by Daria M Paus
Studying his moonlit features, feelings once again rushed over me. I felt so much at the same time, I didn't know what to do with it all. Even my inner voice seemed to be out of use. I closed my eyes trying to make sense of everything. He was the most amazing thing that had happened to me. A pure coincidence had changed my whole life, and at this moment I wasn't sure whether it was for the better, or for worse. I was so in love, my heart swelled and threatened to choke me, but I was also scared. Terrified of what would become of me once he was gone. That feeling alone was enough to make me question my sanity. Even though it sometimes felt like I’d known him forever, the truth was I’d only just met him. And he was not just some ordinary dude from the farm next door. He was Johnny Grey. The Johnny Grey. And here I was, contemplating how to survive without him. Had such words been uttered by anyone but my own brain, I would’ve laughed at the stupidity. I wasn't laughing now. Because no matter how insane—it was true.
His voice drifted into my overheated mind and I managed to steer my focus away from myself.
"Hey," I whispered. "How are you feelin'?"
He looked at me in silence.
"Johnny?"
He closed his eyes and as I started to think he’d already fallen asleep, he opened them again, focusing his gaze on something far away. Even though I was sitting there, he saw straight through me. I couldn't resist the urge to turn my head to find out what he was watching. A shiver rippled through me and I tried to push the uneasy feeling aside. When he spoke again—the feeling came back stronger.
"Don't go to him," his voice was just a whisper. "Don't leave."
I once again threw a look over my shoulder, then back at him. "What are you talkin' about?"
"He’s worse than ever.”
"Johnny?" I reached out a hand to touch him. "Listen to me."
"He’ll beat the shit out of you."
"Baby?" I gently shook him. "You're dreamin'." I frowned, not sure what was happening to him, but also certain his mind was stuck somewhere far away.
"Please." The tremble of his voice made my heart ache. I had no idea what he was talking about, but whatever he was reliving—it wasn’t pretty.
"Mom, no."
I gasped as the realization hit.
He mumbled something I couldn't hear. I scooted closer to wrap one arm around him, noticing his trembling body. Even though it could be a sign of a rising temperature, the tears that filled his eyes weren’t. I stared at him as he looked right through me.
"What did you do to her?" he whispered. "What do you mean she's not coming back?"
I didn't want to listen to more, but I had no choice. The pain in his voice felt like blades through my heart. I wanted to cry along with him, but I couldn't even move. His words resounded in my mind.
My family was . . . troubled.
I had suspected it had been an understatement, but I hadn’t realized to what extent.
"I hate you, you did this, you—”
My body moved before it registered in my mind. When my legs hit the floor, they buckled and I had to grab the bed to keep from collapsing. As soon as my legs could carry my weight, I fled to the kitchen.
The icepack made him flinch, but the following silence filled me with a deep relief.
"It will be ok." I wasn't sure whether I tried to convince him or myself, and I had no way of knowing that the words I'd spoken were true. The glossiness of his eyes and the dampness of his skin made me fear the opposite. He looked at me, and this time his eyes seemed to focus, blinking a few times as if finally seeing me next to him.
He looked like he wanted to say something, but the words died on his lips and his eyes closed.
So many questions contributed to my already growing anxiety. More of the what-ifs, and the worst of them all—the should've-hads. I hadn't realized that the decision to stay on the island would come to haunt me like this. All I’d wanted was a few extra days with him. What I’d hoped would be a few days of romance had all too quickly turned into another nightmare. The guilt gnawed at me, filling my mind with the worst possible outcomes.
I shook my head to clear it, desperate to get rid of the thoughts that haunted me. No matter what I did I couldn’t convince myself. The voice in my head was back. It laughed at me. Tears filled my eyes and a silent drop rolled down my cheek.
I looked at him, a small, bittersweet smile tugging at my lips. The whirlwind of my own feelings, and his, had me constantly swept off my feet.
I’d been so nervous the first time I’d met him that I hadn't known what to do with myself. It had only been a few days, but it felt like months had passed. All the nervousness was gone and the so-called love I'd had for this man for as long as I could remember, had turned from a fangirl’s crush to real, true love. I cared for him so much it scared me. If he was hurt, I hurt too; when he smiled, it warmed my heart and soul knowing he was happy. I would risk my life for him, hell, I already had, more than once. And yes, I knew that he didn't feel the same for me, but at the moment I couldn't care. His pain was my own, and how I had managed to connect to one person on such a deep level in such a short time was something I couldn’t explain. And how I was still here, with his fever-ridden words freshly resounding in my mind, without any thought of running the hell out of there, was beyond me. Had it been anyone else I would’ve bolted at the first sign of depth. But I couldn't do that now. I didn't want to. Hell, I even dreamt of returning to the mainland as his girl. And the three magical words, which I’d been so careful to avoid at any cost, I was now burning to hear.
You'd have thought I'd gotten used to it by now, but every time I looked at him, I was in awe of his beauty, and I had a feeling it would never change.
"Hey," he whispered. “You should sleep."
I managed to produce a small smile. "So should you."
"I can't." He whispered it so low I could barely hear him. And when he looked at me this time, our eyes met and I flinched. The way he looked at me was more than I could handle. The words hung unspoken in the air, both of us waiting for the other to mention it.
"What happened?" I only managed a trembling whisper, but he knew exactly what I was talking about.
"I never told anyone," he said.
I nodded, suddenly not so sure I wanted to hear.
He seemed to think, watching me with those deep, dark eyes burning with a pain that had never been shared with anyone.
"I was fourteen.”
I held my breath, too scared to move. Whatever he was going to say was going to be hard to hear.
"My father was an alcoholic.” He let out a trembling breath, sucking in a new one before continuing. "He beat them . . . us.”
Tears built up in my eyes. “Them?” I asked.
“My mom and Nellie.”
“Nellie is your sister?”
He managed a stiff nod, whispering a weak, “Was.” Then he continued, and I held my breath. “He came home one day, wasted. Out of his mind. I tried to warn her but she went to him and—" His voice broke into a sob.
I fumbled in the dark, searching for his hand under the blanket. I found it and squeezed it tight. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I waited for him to catch his breath.
His eyes sought mine and I blinked the tears away.
"He killed them. My mom and my baby sister. I can never forget . . . the blood, broken bones, twisted—" He turned his head to hide the tears that rolled down his face before whispering, "I didn’t help them . . . I just ran, before—before he could kill me, too.”
A gasp flew from my mouth before I had a chance to stop it. I wanted so badly to hug him, but I was frozen and unable to move. I couldn't believe what I’d heard. It wasn't until he spoke again and the words actually made it into my mind that I managed to react.
"His blood is running in my veins. I'm him, Bree. I'm like—"
"No!" I shouted and he flinched. "You ain’t nothin' like him." I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him so close my body muffled the sobs that shook both our bodies.
"I could."
"No."
"You don't know what I have—" He didn’t go on, and I was glad. I’d already heard more than I was able to handle.
The words echoed in my mind, over and over. Images of faceless bodies flashed before my eyes, twisted and bloodied as if taken from a horror movie. I choked back a sob, just imagining it was too horrible. How could he have lived with such a dark secret and no one to tell it to. The things I hadn't understood suddenly made sense. Nancy's accusations must not only have threatened his career, but also brought to life deeply buried secrets and a pain he’d hoped to never have to relive.
How much could one person take until they broke? I was certain that in most cases it was far less than this.
There were no words for situations like this. Instead of speaking, I held him, hoping that my quiet presence and the comfort of a warm body would be enough to help him through.
∞∞∞
Exhaustion and the burning fever claimed him once again. When I was certain he’d fallen asleep, I gently untangled myself. Thinking of it, putting myself in his shoes brought new tears to my eyes. So many secrets, so much pain hidden underneath that fake perfection and the sexy smiles he put on for the rest of the world. So much darkness. I was surprised he still had so much love to give. And what touched me the most, was knowing that for some reason he'd chosen to open up to me. I was sure I was the only living person who knew about his past. And I was just as certain it required a huge level of trust for him to share such a thing with me.
I made a promise to myself. No matter what happened I was never going to break that trust. No matter how much it would hurt, no matter how much I’d die the moment we'd go our separate ways. I would always remember that he'd chosen me. Not to love, as I in some naive dream had hoped for, but to share his darkness with. Maybe that was better than love? If it was enough to save one man's life when he needed it the most, who was I to ask for more?
"Bree?"
"Yes?" I reached out a hand, brushing a few damp strands of hair out of his face.
“What will happen to us?” He spoke in such a low voice I could barely hear him. The question was far from what I’d expected and it took a long time before I replied.
"I don't know," I said honestly. "What . . . what do you want to happen?" I wasn't sure I wanted to hear the answer, but I had to ask.
“I wish . . ." his voice trailed off and he let out a deep sigh. "I don't wanna lose you," he said at last. I froze, my fingers stopped dead in his hair and my eyes stared down at him in disbelief. Was it the fever speaking, or was it possible that he'd really meant what he'd said.
He must’ve sensed my shock, because his eyes reopened and looked up, meeting mine. "I know you must go back . . . but I . . ." He paused, as if he was too tired to speak. His eyes closed again and it took such a long time for him to go on that I suspected he’d fallen asleep.
"I'll miss you," he whispered, at last, bringing tears to my eyes once more.
So that was it. Even Johnny knew our lives were too different. He would go back to his and I to mine, and we would both miss each other. I didn't know what was best. If he would forget about me and move on with his life . . . or this. I would miss him more than I would be able to live with, but it would hurt more knowing he felt the same. He looked up at me once more, and I was shocked to see his eyes wet with unshed tears.
I choked back a sob, and without speaking, scooted closer. I held out an arm and he seemed to understand what I was asking. He shifted, letting me wrap both arms around him in a tight embrace. He immediately relaxed against me, and I couldn't help but enjoy the heavy weight of his muscular chest pressed against my body. I let one hand return to his hair, softly running through it in a soothing motion just the way he liked.
25
Johnny's Team
Coming out of the bathroom the next morning, the first thing I heard was the muffled sound of voices.
I froze, standing rooted to the floor with chills running up and down my spine. I tried to listen, to determine where the voices came from. The kitchen was on the other side of the house, and so was the door to the basement. A loud rap on what sounded like glass made me jump. I clamped a hand to my mouth to stop a scream from slipping out. My mind quickly whipped up all sorts of scenarios and I didn't like any of them.
Forcing myself to move, I darted down the corridor. I passed the front door and took the turn to the living room in such a speed I almost slipped and fell, but managed to keep going with only a minor shock. There I grabbed the iron I’d used earlier, hoping it would suffice as a weapon, before charging down the other corridor toward the kitchen. My eyes fell on the door before I came to a halt. It was closed. I proceeded to give the handle a few tugs just in case. It didn't budge.
Another rap echoed through the halls, and someone shouted.
Hesitating, I shuffled toward the door with the iron still in a tight grip, ready to use. When I stepped into the hallway, the door was already opened and three men stood there, staring at me with suspicion clear on their faces.
Shit, my inner voice drawled. They’ll kill you. I raised the iron, ready to strike.
You won't stand a chance. I didn't want to go out without trying.
"Wait!” One of the men held his hands up in front of him in a calming gesture.
I stopped the iron mid-strike, glaring at them through narrowed eyes.
"Get the hell outta here," I warned. They didn't move.
Seriously, the voice sneered. What did you expect?
"Who the fuck are you?" The tallest one of the trio stepped forward, glaring at me with eyes that made me shiver under his stare. "Where's Johnny?”
"He’s not here," I said, hoping my voice didn't give away the fear.
The men exchanged looks of confusion. "And who are you again?" the third one asked.
"That’s not any of your business."
"What the hell?” the smallest of the guys muttered. "Who's the nut-job?"
I shot him an annoyed look.
"Listen,” he went on. "We just wanna see Johnny, that's all. Where is he?"
"Why?" I asked. "Who are you?"
The tall guy stepped closer, and I tried to hide the urge to run away. His large frame and stern face made me feel like a bug ready to be crushed under the weight of his glare. I gulped, tightening my hold of the iron as much as my sweaty hands allowed.
"Don't come any closer."
"Put that thing down.” He made an impatient flick of his hand toward my weapon. "What have you done to him?"
As I stared up at his intimidating face and steel eyes, I got the feeling that I'd somehow seen him before. I pushed those thoughts aside, swinging the iron toward his large form. It missed, and he backed away.
"All right, all right." The smaller guy held up his hands. "Let's calm down, no one has to get hurt here." He looked at me with caution, like I was some wild animal he was scared to provoke or scare off.
"I ain't gonna let you hurt him again," I said. "You and your filthy friends have done enough."
The man opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, sharing a confused look with the guys, who looked equally puzzled.
"Hurt him . . . what are you talking about?" he said. "We're his friends. Who the hell are you?"
I stared at them as realization sunk in, then I lowered the iron.
"Gosh, why didn't you just say that.” I let out a breath as my body relaxed. "I thought you were someone else,” I added. My eyes flickered to the tall guy, and widened with recognition. This was Marc, no doubt about that. I'd seen him by Johnny's side in millions of photos. His name had been mentioned in countless interviews. Until now, I'd never paid much attention to the man’s obvious good looks.
They all stared at me, and I suddenly wished there was a way to rewind the last five minutes. My legs started to tremble, and I couldn’t bring myself to meet
their gazes as I stood there wearing nothing but one of Johnny's shirts as a nightgown. I cringed under their stares, feeling my cheeks start to burn.
I forced myself to speak when all I wanted was to crawl into a hole and die.
"I'm Brianna by the way, I'm . . . I'm . . ." I trailed off, not knowing how to explain my relationship with Johnny. "He's in the bedroom," I said instead, knowing what they must be thinking. I didn't care. I was already too humiliated.
All three ignored me and headed down the corridor, making me realize they knew exactly where they were going. I took that as a good sign, but followed them just in case, carrying the iron with me.
I stopped in the doorway, leaning against the frame and studied them in silence. They talked at the same time, and Johnny looked like he’d just woken up. His eyes searched the room, skipping over the men to finally land on me, almost hidden by their large figures. I smiled but didn't speak. What could I say?
They asked a million questions, and Johnny answered as best as he could. Somewhat incoherent, he told them about the creeps, the boat, and then my name come up, but I didn't listen to the words. All I could think was, it's over.
I was glad they’d finally come to our rescue, but at the same time, my heart sunk. I was no longer needed. Johnny had no use for me now when his team was here, and soon I’d be shipped off to the mainland, never to see him again. Never look into those beautiful brown eyes, never—
My thoughts were cut off by the sound of Johnny's voice. I looked up, meeting his gaze. "Bree, come.” He spoke in such a low voice I was surprised I’d heard him at all. Throwing Marc and the guys a hesitant look, I did as he wanted and went to sit on the bed.
Johnny reached out a hand, and with only a few seconds delay, I took it. Somehow everything felt a little better again. I glanced up at the men, and they were all staring down at us in utter surprise.
"All right.” Marc shot me a look that made me feel like a schoolgirl at the principal’s office. "We need to get home. Casey, come with me, let’s get those fuckers onto the boat. Rick, stay with Johnny."