Breathless #4 (The Breathless Romance Series - Book #4) Read online

  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.

  “I have to figure out a way to get him alone,” I told her. “I can’t just wait until he comes back. You know I can’t wait.” Georgia started to open her mouth to counter and then closed it, shrugging and nodding.

  “Yeah, you’re a mess. You should have talked to him about this before.”

  “Shoulda coulda woulda,” I said, frowning. “I thought I was just being crazy. I thought it was just some bullshit thing that people were blaming him for. But if there’s a police file on him… Georgia, what if my mom is right? What if he did it and only got off because he was some big hockey star?”

  “Do you really think he’ll admit it?” I pressed my lips together.

  “I’ll know it, even if he doesn’t admit it,” I said after considering it for a moment. “Unless he’s some kind of monster, there’ll be some sign that he’s hiding something from me, and I’ll know what to think. But I have to at least try to get to the bottom of this.”

  “Well, we agree on that, at least. You need to know if you’re dating some kind of abusive asshole who drugs and rapes his girlfriends and invites his friends to partake in it.” She shook her head. “But I just can’t believe it. I mean, it can’t be that bad, at least not his part in it, can it?” I exhaled.

  “I don’t even know what to think anymore. I have to do something.”

  “Just don’t get yourself killed. Stay calm.” I rolled my eyes.

  “Might as well tell me to stop breathing as to stop worrying. I’ll stay as safe as I can.” I plugged in the address of the away game into my phone’s map function a
nd put my laptop back into my room. I could easily afford the ticket to the game if I had to. I knew there was no chance I’d be able to see Johnny before the game started, there just wasn’t enough time for me to get there. I’d get into the stadium where he was playing and wait for him and find some way to get him alone — however I had to do that.

  Georgia wished me luck and I hurried down to the parking lot. My car wasn’t the nicest or most expensive one there, but it was a good, reliable Volvo. My dad had bought it for me new when I got my license and made sure that I knew every last one of its features as well as how to change a tire before he let me take ownership of it. My parents also insisted on paying for AAA, just in case of some other kind of trouble with the car on the road, especially now that I was no longer living with them. I got into the car and hooked my phone into the stereo system, forcing myself to take slow, deep breaths. I was not going to speed off of the campus and onto the Interstate just because I wanted to get to Johnny as fast as possible. I was going to do my best to remain calm and make it to Johnny’s game in one piece.

  I started up the car and pulled up my playlist. I hoped that at least some music would help me get through the drive or help me to keep my sanity. I started the directions and selected an album by Elliott Smith, thinking that the quiet acoustic music would soothe my nerves. I pulled out of my parking spot and found my way onto the road leading off of campus; it was so rare that I ever had to leave that I hadn’t really paid attention to the routes into and out of the property. The directions brought me to the Interstate and I started to feel my heart beating faster again in my chest. Deep breaths. You’ve driven on the Interstate a hundred times. I started singing along with the music coming over my stereo and for a little while, my panic seemed to dissipate. I could focus on the road as long as I kept singing.

  But the lyrics of the songs started to get to me. “The names you drop put ice in my veins/and for all you know, you’re the only one who finds it strange/when they call it a lover’s moon… Someone’s always coming around here, trailing some new kill…what’s a game of chance to you to him is one of real skill…” I told myself not to let it twist my head, but I started speeding up, going down the Interstate faster. What if I missed Johnny? What if I got there right after the team left? I’d have made the trip for no reason.

  I tried to keep a handle on myself, but I was so upset, so frustrated with my failure to get the full story out of him sooner, so horrified by what my mom had discovered about Claire White and what had led to her suicide, that I started to breathe in little fast, sharp gasps. I was driving well over the speed limit; staying in my lane, but hyper-aware of everyone around me, few as the cars were at that time of the evening. I gripped my steering wheel with white knuckles. I was going too fast and there were too many cars around me for me to change the music on my phone. I couldn’t let myself get distracted. It seemed like even in the post-rush hour traffic, there were at least a couple of drivers who were either drunk or absolutely not paying attention to the world around them.

  Just as I was starting to get used to the cars around me, just when I was starting to calm down and keep my mind on getting to the game as safely as I could, a car came rushing up in the lane next to me, speeding and darting around the other vehicles on the road. My heart started pounding as it approached and I gripped my wheel tighter than ever, starting to breathe heavier as my heart beat faster. It moved to swerve around the car just in front of me in the same lane and I stomped on the brake, narrowly slowing down in time to avoid being sideswiped by it. I heard myself let out a little yelping shout of fear and my hands started to shake on the wheel, my leg trembling from the pressure of my foot on the brake. Everything seemed to be spinning; the car directly behind me laid on the horn and I shook, tears starting to blur my vision.

  I pulled over onto the shoulder as quickly as I could, spasms of fear and panic rushing all through my muscles. I was hyperventilating, shaking all over as I put the car in park and leaned over the wheel. Oh God. Oh God. Get yourself together, Becky. I started to sob and the sharp, aching pain in my side flared up again as I lost all control of my breathing. Elliott Smith droned around me in the car and I heard one or two people honk their horns as they blew past me in the lane; it was impossible for me to know whether they were trying to insult me or if they were somehow trying to signal me to see if I needed help.

  I cried until the last of the sobs worked their way out of me, leaving my stomach aching and my side throbbing with pain. I slammed my hand down on the steering wheel. Everything felt so completely helpless; I couldn’t think. I snatched up my phone and changed the music. I had to get myself together. I had to find a way to collect what little composure I had. I didn’t want to show up at the game looking like a total mess. I took a deep breath and grabbed for the tissues in my glove compartment, rubbing at my face. I took another deep breath and flipped down the mirror to see that my eyes and cheeks were red from crying, but I didn’t look nearly as terrible as I had imagined I did.

  I swallowed down the last of my tears and wiped at my face a few more times. I pulled my hair back into a bun and found an elastic in my purse to hold it in place. There. I closed my eyes and willed my heart to slow down. I would get to the game, and I would talk to Johnny, and then everything would — somehow — get better. I’d have answers, at least. I couldn’t let my panic make me do stupid things that would get me killed before I could even talk to the man I loved. I flipped through my music library and picked a Yeah Yeah Yeahs album and put it on. I felt stronger already. I was only another hour away from the stadium where Johnny and the team would be playing. I had to focus. I had to get there and find a way to get Johnny alone to talk to him. I looked into my peripheral mirror and watched the slight evening traffic passing me by. I got out of park and gathered speed on the shoulder, signaling that I was trying to get back onto the road. Eventually, I was able to slip in and continue on my way towards the stadium, towards the site of Johnny’s away game. I sang along with Karen O. and managed to keep myself at a normal pace, managed to keep from panicking as I made my way down the highway. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to the conversation that I had to have with Johnny, but I knew I didn’t have any other real choice in the situation. It would have to happen. I would have to get there on time. I had to keep myself under control until I found out what the situation really was. I had to hope that Johnny would tell me the truth.

  Chapter Four

  By the time I was finally able to get to the stadium at the college where Johnny was playing, I knew that the game had to be more than half over. I went to the ticket booth and the woman at the counter gave me a funny look when I asked for a ticket for our team’s section. “Well the game’s in the end of the third quarter, so I don’t know why you’d waste your time coming all the way here,” she said, taking my card and running it. “I’ll give you the ticket for half-price. Not many tickets in your section so you can have a good seat for it.” I thanked her with a smile and grabbed my ticket, moving into the stadium as quickly as I could. Parking had been difficult to find, and I dreaded the walk back out to my car at the end of the night, especially if I managed to talk to Johnny the way I was planning to. But I would just have to suck it up and deal with it.

  I found that my ticket gave me a seat right behind the glass, instead of up in the higher rows; the woman at the ticket booth had been right — there weren’t many of our fans in the stands. I looked out on the ice. The game was still hot and heavy and I glanced at the scoreboard to see we were ahead by a couple of points. That is good, at least, I thought wryly. I’d hate to bother Johnny with accusations of being a rapist and abuser when he’s just lost a game. I took my seat. The section for our team was small, but everyone was cheering, most of them shouting Johnny’s name.

  I spotted him on the ice, playing just as hard and just as well as he ever had when I had watched him — better, in fact than he had been playing when he knew I was in the audience watching him. Georgia had jok
ed that I was distracting the star player just by my presence, but her joke seemed to have a good bit of substance as I watched Johnny dominate on the ice. He nearly got into a brawl with one of the other team’s players. The refs broke it up just in time, and I shook my head, feeling irritated instead of panicky. There was no question in my mind that Johnny was fully capable of being aggressive, but was he capable of hurting a girl he loved? How do you know he loved Claire? Because he told you? But how do you know you can trust anything he says? I chewed at my bottom lip; it was starting to become sore from how often I had pulled it between my teeth in the last several hours, but I didn’t care.

  Johnny looked like he was having a great time, and I couldn’t help but feel a little irritated at the fact that he was clearly totally oblivious to what was going on in my life. Where had he been and what had he been doing when I had texted him before? It had been before the game. I frowned as I watched him streaming across the ice, almost too fast to watch. Certainly no one on the other team had anyone who could keep up with him for more than a few seconds before he blasted past. The goalie on the other team was working overtime to keep the lead that our side had from growing. One of the other team’s players stole the puck from one of Johnny’s teammates and managed to get in a quick shot that our goalie wasn’t quite fast enough to knock aside, leaving the lead to just a point.

  There was a break between quarters and I watched as Johnny went over to the sidelines. I could barely see his face through his mask, but I could tell he was grinning. I felt a surge of irritation. How was he so happy? If he had been behind the torment that had led to Claire’s death, how could he ever be that happy again? I clenched my teeth as I saw him fist-bump one of his teammates. It didn’t seem fair that I had spent the last several hours — and before that, a couple of days — in a writhing torture of fear, worry, and sadness and here he was playing as if nothing else in the world was on his mind, as if nothing could possibly bother him. I saw him laugh at something one of his teammates said to him as he went in to grab a squeeze-bottle of water.