“What do you mean?”
“Something is going on. My dad’s hiding something. Something big, and my gut is telling me framing you is just the tip of the iceberg.”
“I didn’t rape anyone, Montana,” I stated. “You know me. I’d never hurt anyone like that.”
“I know,” he groaned, raking his hands through his hair as he admitted, “I saw him that day. At the party. I didn’t know why he was there, so I followed him. I saw him talking to Meredith. He gave her something. What it was, I don’t know. What I do know is that about an hour later, you showed up, saw her, and tried to get her to leave. Only you went upstairs with her. I got curious and followed. August, when I walked into that room, you were fucking the bitch. I saw it with my own eyes. My dad saw me watching and pulled me away. Told me to leave you alone, that you wanted her.”
Montana’s words hit me like a physical blow, the truth of them sinking in with a sickening realization. That night was a blur, but I trusted Montana, and his words only confirmed my worst fears. I had been set up, manipulated into a situation that now threatened to destroy my life. The accusation crackled in the air between us, a storm cloud that seemed to suffocate the room. I wanted to deny it, to scream that it was a lie, but I had no memory of that night.
“I wouldn’t...” I began, my voice hoarse and raw. “I would never... I couldn’t have...” My voice trailed off; my denial sounded weak even to my own ears.
Montana’s expression softened, all anger draining from his eyes, leaving only a deep sadness. “I know, brother. I know you wouldn’t intentionally hurt anyone. But for some reason my father set you up big-time. He played you like a damn fiddle. My old man made sure that he had your balls in a vise and, brother, he’s holding on tight. Now, we just need to find out why?”
“Diana’s pregnant, Montana. I’m going to be a father.”
“Where is she?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. We were at the hospital when Amy was brought in. She left. I stayed. I have to find her, Montana. She’s important.”
“We will. I promise.”
“There is something else,” I said, holding his attention. “In the mailroom, your father said something. I don’t know whether it’s a lie or not, but I need to be sure. He said I got Meredith pregnant.”
“Jesus Christ,” Montana cursed. “I’m gonna kill that bastard.”
“And I’ll help.”
“Look, August, there is a lot of shit I need to bring you up to speed on, but right now, I need you to continue to be angry at me.”
“Why?”
Montana grinned, and a shiver of dread raced down my spine. “Because we are about to play the fucking game of the century.”
Chapter Eighteen
Diana
Austin Peay State University, January 2004...
“Erica, you need to think of yourself and the baby,” Mrs. Johnson, my English Lit advisor, stated. “You are due during your sophomore spring semester. With midterms, papers and finals, I just don’t see how it’s possible. I’m all for women’s liberation, but, honey, I think you are biting off more than you can chew. You need to take the rest of the winter semester off, have your baby, heal and then come back.”
“What about online classes?” I asked, holding firmly to my growing belly. “Does this school offer online classes like NYU?”
“We do, but for the classes you will need to attend to get your degree, the professors require attendance in a classroom. Not all the teachers here are hip with the times.”
Turning toward the window, I looked out into the bright sunshine and tried not to let what Mrs. Johnson said bother me. It wasn’t her fault I transferred mid-school year, pregnant and barely hanging by a thread. Maybe she was right. Maybe I should forgo school until after I gave birth. It wasn’t her fault that it had been weeks since I had heard from Shame. I didn’t know what was going on back home, or if August was okay. Nothing felt right here. Everything was different, almost as if I were floating through life, not really living it. I found myself in a daze most days, unable to concentrate or study, and my grades reflected that.
Mrs. Johnson slid a tissue box toward me, her gaze gentle but unyielding. “Listen, Erica, I’m not saying this to discourage you. But you need to plan—a real plan, not just hope you’ll power through. The university has resources for student mothers. I can connect you with counseling, maybe a support group. And if you absolutely insist on staying enrolled, we’ll look at your schedule together. But you have to be realistic.”
I swallowed, brows furrowing as I pressed my palm against my belly. The baby rolled—a flutter like butterfly wings. For a moment, I was silent, counting the reasons I couldn’t quit and the ones I should. My world had never felt so small and so immense at once.
“Erica?” Mrs. Johnson’s voice softened.
“I can’t just drop everything,” I whispered. “He’s gone. I’m all this baby has.”
She sighed, tapping her pencil against a folder. “Then let’s figure out what you can do—what you’re willing to sacrifice, and what you aren’t. It’s not going to be easy. But nothing worthwhile ever is.”
The clock above the door ticked out the seconds of my indecision. “I’ll talk to Financial Aid,” Mrs. Johnson offered. “And the Dean, if needed. But you have to tell me honestly—do you really want this?”