“Why is that?”
“His heartbeats are set to self-destruct. He pushes good things away because he doesn’t think he deserves them, but I know that boy—probably better than he knows himself—and he needs a friend. I think he needs you more than he’ll ever admit.”
I shook my head as I took a sip of wine. “I doubt he wants me to be that friend. Plus, like you said, he’s a brick wall. I have no way of getting through to him.”
“Sure you do.” She placed her wine glass down and walked over to her fireplace, where a few candles were sitting. She picked up a lighter and began lighting each one. “You’ve lost someone, no?”
I stood straighter. Even with all the gossiping people, I hadn’t told a soul about my daughter. “I…I’m sorry? What do you mean? How do you…?”
She looked back to me and smiled. “I see it in your eyes, and I see their light around you.”
Chills began spreading over my body as the words left her lips. “I… It…” My mouth grew dry as I tried to form the words, and she shook her head.
“No, no, sweetheart. You don’t have to talk about it if it’s too hard. I get it, but I want you to know you aren’t alone in your loss. If there is anything in this world that unites us all, it’s life and death, day and night. Jax went through a tragedy, too, and since you two have history, I figure perhaps you two can connect on some level again.”
“I don’t think he wants me in his life, not very much at least.”
“I bet he does. Jax’s father is currently reaching the end of his life, too, and I know that’s eating at him even though he won’t talk about it. Now, I’m not telling you this so you’ll force yourself onto him. I just think healing comes with time, patience, and friends, and I believe the two of you could both use a friend right now,” Joy explained.
“How do I get him to want to be my friend? How do I get him to open up to me?”
“Just be you. That’s good enough, I’m sure. If all else fails, push him. Sometimes in life we need to be pushed to be reminded that we can still move.”
I thought back to just a few days earlier, when my panic attack hit me straight on, and I was unable to move forward. There Jax was, pushing me, helping guide me back to my home. If he could help me, I could at least try to do the same for him. What was the worst that could happen?
Joy and I finished our wine and talked about life. She made me laugh when I would’ve otherwise been at home dealing with my own thoughts and sadness. I was so thankful for her kindness. She was one of the first people in town who felt genuinely interested in becoming my friend.
When I asked why she hadn’t left her house for so long, she replied with the simplest answer: “I go where the love is. This place is filled with my loved ones’ heartbeats. When love goes somewhere else, I’ll be sure to follow. This is my haven until God tells me otherwise.”
As I stood to leave, I stopped in her hallway, which was lined with photographs. I took in the smiling faces, which made me smile, too. “Is that your husband?” I asked.
“Yes, that’s Stanley, my stone-cold sweetheart.”
“And the girl?”
“My Bethany. She passed away early in life. We had eighteen great years with one another before the cancer took her away from us.”
My chest tightened. “I’m so sorry.” I wanted to hug her, and wanted to cry, but instead, I just stood still.
“I’m sorry, too, Kennedy. I truly am.”
I hadn’t told her, but somehow Joy knew of my loss. I put on my coat and boots then stepped onto her front porch. We exchanged goodbyes, but before I could leave, I turned back to her, asking the question I’d been trying to answer for some time now. “How do you get over losing a daughter?”
She walked over to me and crossed her arms. “You don’t get over it. You just get through it, and you count your blessings for any amount of time you had together. Me personally? I like to believe that once Bethany left my side, she became the wind. Therefore I feel her everywhere.” She held her hand out and closed her eyes as she took in a deep inhalation. “Even during the storms.”
I smiled her way before pulling her into a tight hug. I thanked her for everything she’d given to me that night and then hurried back over to my front porch. This time, though, before rushing inside, I closed my eyes, and I felt the wind as it danced across my soul.
13
Jax
“He was somewhat lucid today,” Amanda said as I stopped by the reception desk to sign in for my visit with my father. “He remembered my name.”
“Did he give you a hard time?” I asked.
“Would he be Cole Kilter if he didn’t?”
Fair.
“He say anything about me?” I grumbled.
“Kind of called you an asshole.”
Also fair.
I wasn’t sure I was up for a visit that evening after a shitty day at work, but I knew I’d kick myself if I didn’t read him a few chapters. Still, that didn’t change the fact that I was feeling burned out. I hadn’t been feeling well for a few days. Truthfully, all the rain had been a buzzkill, my job sucked, and I couldn’t keep Kennedy off my mind. It was as if me realizing who she was had unleashed a whirlpool of memories I hadn’t figured out how to deal with. I was drowning in memories of her.
A part of me wanted to talk to her. To run into her in town and ask her how she’d been. That part of me was stupid. Almost everything I touched turned to shit, and the thought of reconnecting with Kennedy only to have things go wrong wasn’t a risk I wanted to take.
We had our past. We had our story.
I just wondered why the hell she’d never written me back.
“How are you handling everything?” Amanda asked, snapping me out of my thoughts about a woman who wasn’t her. I felt guilty about it, too. In the past week, I’d thought about Kennedy a million times more than Amanda even though our breakup was pretty recent.
“I’m okay,” I dryly replied. “Have a good night.”
“Jax, wait.” She reached out and grabbed my forearm, and I didn’t want to deal with her tonight. Hell, I didn’t want to deal with anything. “You don’t have to put on a strong act about your father. I know he’s the devil, but it’s okay if you’re hurting. You can talk to me if you need to.”
“Nothing to talk about. I’m fine.”
“You’re lying.”
I swallowed hard and looked down. “Amanda?”
“Yes?”
“Let me go.” I meant both my arm and me.
She dropped it. “Fine. Be stubborn. I don’t know why you live in this world where you think you have to struggle all on your own. Even if you don’t talk to me, I hope you talk to someone.”
“That’s what therapy’s for,” I muttered.
If only I’d been going.
I pulled out the novel from my jacket, hoping Dad wasn’t too lucid when I got to him. How fucked up was that? I prayed to a God I didn’t believe in that my father’s memory was so far gone he wouldn’t remember me.