“Let’s go,” Tess said, tugging on Bailey. She’d learned everything she was going to learn here. Relieved Jonah had been alive the last time the nurse had seen him and glad he’d been well enough to be released from the hospital, she started toward the elevator at a slow, sluggish pace.
“We’ll find him,” Bailey assured her as she pushed the button for the doors to open. “I’m sure—”
“No.” Tess felt hollow as she shook her head. They wouldn’t find him. Because they wouldn’t even look. If he’d wanted anything to do with her, he knew how to find her. “He’s gone, Bailey. He doesn’t want to be found.”
And he didn’t want anything to do with her.
Chapter Seventeen
JONAH SAT ON HIS HOSPITAL BED, his feet flat against the floor as his fingers toyed with the cloth of his blue jeans. The nurses had bought him one more outfit to wear and had even asked him his size beforehand this time. But he must’ve lost weight because the shirt and pants fit him too loosely.
He didn’t care, though. Today, he was being released from the hospital.
Tapping his new shoes—because the police had even taken the shoes he’d been wearing during the shooting as evidence—against the tile, he waited anxiously for the doctor to come tell him he could leave.
The woman in magenta scrubs who breezed into his room, however, was not his doctor. In her early to mid-thirties, she wore her pale blond hair pulled up tight in a perky ponytail. And she was a complete stranger.
But she smiled at him as if they were great friends. “Hello, Jonah.” Then she paused with a slight frown. “It’s Jonah, right?”
“Yeah,” he said cautiously. “Who’re you? You’re not one of my nurses.” After being here for as long as he had, he’d gotten to know who each and every nurse on this floor was. And none of them had ever smiled at him the way she was.
“No, I’m not. I actually work on a different floor.” She held out her hand for a friendly shake. “My name is Samantha. I was sent here by the friend of a friend…” Then she frowned and shook her head, looking a little confused. “I think.” Lifting her finger as if she needed to revise what she’d just said, she added, “Maybe it was a friend of a friend of a friend. I can’t remember how far back the friend list went, but anyway, that’s beside the point, isn’t it?”
Jonah blinked. “Um…”
She sighed. “I’m sorry. I know I’m confusing you. And here I came to help, not confuse you more.”
“Help?” He wrinkled his nose. “Help with what?”
“Oh, right.” She covered her mouth as she let out an embarrassed laugh. “Outside my day job, my specialty is grief counseling. But I’m kind of kickass because I can actually help people with all sorts of emotional problems. Not just grief.”
Licking his lips as a tremble of panic flittered across the back of his neck, he eyed the strange woman warily. “Who told you I had grief?”
With a secretive smile, she shook her head and waved her index finger at him. “Uh, uh, uh,” she cooed in a warning kind of voice. “That’s not what’s important. The true question that needs to be answered, Mr. Jonah, is whether or not you’re having trouble dealing with your grief.”
Jonah stared at her a moment, looking deep into her clear blue eyes. Christ, why did she have to have blue eyes? Just like Tess’s. They were so open and honest too, as if they held no censor or condemnation. They just wanted to help him.
He swallowed down the ball in his throat and gave a quiet nod. You could definitely say he was having trouble dealing.
“My best friend died in the shooting,” he whispered, his voice gruff and raspy.
Samantha reached out and covered both his hands with both of hers. Her fingers were warm, and that look in her eyes was full of the same warmth and compassion Tess had looked at him with.
“Then I can help you. And I will. Whenever you’re ready to talk, call me at this number.” She let go of his hand to pull a bright yellow business card with a red smiley face on it from her scrubs pocket and held it out. “Just call, and I’ll be there. You don’t have to go through this alone. And I understand. I truly do. I lost my husband recently, and it was like losing a part of myself. It’s not easy to get over this, but eventually you can pull through.”
His eyes went moist. Jonah blinked repeatedly to dry them as he nodded his understanding. He slowly took the card from her, and the smile she gave him was so sweet and honest, he was once again reminded of Tess.
“Okay,” he choked out. His fingers closed around her business card, holding onto it for dear life.
Samantha nodded and patted his hand. “I’ll be waiting. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I better check into my shift down in the E.R. Talk to you soon.”
She was gone about as quickly as she’d come, her bright pink outfit disappearing from the room before he could say anything else. Wondering if she’d even been real, he glanced down at his hand and opened his fingers to read the proof of her existence off the card in his palm.
He was still a little discombobulated from his surprise visitor when his doctor entered the room. “You ready to get out of here, partner?”
Jonah lifted his face and took in the wheelchair a nurse was wheeling in behind his doctor. With a single nod, he murmured, “Yeah. I guess.”
“Great.” Still beaming as if happy for him, the doctor glanced at his clipboard. “Well, your release papers are signed, and since you said no one was coming to pick you up, we made arrangements for transportation. There’s a cab waiting outside for you. You’re a free man.”
Joy. Jonah knew he should be happy, relieved, ecstatic. But he just couldn’t summon the emotion. He had nothing, nowhere to go, and no future ahead of him.
He could walk, however. Pushing gingerly to his feet, he tucked his new crutches under his armpits and concentrated on holding himself upright before blowing out a breath and glancing at the doctor. His bad leg twinged, and he hobbled like a crippled old man, but by God, he was walking.
“Except you have to take the wheelchair to the front door. Sorry.” The doctor motioned to the chair just behind him. “Hospital rules.”
Hating the sight of that chair, Jonah rolled his eyes but limped toward it and eased himself down.
He took his one cab ride back to the university. A college representative had shown up last week to let him know they’d removed his things from his dorm room and boxed them up to keep them in storage until he could get out of the hospital. Jonah hoped he could find the keys to his truck in one of those boxes. And he really hoped the bank hadn’t repossessed his beloved set of wheels because he was behind on his payment after his lovely stay at Granton Regional.
Just thinking about everything he needed to do to get his life back in order again gave him a headache.
An hour later, he’d found his favorite ball cap and slid it on, but he had no idea where his keys were. He’d left them on the hook by the doorway that last morning before he’d walked down to meet Sean for lunch in the food district. What if they were still there? Or…shit. What if they’d been packed away with Einstein’s things? The hook had been on the kid’s side of the room. Feeling a little sick to his stomach over that idea and weary from balancing all his weight on his crutches, he sat down on the dusty floor to collect himself.
He didn’t like thinking about his things getting stored away with Einstein’s. He didn’t want to ever think of that boy ever again. But he knew there was no way in hell was that going to happen. Parts of both of their lives were now and forever more entwined together, a thought which didn’t help the roiling in his stomach at all.
Refusing to believe his truck keys were not with his things, he stood up, limped back to the five boxes he hadn’t gone through yet, and started searching with renewed determination. If he didn’t find them after going through the last box, he’d just start over and look again.
But luck—or at least a small portion of luck—was on his side when he opened the third to last box and gleaming m
etal sparkled up at him. He almost wept as he snagged them to his chest and stole a minute to calm his rapid breathing.
He was doing that too much lately, getting so overwrought and emotional he nearly sent himself into a panic attack. Wondering if that woman, Samantha, could honestly help him with that, he dug up a warm Granton U sweatshirt, plus another pair of clothes. He stuffed them into his book bag, hoping that would keep him until he was able to get back and pick up everything else. After slinging the pack onto his back and pocketing his keys, he adjusted his crutches and limped away.
Sweat coated his face from the strain he’d already put on himself, and that worried him. All he’d done was look through a few boxes. Why did he feel so exhausted? Who cared if he’d only been released from the hospital a couple hours ago? He was heartier than this. He should be able to handle simply being upright for a while.
But he knew he didn’t have much longer to go before he dropped.
His cell phone was one thing he hadn’t found. Had he had it on him when he’d been shot or had he left it in his dorm room? Didn’t matter. He hobbled along, not really caring because he didn’t have anyone to call anyway.
Anxiety raced over his skin as he started down the block toward the parking lot where his truck had last been sitting. He’d have to walk right by Grammar Hall. Was Tess in class right now, or might she be in her room? He lifted his face to their shared dormitory and instead saw the crowd gathered outside the front doors. Police cars and ambulances with their lights flashing had him picking up his pace and peering around shoulders just as they wheeled a stretcher out the front doors.
Panic seized. Oh, Jesus. Who was under the sheet? If Tess—
When the attendants bumped into a rut in the sidewalk, a limp hand slid off the side to dangle lifelessly. Jonah nearly threw up. It wasn’t Tess’s arm, thank God, but he did know whose it was. He’d played ball with Jenner Treymore. Trey had been one of the people who’d always joined in when Einstein was being tortured. He had liked to hold the kid’s head down against the floor and literally force him to kiss the ground.
As the word suicide floated past him, Jonah knew exactly why Trey had done himself in. Guilt was a mighty unbearable thing to carry. Jonah tucked his head down, hoping his hat concealed enough of his face. What would people say if they recognized him in the crowd? Would they wonder why he hadn’t killed himself yet?
What the hell had he been thinking, coming here? He’d just been on national television as the only person alive left to blame for what had been done to this campus. No one would appreciate seeing him. He tried to back out of the crowd so he could find his truck and escape, but the horde around him seemed to thicken until he couldn’t breathe, and panic laced his veins.
He wasn’t sure how long he was jostled around among the other students, and no one seemed to care he was lame. The police waved to herd of people away, but the gawkers moved like molasses. Someone bumped into one of his crutches, and he nearly went down. He accidently put weight down on his leg to catch himself, which made his vision momentarily black out. Gritting his teeth, he repositioned and kept shuffling along with the flow, his head still lowered so no one would notice him.
Once he found a break in the crowd, he shimmied through and hobbled toward the parking lot. His good leg trembled from overuse, and his shirt was soaked with sweat.
He tumbled into the driver’s seat as soon as he reached his truck. After catching his breath, he couldn’t help himself; he had to check. He twisted in his seat without killing himself, biting back the pain, and lifted the rear seat only to blink repeatedly at the small padlock keeping his gun case closed. It didn’t look as if anyone had tampered with it. Maybe…just maybe everyone was mistaken.
Praying for all he was worth, he unlocked the case and slowly lifted it, holding his breath, almost expecting to see his gun inside. If only this had all been a bad dream. But the padded interior was empty.
Sucking in a breath, he glanced away and slapped the case closed.
“Jesus,” he muttered.
He wiped beading sweat off his brow and put the seat back down. After starting the engine, he sat there, wondering what to do now and refusing to think about what horrible things someone had used his beloved gun to accomplish.
Tess was the only person he wanted to see. God, he ached for even a glimpse of her smile, the echo of her laughter, a hint of her flowery scent. He glanced toward Grammar Hall, but he was nowhere near the man she deserved. He might be free from the hospital, but he didn’t feel free at all. He felt trapped in a life that seemed to be spiraling straight over the edge of a rocky cliff. If Sean were still alive—
But, fuck, Sean was gone. And Einstein had used Jonah’s property to take him away.
He fisted his hand and pounded the steering wheel before he brought his knuckles to his mouth and sucked in a noisy sob.
“Fuck.” He needed to get out of here, off campus and away from these people before someone recognized him and made everything worse.
Even though his best friend was gone, there was still only one place he could think to go. Sean had offered to let him live at his apartment when he’d gotten it, but it’d only had one bedroom, so he would’ve had to bunk on the couch. Besides, it’d been cheaper for Jonah to stay in the dorms on his football scholarship. Now, he wished he hadn’t said no.
Hoping no one had cleaned out Sean’s place yet, but knowing no one probably had—Sean had come from the same trailer park as he had and had left behind the same miserable roots—Jonah found his best friend’s key under the welcome mat and let himself inside.
He stood in the opened doorway, balancing himself on his crutches as he stared into the front room, trying to hold himself together. Sean’s furniture was still there, just as it had been the last time Jonah had visited, with a rip in the couch cushion, a stack of magazines holding up the wobbly leg on the TV stand, and all. But it looked a little tidier, as if a maid had been by or something.
Jonah sniffed in a breath, refusing to cry, and limped over the threshold. The place didn’t feel abandoned; it felt like someone was still living here. Even a light on down the hall welcomed him and let him know the electricity had never been disconnected. He could almost believe Sean would come loping down the hall and appear in front of him to demand to know why Jonah was standing there, gawking at his things like a total creeper.
His lips twitched at the thought. That was totally something Sean would say.
He moved deeper into the house, wanting to feel more of Sean’s presence, needing that connection more than he needed his next breath. But as soon as he stepped into the hallway, something shuffled in the back room. Sean’s bedroom.
Jesus. What was that? Rodent? Burglar? Ghost? Jonah put his crutches to work and limped as fast as he could, shoving open the unlatched door with the rubber sole of one crutch. The door bumped into something that screamed.
The shriek sounded like a woman’s, but the guy quivering before him in the fetal position on the floor, protectively covering his head, was most definitely male.
“Don’t kill me. Oh, God, please don’t kill me. You can take anything you want, just—”
“I’m not going to kill you,” Jonah muttered, nudging the trespasser in the ribs with his crutch as he narrowed his eyes. Who the hell was this, acting as if Jonah was the intruder?
Entire body shaking, the boy slowly uncovered his head to look up with bright green eyes that were outlined with thick black eyeliner.
“You’re not?” the stranger asked before he gulped. “Oh, thank you, God. Thank you.”
Irritation rising, Jonah just scowled. “Let me guess. You’re the actor.”
The cowering guy jerked back in surprise. “How did you—”
“It’s Aubrey, right?”
Aubrey’s mouth fell open. “Yeah, that’s…that’s right. How did you know?”
Jonah glanced around the bedroom. Yeah, it was in much too good of shape to have been abandoned for so many weeks. T
he two lovebirds must’ve been living together.
“I’m Jonah,” he said.
Immediately, tears filled Aubrey’s eyes. He covered his mouth. “Oh, my God. Oh…my God. He told you, then? You…know?”
Nodding, Jonah sank down to sit on the floor in the hallway because his leg was killing him. Staring at Sean’s boyfriend through the doorway, he shook his head. “He was in the middle of telling me when…when it happened.”
“And you were…okay with it? Please don’t tell me he died thinking you hated him.” Aubrey’s bottom lip quivered. “You meant the world to that man.”
Jonah closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, trying to combat the sorrow. “He died knowing I knew…and supported him.”
“Oh, thank God.” Aubrey waved a hand over his face as if to air dry his tears. “Oh, thank you, Lord Jesus. He wanted your acceptance so bad. This—thank you. Thank you so much.”
He was definitely a grateful little thing, with a wiry, thin frame and extra short hair. Jonah wondered what the heck had attracted Sean to such a timid, quivering ball of gayness. Then he decided it didn’t matter. Since he was into girls, he’d probably never get it. But it still itched at his craw that this complete stranger might’ve known his best friend better than he had.
“So, you were living here…with him?”
Aubrey stared at him from big, scared, green eyes. “No. Well, I wasn’t. I guess I kind of am now, though. He gave me a key. So, I came here to feel closer to him, you know, afterward. And I just…I haven’t been able to leave.”
Jonah nodded, understanding the feeling all too well. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t blame you. The place still smells like him.”
“Shit.” Aubrey buried his face into his hands and began to sob uncontrollably. “You smell him too? You smell him too?” He made the phrase a litany as if relieved he’d finally found someone to share in his grief with him.
Cursing under his breath, Jonah rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and finally let it out. A tear slid down his cheek, quickly followed by another. Quietly, the two of them sat there crying with each other as they mourned the one thing that connected them.