by Linda Kage
“Sorry? I’m going crazy over here, worried out of my—” Stopping abruptly, Bailey sighed. Rolling her eyes, she folded her arms over her chest. “Well, it’s obvious where you went. So…what happened on today’s episode of My Fake Amnesiac Boyfriend?”
Tess swallowed and then let it all out. “There is no amnesiac. You were right. He lied about his memory loss. He was Einstein’s bully. And it was his gun Einstein used to shoot all those people.”
When Paige gasped, Logan took her arm and led her away. Tess knew he’d explain the rest to her, so she only had Bailey left to worry about.
But Bailey didn’t explode with a series of I-told-you-so’s. She stared at Tess with her mouth falling further open by the second. “What?”
Tess nodded, giving her best friend more fuel to start a lecture to end all lectures. “The police were there when I showed up, questioning him about the gun. And so was Coach Whitely. Jonah confessed his memory wasn’t lost and told the police Einstein had stolen his gun.”
“Holy shit,” Bailey whispered.
Tess nodded. “He thinks I lied to him about the whole girlfriend thing to get close enough to exact some kind of revenge on him for bullying Einstein. Since I’m friends with Paige and all. Oh, and he also thinks I told Coach Whitely and the police where he was so he could get into trouble. God, he did get into trouble because I did tell the coach where he was. Not only did he kick him off the football team but the university expelled him from school completely. And he blames all that on me.”
Rubbing her hands up and down the sides of her arms because she was chilled, she kept going. “But the best part. Oh, the best part is he went along with my whole girlfriend lie so he could hurt me. Somehow he figured out stringing me along so he could break my heart was the best way to get back at me for what he thought I was going to do to him. And since I did do what he suspected I would and he did pay me back, I guess that means we’re all even now.”
“Well…” Bailey blew out a breath, and Tess could see her mind spinning. But all she did was study Tess a couple of seconds before asking, “Are you okay?”
She couldn’t imagine ever being okay again, but she nodded and turned away. “I’m fine.”
A headache pounded at her temples. She didn’t want to deal with this anymore. She just wanted to curl up in her boyfriend’s arms, let him kiss it all better again, make silly ridiculous comments, and go searching for happy buttons. Except she didn’t have a boyfriend. All she had was lies.
“But I’m tired,” she murmured. “Didn’t get much sleep last night. I think I’ll go to bed.”
Bailey didn’t mention how it was only six in the evening or how silly she was behaving over some stupid crush she’d had on a fake boyfriend. She just stood there and watched as Tess crawled under her sheets without changing into nightwear and pulled the blankets up to her chin.
She must’ve willed herself to sleep, because they next thing she knew it was morning. No one had bothered her all night. Too bad she couldn’t will away Jonah Abbott’s existence. If she’d never met him, maybe none of this would’ve happened. Maybe she never would’ve felt so betrayed. But the problem with that was, lie or not, he’d given her some of the most precious memories of her life. She could never will those away.
Chapter Fifteen
WHEN THE NURSE TOLD JONAH his physical therapist was back and ready to try walking with him, Jonah could only snort out a hallow laugh.
Walking? As if he cared about whether he could ever walk again. As if he cared about anything. His life was totally and completely over. His best friend, the only person on earth who could put up with him, was dead. Football and college were both over. His future was shot.
And Tess was gone.
On top of that, there was Einstein. Not only did he have nothing and no one, but everyone hated and blamed him for what had happened with Einstein…with very good reason. Hell, even he blamed himself.
Lying in his bed and waiting for Frenchie to show up and let what little hope he had drown some more, he closed his eyes, wondering what would’ve happened if only he’d done everything different with his roommate, if only he’d taken that damn gun back to Sean’s house the night of the target shoot. Why had he let the freaky kid get to him, why had he fought back every time Einstein had done something to piss him off?
Shit, why had he always fought back when his dad had hit him?
Maybe if he’d just sucked it up and let it all roll off his back, none of this would have happened. He just always had to fucking push back, didn’t he? Especially yesterday when Tess had slapped him and yelled at him. He’d yelled back and let her make assumptions when—
“So, you ready for day two of the walking trials?” Frenchie asked, breezing into the room with a big grin, only to pause and glance around. “Where’s the redhead today? I liked her.”
Jonah’s gut clenched. He’d liked her too. More than he should have.
The first day she’d come into his room, claiming to be his girlfriend, he hadn’t known any better. The second day, when he did know it wasn’t true, he’d played along because he’d wanted it to be true. Sure, he’d been mildly curious what her ulterior motive was, but most of all, he’d just wanted her to stay.
Over the course of the week, however, it had become true. She had become his. His girlfriend. His entire life.
That was why he’d confessed to not knowing her to the police. Afraid they might slap an accessory charge on him because of his gun, he hadn’t wanted any of that shit to fly in her direction. No way was he going to let her feel any kind of blowback from his actions.
He’d already realized she wasn’t guilty of the things he’d accused her of doing yesterday, not unless she was the best actress on earth. Every action, word, and breath she’d breathed had told him how genuine and altruistic she was. There was no way she’d made up the girlfriend story as a means to torture him. He still wasn’t sure why she’d made it up, but no way had she meant anything nefarious by it. And even if she had told his coach where to find him, she couldn’t have known it would go down the way it had.
So, why had he accused her of just that?
Because she’d pushed and accused and glared at him like the scum he already knew he was. The pain and betrayal in her stunning blue eyes when she’d asked him when he’d gotten his memory back had sliced into his guilt until he was running from it and lashing back with his own hastily thought up accusation.
But, Jesus, no wonder why he’d been such a great football player. If someone had shoved him on the field, he’d always had to shove back harder.
“Yo, Abbott.” Frenchie snapped his fingers in front of Jonah’s face, making him blink back to the present. “You check out on me, or what? I asked where your girlfriend was today.”
Just hearing that word twisted something inside him. He had no idea how he was going to make it through without her.
Refusing to speak of her, he glanced at his PT. “Do you think I’ll ever walk again?” he asked. “If not, I’d rather not even bother with this. There’s no point.”
Frenchie blinked a few times before he wrinkled his brow as if he considered the question ludicrous. “What’re you talking about, man? Of course you’ll walk again. The only question is how soon. After being in bed this long, due to the coma and all, it’s going to take you longer than it usually would to get back onto your feet. But you’ll get there eventually. Guaranteed.”
The man seemed so certain of his claim that dizziness swamped Jonah. Five seconds ago, he’d convinced himself he didn’t care if he would or wouldn’t be able to walk. He didn’t want to care about anything. Caring only got your heart broken. But learning that this was a certainty rocked his already unsteady world.
He couldn’t quite believe it. After his hopes for everything else had been crushed, why would this one thing actually work out? But maybe…maybe if he could walk out of his hospital one day, he could also find Tess, convince her he wasn’t the awful, awful person she th
ought he was.
“So, there’s no question at all? I’ll be able to walk again?”
Frenchie chuckled and shook his head. “Why would there be a question? You didn’t suffer any spinal problems. I typically have people back on their feet within days of breaking their femur. I know I’m off my game not getting you up and around yet, but trust me, you will walk.”
Mouth falling open, Jonah simply gaped at him. “But the nurse said…” Damn, what exactly had the nurse said?
“Said what?” Frenchie demanded, scowling with irritation. “Did someone tell you you wouldn’t be able to walk again?”
“Well, no. Not in those words, but…” He glanced around for Tess to corroborate his story and remember exactly what the nurse had said before he remembered she was gone. Shit.
Frenchie gave an irritated sigh. “I bet this nurse, whoever she was, implied you might not be capable of walking to intimidate you into not trying it by yourself, probably so you wouldn’t end up hurting yourself.”
Jonah snorted and shook his head. “Figures,” he muttered. That sounded exactly like something one of his nurses would do.
An hour after Frenchie left, Jonah stretched his toes, actually excited about the burning muscles in his legs. As soon as he was on his feet again, it’d only be days before they released him from this place. Days before he could find Tess and straighten this whole mess out.
Feeling slightly human and glad he had street clothes on instead of his hospital gown, he stared down the length of the bed at his toes, wiggling them through his socks. The sheets were tangled uncomfortably under his butt, but he didn’t care. He’d taken ten steps today. Ten unbelievably amazing steps.
He was ten steps closer to getting out of here. Ten steps closer to finding Tess.
“So, I see you’re a superstar,” his least favorite nurse announced as she carried his supper tray into the room and thumped it ungracefully onto the rolling table beside his bed.
Jonah looked up from his toes, still riding the eager train. He thought she was actually going to praise him for his awesome walking skills until he saw her face. Uneasy about the smug smirk she flashed, he asked, “What do you mean?”
Pointing to the muted television on his wall, she snickered. “You made the national news.”
Glancing up, he jerked back in his bed when he saw a photo of his football picture on the screen. “What the hell?” He scrambled for the volume buttons by his bed and turned up the sound just as the CNN reporter announced, “Police revealed the name of the gun owner today. Jonah Abbott, football linebacker and roommate to Anthony Morris, let the sixteen-year-old borrow his semi-automatic weapon—”
“What?” Jonah exploded. “I did not let him…Oh, Jesus.” He brought his hands to his head and turned his beseeching gaze to the leering nurse. “That’s bullshit. They’re lying. I didn’t let him anywhere near my Browning.” And what was up with them calling it a semi-automatic weapon like it was some kind of assault rifle? It had been his freaking deer-hunting gun. Christ.
Looking too evilly gleeful that Jonah’s reputation was being ripped to shreds on national television, the nurse merely turned away and strolled from the room, whistling.
“I’m not even a linebacker,” he called after. “I’m a God damn tight end.”
But she didn’t seem to care. She wanted to believe the worst of him. And she obviously wasn’t the only one. The news report recaptured his attention when they showed a clip of an interview with one of his teammates out on the football field, who actually was a linebacker.
“So, you knew Jonah Abbott?”
Benji Harmon gave a half-assed shrug. “Yeah, sure. I mean, we played ball together. I knew him just as well as anyone else.”
Jonah rolled his eyes and snorted. He couldn’t remember saying one word to this douchebag.
“He was kind of jerk. Thought he was better than the rest of us and kept to himself. And he picked on Einstein more than anyone I know. I heard he was still in the hospital from being shot during the massacre. If you ask me, I think he should’ve been on the fatality list.”
Dry eyes burning, Jonah could only stare as the scene cut away from Harmon and returned to two reporters sitting at a desk.
“Shot with his own gun.” The woman reporter shook her head and turned to the man. “Well, if that isn’t justice, I don’t know what is. Bob?”
Then the reporters suddenly sported bright smiles like they’d clicked an “on” switch, moving on callously to the next story, and Jonah muted the volume. But he could still see the two of them; they’d been pleased to hear that he’d gotten what he deserved.
This changed everything.
Jonah tore his gaze away. He tried to swallow, but it hurt, so he grabbed his water and took a sip through the straw to realize it was empty. The steam from his supper tray wafted up and made him physically nauseated from the smell.
Closing his eyes, he concentrated on breathing in and out through his mouth and not having a panic attack. But his chest heaved like crazy. When he heard footsteps as someone entered his room, he shook his head, unable to take anything else. He’d go insane, he’d freaking lose his mind, if he had to deal with one more problem right now.
A throat cleared, and he stole a couple of extra seconds, ignoring it, before he opened his eyes and lifted his face. “Oh…Jesus.”
“Not quite.” The girl next to his bed merely narrowed her eyes and set her hands on her hips. “You don’t know me. My name’s—”
“Bailey,” he answered for her. He remembered seeing her with Tess the few times he’d ever seen Tess. The short, straight, multicolored locks that swung around her face and brushed the tops of her shoulders were almost as memorable as Tess’s flaming red hair. “I know who you are.”
That seemed to throw her off her game. She shifted, readjusting her pissed-off stance, and pinched her mouth up even tighter. “Then you know why I’m here.”
“To put me out of my misery?” he asked hopefully.
She blinked. “What? No. I mean, I wish, but…” Frowning at him, she demanded, “What the hell is wrong with you? Your face is turning freaking purple.”
“Panic…attack,” he gasped, clutching his chest, and he tried to regulate his breathing, holding it for five seconds and then releasing. “Maybe a heart attack,” he added on the next breath. “Hope it’s a heart attack.” Anything to stop this agony would be welcome.
“Well, stop it,” Bailey demanded. “You’re skeeving me out.”
Gritting his teeth, he sent her a look of pure frustration. “I’m trying.”
“Oh, my God,” she muttered. “I came in here to chew ass, not play ‘Kumbaya’ to some asshole who hurt my best friend. Now calm down.”
Even though it killed him to hear how hurt Tess was, hurt enough to send this girl storming into his room, he barked out a short laugh. “Jesus, no wonder she likes you so much. You can be as sour and sarcastic as—” When he realized he was about to say Sean’s name, his eyes flooded with tears.
There was another issue he’d been refusing to think about. But he couldn’t repress his sorrow any longer. His best friend on earth was gone, and it was his fault.
He hated crying in front of others, but after hearing those reporters on national news say he deserved what had happened to him, he was already in tatters. He shouldn’t care if someone saw him sob. But he covered his face with his hands anyway, hiding his scorching hot cheeks as best as he could.
“How bad off is she?” he managed to ask.
He lowered his hands enough to see Bailey’s mouth open and close a few times before she quietly answered. “She’s devastated.”
Another sob hurled its way up his throat. He sniffed back a couple tears and wiped at his face.
“Why did you push her away?” Bailey asked, her tone almost calm.
“What?” he blinked at her and frowned. “I didn’t. She’s the one who stormed off. And it wasn’t like I could go chasing after her, now, could I?”
“Why the hell did you accuse her of all that revenge bullshit, then? If you’ve spent five minutes with Tess, then you know—”
“I know.” He groaned and ran his hands through his hair as he closed his eyes, regretting pretty much every part of yesterday’s conversation. “I messed up, okay? When she got mad, I got mad right back. I had to accuse her of something when she looked at me like I was…Jesus, I just wanted her to stop and think she wasn’t completely innocent either. But compared to me, she was, and I should’ve just…I should’ve been honest.”
“So…you never thought she purposely wanted to destroy you?”
With a snort, he shook his head. “Tess Simpson isn’t capable of that kind of malice.”
“Then why did you let her keep lying all this week? She hates to lie!”
“Why do you think? I liked the lie. I liked pretending I could be someone completely new, starting from fresh. I liked her being…mine.”
Bailey let out a big, frustrated sigh and jerked her hands to her hips again. “Christ. You really do care about her, don’t you?”
He nodded as he glanced away. “And if I was a completely different, better person who was worthy of her, I’d fight to get her back, too.”
“Oh, there’s no if to that statement, buddy. You will fight to get her back. In fact, I’m going back to campus right now, grabbing her ass, and dragging her back here so you can apologize and grovel and explain to her what an idiot you are.”
“You can’t.” When she opened her mouth to argue, he motioned toward the television as it showed his picture again. “Just look.”
Bailey glanced up and gasped. “What…? Why are you on CNN? Holy Jesus, you’re on freaking CNN.”
“Yeah. They know it was my gun. They know I bullied Einstein. And they all think it’s only fitting I should be dead right now. I’m not just the most-hated guy in Granton anymore. It’s spread nation-wide.”
Swerving around with a look of disbelief, Bailey just gaped at him until he couldn’t take it any longer.
“I know I deserved to be shot,” he muttered. “I’m fully aware I should be dead right now. People that didn’t even know him were killed. Completely innocent people died because I helped create a monster, and I’m still alive in this hospital bed, unworthy of my life. I know! You think that doesn’t bother me every hour of every day?”