Out of Breath (Breathing, #3)(40)

‘That’d be great.’ I smiled faintly. He handed me his phone, and I typed in my address and sent it. ‘Thanks.’

‘Can I email you sometime?’ he asked with a wink. I cringed.

‘Uh, I didn’t come here alone,’ I told him with an apologetic shrug, quickly backing away. ‘Thanks for the info.’

I continued across the Stanford site and sat in another chair at the far end, away from the guys. I pulled out my phone and went to my email, opening the forwarded invitation.

The invite announced a graduation/going-away party. It was pretty straightforward – a date, time and location … and a phone number. I stared at the number displayed on my screen.

My world had been crumbling around me every day since that box was opened five months ago. There wasn’t anyone who could understand the feeling of being consumed by a darkness that I didn’t have the strength to fight. No one would be able to comprehend the overwhelming feeling of hopelessness that was slowly unravelling the threads of my soul. Except for Jonathan. He was the only one who’d ever understood. Which was why I’d never told anyone about what he’d done, because I understood. We’d both done terrible things in our lives, and we would always be bonded by our destruction.

I feel like I can tell you things … things that I usually keep to myself. Most people don’t understand.

I inhaled as his voice echoed through my head. My chest tore open, knowing how I had betrayed that trust. I’d taken his fears and insecurities and sliced him open with them. I knew why he’d never sought me out while we were both living in California. I’d made certain of it.

No one could ever love you.

I shuddered in disgust at the resonance of my own voice. I’d chosen this desolation when I’d betrayed them both that night. Now I was being given a chance to make things right. And if Jonathan couldn’t forgive me, then no one would.

I anxiously flipped the phone over in my hands in contemplation. Every time I got up the nerve to dial his number, I’d see his face, beaten and defeated, and erase it. He probably hated me for what I’d said. But if there was a chance he didn’t, I needed to find out.

Hi. It’s Emma. Wondering how you are?

I hit Send, and I felt like I might be sick. After a few minutes of barely breathing, my phone vibrated.

Emma? Wow. Never expected to hear from you.

I exhaled in a rush. The sight of his response made my shoulders ease up.

Can’t say it was easy to text. But I was thinking about you.

I bit at my lip as I waited.

I think about you all the time. Thought about finding you, but didn’t. Thought you never wanted to see me again.

A shudder ran through me. Before I could respond, he followed up with another text. So much has happened over the years. I’ve had time to think. Make some decisions.

When he didn’t continue, I asked, What kind of decisions?

I need to make amends. So it means a lot to hear from you. Wish I could hear your voice, but can’t talk now.

I typed, Why can’t you talk?

I was tempted to call him. My heartbeat picked up at just the thought of his voice on the other end.

Leaving soon. Just know that I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.

His words had a finality that made my insides writhe. Where are you going? I suddenly feared there was more to this trip to New York than a career opportunity.

To make things right. Owe it to my family. It’s time. Done destroying people’s lives.

I stared at the screen in alarm. Was he about to do something that would ruin his life … and mine?

I pressed the Call-button and tried to control my frantic breaths as I waited for him to pick up. After several rings, I got his voicemail.

Please talk to me. What are you planning to do? I typed quickly, my fingers fumbling with the letters.

Sorry Emma. It’s too late. Need to go. Please forgive me.

I called again, and this time it went straight to voicemail.

Jonathan. What are you going to do?

I couldn’t sit still. I began pacing, waiting for his response. My stomach twisted in on itself while I stared at the blank screen. He never responded.

I walked to the SUV, where I found Cole sifting through his bag in the back. Still upset with me, he didn’t look up when I approached.

‘I need to leave,’ I told him. ‘I have to go, and I need to borrow your car. Please.’ I didn’t even try to hide the panic in my voice.

‘What’s going on?’ Cole demanded, examining my distraught face.

I looked down and paused a moment. ‘You’ll get your car back, I promise. There’s something that I have to do, and it’s important. I just … please trust me, Cole.’

He stood before me, studying my face as I shifted, unable to hide my desperation. ‘Take it.’ He removed the keys from his pocket and dumped them in my hand. I opened my mouth to thank him, but he turned away from me, zipped up his bag and slammed the back shut.

‘Thanks,’ I whispered, knowing he couldn’t hear me.

I climbed into the driver’s seat of the SUV and drove away, gripping the steering wheel tight to keep my hands from quaking. I glanced in the side mirror to find Cole watching me, his hands clasped behind his head. I had to look away as the guilt spread like acid in my stomach.

I sped through the campground, leaving a cloud of dust behind me, determined to find Jonathan.