally
forgotten about the game, which made me feel more than a little guilty, but I
couldn’t talk to him. I buried my face against my arms, telling myself not to
start crying again. I knew people would start coming back from the dining hall
soon and I didn’t want to start any more rumors than I could help. I had to
think. Johnny would almost certainly call me later — on the bus or in the
locker room after the game. But I couldn’t talk to him about the terrible
accusations my mom’s private investigator had turned up over the phone. I
couldn’t do that to him in front of his friends, and I didn’t even know if he’d
be able to hear me if I did. His last call from an away game had been so short.
But I couldn’t wait until he had gotten back from the game; I knew I couldn’t
cope with not knowing for however long he would be away. I had to do something,
but I didn’t know what. Georgia rubbed my back and told me to breathe, and as
much as I tried to think, I couldn’t seem to keep my brain from going numb.

Chapter
Three

As soon as I had managed to calm myself down, Georgia
convinced me to come back up to the room and actually think. “You’re not going
to accomplish anything going off half-cocked,” she pointed out. I let her lead
me into the building and onto the elevator. She shoved a box of her coveted
chocolate chip cookies into my hands. “Eat, woman. Eat. When was the last time
you ate? Can you even remember?” I couldn’t. As we sat there, talking about
anything but the situation with Johnny and pretending to watch TV, a plan
started to form in my mind.

I went into my room in the dorm and grabbed my laptop.
There had to be information on the game; my parents had had my car dropped off
at the campus, so I didn’t have to rely on anyone for a ride. If I could find
out where the game was and what time it was scheduled, I might be able to make
it there in time to talk to Johnny. The idea was starting to scare me. What if
I did talk to him and he admitted to everything? I couldn’t bear the thought
that the guy I loved so much could possibly be as cruel as the allegations
against him made him seem. I couldn’t help but think, though, that with so many
different sources against him, there had to be something. He had to be involved
somehow.

Georgia didn’t say anything as I started searching. I
found the team’s site and their schedule. “What are you going to do?” she asked
me finally. I took a deep breath. The game was less an hour from starting, and
the location was two hours away by car if traffic was good. I worried at my
bottom lip.

“I’m going to the game.” I looked at Gigi.

“Are you sure? I mean, it’s not going to exactly be
easy to talk to him.” I shook my head. My eyes stung and felt dry and achy from
the tears I’d shed. The stitch in my side was finally gone, but there was a
weird tingling throb in its place that threatened to erupt back into sharp pain
with any movement.