Page 63 of Loving Lies (Granton University 3)

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.

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