26
JOHNNY
The second I complete my delivery, I shove the white envelope into my pocket and take off toward the complex. The air whooshes by my face, stinging the new wound Franklin had one of his goons give me.
I was late, and it wasn’t like I could tell them why. That would only complicate things more. So, I kept my mouth shut and took the beating he was going to give me either way.
I don’t know whether she’s home or at the hospital or at the police station, but I’ll check each one until I find her and verify that she’s okay. I’ve been away from her for as long as I could, and now that I’m finished with Franklin’s task, I refuse to keep my distance any longer.
She saved me from both myself and the terrible reality that almost played out.
If I had stayed, the cops would have arrested me. I’d go into the system and be charged with whatever the crime was for pushing someone down a flight of stairs. Murder? Did I kill him? His contorted body definitely looked dead from where I was standing.
I rush through the courtyard and around the remains of what transpired earlier. I jog up the steps and knock on Claire’s door, hoping like hell she’s home. I have no idea what time it is, but there’s no way I’m going to wait until morning to find her.
“Johnny?” Beth’s voice oozes confusion. “What are you doing here?”
I don’t expect to see her standing in her own house. I had forgotten that message Claire received before we went our separate ways. “Claire, is she, is she here?”
“Yeah.” She angles her head. “You met Claire? Duh. You two go to the same school.” She shifts her tone. “You look a little rough. Are you okay? Oh God, you didn’t have anything to do with that boy and the stairs, did you?”
“I’m back here.” I spot Claire poking her head around the corner of the hall.
Beth turns in Claire’s direction, and I take the opportunity to shove past her.
I rush toward her and follow her into the bedroom.
She studies my face, probably taking in the fresh cut across my brow and swollen lip.
I freeze, glancing her over, too. Her hair is damp, and she’s in a fresh set of clothes, long sleeves covering her arms.
She wraps herself around me and buries her face in my chest.
I pull her closer and hold on tight. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she mumbles into my shirt. “I am now.”
“Is he…?”
Her body goes tense. “He’s still alive.”
“Claire,” I breathe. “I’m so sorry.” I kiss the top of her head.
She pulls away and looks up at me with glistening eyes. “What?”
"I wasn't here for you when you needed me." I shake my head. "I'll never forgive myself for that."
I had walked right by that asshole and didn’t realize it was him until it was almost too late. I had seen his stupid face pop up on her phone numerous times; it should have clicked sooner that it was him, her psychotic ex who would stop at nothing to terrorize her.
“Johnny,” she cups my face in her palm. “You literally saved me.” She averts her gaze. “I don’t know what would have happened if you didn’t show up when you did. That could have been me at the bottom of those stairs, instead of him.” A shiver rolls through her.
I shift my attention to her fabric-covered arms. I swallow and hold onto her hand, gently pulling the sleeve up. I clench my jaw when I see the swollen, red remains of what he did to her. Although, I'm sure the effect on her is more than just skin deep.
A flashback from my childhood threatens to break me. My mom often hid similar injuries under layers of clothing and makeup. She was terrible at picking men, each new one seemed worse than the last, until one day, things went too far.
I blink away the image of her, the last time I had seen her outside of a casket, a vision that haunts me to this day. If only I had done more, maybe she’d still be here. If I had learned to stand up for myself and others earlier, maybe things would have played out differently. But, if they did, maybe I wouldn’t have been here tonight when history almost repeated itself.
Fate has a funny way about it.