“Forget it. I’m leaving. Thanks,” I muttered, walking toward his front door.
Eddie followed me, and when I stepped onto his front porch, he spoke. “It’s good that she has you. Maybe that’s what she needs more than therapy—just someone to be there for her.”
“I’m not a good person to be there for others, doc. That shit doesn’t work out for me.”
“Every day is a new opportunity to try again. Maybe you can renew your past friendship with Kennedy. That could be healing for the both of you.”
What is with these people? First Connor was telling me to build a fucking snowman with Kennedy and now Eddie was pushing me to befriend her, too. I was pretty sure Joy would get on that train soon enough, too.
What didn’t they understand? I didn’t need a friend. I just wanted Kennedy to get the help she deserved. She had once been so vibrant, so bright and full of light, and now? Her light had faded, which was a fucking shame, because she was the kind of light that made even the darkest soul feel bright.
I brushed my hand over my mouth. “It’s unfair. She’s good, Eddie. She’s so good. She doesn’t deserve that kind of suffering.”
“No one does, Jax, including you. When we can’t lean on ourselves, it’s nice to have others to lean on, too.” I gave him a broken smile, and to my surprise, Eddie called out once more. “I’ll check in on her. You know, as a neighborly gesture.”
My frozen heart? Holy shit, it started beating again.
“Really?” I asked, my voice cracking.
“Yeah. I’m pretty sure we haven’t taken her any food like the rest of the people in this town have. I was trying to avoid being that cliché but it can’t hurt.”
“Thank you, Eddie,” I said, more sincere than ever.
He nodded once and turned to head back into his house.
“Chocolate chip cookies,” I called out. “They were always her favorite.”
“Chocolate chip—a classic. Good night, Jax.”
“Night, Eddie.”
After my visit with Eddie, I stopped by the nursing home to read my father his chapters. He was much more aggressive that night and irritated with everything and everyone—including me. I didn’t get to read much to him that night, and when I got home, I couldn’t stop recalling the ways he used to get so irritated at me for the strangest things. I wished I could turn off my thoughts. I wished I could make my memories fade away, but I couldn’t. By the time I got home, I poured myself a glass of whiskey before I crashed hard into my bed, and exhaustion swallowed me whole.
19
Jax
Twelve years old
Year two of summer camp
“That’s a cardinal!” Kennedy shouted, pointing up toward the sky as we used our binoculars on the last day of summer camp. Half the time she pointed out a bird, it was the wrong bird, but I didn’t correct her. She was too happy about finding it, so I let her think what she wanted to think.
Besides, by the time I explained the actual bird sighting, she’d already be on to another. Her mind moved so fast, and I couldn’t always keep up with it, but that was okay because I just liked having her around.
I hated how fast the summer went, and if I could have, I’d have made Kennedy my neighbor so we could see each other all the time. How was I going to make it another whole year without seeing her?
Maybe my mom would drive me to visit, or Kennedy could come visit me.
When it was time for us to get our bags, I had a knot in my stomach. I didn’t want her to go. For the first time that summer, Kennedy was quiet, too. I didn’t know if I should ask her about her quietness because I didn’t want to bring it up if she didn’t.
Honestly, all I’d been thinking about was if I would be able to kiss her again before we left, and I didn’t want to kiss her in front of her family or mine, because gross. Derek would probably make fun of me forever if he caught me kissing a girl, even if that girl was Kennedy.
“Are you okay?” I finally asked as we sat on top of the big rock in front of the main entrance to the camp, waiting for our parents to come pick us up.
“Yeah,” she mumbled as a tear fell down her cheek. “I’m just going to miss you a lot more than last time because now I know a lot more about you, which means I have a lot more to miss, and that just makes me sad.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t as good at explaining my feelings as Kennedy. She was good at saying words. I was good at writing them.
Instead, I just hugged her. “You’re my best friend,” I whispered.