Breathless 4 (Breathless #4)

by Claire Adams

  “Oh God,” I said, bringing my hands to my face.

  “What? Did you…did he say something?” Georgia was staring at me wildly. “Did you know?” I shook my head.

  “Johnny told me everything about that whole horrible thing. He wasn’t involved. I swear to God he wasn’t involved. I can’t believe he has anything to do with it.” I shook my head again. “I promise you everything I have, Georgia: Johnny did his best to save Claire, not hurt her. He wasn’t even there when it happened.”

  “I believe you, but what about the new evidence?” I groaned again and slid down along the couch, burying my face in the pillows.

  “My parents are fucking idiots,” I said, barely lifting my head up enough to be heard. “This has to be about that stupid private investigator they hired. That’s the only thing it can be. Oh God, I hate them so much.” I buried my face in the pillows once more. I couldn’t believe it. Johnny was going to be hounded by this again — and it was all my parents’ fault, which meant that in some way it was partly my fault. If I hadn’t let them meet him, they wouldn’t have thought it was necessary to drag a stupid gumshoe into the situation. They wouldn’t have had him investigated and this “new evidence,” whatever it was, would never have come about.

  I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe just how much dating me had brought Johnny so much sorrow; I had failed to trust him. I had been the reason why he would have to relive the whole horrible act and everything that he still blamed himself for about it over and over again. It was bad enough that he’d had to tell me about it the night before, but this could ruin his prospects. This could get him kicked off of the team for no reason. My mind was reeling. How could my parents have done something so stupid? I wanted to call my mom again and yell at her, scream at her that she was destroying the life of the man I was in love with. I wanted to tell her that I would never, ever forgive her. I wanted to make her put my dad on the phone so that I could scream at him, too.

  “You’re really, really sure that Johnny had nothing to do with it?” I took a deep breath and turned onto my side, bringing my head up to rest on Georgia’s thigh. It would be all over the place soon enough, I realized. I knew that Georgia had to have heard about it on campus — everyone would be talking about it, there would be no way to avoid hearing about it from fifty, a hundred, two hundred people I didn’t even know. But I could set the record straight for my roommate. She could correct anyone who had the nerve to bring it to her. I told her about the situation; I didn’t go into as much detail as Johnny had, but I explained that he and Claire had dated, that they had broken up and she had started to go a little nuts, leading to her being at the party, drinking — the perfect set-up for a bunch of predatory assholes. I told her about Johnny confronting his friends, about him carrying Claire home, about her suicide and his testimony against the people he had played hockey with, who he had been close to. And I told her about how he still blamed himself. I closed my eyes. “Okay,” Georgia said when I finished. “That…I can’t really argue with you. So what are you going to do now?” I thought about it for a long moment.

  “I have to go find him.”

  Chapter Nine

  I felt myself starting to panic again and told myself I had to rein it in. I wasn’t going to be able to do anything for Johnny if I went off like a crazy person. I found my phone and went into my bedroom in the dorm and tried to call him; there was no answer. I bit my bottom lip. I could understand that Johnny was probably getting a lot of phone calls just then. His phone was probably ringing off the hook. But I had no idea where he might be on the campus. I tried calling him again; again no answer.

  I decided to change tactics. Even if he wasn’t answering his phone, he might see a text. Hey babe, it’s me — I wanted to make sure you’re okay. Get back to me, please? I found myself pulling up the news on my laptop, reading with my stomach in knots as more and more articles came out about the situation with Claire White, about Johnny’s possible involvement, and a rehash of all of the details that had been published before. The comments sections on all of the articles were absolutely vile, with people saying that Johnny should have been shot, that no jury on the planet would convict Claire’s parents for killing him.

  I was trembling. I tried to call Johnny a third time; this time it went straight to voicemail. His phone was off. I didn’t know what to do. I knew I had to talk to him and soon, but I couldn’t imagine how I was going to find him on the campus. I remembered everything he had said to me about the situation, I remembered how he had cried. I remembered that he blamed himself for what had happened to Claire. Wasn’t it bad enough that he was taking the blame for something he didn’t even do, that he was carrying around the pain of what had happened to a girl he loved?

  I started to feel angry. This was all because of my parents and their stupid private investigator, I knew it was; if they had just left well enough alone, Johnny wouldn’t be getting hounded and wouldn’t have to relive the whole terrible situation. He might actually live in peace. I had already told my mom off; I found myself picking up my phone again and finding my dad’s number in my contacts. I hit the call icon before I could even hesitate and rethink what I was doing.

  “What’s going on, sweetie?” Dad said the moment the call connected.

  “How could you?” I shouted. “How could you do this to him?”

  “What do you mean, Becky? What are you talking about?” I nearly screamed in frustration.

  “What am I talking about? You and mom hiring some incompetent private investigator to look into Johnny’s past, that’s what I’m talking about.”

  “Sweetie, slow down. What’s going on?” I took a deep breath, realizing that I couldn’t keep up the momentum of my rapidly-escalating anger forever.

  “A bunch of news companies are writing about Johnny being involved in — in that terrible mess with Claire White — all because your stupid private investigator dug into him. Johnny had nothing to do with that.”

  “How do you know, Becky? If the private investigator was able to turn something up, that’s a real cause for concern. Your mother and I are really worried about you with that boy.”

  “Why didn’t you think to ask me about it? Why not ask Johnny? Why not do anything other than drag out a tragedy that he still blames himself for and get him into a huge mess with the whole fucking world?”

  “Becky, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “What I’m talking about is that Johnny wasn’t even there when that attack happened. He’d left the party. He came back for Claire when he got a picture from one of the other guys. He testified against them! He went against his friends because he really loved that girl. And now — now he’s going to have to go through all of this all over again.”

  “If there’s nothing going on with him, then the investigation will be closed and he’ll be able to go back to his life. I think you’re overreacting, sweetie.”

  “No I’m not! If — if Mom had killed herself and there was nothing you could do to save her, and someone brought it all back and made you live through it all over again, how the hell would you feel?”

  “Becky, you don’t know if what he told you was even the truth.”

  “I know it is, Dad. I talked to him; did you? No. You and Mom are both willing to believe anything bad about anyone if they’re not rich. How many of the boys you tried to fob me off on at the country club do you think have raped girls? I can tell you — there’s probably at least a dozen of them! But because Johnny isn’t rich and because you think I’m too stupid to have any sense at all, you hired some jackass to dredge up everything he ever might have done.”

  “Becky, I need you to calm down. Yes, it’s unfortunate if Johnny is innocent-”

  “Unfortunate? I don’t even know how I could ever even ask him to forgive you for it! I don’t even know if I can ever forgive you for it. You’re destroying the life of someone I love and trust, all because you think that money is the most important thing in life
and that your own daughter doesn’t have the sense to take care of herself. Johnny has never been anything but kind, sweet, and gentle to me.”

  “But, Becky, honey…”

  “No. No, Dad. Did you even notice that Johnny doesn’t drink? Both times you met him he refused to drink any alcohol, even though you made it all too easy for him. He doesn’t drink because he blames himself for what happened to Claire and thinks that the only way he can keep it from happening to someone else is to not be drunk.” I was shaking, I was so angry — so anxious. “You did absolutely the worst possible thing you could have done for absolutely no reason.”

  “Becky, I’m sorry, but you have to admit, there’s a reason.”

  “Not if you trust me to make good choices! If you actually trusted me and thought I had a brain in my head, you wouldn’t have hired some stupid private investigator that apparently can’t even get his facts straight.”

  “Becky, if you’re not going to calm down, then I’m going to have to hang up.”

  “Don’t bother.” I hit the end call icon and let my phone fall onto the desk. I sat back, trembling, anger still rushing through me, adrenaline making my heart race, and I started to cry. I cried for Johnny, who had to go through all of this again — alone. I cried for myself because if I couldn’t forgive my parents for bringing this onto him, how would he ever be able to forgive me? It was my fault, through my parents, that this was happening. If I hadn’t brought him to meet them, if I had stood firm and just kept him to myself, none of this mess would be on his doorstep again.

  After a while I was completely exhausted from crying and yelling at my father. I washed my face and decided that I was going to try Johnny again. Maybe he had only turned off his phone because he was in class. Maybe he was just busy. Maybe his phone had died. I dried my face off and tried his number again — it went straight to voicemail. I bit my bottom lip, trying to think of where on campus he could possibly be.

  Georgia offered to come with me to look for Johnny, but I told her I was fine; I didn’t want to have to tell her to go away if and when I found him and we needed to talk, and I doubted that Johnny would feel comfortable talking about the situation with someone he was only acquaintances with listening in. I went downstairs and tried to decide where I should go to first.

  I went to the library; I knew that Johnny wasn’t there very often, but I thought that if he was trying to avoid people, that would be as good a place as any to hole up. I walked across campus and as I passed by little groups of people, I heard a few of them whispering as soon as they saw me, saw them pointing — a few of them laughing. I clenched my teeth and kept going. It wasn’t worth it to try and confront any of them about it; they were going to talk, they were going to whisper. I would have to put up with it. I could only imagine what Johnny was going through. After all, if they whispered and laughed at me just for dating him with this rumor out about him, what were people saying to him?

  I couldn’t find him in the library. I wracked my mind. He couldn’t be in classes; he didn’t have any this late in the afternoon. He could be practicing, he could be in the gym. I moved in that direction and kept my gaze straight in front of me as I passed by more people who either giggled or whispered or went absolutely silent and tense as soon as I was in their vision. As soon as I found Johnny, I’d be able to focus on him. I’d be able to talk to him about this, comfort him if he needed me to, hug him and tell him that I knew the truth and that I trusted him absolutely. I hated how miserable I knew he must be feeling. I hated the fact that I knew that even once his name was cleared, this would continue to haunt him for weeks or months to come.

  The gym had about half of the school’s teams in it, and I tried to be as unobtrusive as possible as I moved through the space, looking for Johnny. I thought that it was possible — probable, even — that he might have retreated here to work out, to distract himself from what was going on in the mess that his life had suddenly become once more. I asked a few of the guys lifting weights if they knew where Johnny was, if he had been in the gym any time recently. “Nah, he hasn’t been here. Haven’t seen him all day,” one of them said, while another suggested he might be in the dining hall.

  I couldn’t imagine any other place that Johnny would less want to be — it wasn’t like people would keep their mouths shut around him if they were willing to chatter about it around me. I was feeling uncomfortable just passing by the little groups of people who happened to be on the walkway. I couldn’t imagine how it would be to be surrounded by people, all of them staring at and talking about you, while you were trying to eat. But it was the only lead I had.

  I went to the dining hall, just as I had before when I was looking for Johnny; I managed to hold myself free of panic long enough to get permission to duck into the dining area to look around. I didn’t mention who I was looking for, but it was impossible to think that no one would have had any idea. I kept my face neutral as I went through the line, as I wandered into the dining area. Everywhere I went there were either giggles and whispers or people went dead silent and looked at me in shock as if they hadn’t expected to see me, as if I was a ghost. I looked around as quickly as I possibly could, feeling like I was wasting my time. I was starting to get frustrated. There was only one other place I could think of to look for Johnny.

  I left the dining hall with my heart racing. I tried calling Johnny again; again there was no answer. If I couldn’t find him at the frat house, then I had no idea where he could possibly be. I would have to hope that he would take a moment to call me. I felt miserable, wanting reassurance from the man I wanted to comfort and reassure myself. It was selfish of me. But I was starting to lose my mind with worry for him. I had seen him crying the night before; I had seen how much it had affected him just to remember what had happened to Claire. I couldn’t have any way of knowing just how hard he was taking the current situation, how difficult it was on him, but I could imagine that it would be much, much harder, and more upsetting, to have to deal with it from people who didn’t love him.

  I was starting to get tired; my legs were starting to ache from walking back and forth across campus after the crying and shouting and fighting. But I had to go to the Phi Kappa house and at least see if Johnny was there. God, what if he doesn’t want to talk to me? What if he doesn’t want to see me? I could understand it if Johnny blamed me for what was happening to him now; I blamed myself, I blamed my parents. Any other girl he could have dated, could have fallen in love with, probably wouldn’t have caused him as much trouble as I did, all because my stupid parents hadn’t been able to trust me.

  As I caught sight of the row of houses belonging to the school’s fraternities and sororities, I felt a wave of relief. If Johnny wouldn’t see me, at least I might be able to pass a message to one of his brothers to give to him. If he was in the frat house, at least I would know he was okay. I would know where he was. I could wait to hear from him, if I only knew that he was okay.

  I made my way down the sidewalk, thinking hopefully that Johnny had never given me any reason to think he’d push me away now. Even when I had insisted on the story, even when things had been the bleakest, he had been willing to let me in and let me comfort him. I barely noticed a group of girls up ahead, walking towards another one of the frat houses. They weren’t important; getting to Johnny was important.

  I heard one of them say something — I couldn’t make out what — and then they all turned to look at me, stopping in their tracks. I went to ask them to move out of my way when I realized that one of the girls was the same one from the dining hall, the same one who had flashed her boobs at Johnny at the game, who had tried to poison me against him. “Going to see your rapist boyfriend?” she asked, giving me a wicked, cruel smile.

  “Where I’m going is none of your business,” I said, keeping my voice as neutral as possible.

  “So, how do you like Johnny boy now? Once he’s had enough of you, he’ll probably pass you on to one of his frat brothers — hell, maybe he�
�ll let them all take a ride!” The other girls laughed.

  “Oh God, she probably loves that idea. She’ll probably cry for him to make it even better.”

  “Rapist fucker!” one of the other girls called out. My heart pounded in my chest and I felt my eyes stinging with tears.

  “Well, you must feel great, too,” I said, swallowing down the lump that was forming in my throat. “I mean, you’re the one who was just hanging on his every word, flashing your tits at him during the game. What’s worse than being me? Being the girl he doesn’t even want!” I turned quickly as the girls gaped and barely glanced over my shoulder to see them walking away, murmuring amongst themselves. I didn’t want to lend any credence to what they had said, but I couldn’t just sit there and take it for them, especially the redhead who’d already tried so hard to ruin my relationship — to call me names, to make fun of Johnny.

  I climbed up onto the front porch, my hands still shaking, and took a deep breath. I couldn’t hear anything going on inside the frat; as far as the silence told me, there might not be anyone inside at all. I wondered just how the brothers were handling the situation. Did they believe Johnny? Or were they even now deciding to kick him out? I lifted my hand up and knocked on the door quickly. I looked like a total mess and I knew it. Part of me wished that I had taken at least a moment to straighten myself up before coming. But somehow I didn’t think that Johnny was going to care that much about how I looked. If he wanted to see me at all, if he wasn’t in there blaming me for his current circumstances, he would just be happy that I was there.

  I knocked again. “Coming!” someone called from the inside. I tried not to fidget as I waited for whoever it was to answer the door. I wished that I had the kind of guts to just walk in and ask about Johnny, but I barely knew the other members of the frat. I didn’t know if they’d even be okay with me walking in.